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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/29711-0.txt b/29711-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..36ce677 --- /dev/null +++ b/29711-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7816 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Another Sheaf, by John Galsworthy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Another Sheaf + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: August 17, 2009 [EBook #29711] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANOTHER SHEAF *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander, Larry B. Harrison and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + ANOTHER SHEAF + + BY + + JOHN GALSWORTHY + + NEW YORK + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + 1919 + + + + + Copyright, 1919, by + Charles Scribner's Sons + + Published January, 1919 + + Copyright, 1917, by THE CROWELL PUBLISHING CO. + Copyright, 1918, by HARPER & BROTHERS + Copyright, 1918, by THE YALE PUBLISHING ASSN., Inc. + + + + +TO MORLEY ROBERTS + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + THE ROAD 1 + + THE SACRED WORK 4 + + BALANCE SHEET OF THE SOLDIER-WORKMAN 14 + + THE CHILDREN'S JEWEL FUND 46 + + FRANCE, 1916-1917--AN IMPRESSION 53 + + ENGLISHMAN AND RUSSIAN 82 + + AMERICAN AND BRITON 88 + + ANGLO-AMERICAN DRAMA AND ITS FUTURE 112 + + SPECULATIONS 140 + + THE LAND, 1917 169 + + THE LAND, 1918 205 + + GROTESQUES 245 + + + + +ANOTHER SHEAF + + + + +THE ROAD + + +The road stretched in a pale, straight streak, narrowing to a mere +thread at the limit of vision--the only living thing in the wild +darkness. All was very still. It had been raining; the wet heather and +the pines gave forth scent, and little gusty shivers shook the dripping +birch trees. In the pools of sky, between broken clouds, a few stars +shone, and half of a thin moon was seen from time to time, like the +fragment of a silver horn held up there in an invisible hand, waiting to +be blown. + +Hard to say when I first became aware that there was movement on the +road, little specks of darkness on it far away, till its end was +blackened out of sight, and it seemed to shorten towards me. Whatever +was coming darkened it as an invading army of ants will darken a streak +of sunlight on sand strewn with pine needles. Slowly this shadow crept +along till it had covered all but the last dip and rise; and still it +crept forward in that eerie way, as yet too far off for sound. + +Then began the voice of it in the dripping stillness, a tramping of +weary feet, and I could tell that this advancing shadow was formed of +men, millions of them moving all at one speed, very slowly, as if +regulated by the march of the most tired among them. They had blotted +out the road, now, from a few yards away to the horizon; and suddenly, +in the dusk, a face showed. + +Its eyes were eager, its lips parted, as if each step was the first the +marcher had ever taken; and yet he was stumbling, almost asleep from +tiredness. A young man he was, with skin drawn tight over his heavy +cheek-bones and jaw, under the platter of his helmet, and burdened with +all his soldier's load. At first I saw his face alone in the darkness, +startlingly clear; and then a very sea of helmeted faces, with their +sunken eyes shining, and their lips parted. Watching them pass--heavy +and dim and spectre-like in the darkness, those eager dead-beat men--I +knew as never before how they had longed for this last march, and in +fancy seen the road, and dreamed of the day when they would be trudging +home. Their hearts seemed laid bare to me, the sickening hours they had +waited, dreaming and longing, in boots rusty with blood. And the night +was full of the loneliness and waste they had been through.... + + * * * * * + +Morning! At the edge of the town the road came arrow-straight to the +first houses and their gardens, past them, and away to the streets. In +every window and at each gate children, women, men, were looking down +the road. Face after face was painted, various, by the sunlight, homely +with line and wrinkle, curve and dimple, pallid or ruddy, but the look +in the eyes of all these faces seemed the same. "I have waited so long," +it said, "I cannot wait any more--I cannot!" Their hands were clasped, +and by the writhing of those hands I knew how they had yearned, and the +madness of delight waiting to leap from them--wives, mothers, fathers, +children, the patient hopers against hope. + +Far out on the road something darkened the sunlight. _They were +coming!_ + + + + +THE SACRED WORK + + +The Angel of Peace, watching the slow folding back of this darkness, +will look on an earth of cripples. The field of the world is strewn with +half-living men. That loveliness which is the creation of the æsthetic +human spirit; that flowering of directed energy which we know as +civilisation; that manifold and mutual service which we call +progress--all stand mutilated and faltering. As though, on a pilgrimage +to the dreamed-of Mecca, water had failed, and by the wayside countless +muffled forms sat waiting for rain; so will the long road of mankind +look to-morrow. + +In every township and village of our countries men stricken by the war +will dwell for the next half-century. The figure of Youth must go +one-footed, one-armed, blind of an eye, lesioned and stunned, in the +home where it once danced. The half of a generation can never again step +into the sunlight of full health and the priceless freedom of unharmed +limbs. + +_So comes the sacred work._ + +Can there be limit to the effort of gratitude? Niggardliness and delay +in restoring all of life that can be given back is sin against the +human spirit, a smear on the face of honour. + +Love of country, which, like some little secret lamp, glows in every +heart, hardly to be seen of our eyes when the world is at peace--love of +the old, close things, the sights, sounds, scents we have known from +birth; loyalty to our fathers' deeds and our fathers' hopes; the clutch +of Motherland--this love sent our soldiers and sailors forth to the long +endurance, to the doing of such deeds, and the bearing of so great and +evil pain as can never be told. The countries for which they have dared +and suffered have now to play their part. + +The conscience of to-day is burdened with a load well-nigh unbearable. +Each hour of the sacred work unloads a little of this burden. + +To lift up the man who has been stricken on the battlefield, restore him +to the utmost of health and agility, give him an adequate pension, and +re-equip him with an occupation suited to the forces left him--that is a +process which does not cease till the sufferer fronts the future keen, +hopeful, and secure. And such restoration is at least as much a matter +of spirit as of body. Consider what it means to fall suddenly out of +full vigour into the dark certainty that you can never have full +strength again, though you live on twenty, forty, sixty years. The flag +of your courage may well be down half-mast! Apathy--that creeping nerve +disease--is soon your bed-fellow and the companion of your walks. A +curtain has fallen before your vision; your eyes no longer range. The +Russian "Nichevo"--the "what-does-it-matter?" mood--besets you. Fate +seems to say to you: "Take the line of least resistance, friend--you are +done for!" But the sacred work says to Fate: "_Retro, Satanas!_ This our +comrade is not your puppet. He shall yet live as happy and as useful--if +not as active--a life as he ever lived before. You shall not crush him! +We shall tend him from clearing station till his discharge better than +wounded soldier has ever yet been tended. In special hospitals, +orthopædic, paraplegic, phthisic, neurasthenic, we shall give him back +functional ability, solidity of nerve or lung. The flesh torn away, the +lost sight, the broken ear-drum, the destroyed nerve, it is true, we +cannot give back; but we shall so re-create and fortify the rest of him +that he shall leave hospital ready for a new career. Then we shall teach +him how to tread the road of it, so that he fits again into the national +life, becomes once more a workman with pride in his work, a stake in the +country, and the consciousness that, handicapped though he be, he runs +the race level with his fellows, and is by that so much the better man +than they. And beneath the feet of this new workman we shall put the +firm plank of a pension." + +The sacred work fights the creeping dejections which lie in wait for +each soul and body, for the moment stricken and thrown. It says to Fate: +"You shall not pass!" + +And the greatest obstacle with which it meets is the very stoicism and +nonchalance of the sufferer! To the Anglo-Saxon, especially, those +precious qualities are dangerous. That horse, taken to the water, will +too seldom drink. Indifference to the future has a certain loveability, +but is hardly a virtue when it makes of its owner a weary drone, eking +out a pension with odd jobs. The sacred work is vitally concerned to +defeat this hand-to-mouth philosophy. Side by side in man, and +especially in Anglo-Saxon, there live two creatures. One of them lies on +his back and smokes; the other runs a race; now one, now the other, +seems to be the whole man. The sacred work has for its end to keep the +runner on his feet; to proclaim the nobility of running. A man will do +for mankind or for his country what he will not do for himself; but +mankind marches on, and countries live and grow, and need our services +in peace no less than in war. Drums do not beat, the flags hang furled, +in time of peace; but a quiet music is ever raising its call to service. +He who in war has flung himself, without thought of self, on the bayonet +and braved a hail of bullets often does not hear that quiet music. It is +the business of the sacred work to quicken his ear to it. Of little use +to man or nation would be the mere patching-up of bodies, so that, like +a row of old gossips against a sunlit wall, our disabled might sit and +weary out their days. If that were all we could do for them, gratitude +is proven fraudulent, device bankrupt; and the future of our countries +must drag with a lame foot. + +To one who has watched, rather from outside, it seems that restoration +worthy of that word will only come if the minds of all engaged in the +sacred work are always fixed on this central truth: "Body and spirit are +inextricably conjoined; to heal the one without the other is +impossible." If a man's mind, courage and interest be enlisted in the +cause of his own salvation, healing goes on apace, the sufferer is +remade. If not, no mere surgical wonders, no careful nursing, will avail +to make a man of him again. Therefore I would say: "From the moment he +enters hospital, look after his mind and his will; give them food; +nourish them in subtle ways, increase that nourishment as his strength +increases. Give him interest in his future; light a star for him to fix +his eyes on. So that, when he steps out of hospital, you shall not have +to begin to train one who for months, perhaps years, has been living, +mindless and will-less, the life of a half-dead creature." + +That this is a hard task none who knows hospital life can doubt. + +That it needs special qualities and special effort quite other than the +average range of hospital devotion is obvious. But it saves time in the +end, and without it success is more than doubtful. The crucial period is +the time spent in hospital; use that period to re-create not only body, +but mind and will-power, and all shall come out right; neglect to use it +thus, and the heart of many a sufferer, and of many a would-be healer, +will break from sheer discouragement. + +The sacred work is not departmental; it is one long organic process from +the moment when a man is picked up from the field of battle to the +moment when he is restored to the ranks of full civil life. Our eyes +must not be fixed merely on this stressful present, but on the world as +it will be ten years hence. I see that world gazing back, like a +repentant drunkard at his own debauch, with a sort of horrified +amazement and disgust. I see it impatient of any reminiscence of this +hurricane; hastening desperately to recover what it enjoyed before life +was wrecked and pillaged by these blasts of death. Hearts, which now +swell with pity and gratitude when our maimed soldiers pass the streets, +will, from sheer familiarity, and through natural shrinking from +reminder, be dried to a stony indifference. "Let the dead past bury its +dead" is a saying terribly true, and perhaps essential to the +preservation of mankind. The world of ten years hence will shrug its +shoulders if it sees maimed and _useless_ men crawling the streets of +its day, like winter flies on a windowpane. + +It is for the sacred work to see that there shall be no winter flies. A +niche of usefulness and self-respect exists for every man, however +handicapped; but that niche must be found for him. To carry the process +of restoration to a point short of this is to leave the cathedral +without spire. + +Of the men and women who have this work in hand I have seen enough--in +France and in my own country, at least--to know their worth, and the +selfless idealism which animates them. Their devotion, courage, +tenacity, and technical ability are beyond question or praise. I would +only fear that in the hard struggle they experience to carry each day's +work to its end, to perfect their own particular jobs, all so important +and so difficult, vision of the whole fabric they are helping to raise +must often be obscured. And I would venture to say: "Only by looking +upon each separate disabled soldier as the complete fabric can you +possibly keep that vision before your eyes. Only by revivifying in each +separate disabled soldier the _will to live_ can you save him from the +fate of merely continuing to exist." + +There are wounded men, many, whose spirit is such that they will march +in front of any effort made for their recovery. I well remember one of +these--a Frenchman--nearly paralysed in both legs. All day long he would +work at his "macramé," and each morning, after treatment, would demand +to try and stand. I can see his straining efforts now, his eyes like the +eyes of a spirit; I can hear his daily words: "_Il me semble que j'ai un +peu plus de force dans mes jambes ce matin, Monsieur!_" though, I fear, +he never had. Men of such indomitable initiative, though not rare, are +but a fraction. The great majority have rather the happy-go-lucky soul. +For them it is only too easy to postpone self-help till sheer necessity +drives, or till some one in whom they believe inspires them. The work of +re-equipping these with initiative, with a new interest in life, with +work which they can do, is one of infinite difficulty and complexity. +Nevertheless, it must be done. + +The great publics of our countries do not yet, I think, see that they +too have their part in the sacred work. So far they only seem to feel: +"Here's a wounded hero; let's take him to the movies, and give him tea!" +Instead of choking him with cheap kindness each member of the public +should seek to reinspire the disabled man with the feeling that he is no +more out of the main stream of life than they are themselves; and each, +according to his or her private chances, should help him to find that +special niche which he can best, most cheerfully, and most usefully fill +in the long future. + +The more we drown the disabled in tea and lip gratitude the more we +unsteel his soul, and the harder we make it for him to win through, +when, in the years to come, the wells of our tea and gratitude have +dried up. We can do a much more real and helpful thing. I fear that +there will soon be no one of us who has not some personal friend +disabled. Let us regard that man as if he were ourselves; let us treat +him as one who demands a full place in the ranks of working life, and +try to find it for him. + +In such ways alone will come a new freemasonry to rebuild this ruined +temple of our day. The ground is rubbled with stones--fallen, and still +falling. Each must be replaced; freshly shaped, cemented, and mortised +in, that the whole may once more stand firm and fair. In good time, to a +clearer sky than we are fortunate enough to look on, our temple shall +rise again. The birds shall not long build in its broken walls, nor +lichens moss it. The winds shall not long play through these now jagged +windows, nor the rain drift in, nor moonlight fill it with ghosts and +shadows. To the glory of man we will stanchion, and raise and roof it +anew. + +Each comrade who for his Motherland has, for the moment, lost his future +is a miniature of that shattered temple. + +To restore him, and with him the future of our countries, that is the +sacred work. + + + + +THE BALANCE SHEET OF THE SOLDIER-WORKMAN + + +Let the reader take what follows with more than a grain of salt. No one +can foretell--surely not this writer--with anything approaching +certainty what will be the final effect of this war on the +soldier-workman. One can but marshal some of the more obvious and +general liabilities and assets, and try to strike a balance. The whole +thing is in flux. Millions are going into the crucible at every +temperature; and who shall say at all precisely what will come out or +what conditions the product issuing will meet with, though they +obviously cannot be the same as before the war? For in considering this +question, one must run into the account on either side not only the +various effects of the war on the soldier-workman, but the altered +influences his life will encounter in the future, so far as one can +foresee; and this is all navigation in uncharted waters. + +Talking with and observing French soldiers during the winter of +1916-1917, and often putting to them this very question: How is the war +going to affect the soldier-workman? I noticed that their answers +followed very much the trend of class and politics. An adjutant, +sergeant, or devout Catholic considered that men would be improved, gain +self-command, and respect for law and order, under prolonged discipline +and daily sacrifice. A freethinker of the educated class, or a private +of Socialistic tendencies, on the other hand, would insist that the +strain must make men restless, irritable, more eager for their rights, +less tolerant of control. Each imagined that the war would further the +chances of the future as they dreamed of it. If I had talked with +capitalists--there are none among French soldiers--they would doubtless +have insisted that after-war conditions were going to be easier, just as +the "_sans-sous_" maintained that they were going to be harder and +provocative of revolution. In a word, the wish was father to the +thought. + +Having observed this so strongly, the writer of these speculations says +to himself: "Let me, at all events, try to eliminate any bias, and see +the whole thing as should an umpire--one of those pure beings in white +coats, purged of all the prejudices, passions, and predilections of +mankind. Let me have no temperament for the time being, for I have to +set down--not what would be the effect on me if I were in their place, +or what would happen to the future if I could have my way, but what +would happen all the same if I were not alive. Only from an impersonal +point of view, if there be such a thing, am I going to get even +approximately at the truth." + +Impersonally, then, one notes the credit facts and probabilities towards +the future's greater well-being; and those on the debit side, of +retrogression from the state of well-being, such as it was, which +prevailed when war was declared. + +First, what will be the physical effect of the war on the +soldier-workman? Military training, open-air life, and plentiful food +are of such obvious physical advantage in the vast majority of cases as +to need no pointing out. And how much improvement was wanted is patent +to any one who has a remnant left of the old Greek worship of the body. +It has made one almost despair of industrialised England to see the +great Australians pass in the streets of London. We English cannot +afford to neglect the body any longer; we are becoming, I am much +afraid, a warped, stunted, intensely plain people. On that point I +refuse to speak with diffidence, for it is my business to know something +about beauty, and in our masters and pastors I see no sign of knowledge +and little inkling of concern, since there is no public opinion to drive +them forward to respect beauty. One-half of us regard good looks as +dangerous and savouring of immorality; the other half look upon them as +"swank," or at least superfluous. Any interest manifested in such a +subject is confined to a few women and a handful of artists. Let any one +who has an eye for looks take the trouble to observe the people who pass +in the streets of any of our big towns, he will count perhaps one in +five--not beautiful--but with some pretensions to being not absolutely +plain; and one can say this without fear of hurting any feelings, for +all will think themselves exceptions. Frivolity apart, there is a dismal +lack of good looks and good physique in our population; and it will be +all to the good to have had this physical training. If that training had +stopped short of the fighting line it would be physically entirely +beneficial; as it is, one has unfortunately to set against its +advantages--leaving out wounds and mutilation altogether--a considerable +number of overstrained hearts and nerves, not amounting to actual +disablement; and a great deal of developed rheumatism. + +Peace will send back to their work very many men better set up and +hardier; but many also obviously or secretly weakened. Hardly any can go +back as they were. Yet, while training will but have brought out +strength which was always latent, and which, unless relapse be guarded +against, must rapidly decline, cases of strain and rheumatism will for +the most part be permanent, and such as would not have taken place under +peace conditions. Then there is the matter of venereal disease, which +the conditions of military life are carefully fostering--no negligible +factor on the debit side; the health of many hundreds must be written +off on that score. To credit, again, must be placed increased personal +cleanliness, much greater handiness and resource in the small ways of +life, and an even more complete endurance and contempt of illness than +already characterised the British workman, if that be possible. On the +whole I think that, physically, the scales will balance pretty evenly. + +Next, what will be the effect of the war on the mental powers of the +soldier-workman? Unlike the French (sixty per cent. of whose army are +men working on the land), our army must contain at least ninety per +cent. of town workers, whose minds in time of peace are kept rather more +active than those of workers on the land by the ceaseless friction and +small decisions of town life. To gauge the result of two to five years' +military life on the minds of these town workers is a complicated and +stubborn problem. Here we have the exact converse of the physical case. +If the army life of the soldier-workman stopped short of service at the +front one might say at once that the effect on his mind would be far +more disastrous than it is. The opportunity for initiative and decision, +the mental stir of camp and depôt life is _nil_ compared with that of +service in the fighting line. And for one month at the front a man +spends perhaps five at the rear. Military life, on its negative side, is +more or less a suspension of the usual channels of mental activity. By +barrack and camp life the normal civilian intellect is, as it were, +marooned. On that desert island it finds, no doubt, certain new and very +definite forms of activity, but any one who has watched old soldiers +must have been struck by the "arrested" look which is stamped on most of +them--by a kind of remoteness, of concentrated emptiness, as of men who +by the conditions of their lives have long been prevented from thinking +of anything outside a ring fence. Two to five years' service will not be +long enough to set the old soldier's stamp on a mind, but one can see +the process beginning; and it will be quite long enough to encourage +laziness in minds already disposed to lying fallow. Far be it from this +pen to libel the English, but a feverish mental activity has never been +their vice; intellect, especially in what is known as the working-class, +is leisurely; it does not require to be encouraged to take its ease. +Some one has asked me: "_Can_ the ordinary worker think less in the +army than when he wasn't in the army?" In other words: "Did he ever +think at all?" The British worker is, of course, deceptive; he does not +look as if he were thinking. Whence exactly does he get his +stolidity--from climate, self-consciousness, or his competitive spirit? +All the same, thought does go on in him, shrewd and "near-the-bone"; +life-made rather than book-made thought. Its range is limited by its +vocabulary; it starts from different premises, reaches different +conclusions from those of the "pundit," and so is liable to seem to the +latter non-existent. But let a worker and an educated man sit opposite +each other in a railway carriage without exchanging a word, as is the +fashion with the English, and which of their two silent judgments on the +other will be superior? I am not sure, but I rather think the worker's. +It will have a kind of deadly realism. In camp and depôt life the mind +standing-at-ease from many civilian frictions and needs for decision, +however petty, and shaken away from civilian ruts, will do a good deal +of thinking of a sort, be widened, and probably re-value many +things--especially when its owner goes abroad and sees fresh types, +fresh manners, and the world. But actual physical exertion, and the +inertia which follows it, bulk large in military service, and many who +"never thought at all" before they became soldiers will think still +less after! I may be cynical, but it seems to me that the chief stimulus +to thought in the ordinary mind is money, the getting and the spending +thereof; that what we call "politics," those social interests which form +at least half the staple of the ordinary worker's thought, are made up +of concern as to the wherewithal to live. In the army money is a fixed +quantity which demands no thought, neither in the getting nor the +spending; and the constant mental activity which in normal life circles +round money of necessity dries up. + +But against this indefinite general rusting of mind machinery in the +soldier-workman's life away from the fighting line certain definite +considerations must be set. Many soldiers will form a habit of +reading--in the new armies the demand for books is great; some in sheer +boredom will have begun an all-round cultivation of their minds; others +again will be chafing continually against this prolonged holding-up of +their habitual mental traffic--and when a man chafes he does not exactly +rust; so that, while the naturally lazy will have been made more lazy, +the naturally eager may be made very eager. + +The matter of age, too, is not unimportant. A soldier of twenty, +twenty-five, even up to thirty, probably seldom feels that the mode of +life from which he has been taken is set and permanent. He may be +destined to do that work all his days, but the knowledge of this has not +so far bitten him; he is not yet in the swing and current of his career, +and feels no great sense of dislocation. But a man of thirty-five or +forty, taken from an occupation which has got grip on him, feels that +his life has had a slice carved out of it. He may realise the necessity +better than the younger man, take his duty more seriously, but must have +a sensation as if his springs were let down flat. The knowledge that he +has to resume his occupation again in real middle age, with all the +steam escaped, must be profoundly discouraging; therefore I think his +mental activity will suffer more than that of the younger man. The +recuperative powers of youth are so great that very many of our younger +soldiers will unrust quickly and at a bound regain all the activity +lost. Besides, a very great many of the younger men will not go back to +the old job. But older men, though they will go back to what they were +doing before more readily than their juniors, will go back with +diminished hope and energy, and a sort of fatalism. At forty, even at +thirty-five, every year begins to seem important, and several years will +have been wrenched out of their working lives just, perhaps, when they +were beginning to make good. + +Turning to the spells of service at the front--there will be no rusting +there--the novelty of sensation, the demand for initiative and +adaptability are too great. A soldier said to me: "My two years in depôt +and camp were absolutely deadening; that eight weeks at the front before +I was knocked over were the best eight weeks I ever had." Spells at the +front must wipe out all or nearly all the rust; but against them must be +set the deadening spells of hospital, which too often follow, the +deadening spells of training which have gone before; and the more +considerable though not very permanent factor--that laziness and +dislocation left on the minds of many who have been much in the firing +line. As the same young soldier put it: "I can't concentrate now as I +could on a bit of work--it takes me longer; all the same, where I used +to chuck it when I found it hard, I set my teeth now." In other words, +less mental but more moral grip. + +On the whole, then, so far as mental effect goes, I believe the balance +must come out on the debit side. + +And, now, what will be the spiritual effect of the war on the +soldier-workman? And by "spiritual" I mean the effect of his new life +and emotional experience, neither on his intellect, nor exactly on his +"soul"--for very few men have anything so rarefied--but on his +disposition and character. + +Has any one the right to discuss this who has not fought? It is with the +greatest diffidence that I hazard any view. On the other hand, the +effects are so various, and so intensely individual, that perhaps only +such a one has a chance of forming a general judgment unbiassed by +personal experience and his own temperament. What thousands of strange +and poignant feelings must pass through even the least impressionable +soldier who runs the gamut of this war's "experience"! And there will +not be too many of our soldier-workmen returning to civil life without +having had at least a taste of everything. The embryo Guardsman who +sticks his bayonet into a sack, be he never so unimaginative, with each +jab of that bayonet pictures dimly the body of a "Hun," and gets used to +the sensation of spitting it. On every long march there comes a time +that may last hours when the recruit feels done up, and yet has to go on +"sticking it." Never a day passes, all through his service, without some +moment when he would give his soul to be out of it all and back in some +little elysium of the past; but he has to grit his teeth and try to +forget. Hardly a man who, when he first comes under fire, has not a +struggle with himself which amounts to a spiritual victory. Not many +who do not arrive at a "Don't care" state of mind that is almost equal +to a spiritual defeat. No soldier who does not rub shoulders during his +service with countless comrades strange to him, and get a wider +understanding and a fuller tolerance. Not a soul in the trenches, one +would think, who is not caught up into a mood of comradeship and +self-suppression which amounts almost to exaltation. Not one but has to +fight through moods almost reaching extinction of the very love of life. +And shall all this--and the many hard disappointments, and the long +yearning for home and those he loves, and the chafing against continual +restraints, and the welling-up of secret satisfaction in the "bit done," +the knowledge that Fate is not beating, cannot beat him; and the sight +of death all round, and the looking into Death's eyes--staring those +eyes down; and the long bearing of pain; and the pity for his comrades +bearing pain--shall all this pass his nature by without marking it for +life? When all is over, and the soldier-workman back in civil life, will +his character be enlarged or shrunken? The nature of a man is never +really changed, no more than a leopard's skin, it is but developed or +dwarfed. The influences of the war will have as many little forms as +there are soldiers, and to attempt precision of summary is clearly +vain. It is something of a truism to suggest that the war will ennoble +and make more serious those who before the war took a noble and serious +view of life; and that on those who took life callously it will have a +callousing effect. The problem is rather to discover what effect, if +any, will be made on that medium material which was neither definitely +serious nor obviously callous. And for this we must go to consideration +of main national characteristics. It is--for one thing--very much the +nature of the Briton to look on life as a game with victory or defeat at +the end of it, and to feel it impossible that he can be defeated. He is +not so much concerned to "live" as to win this life match. He is +combative from one minute to the next, reacts instantly against any +attempt to down him. The war for him is a round in this great personal +match of his with Fate, and he is completely caught up in the idea of +winning it. He is spared that double consciousness of the French soldier +who wants to "live," who goes on indeed superbly fighting "_pour la +France_" out of love for his country, but all the time cannot help +saying to himself: "What a fool I am--what sort of life is this?" I have +heard it said by one who ought to know, if any one can, that the British +soldier hardly seems to have a sense of patriotism, but goes through it +all as a sort of private "scrap" in which he does not mean to be beaten, +and out of loyalty to his regiment, his "team," so to speak. This is +partly true, but the Briton is very deep, and there are feelings at the +bottom of his well which never see the light. If the British soldier +were fighting on a line which ran from Lowestoft through York to +Sunderland, he might show very different symptoms. Still, at bottom he +would always, I think, feel the business to be first in the nature of a +contest with a force which was trying to down him personally. In this +contest he is being stretched, and steeled--that is, hardened and +confirmed--in the very quality of stubborn combativeness which was +already his first characteristic. + +Take another main feature of the national character--the Briton is +ironic. Well, the war is deepening his irony. It must, for it is a +monstrously ironic business. + +Some--especially those who wish to--believe in a religious revival among +the soldiers. There's an authentic story of two convalescent soldiers +describing a battle. The first finished thus: "I tell you it makes you +think of God." The second--a thoughtful type--ended with a pause, and +then these words: "Who could believe in God after that?" Like all else +in human life, it depends on temperament. The war will speed up +"belief" in some and "disbelief" in others. But, on the whole, comic +courage shakes no hands with orthodoxy. + +The religious movement which I think _is_ going on is of a subtler and a +deeper sort altogether. Men are discovering that human beings are finer +than they had supposed. A young man said to me: "Well, I don't know +about religion, but I know that my opinion of human nature is about +fifty per cent. better than it was." That conclusion has been arrived at +by countless thousands. It is a great factor--seeing that the belief of +the future will be belief in the God within; and a frank agnosticism +concerning the great "Why" of things. Religion will become the +exaltation of self-respect, of what we call the divine in man. "The +Kingdom of God" is within you. That belief, old as the hills, and +reincarnated by Tolstoi years ago, has come into its own in the war; for +it has been clearly proved to be the real faith of modern man, +underneath all verbal attempts to assert the contrary. This--the white +side of war--is an extraordinarily heartening phenomenon; and if it sent +every formal creed in the world packing there would still be a gain to +religion. + +Another main characteristic of the Briton, especially of the "working" +Briton, is improvidence--he likes, unconsciously, to live from hand to +mouth, careless of the morrow. The war is deepening that characteristic +too--it must, for who could endure if he fretted over what was going to +happen to him, with death so in the wind? + +Thus the average soldier-workman will return from the war confirmed and +deepened in at least three main national characteristics: His combative +hardihood, his ironic humour, and his improvidence. I think he will have +more of what is called "character"; whether for good or evil depends, I +take it, on what we connote by those terms, and in what context we use +them. I may look on "character" as an asset, but I can well imagine +politicians and trades union leaders regarding it with profound +suspicion. Anyway, he will not be the lamb that he was not even before +the war. He will be a restive fellow, knowing his own mind better, and +possibly his real interest less well; he will play less for safety, +since safety will have become to him a civilian sort of thing, rather +contemptible. He will have at once a more interesting and a less +reliable character from the social and political point of view. + +And what about his humanity? Can he go through all this hell of +slaughter and violence untouched in his gentler instincts? There will +be--there must be--some brutalisation. But old soldiers are not usually +inhumane--on the contrary, they are often very gentle beings. I distrust +the influence of the war on those who merely write and read about it. I +think editors, journalists, old gentlemen, and women will be brutalised +in larger numbers than our soldiers. An intelligent French soldier said +to me of his own countrymen: "After six months of civil life, you won't +know they ever had to 'clean up' trenches and that sort of thing." If +this is true of the Frenchman, it will be more true of the less +impressionable Briton. If I must sum up at all on what, for want of a +better word, I have called the "spiritual" count, I can only say that +there will be a distinct increase of "character," and leave it to the +reader to decide whether that falls on the debit or the credit side. + +On the whole then, an increase of "character," a slight loss of mental +activity, and neither physical gain nor loss to speak of. + +We have now to consider the rather deadly matter of demobilisation. One +hears the suggestion that not more than 30,000 men shall be disbanded +per week; this means two years at least. Conceive millions of men whose +sense of sacrifice has been stretched to the full for a definite object +which has been gained--conceive them held in a weary, and, as it seems +to them, unnecessary state of suspense. Kept back from all they long +for, years after the reality of their service has departed! If this does +not undermine them, I do not know what will. Demobilisation--they +say--must be cautious. "No man should be released till a place in the +industrial machine is ready waiting for him!" So, in a counsel of +perfection, speak the wise who have not been deprived of home life, +civil liberty, and what not for a dismal length of two, three, and +perhaps four years. No! Demobilisation should be as swift as possible, +and risks be run to make it swift. The soldier-workman who goes back to +civil life within two or three months after peace is signed goes back +with a glow still in his heart. But he who returns with a rankling sense +of unmerited, unintelligible delay--most prudently, of course, +ordained--goes back with "cold feet" and a sullen or revolting spirit. +What men will stand under the shadow of a great danger from a sense of +imminent duty, they will furiously chafe at when that danger and sense +of duty are no more. The duty will then be to their families and to +themselves. There is no getting away from this, and the country will be +well advised not to be too coldly cautious. Every one, of course, must +wish to ease to the utmost the unprecedented economic and industrial +confusion which the signing of peace will bring, but it will be better +to risk a good deal of momentary unemployment and discontent rather than +neglect the human factor and keep men back long months in a service of +which they will be deadly sick. How sick they will be may perhaps be +guessed at from the words of a certain soldier: "After the war you'll +_have_ to have conscription. You won't get a man to go into the army +without!" What is there to prevent the Government from beginning now to +take stock of the demands of industry, from having a great land +settlement scheme cut and dried, and devising means for the swiftest +possible demobilisation? The moment peace is signed the process of +re-absorption into civil life should begin at once and go on without +interruption as swiftly as the actual difficulties of transport permit. +They, of themselves, will hold up demobilisation quite long enough. The +soldier-workman will recognise and bear with the necessary physical +delays, but he will not tolerate for a moment any others for his +so-called benefit.[A] + +And what sort of civil life will it be which awaits the +soldier-workman? I suppose, if anything is certain, a plenitude, nay a +plethora, of work is assured for some time after the war. Capital has +piled up in hands which will control a vast amount of improved and +convertible machinery. Purchasing power has piled up in the shape of +savings out of the increased national income. Granted that income will +at once begin to drop all round, shrinking perhaps fast to below the +pre-war figures, still at first there must be a rolling river of demand +and the wherewithal to satisfy it. For years no one has built houses, or +had their houses done up; no one has bought furniture, clothes, or a +thousand other articles which they propose buying the moment the war +stops. Railways and rolling stock, roads, housing, public works of all +sorts, private motor cars, and pleasure requirements of every kind have +been let down and starved. Huge quantities of shipping must be replaced; +vast renovations of destroyed country must be undertaken; numberless +repairs to damaged property; the tremendous process of converting or +re-converting machinery to civil uses must be put through; State schemes +to deal with the land, housing, and other problems will be in full +blast; a fierce industrial competition will commence; and, above all, we +must positively grow our own food in the future. Besides all this we +shall have lost at least a million workers through death, disablement, +and emigration; indeed, unless we have some really attractive land +scheme ready we may lose a million by emigration alone. In a word, the +demand for labour, at the moment, will be overwhelming, and the vital +question only one of readjustment. In numberless directions women, boys, +and older men have replaced the soldier-workman. Hundreds of thousands +of soldiers, especially among the first three million, have been +guaranteed reinstatement. Hundreds of thousands of substitutes will, +therefore, be thrown out of work. With the exception of the skilled men +who have had to be retained in their places all through, and the men who +step back into places kept for them, the whole working population will +have to be refitted with jobs. The question of women's labour will not +be grave at first because there will be work for all and more than all, +but the jigsaw puzzle which industry will have to put together will try +the nerves and temper of the whole community. In the French army the +peasant soldier is jealous and sore because he has had to bear the chief +burden of the fighting, while the mechanic has to a great extent been +kept for munition making, transport, and essential civil industry. With +us it is if anything the other way. In the French army, too, the +feeling runs high against the "_embusqué_," the man who--often +unjustly--is supposed to have avoided service. I do not know to what +extent the same feeling prevails in our army, but there is certainly an +element of it, which will not make for content or quietude. + +Another burning question after the war will be wages. We are assured +they are going to keep up. Well, we shall see. Certain special rates +will, of course, come down at once. And if, in general, wages keep up, +it will not, I think, be for very long. Still, times will be good at +first for employers and employed. At first--and then! + +Some thinkers insist that the war has to an appreciable extent been +financed out of savings which would otherwise have been spent on luxury. +But the amount thus saved can easily be exaggerated--the luxurious class +is not really large, and against their saving must be set the spending +by the working classes, out of increased wages, on what in peace years +were not necessities of their existence. In other words, the luxurious +or investing class has cut off its peace-time fripperies, saved and lent +to the Government; the Government has paid the bulk of this money to the +working class, who have spent most of it in what to them would be +fripperies in time of peace. It may be, it _is_, all to the good that +luxurious tastes should be clipped from the wealthy, and a higher +standard of living secured to the workers, but this is rather a matter +of distribution and social health than of economics in relation to the +financing of the war. + +There are those who argue that because the general productive effort of +the country during the war has been speeded up to half as much again as +that of normal times, by tapping women's labour, by longer hours and +general improvement in machinery and industrial ideas, the war will not +result in any great economic loss, and that we may with care and effort +avoid the coming of bad times after the first boom. The fact remains, +and anybody can test it for himself, that there is a growing shortage of +practically everything except--they say--cheap jewellery and pianos. I +am no economist, but that does seem to indicate that this extra +production has not greatly compensated for the enormous application of +labour and material resources to the quick-wasting ends of war instead +of to the slow-wasting ends of civil life. In other words, a vast amount +of productive energy and material is being shot away. Now this, I +suppose, would not matter, in fact might be beneficial to trade by +increasing demand, if the purchasing power of the public remained what +it was before the war. But in all the great countries of the world, +even America, the peoples will be faced with taxation which will soak up +anything from one-fifth to one-third of their incomes, and, even +allowing for a large swelling of those incomes from war savings, so that +a great deal of what the State takes with one hand she will return to +the investing public with the other, the diminution of purchasing power +is bound to make itself increasingly felt. When the reconversion of +machinery to civil ends has been completed, the immediate arrears of +demand supplied, shipping and rolling-stock replaced, houses built, +repairs made good, and so forth, this slow shrinkage of purchasing power +in every country will go hand in hand with shrinkage of demand, decline +of trade and wages, and unemployment, in a slow process, till they +culminate in what one fears may be the worst "times" we have ever known. +Whether those "times" will set in one, two, or even six years after the +war, is, of course, the question. A certain school of thought insists +that this tremendous taxation after the war, and the consequent +impoverishment of enterprise and industry, can be avoided, or at all +events greatly relieved, by national schemes for the development of the +Empire's latent resources; in other words, that the State should even +borrow more money to avoid high taxation and pay the interests on +existing loans, should acquire native lands, and swiftly develop mineral +rights and other potentialities. I hope there may be something in this, +but I am a little afraid that the wish is father to the thought, and +that the proposition contains an element akin to the attempt to lift +oneself up by the hair of one's own head; for I notice that many of its +disciples are recruited from those who in old days were opposed to the +State development of anything, on the ground that individual energy in +free competition was a still greater driving power. + +However we may wriggle in our skins and juggle with the chances of the +future, I suspect that we shall have to pay the piper. We have without +doubt, during the war, been living to a great extent on our capital. Our +national income has gone up, _out of capital_, from twenty-two hundred +to about three thousand six hundred millions, and will rapidly shrink to +an appropriate figure. Wealth may, I admit, recover much more quickly +than deductions from the past would lead us to expect. Under the war's +pressure secrets have been discovered, machinery improved, men's +energies and knowledge brightened and toned up. The Prime Minister not +long ago said: "If you insist on going back to pre-war conditions, then +God help this country!" A wise warning. If the country could be got to +pull together in an effort to cope with peace as strenuous as our effort +to cope with the war has been one would not view the economic future +with disquietude. But one is bound to point out that if the war has +proved anything it has proved that the British people require a maximum +of danger dangled in front of their very noses before they can be roused +to any serious effort, and that danger in time of peace has not the +poster-like quality of danger in time of war; it does not hit men in the +eye, it does not still differences of opinion, and party struggles, by +its scarlet insistence. I hope for, but frankly do not see, the coming +of an united national effort demanding extra energy, extra organising +skill, extra patience, and extra self-sacrifice at a time when the whole +nation will feel that it has earned a rest, and when the lid has once +more been taken off the political cauldron. I fancy, dismally, that a +people and a Press who have become so used to combat and excitement will +demand and seek further combat and excitement, and will take out this +itch amongst themselves in a fashion even more strenuous than before the +war. I am not here concerned to try to cheer or depress for some +immediate and excellent result, as we have all got into the habit of +doing during the war, but to try to conjure truth out of the darkness +of the future. The vast reconstructive process which ought to be, and +perhaps is, beginning now will, I think, go ahead with vigour while the +war is on, and for some little time after; but I fear it will then split +into _pro_ and _con_, see-saw, and come to something of a standstill. + +These, so sketchily set down, are a few of the probable items--credit +and debit--in the industrial situation which will await the +soldier-workman emerging from the war. A situation agitated, +cross-currented, bewildering, but busy, and by no means economically +tight at first, slowly becoming less bewildering, gradually growing less +and less busy, till it reaches ultimately a bad era of unemployment and +social struggle. The soldier-workman will go back, I believe, to two or +three years at least of good wages and plentiful work. But when, after +that, the pinch begins to come, it will encounter the quicker, more +resentful blood of men who in the constant facing of great danger have +left behind them all fear of consequences; of men who in the survival of +one great dislocation to their lives, have lost the dread of other +dislocations. The war will have implanted a curious deep restlessness in +the great majority of soldier souls. Can the workmen of the future +possibly be as patient and law-abiding as they were before the war, in +the face of what seems to them injustice? I don't think so. The enemy +will again be Fate--this time in the form of capital, trying to down +them; and the victory they were conscious of gaining over Fate in the +war will have strengthened and quickened their fibre to another fight, +and another conquest. The seeds of revolution are supposed to lie in +war. They lie there because war generally brings in the long run +economic stress, but also because of the recklessness or +"character"--call it what you will--which the habitual facing of danger +develops. The self-control and self-respect which military service under +war conditions will have brought to the soldier-workman will be an added +force in civil life; but it is a fallacy, I think, to suppose, as some +do, that it will be a force on the side of established order. It is all +a question of allegiance, and the allegiance of the workman in time of +peace is not rendered to the State, but to himself and his own class. To +the service of that class and the defence of its "rights" this new force +will be given. In measuring the possibilities of revolution, the +question of class rides paramount. Many hold that the war is breaking +down social barriers and establishing comradeship, through hardship and +danger shared. For the moment this is true. But whether that new +comradeship will stand any great pressure of economic stress after +direct regimental relationship between officer and man has ceased and +the war is becoming just a painful memory, is to me very doubtful. But +suppose that to some extent it does stand, we have still the fact that +the control of industry and capital, even as long as ten years after the +war, will be mainly in the hands of men who have not fought, of business +men spared from service either by age or by their too precious +commercial skill. Towards these the soldier-workman will have no tender +feelings, no sense of comradeship. On the contrary--for somewhere back +of the mind of every workman there is, even during his country's danger, +a certain doubt whether all war is not somehow hatched by the +aristocrats and plutocrats of one side, or both. Other feelings obscure +this instinct during the struggle, but it is never quite lost, and will +spring up again the more confirmed for its repression. That we can avoid +a straitened and serious time a few years hence I believe impossible. +Straitened times dismally divide the classes. The war-investments of the +working class may ease things a little, but war-savings will not affect +the outlook of the soldier-workman, for he will have no war-savings, +except his life, and it is from him that revolution or disorder will +come, if it come at all. + +Must it come? I think most certainly, unless between now and then means +be found of persuading capital and labour that their interests and their +troubles are identical, and of overcoming secrecy and suspicion between +them. There are many signs already that capital and labour are becoming +alive to this necessity. But to talk of unity is an amiable distraction +in which we all indulge these days. To find a method by which that talk +may be translated into fact within a few years is perhaps more +difficult. One does not change human nature; and unless the interests of +capital and labour are _in reality_ made one, true co-operation +established, and factory conditions transformed on the lines of the +welfare system--no talk of unity will prevent capitalist and working man +from claiming what seem to them their rights. The labour world is now, +and for some time to come will be, at sixes and sevens in matters of +leadership and responsibility; and this just when sagacious leadership +and loyal following will be most needed. The soldier-workman was already +restive under leadership before the war; returned to civil life, he will +be far more restive. Yet, without leadership, what hope is there of +co-operation with capital; what chance of finding a golden mean of +agreement? But even if the problems of leadership are solved, and +councils of capitalists and labour leaders established, whose decisions +will be followed--one thing is still certain: no half-measures will do; +no seeming cordialities with mental reservations; no simulated +generosity which spills out on the first test; nothing but genuine +friendliness and desire to pull together. Those hard business heads +which distrust all sentiment as if it were a poison are the most +short-sighted heads in the world. There is a human factor in this +affair, as both sides will find to their cost if they neglect it. +Extremists must be sent to Coventry, "caste" feeling dropped on the one +hand, and suspicion dropped on the other; managers, directors, and +labour leaders, all must learn that they are not simply trustees for +their shareholders or for labour, but trustees of a national interest +which embraces them all--or worse will come of it. + +But I am not presumptuous enough to try to teach these cooks how to make +their broth, neither would it come within the scope of these +speculations, which conclude thus: The soldier-workman, physically +unchanged, mentally a little weakened, but more "characterful" and +restive, will step out through a demobilisation--heaven send it be +swift, even at some risk!--into an industrial world, confused and busy +as a beehive, which will hum and throb and flourish for two or three +years, and then slowly chill and thin away into, may be, the winter +ghost of itself, or at best an autumn hive. There, unless he be +convinced, not by words but facts, that his employer is standing side by +side with him in true comradeship, facing the deluge, he will be quick +to rise, and with his newly-found self-confidence take things into his +own hands. Whether, if he does, he will make those things better for +himself would be another inquiry altogether. + +1917. + +[A] Since these words were written one hears of demobilization +schemes ready to the last buttons. Let us hope the buttons won't come +off.--J. G. + + + + +THE CHILDREN'S JEWEL FUND + + +The mere male novelist who takes pen to write on infants awaits the +polished comment: "He knows nothing of the subject--rubbish; pure +rubbish!" One must run that risk. + +In the report of the National Baby Week it is written:--"Is it worth +while to destroy our best manhood now unless we can ensure that there +will be happy, healthy citizens to carry on the Empire in the future?" I +confess to approaching this subject from the point of view of the infant +citizen rather than of the Empire. And I have wondered sometimes if it +is worth while to save the babies, seeing the conditions they often have +to face as grown men and women. But that, after all, would be to throw +up the sponge, which is not the part of a Briton. It is written +also:--"After the war a very large increase in the birth-rate may be +looked for." For a year or two, perhaps; but the real after-effect of +the war will be to decrease the birth-rate in every European country, or +I am much mistaken. "No food for cannon, and no extra burdens," will be +the cry. And little wonder! This, however, does not affect the question +of children actually born or on their way. If not quantity, we can at +all events have quality. + +I also read an account of the things to be done to keep "baby" alive, +which filled me with wonder how any of us old babies managed to survive, +and I am afraid that unless we grow up healthy we are not worth the +trouble. The fact is: The whole business of babies is an activity to be +engaged in with some regard to the baby, or we commit a monstrous +injustice, and drag the hands of the world's clock backwards. + +How do things stand? Each year in this country about 100,000 babies die +before they have come into the world; and out of the 800,000 born, about +90,000 die. Many mothers become permanently damaged in health by evil +birth conditions. Many children grow up mentally or physically +defective. One in four of the children in our elementary schools are not +in a condition to benefit properly by their schooling. What sublime +waste! Ten in a hundred of them suffer from malnutrition; thirty in the +hundred have defective eyes; eighty in the hundred need dental +treatment; twenty odd in the hundred have enlarged tonsils or adenoids. +Many, perhaps most, of these deaths and defects are due to the avoidable +ignorance, ill-health, mitigable poverty, and other handicaps which dog +poor mothers before and after a baby's birth. One doesn't know which to +pity most--the mothers or the babies. Fortunately, to help the one is to +help the other. In passing I would like to record two sentiments: my +strong impression that we ought to follow the example of America and +establish Mothers' Pensions; and my strong hope that those who visit the +sins of the fathers upon illegitimate children will receive increasingly +the contempt they deserve from every decent-minded citizen. + +On the general question of improving the health of mothers and babies I +would remind readers that there is no great country where effort is half +so much needed as here; we are nearly twice as town and slum ridden as +any other people; have grown to be further from nature and more feckless +about food; we have damper air to breathe, and less sun to disinfect us. +In New Zealand, with a climate somewhat similar to ours, the infant +mortality rate has, as a result of a widespread educational campaign, +been reduced within the last few years to 50 per 1,000 from 110 per +1,000 a few years ago. It is perhaps too sanguine to expect that we, so +much more town-ridden, can do as well here, but we ought to be able to +make a vast improvement. We have begun to. Since 1904, when this matter +was first seriously taken in hand, our infant mortality rate has +declined from 145 per 1,000 to 91 per 1,000 in 1916. This reduction has +been mainly due to the institution of infant welfare centres and +whole-time health visitors. Of centres there are now nearly 1,200. We +want 5,000 more. Of visitors there are now hardly 1,500. We want, I am +told, 2,000 more. It is estimated that the yearly crop of babies, +700,000, if those of the well-to-do be excepted, can be provided with +infant welfare centres and whole-time health visitors by expenditure at +the rate of £1 a head per year. The Government, which is benevolently +disposed towards the movement, gives half of the annual expenditure; the +other half falls on the municipalities. But these 5,000 new infant +welfare centres and these extra 2,000 health visitors must be started by +voluntary effort and subscription. Once started, the Government and the +municipalities will have to keep them up; but unless we start them, the +babies will go on dying or growing up diseased. The object of the Jewel +Fund, therefore, is to secure the necessary money to get the work into +train. + +What are these Infant Welfare Centres, and have they really all this +magic? They are places where mothers to be, or in being, can come for +instruction and help in all that concerns birth and the care of their +babies and children up to school age. "Prevention is better than cure," +is the motto of these Centres. I went to one of the largest in London. +It has about 600 entries in the year. There were perhaps 40 babies and +children and perhaps 30 mothers there. About 20 of these mothers were +learning sewing or knitting. Five of them were sitting round a nurse who +was bathing a three-weeks-old baby. The young mother who can wash a baby +to the taste and benefit of the baby by the light of nature must clearly +be something of a phenomenon. In a room downstairs were certain little +stoics whose health was poor; they were brought there daily to be +watched. One was an air-raid baby, the thinnest little critter ever +seen; an ashen bit of a thing through which the wind could blow; very +silent, and asking "Why?" with its eyes. They showed me a mother who had +just lost her first baby. The Centre was rescuing it from a pauper's +funeral. I can see her now, coming in and sitting on the edge of a +chair; the sudden puckering of her dried-up little face, the tears +rolling down. I shall always remember the tone of her voice--"It's my +_baby_." Her husband is "doing time"; and want of food and knowledge +while she was "carrying it" caused the baby's death. Several mothers +from her street come to the Centre; but, "keeping herself to herself," +she never heard of it till too late. In a hundred little ways these +Centres give help and instruction. They, and the Health Visitors who go +along with them, are doing a great work; but there are many districts +all over the country where there are no Centres to come to; no help and +instruction to be got, however desperately wanted. Verily this land of +ours still goes like Rachel mourning for her children. Disease, hunger, +deformity, and death still hound our babes, and most of that hounding is +avoidable. We must and shall revolt against the evil lot, which +preventible ignorance, ill health, and poverty bring on hundreds of +thousands of children. + +It is time we had more pride. What right have we to the word "civilised" +till we give mothers and children a proper chance? This is but the Alpha +of decency, the first step of progress. We are beginning to realise +that; but, even now, to make a full effort and make it at once--we have +to beg for jewels. + +What's a jewel beside a baby's life? What's a toy to the health and +happy future of these helpless little folk? + +You who wear jewels, with few exceptions, are or will be mothers--you +ought to know. To help your own children you would strip yourselves. But +the test is the giving for children not one's own. Beneath all flaws, +fatuities, and failings, this, I solemnly believe, is the country of the +great-hearted. I believe that the women of our race, before all women, +have a sense of others. They will not fail the test. + +Into the twilight of the world are launched each year these myriads of +tiny ships. Under a sky of cloud and stars they grope out to the great +waters and the great winds--little sloops of life, on whose voyaging the +future hangs. They go forth blind, feeling their way. Mothers, and you +who will be mothers, and you who have missed motherhood, give them their +chance, bless them with a gem--light their lanterns with your jewels! + +1917. + + + + +FRANCE, 1916-1917 + +AN IMPRESSION + + +It was past eleven, and the packet had been steady some time when we +went on deck and found her moving slowly in bright moonlight up the +haven towards the houses of Le Havre. A night approach to a city by +water has the quality of other-worldness. I remember the same sensation +twice before: coming in to San Francisco from the East by the +steam-ferry, and stealing into Abingdon-on-Thames in a rowing-boat. Le +Havre lay, reaching up towards the heights, still and fair, a little +mysterious, with many lights which no one seemed using. It was cold, but +the air already had a different texture, drier, lighter than the air we +had left, and one's heart felt light and a little excited. In the +moonlight the piled-up, shuttered houses had colouring like that of +flowers at night--pale, subtle, mother-o'-pearl. We moved slowly up +beside the quay, heard the first French voices, saw the first French +faces, and went down again to sleep. + +In the Military Bureau at the station, with what friendly politeness +they exchanged our hospital passes for the necessary forms; but it took +two officials ten minutes of hard writing! And one thought: Is victory +possible with all these forms? It is so throughout France--too many +forms, too many people to fill them up. As if France could not trust +herself without recording in spidery handwriting exactly where she is, +for nobody to look at afterwards. But France _could_ trust herself. A +pity! + +Our only fellow-traveller was not a soldier, but had that indefinable +look of connection with the war wrapped round almost everyone in France. +A wide land we passed, fallow under the November sky; houses hidden +among the square Normandy court-yards of tall trees; not many people in +the fields. + +Paris is Paris, was, and ever shall be! Paris is not France. If the +Germans had taken Paris they would have occupied the bodily heart, the +centre of her circulatory system; but the spirit of France their heavy +hands would not have clutched, for it never dwelt there. Paris is hard +and hurried; France is not. Paris loves pleasure; France loves life. +Paris is a brilliant stranger in her own land. And yet a lot of true +Frenchmen and Frenchwomen live there, and many little plots of real +French life are cultivated. + +At the Gare de Lyon _poilus_ are taking trains for the South. This is +our first real sight of them in their tired glory. They look weary and +dusty and strong; every face has character, no face looks empty or as if +its thought were being done by others. Their laughter is not vulgar or +thick. Alongside their faces the English face looks stupid, the English +body angular and--neat. They are loaded with queer burdens, bread and +bottles bulge their pockets; their blue-grey is prettier than khaki, +their round helmets are becoming. Our Tommies, even to our own eyes, +seem uniformed, but hardly two out of all this crowd are dressed alike. +The French soldier luxuriates in extremes; he can go to his death in +white gloves and dandyism--he can glory in unshavenness and patches. The +words _in extremis_ seem dear to the French soldier; and, _con amore_, +he passes from one extreme to the other. One of them stands gazing up at +the board which gives the hours of starting and the destinations of the +trains. His tired face is charming, and has a look that I cannot +describe--lost, as it were, to all surroundings; a Welshman or a +Highlander, but no pure Englishman, could look like that. + +Our carriage has four French officers; they talk neither to us nor to +each other; they sleep, sitting well back, hardly moving all night; one +of them snores a little, but with a certain politeness. We leave them in +the early morning and get down into the windy station at Valence. In +pre-war days romance began there when one journeyed. A lovely word, and +the gate of the South. Soon after Valence one used to wake and draw +aside a corner of the curtain and look at the land in the first level +sunlight; a strange land of plains, and far, yellowish hills, a land +with a dry, shivering wind over it, and puffs of pink almond blossom. +But now Valence was dark, for it was November, and raining. In the +waiting-room were three tired soldiers trying to sleep, and one sitting +up awake, shyly glad to share our cakes and journals. Then on through +the wet morning by the little branch line into Dauphiné. Two officers +again and a civilian, in our carriage, are talking in low voices of the +war, or in higher voices of lodgings at Valence. One is a commandant, +with a handsome paternal old face, broader than the English face, a +little more in love with life, and a little more cynical about it, with +more depth of colouring in eyes and cheeks and hair. The tone of their +voices, talking of the war, is grave and secret. "_Les Anglais ne +lâcheront pas_" are the only words I plainly hear. The younger officer +says: "And how would you punish?" The commandant's answer is inaudible, +but by the twinkling of his eyes one knows it to be human and sagacious. +The train winds on in the windy wet, through foothills and then young +mountains, following up a swift-flowing river. The chief trees are bare +Lombardy poplars. The chief little town is gathered round a sharp spur, +with bare towers on its top. The colour everywhere is a brownish-grey. + +We have arrived. A tall, strong young soldier, all white teeth and +smiles, hurries our luggage out, a car hurries us up in the rainy wind +through the little town, down again across the river, up a long avenue +of pines, and we are at our hospital. + +Round the long table, at their dinner-hour, what a variety of type among +the men! And yet a likeness, a sort of quickness and sensibility, common +to them all. A few are a little _méfiant_ of these newcomers, with the +_méfiance_ of individual character, not of class distrustfulness, nor of +that defensive expressionless we cultivate in England. The French +soldier has a touch of the child in him--if we leave out the Parisians; +a child who knows more than you do perhaps; a child who has lived many +lives before this life; a wise child, who jumps to your moods and shows +you his "sore fingers" readily when he feels that you want to see them. +He has none of the perverse and grudging attitude towards his own +ailments that we English foster. He is perhaps a little inclined to pet +them, treating them with an odd mixture of stoic gaiety and gloomy +indulgence. It is like all the rest of him; he feels everything so much +quicker than we do--he is so much more impressionable. The variety of +type is more marked physically than in our country. Here is a tall +Savoyard cavalryman, with a maimed hand and a fair moustache brushed up +at the ends, big and strong, with grey eyes, and a sort of sage +self-reliance; only twenty-six, but might be forty. Here is a real +Latin, who was buried by an explosion at Verdun; handsome, with dark +hair and a round head, and colour in his cheeks; an ironical critic of +everything, a Socialist, a mocker, a fine, strong fellow with a clear +brain, who attracts women. Here are two peasants from the Central South, +both with bad sciatica, slower in look, with a mournful, rather +monkeyish expression in their eyes, as if puzzled by their sufferings. +Here is a true Frenchman, a Territorial, from Roanne, riddled with +rheumatism, quick and gay, and suffering, touchy and affectionate, not +tall, brown-faced, brown-eyed, rather fair, with clean jaw and features, +and eyes with a soul in them, looking a little up; forty-eight--the +oldest of them all--they call him _Grandpère_. And here is a printer +from Lyon with shell-shock; medium-coloured, short and roundish and +neat, full of humanity and high standards and domestic affection, and +so polite, with eyes a little like a dog's. And here another with +shell-shock and brown-green eyes, from the "invaded countries"; +_méfiant_, truly, this one, but with a heart when you get at it; neat, +and brooding, quick as a cat, nervous, and wanting his own way. But they +are all so varied. If there are qualities common to all they are +impressionability and capacity for affection. This is not the impression +left on one by a crowd of Englishmen. Behind the politeness and +civilised bearing of the French I used to think there was a little of +the tiger. In a sense perhaps there is, but that is not the foundation +of their character--far from it! Underneath the tiger, again, there is a +man civilised for centuries. Most certainly the politeness of the French +is no surface quality, it is a polish welling up from a naturally +affectionate heart, a naturally quick apprehension of the moods and +feelings of others; it is the outcome of a culture so old that, +underneath all differences, it binds together all those types and +strains of blood--the Savoyard, and the Southerner, the Latin of the +Centre, the man from the North, the Breton, the Gascon, the Basque, the +Auvergnat, even to some extent the Norman, and the Parisian--in a sort +of warm and bone-deep kinship. They have all, as it were, sat for +centuries under a wall with the afternoon sun warming them through and +through, as I so often saw the old town gossips sitting of an afternoon. +The sun of France has made them alike; a light and happy sun, not too +southern, but just southern enough. + +And the women of France! If the men are bound in that mysterious +kinship, how much more so are the women! What is it in the Frenchwoman +which makes her so utterly unique? A daughter in one of Anatole France's +books says to her mother: "_Tu es pour les bijoux, je suis pour les +dessous_." The Frenchwoman spiritually is _pour les dessous_. There is +in her a kind of inherited, conservative, clever, dainty capability; no +matter where you go in France, or in what class--country or town--you +find it. She cannot waste, she cannot spoil, she makes and shows--the +best of everything. If I were asked for a concrete illustration of +self-respect I should say--the Frenchwoman. It is a particular kind of +self-respect, no doubt, very much limited to this world; and perhaps +beginning to be a little frayed. We have some Frenchwomen at the +hospital, the servants who keep us in running order--the dear cook whom +we love not only for her baked meats, proud of her soldier son once a +professor, now a sergeant, and she a woman of property, with two houses +in the little town; patient, kind, very stubborn about her dishes, +which have in them the essential juices and savours which characterise +all things really French. She has great sweetness and self-containment +in her small, wrinkled, yellowish face; always quietly polite and grave, +she bubbles deliciously at any joke, and gives affection sagaciously to +those who merit. A jewel, who must be doing something _pour la France_. +And we have Madame Jeanne Camille, mother of two daughters and one son, +too young to be a soldier. It was her eldest daughter who wanted to come +and scrub in the hospital, but was refused because she was too pretty. +And her mother came instead. A woman who did not need to come, and +nearly fifty, but strong, as the French are strong, with good red blood, +deep colouring, hair still black, and handsome straight features. What a +worker! A lover of talk, too, and of a joke when she has time. And +Claire, of a _languissante_ temperament, as she says; but who would know +it? Eighteen, with a figure abundant as that of a woman of forty, but +just beginning to fine down; holding herself as French girls learn to +hold themselves so young; and with the pretty eyes of a Southern nymph, +clear-brown and understanding, and a little bit wood-wild. Not +self-conscious--like the English girl at that age--fond of work and +play; with what is called "a good head" on her, and a warm heart. A +real woman of France. + +Then there is the "farmeress" at the home farm which gives the hospital +its milk; a splendid, grey-eyed creature, doing the work of her husband +who is at the front, with a little girl and boy rounder and rosier than +anything you ever saw; and a small, one-eyed brother-in-law who drinks. +My God, he drinks! Any day you go into the town to do hospital +commissions you may see the hospital donkey-cart with the charming grey +donkey outside the Café de l'Univers or what not, and know that Charles +is within. He beguiles our _poilus_, and they take little beguiling. +Wine is too plentiful in France. The sun in the wines of France quickens +and cheers the blood in the veins of France. But the gift of wine is +abused. One may see a poster which says--with what truth I know +not--that drink has cost France more than the Franco-Prussian War. +French drunkenness is not so sottish as our beer-and-whiskey-fuddled +variety, but it is not pleasant to see, and mars a fair land. + +What a fair land! I never before grasped the charm of French colouring; +the pinkish-yellow of the pan-tiled roofs, the lavender-grey or dim +green of the shutters, the self-respecting shapes and flatness of the +houses, unworried by wriggling ornamentation or lines coming up in +order that they may go down again; the universal plane trees with their +variegated trunks and dancing lightness--nothing more charming than +plane trees in winter, their delicate twigs and little brown balls +shaking against the clear pale skies, and in summer nothing more green +and beautiful than their sun-flecked shade. Each country has its special +genius of colouring--best displayed in winter. To characterise such +genius by a word or two is hopeless; but one might say the genius of +Spain is brown; of Ireland green; of England chalky blue-green; of Egypt +shimmering sandstone. For France amethystine feebly expresses the +sensation; the blend is subtle, stimulating, rarefied--at all events in +the centre and south. Walk into an English village, however +beautiful--and many are very beautiful--you will not get the peculiar +sharp spiritual sensation which will come on you entering some little +French village or town--the sensation one has looking at a picture by +Francesca. The blue wood-smoke, the pinkish tiles, the grey shutters, +the grey-brown plane trees, the pale blue sky, the yellowish houses, and +above all the clean forms and the clear air. I shall never forget one +late afternoon rushing home in the car from some commission. The setting +sun had just broken through after a misty day, the mountains were +illumined with purple and rose-madder, and snow-tipped against the blue +sky, a wonderful wistaria blue drifted smoke-like about the valley; and +the tall trees--poplars and cypresses--stood like spires. No wonder the +French are _spirituel_, a word so different from our "spiritual," for +that they are not; pre-eminently citizens of this world--even the pious +French. This is why on the whole they make a better fist of social life +than we do, we misty islanders, only half-alive because we set such +store by our unrealised moralities. Not one Englishman in ten now +_really_ believes that he is going to live again, but his disbelief has +not yet reconciled him to making the best of this life, or laid ghosts +of the beliefs he has outworn. Clear air and sun, but not so much as to +paralyse action, have made in France clearer eyes, clearer brains, and +touched souls with a sane cynicism. The French do not despise and +neglect the means to ends. They face sexual realities. They know that to +live well they must eat well, to eat well must cook well, to cook well +must cleanly and cleverly cultivate their soil. May France be warned in +time by our dismal fate! May she never lose her love of the land; nor +let industrialism absorb her peasantry, and the lure of wealth and the +cheap glamour of the towns draw her into their uncharmed circles. We +English have rattled deep into a paradise of machines, chimneys, +cinemas, and halfpenny papers; have bartered our heritage of health, +dignity, and looks for wealth, and badly distributed wealth at that. +France was trembling on the verge of the same precipice when the war +came; with its death and wind of restlessness the war bids fair to tip +her over. Let her hold back with all her might! Her two dangers are +drink and the lure of the big towns. No race can preserve sanity and +refinement which really gives way to these. She will not fare even as +well as we have if she yields; our fibre is coarser and more resistant +than hers, nor had we ever so much grace to lose. It is by grace and +self-respect that France had her pre-eminence; let these wither, as +wither they must in the grip of a sordid and drink-soothed +industrialism, and her star will burn out. The life of the peasant is +hard; peasants are soon wrinkled and weathered; they are not angels; +narrow and over-provident, suspicious, and given to drink, they still +have their roots and being in the realities of life, close to nature, +and keep a sort of simple dignity and health which great towns destroy. +Let France take care of her peasants and her country will take care of +itself. + +Talking to our _poilus_ we remarked that they have not a good word to +throw to their _députés_--no faith in them. About French politicians I +know nothing; but their shoes are unenviable, and will become too tight +for them after the war. The _poilu_ has no faith at all now, if he ever +had, save faith in his country, so engrained that he lets the +life-loving blood of him be spilled out to the last drop, cursing +himself and everything for his heroic folly. + +We had a young Spaniard of the Foreign Legion in our hospital who had +been to Cambridge, and had the "outside" eyes on all things French. In +his view _je m'en foutism_ has a hold of the French army. Strange if it +had not! Clear, quick brains cannot stand Fate's making ninepins of +mankind year after year like this. Fortunately for France, the love of +her sons has never been forced; it has grown like grass and simple wild +herbs in the heart, alongside the liberty to criticise and blame. The +_poilu_ cares for nothing, no, not he! But he is himself a little, +unconscious bit of France, and, for oneself, one always cares. +State-forced patriotism made this war--a fever-germ which swells the +head and causes blindness. A State which teaches patriotism in its +schools is going mad! Let no such State be trusted! They who, after the +war, would have England and France copy the example of the +State-drilled country which opened these flood-gates of death, and +teach mad provincialism under the nickname of patriotism to their +children, are driving nails into the coffins of their countries. _Je +m'en foutism_ is a natural product of three years of war, and better by +far than the docile despair to which so many German soldiers have been +reduced. We were in Lyon when the Russian Revolution and the German +retreat from Bapaume were reported. The town and railway station were +full of soldiers. No enthusiasm, no stir of any kind, only the usual +tired stoicism. And one thought of what the _poilu_ can be like; of our +Christmas dinner-table at the hospital under the green hanging wreaths +and the rosy Chinese lanterns, the hum, the chatter, the laughter of +free and easy souls in their red hospital jackets. The French are so +easily, so incorrigibly gay; the dreary grinding pressure of this war +seems horribly cruel applied to such a people, and the heroism with +which they have borne its untold miseries is sublime. In our little +remote town out there--a town which had been Roman in its time, and +still had bits of Roman walls and Roman arches--every family had its +fathers, brothers, sons, dead, fighting, in prison, or in hospital. The +mothers were wonderful. One old couple, in a _ferblanterie_ shop, who +had lost their eldest son and whose other son was at the front, used to +try hard not to talk about the war, but sure enough they would come to +it at last, each time we saw them, and in a minute the mother would be +crying and a silent tear would roll down the old father's face. Then he +would point to the map and say: "But look where they are, the Boches! +Can we stop? It's impossible. We must go on till we've thrown them out. +It is dreadful, but what would you have? Ah! Our son--he was so +promising!" And the mother, weeping over the tin-tacks, would make the +neatest little parcel of them, murmuring out of her tears: "_Il faut que +ça finisse; mais la France--il ne faut pas que la France--Nos chers fils +auraient été tués pour rien!_" Poor souls! I remember another couple up +on the hillside. The old wife, dignified as a duchess--if duchesses are +dignified--wanting us so badly to come in and sit down that she might +the better talk to us of her sons: one dead, and one wounded, and two +still at the front, and the youngest not yet old enough. And while we +stood there up came the father, an old farmer, with that youngest son. +He had not quite the spirit of the old lady, nor her serenity; he +thought that men in these days were no better than _des bêtes féroces_. +And in truth his philosophy--of an old tiller of the soil--was as +superior to that of emperors and diplomats as his life is superior to +theirs. Not very far from that little farm is the spot of all others in +that mountain country which most stirs the æsthetic and the speculative +strains within one. Lovely and remote, all by itself at the foot of a +mountain, in a circle of the hills, an old monastery stands, now used as +a farm, with one rose window, like a spider's web, spun delicate in +stone tracery. There the old monks had gone to get away from the +struggles of the main valley and the surges of the fighting men. There +even now were traces of their peaceful life; the fish-ponds and the +tillage still kept in cultivation. If they had lived in these days they +would have been at the war, fighting or bearing stretchers, like the +priests of France, of whom eleven thousand, I am told--untruthfully, I +hope--are dead. So the world goes forward--the Kingdom of Heaven comes! + +We were in the town the day that the 1918 class received their +preliminary summons. Sad were the mothers watching their boys parading +the streets, rosetted and singing to show that they had passed and were +ready to be food for cannon. Not one of those boys, I dare say, in his +heart wanted to go; they have seen too many of their brethren return +war-worn, missed too many who will never come back. But they were no +less gay about it than those recruits we saw in the spring of 1913, at +Argelès in the Pyrenees, singing along and shouting on the day of their +enrolment. + +There were other reminders to us, and to the little town, of the +blood-red line drawn across the map of France. We had in our hospital +men from the invaded countries without news of wives and families mured +up behind that iron veil. Once in a way a tiny word would get through to +them, and anxiety would lift a little from their hearts; for a day or +two they would smile. One we had, paralysed in the legs, who would sit +doing macramé work and playing chess all day long; every relative he +had--wife, father, mother, sisters--all were in the power of the German. +As brave a nature as one could see in a year's march, touchingly +grateful, touchingly cheerful, but with the saddest eyes I ever saw. +There was one little reminder in the town whom we could never help going +in to look at whenever we passed the shop whose people had given her +refuge. A little girl of eight with the most charming, grave, pale, +little, grey-eyed face; there she would sit, playing with her doll, +watching the customers. That little refugee at all events was beloved +and happy; only I think she thought we would kidnap her one day--we +stared at her so hard. She had the quality which gives to certain faces +the fascination belonging to rare works of art. + +With all this poignant bereavement and long-suffering amongst them it +would be odd indeed if the gay and critical French nature did not rebel, +and seek some outlet in apathy or bitter criticism. The miracle is that +they go on and on holding fast. Easily depressed, and as easily lifted +up again, grumble they must and will; but their hearts are not really +down to the pitch of their voices; their love of country, which with +them is love of self--the deepest of all kinds of patriotism--is too +absolute. These two virtues or vices (as you please)--critical faculty +and _amour propre_ or vanity, if you prefer it--are in perpetual +encounter. The French are at once not at all proud of themselves and +very proud. They destroy all things French, themselves included, with +their brains and tongues, and exalt the same with their hearts and by +their actions. To the reserved English mind, always on the defensive, +they seem to give themselves away continually; but he who understands +sees it to be all part of that perpetual interplay of opposites which +makes up the French character and secures for it in effect a curious +vibrating equilibrium. "Intensely alive" is the chief impression one has +of the French. They balance between head and heart at top speed in a +sort of electric and eternal see-saw. It is this perpetual quick change +which gives them, it seems to me, their special grip on actuality; they +never fly into the cloud-regions of theories and dreams; their heads +have not time before their hearts have intervened, their hearts not time +before their heads cry: "Hold!" They apprehend both worlds, but with +such rapid alternation that they surrender to neither. Consider how +clever and comparatively warm is that cold thing "religion" in France. I +remember so well the old _curé_ of our little town coming up to lunch, +his interest in the cooking, in the practical matters of our life, and +in wider affairs too; his enjoyment of his coffee and cigarette; and the +curious suddenness with which something seemed "to come over him"--one +could hear his heart saying: "O my people, here am I wasting my time; I +must run to you." I saw him in the court-yard talking to one of our +_poilus_, not about his soul, but about his body; stroking his shoulder +softly and calling him _mon cher fils_. Dear old man! Even religion here +does not pretend to more than it can achieve--help and consolation to +the bewildered and the suffering. It uses forms, smiling a little at +them. + +The secret of French culture lies in this vibrating balance; from quick +marriage of mind and heart, reason and sense, in the French nature, all +the clear created forms of French life arise, forms recognised as forms +with definite utility attached. Controlled expression is the result of +action and reaction. Controlled expression is the essence of culture, +because it alone makes a sufficiently clear appeal in a world which is +itself the result of the innumerable interplay of complementary or dual +laws and forces. French culture is near to the real heart of things, +because it has a sort of quick sanity which never loses its way; or, +when it does, very rapidly recovers the middle of the road. It has the +two capital defects of its virtues. It is too fond of forms and too +mistrustful. The French nature is sane and cynical. Well, it's natural! +The French lie just halfway between north and south; their blood is too +mingled for enthusiasm, and their culture too old. + +I never realised how old France was till we went to Arles. In our +crowded train _poilus_ were packed, standing in the corridors. One very +weary, invited by a high and kindly colonel into our carriage, chatted +in his tired voice of how wonderfully the women kept the work going on +the farms. "When we get a fortnight's leave," he said, "all goes well, +we can do the heavy things the women cannot, and the land is made clean. +It wants that fortnight now and then, _mon colonel_; there is work on +farms that women cannot do." And the colonel vehemently nodded his thin +face. We alighted in the dark among southern forms and voices, and the +little hotel omnibus became enmeshed at once in old, high, very narrow, +Italian-seeming streets. It was Sunday next day; sunny, with a clear +blue sky. In the square before our hotel a simple crowd round the statue +of Mistral chattered or listened to a girl singing excruciating songs; a +crowd as old-looking as in Italy or Spain, aged as things only are in +the South. We walked up to the Arena. Quite a recent development in the +life of Arles, they say, that marvellous Roman building, here cut down, +there built up, by Saracen hands. For a thousand years or more before +the Romans came Arles flourished and was civilised. What had we mushroom +islanders before the Romans came? What had barbaric Prussia? Not even +the Romans to look forward to! The age-long life of the South stands for +much in modern France, correcting the cruder blood which has poured in +these last fifteen hundred years. As one blends wine of very old stock +with newer brands, so has France been blended and mellowed. A strange +cosmic feeling one had, on the top of the great building in that town +older than Rome itself, of the continuity of human life and the futility +of human conceit. The provincial vanity of modern States looked pitiful +in the clear air above that vast stony proof of age. + +In many ways the war has brought us up all standing on the edge of an +abyss. When it is over shall we go galloping over the edge, or, reining +back, sit awhile in our saddles looking for a better track? We were all +on the highway to a hell of material expansion and vulgarity, of cheap +immediate profit, and momentary sensation; north and south in our +different ways, all "rattling into barbarity." Shall we find our way +again into a finer air, where self-respect, not profit, rules, and rare +things and durable are made once more? + +From Arles we journeyed to Marseilles, to see how the first cosmopolitan +town in the world fared in war-time. Here was an amazing spectacle of +swarming life. If France has reason to feel the war most of all the +great countries, Marseilles must surely feel it less than any other +great town; she flourishes in a perfect riot of movement and colour. +Here all the tribes are met, save those of Central Europe--Frenchman, +Serb, Spaniard, Algerian, Greek, Arab, Khabyle, Russian, Indian, +Italian, Englishman, Scotsman, Jew, and Nubian rub shoulders in the +thronged streets. The miles of docks are crammed with ships. Food of all +sorts abounds. In the bright, dry light all is gay and busy. The most +æsthetic, and perhaps most humiliating, sight that a Westerner could see +we came on there: two Arab Spahis walking down the main street in their +long robe uniforms, white and red, and their white linen bonnets bound +with a dark fur and canting slightly backwards. Over six feet high, they +moved unhurrying, smoking their cigarettes, turning their necks slowly +from side to side like camels of the desert. Their brown, thin, bearded +faces wore neither scorn nor interest, only a superb self-containment; +but, beside them, every other specimen of the human race seemed cheap +and negligible. God knows of what they were thinking--as little probably +as the smoke they blew through their chiselled nostrils--but their +beauty and grace were unsurpassable. And, visioning our western and +northern towns and the little, white, worried abortions they breed, one +felt downcast and abashed. + +Marseilles swarmed with soldiers; Lyon, Valence, Arles, even the +smallest cities swarmed with soldiers, and this at the moment when the +Allied offensive was just beginning. If France be nearing the end of her +man-power, as some assert, she conceals it so that one would think she +was at the beginning. + +From Marseilles we went to Lyon. I have heard that town described as +lamentably plain; but compared with Manchester or Sheffield it is as +heaven to hell. Between its two wide rolling rivers, under a line of +heights, it has somewhat the aspect of an enormous commercialised +Florence. Perhaps in foggy weather it may be dreary, but the sky was +blue and the sun shone, a huge _Foire_ was just opening, and every +street bustled in a dignified manner. + +The English have always had a vague idea that France is an immoral +country. To the eye of a mere visitor France is the most moral of the +four Great Powers--France, Russia, England, Germany; has the strongest +family life and the most seemly streets. Young men and maidens are never +seen walking or lying about, half-embraced, as in puritanical England. +Fire is not played with--openly, at least. The slow-fly amorousness of +the British working classes evidently does not suit the quicker blood of +France. There is just enough of the South in the French to keep +demonstration of affection away from daylight. A certain school of +French novelist, with high-coloured tales of Parisian life, is +responsible for his country's reputation. Whatever the Frenchman about +town may be, he seems by no means typical of the many millions of +Frenchmen who are not about town. And if Frenchwomen, as I have heard +Frenchmen say, are _légères_, they are the best mothers in the world, +and their "lightness" is not vulgarly obtruded. They say many domestic +tragedies will be played at the conclusion of the war. If so, they will +not be played in France alone; and compared with the tragedies of +fidelity played all these dreadful years they will be as black rabbits +to brown for numbers. For the truth on morality in France we must go +back, I suspect, to that general conclusion about the French +character--the swift passage from head to heart and back again, which, +prohibiting extremes of puritanism and of licence, preserves a sort of +balance. + +From this war France will emerge changed, though less changed very +likely than any other country. A certain self-sufficiency that was very +marked about French life will have sloughed away. I expect an opening of +the doors, a toleration of other tastes and standards, a softening of +the too narrow definiteness of French opinion. + +Even Paris has opened her heart a little since the war; and the heart of +Paris is close, hard, impatient of strangers. We noticed in our hospital +that whenever we had a Parisian he introduced a different atmosphere, +and led us a quiet or noisy dance. We had one whose name was Aimé, +whose skin was like a baby's, who talked softly and fast, with little +grunts, and before he left was quite the leading personality. We had +another, a red-haired young one; when he was away on leave we hardly +knew the hospital, it was so orderly. The sons of Paris are a breed +apart, just as our Cockneys are. I do not pretend to fathom them; they +have the texture and resilience of an indiarubber ball. And the women of +Paris! Heaven forfend that I should say I know them! They are a sealed +book. Still, even Parisians are less intolerant than in pre-war days of +us dull English, perceiving in us, perhaps, a certain unexpected +usefulness. And, _à propos_! One hears it said that in the regions of +our British armies certain natives believe we have come to stay. What an +intensely comic notion! And what a lurid light it throws on history, on +the mistrust engendered between nations, on the cynicism which human +conduct has forced deep into human hearts. No! If a British Government +could be imagined behaving in such a way, the British population would +leave England, become French citizens, and help to turn out the damned +intruders! + +But _we_ did not encounter anywhere that comic belief. In all this land +of France, chockful of those odd creatures, English men and women, we +found only a wonderful and touching welcome. Not once during those long +months of winter was an unfriendly word spoken in our hearing; not once +were we treated with anything but true politeness and cordiality. +_Poilus_ and peasants, porters and officials, ladies, doctors, servants, +shop-folk, were always considerate, always friendly, always desirous +that we should feel at home. The very dogs gave us welcome! A little +black half-Pomeranian came uninvited and made his home with us in our +hospital; we called him Aristide. But on our walks with him we were +liable to meet a posse of children who would exclaim, "_Pom-pom! Voilà , +Pom-pom!_" and lead him away. Before night fell he would be with us +again, with a bit of string or ribbon, bitten through, dangling from his +collar. His children bored him terribly. We left him in trust to our +_poilus_ on that sad afternoon when "Good-bye" must be said, all those +friendly hands shaken for the last time, and the friendly faces left. +Through the little town the car bore us, away along the valley between +the poplar trees with the first flush of spring on their twigs, and the +magpies flighting across the road to the river-bank. + +The heart of France is deep within her breast; she wears it not upon her +sleeve. But France opened her heart for once and let us see the gold. + +And so we came forth from France of a rainy day, leaving half our hearts +behind us. + +1917. + + + + +ENGLISHMAN AND RUSSIAN + + +It has been my conviction for many years that the Russian and the +Englishman are as it were the complementary halves of a man. What the +Russian lacks the Englishman has; what the Englishman lacks, that has +the Russian. The works of Gogol, Turgenev, Dostoievsky, Tolstoi, +Tchekov--the amazing direct and truthful revelations of these +masters--has let me, I think, into some secrets of the Russian soul, so +that the Russians I have met seem rather clearer to me than men and +women of other foreign countries. For their construing I have been given +what schoolboys call a crib. Only a fool pretends to knowledge--the +heart of another is surely a dark forest; but the heart of a Russian +seems to me a forest less dark than many, partly because the qualities +and defects of a Russian impact so sharply on the perceptions of an +Englishman, but partly because those great Russian novelists in whom I +have delighted, possess, before all other gifts, so deep a talent for +the revelation of truth. In following out this apposition of the Russian +and the Englishman, one may well start with that little matter of +"truth." The Englishman has what I would call a passion for the forms +of truth; his word is his bond--nearly always; he will not tell a +lie--not often; honesty, in his idiom, is the best policy. But he has +little or no regard for the spirit of truth. Quite unconsciously he +revels in self-deception and flies from knowledge of anything which will +injure his intention to "make good," as Americans say. He is, before all +things, a competitive soul who seeks to win rather than to understand or +to "live." And to win, or, shall we say, to maintain to oneself the +illusion of winning, one must carefully avoid seeing too much. The +Russian is light hearted about the forms of truth, but revels in +self-knowledge and frank self-declaration, enjoys unbottoming the +abysses of his thoughts and feelings, however gloomy. In Russia time and +space have no exact importance, living counts for more than dominating +life, emotion is not castrated, feelings are openly indulged in; in +Russia there are the extremes of cynicism, and of faith; of intellectual +subtlety, and simplicity; truth has quite another significance; manners +are different; what we know as "good form" is a meaningless shibboleth. +The Russian rushes at life, drinks the cup to the dregs, then frankly +admits that it has dregs, and puts up with the disillusionment. The +Englishman holds the cup gingerly and sips, determined to make it last +his time, not to disturb the dregs, and to die without having reached +the bottom. + +These are the two poles of that instinctive intention to get out of life +all there is in it--which is ever the unconscious philosophy guiding +mankind. To the Russian it is vital to realise at all costs the fulness +of sensation and reach the limits of comprehension; to the Englishman it +is vital to preserve illusion and go on defeating death until death so +unexpectedly defeats him. + +What this wide distinction comes from I know not, unless from the +difference of our climates and geographical circumstances. Russians are +the children of vast plains and forests, dry air, and extremes of heat +and cold; the English, of the sea, small, uneven hedge-rowed landscapes, +mist, and mean temperatures. By an ironical paradox, we English have +achieved a real liberty of speech and action, even now denied to +Russians, who naturally far surpass us in desire to turn things inside +out and see of what they are made. The political arrangements of a +country are based on temperament; and a political freedom which suits +us, an old people, predisposed to a practical and cautious view of life, +is proving difficult, if not impossible, for Russians, a young people, +who spend themselves so freely. But what Russia will become, politically +speaking, he would be rash who prophesied. + +I suppose what Russians most notice and perhaps envy in us is practical +common sense, our acquired instinct for what is attainable, and for the +best and least elaborate means of attaining it. What we ought to envy in +Russians is a sort of unworldliness--not the feeling that this world is +the preliminary of another, nothing so commercial; but the natural +disposition to live each moment without afterthought, emotionally. Lack +of emotional abandonment is our great deficiency. Whether we can ever +learn to have more is very doubtful. But our imaginative writings, at +all events, have of late been profoundly modified by the Russian novel, +that current in literature far more potent than any of those traced out +in Georg Brandes' monumental study. Russian writers have brought to +imaginative literature a directness in the presentation of vision, a +lack of self-consciousness, strange to all Western countries, and +particularly strange to us English, who of all people are the most +self-conscious. This quality of Russian writers is evidently racial, for +even in the most artful of them--Turgenev--it is as apparent as in the +least sophisticated. It is part, no doubt, of their natural power of +flinging themselves deep into the sea of experience and sensation; of +their self-forgetfulness in a passionate search for truth. + +In such living Russian writers as I have read, in Kuprin, Gorky, and +others, I still see and welcome this peculiar quality of rendering life +through--but not veiled by--the author's temperament; so that the effect +is almost as if no ink were used. When one says that the Russian novel +has already profoundly modified our literature, one does not mean that +we have now nearly triumphed over the need for ink, or that our +temperaments have become Russian; but that some of us have become +infected with the wish to see and record the truth and obliterate that +competitive moralising which from time immemorial has been the +characteristic bane of English art. In other words, the Russian passion +for understanding has tempered a little the English passion for winning. +What we admire and look for in Russian literature is its truth and its +profound and comprehending tolerance. I am credibly informed that what +Russians admire and look for in our literature is its quality of "no +nonsense" and its assertive vigour. In a word, they are attracted by +that in it which is new to them. I venture to hope that they will not +become infected by us in this matter; that nothing will dim in their +writers spiritual and intellectual honesty of vision or tinge them with +self-consciousness. It is still for us to borrow from Russian literary +art, and learn, if we can, to sink ourselves in life and reproduce it +without obtrusion of our points of view, except in that subtle way +which gives to each creative work its essential individuality. Our +boisterousness in art is too self-conscious to be real, and our +restraint is only a superficial legacy from Puritanism. + +Restraint in life and conduct is another matter altogether. There +Russians can learn from us, who are past-masters in control of our +feelings. In all matters of conduct, indeed, we are, as it were, much +older than the Russians; we were more like them, one imagines, in the +days of Elizabeth. + +Either similarity, or great dissimilarity, is generally needful for +mutual liking. Our soldiers appear to get on very well with Russians. +But only exceptional natures in either country could expect to +_understand_ each other thoroughly. The two peoples are as the halves of +a whole; different as chalk from cheese; can supplement, intermingle, +but never replace each other. Both in so different ways are very vital +types of mankind, very deep sunk in their own atmospheres and natures, +very insulated against all that is not Russian, or is not English; +deeply unchangeable and impermeable. It is almost impossible to +de-Anglicise an Englishman; as difficult to de-Russianise a Russian. + +1916. + + + + +AMERICAN AND BRITON + + +On the mutual understanding of each other by Britons and Americans the +future happiness of nations depends more than on any other world cause. + +I have never held a whole-hearted brief for the British character. There +is a lot of good in it, but much which is repellent. It has a kind of +deliberate unattractiveness, setting out on its journey with the words: +"Take me or leave me." One may respect a person of this sort, but it is +difficult either to know or to like him. I am told that an American +officer said recently to a British staff officer in a friendly voice: +"So we're going to clean up Brother Boche together!" and the British +staff officer replied "Really!" No wonder Americans sometimes say: "I've +got no use for those fellows." + +The world is consecrate to strangeness and discovery, and the attitude +of mind concreted in that "Really!" seems unforgivable, till one +remembers that it is manner rather than matter which divides the hearts +of American and Briton. + +In a huge, still half-developed country, where every kind of national +type and habit comes to run a new thread into the rich tapestry of +American life and thought, people must find it almost impossible to +conceive the life of a little old island where traditions persist +generation after generation without anything to break them up; where +blood remains undoctored by new strains; demeanour becomes crystallised +for lack of contrasts; and manner gets set like a plaster mask. The +English manner of to-day, of what are called the classes, is the growth +of only a century or so. There was probably nothing at all like it in +the days of Elizabeth or even of Charles II. The English manner was +still racy when the inhabitants of Virginia, as we are told, sent over +to ask that there might be despatched to them some hierarchical +assistance for the good of their souls, and were answered: "D----n your +souls, grow tobacco!" The English manner of to-day could not even have +come into its own when that epitaph of a lady, quoted somewhere by +Gilbert Murray, was written: "Bland, passionate, and deeply religious, +she was second cousin to the Earl of Leitrim; of such are the Kingdom of +Heaven." About that gravestone motto was a certain lack of the +self-consciousness which is now the foremost characteristic of the +English manner. + +But this British self-consciousness is no mere fluffy _gaucherie_, it is +our special form of what Germans would call "Kultur." Behind every +manifestation of thought or emotion the Briton retains control of self, +and is thinking: "That's all I'll let them see"; even: "That's all I'll +let myself feel." This stoicism is good in its refusal to be foundered; +bad in that it fosters a narrow outlook; starves emotion, spontaneity, +and frank sympathy; destroys grace and what one may describe roughly as +the lovable side of personality. The English hardly ever say just what +comes into their heads. What we call "good form," the unwritten law +which governs certain classes of the Briton, savours of the dull and +glacial; but there lurks within it a core of virtue. It has grown up +like callous shell round two fine ideals--suppression of the ego lest it +trample on the corns of other people, and exaltation of the maxim: +"Deeds before words." Good form, like any other religion, starts well +with some ethical truth, but soon gets commonised and petrified till we +can hardly trace its origin, and watch with surprise its denial and +contradiction of the root idea. + +Without doubt good form had become a kind of disease in England. A +French friend told me how he witnessed in a Swiss Hotel the meeting +between an Englishwoman and her son, whom she had not seen for two +years; she was greatly affected--by the fact that he had not brought a +dinner-jacket. The best manners are no "manners," or at all events no +mannerisms; but many Britons who have even attained to this perfect +purity are yet not free from the paralytic effects of "good form"; are +still self-conscious in the depths of their souls, and never do or say a +thing without trying not to show what they are feeling. All this +guarantees a certain decency in life; but in intimate intercourse with +people of other nations who have not this particular cult of +suppression, we English disappoint, and jar, and often irritate. Nations +have their differing forms of snobbery. At one time the English all +wanted to be second cousins to the Earl of Leitrim, like that lady bland +and passionate. Nowadays it is not so simple. The Earl of Leitrim has +become etherealised. We no longer care how a fellow is born so long as +he behaves as the Earl of Leitrim would have, never makes himself +conspicuous or ridiculous, never shows too much what he's really +feeling, never talks of what he's going to do, and always "plays the +game." The cult is centred in our public schools and universities. + +At a very typical and honoured old public school the writer of this +essay passed on the whole a happy time; but what a curious life, +educationally speaking! We lived rather like young Spartans; and were +not encouraged to think, imagine, or see anything that we learned in +relation to life at large. It's very difficult to teach boys, because +their chief object in life is not to be taught anything, but I should +say we were crammed, not taught at all. Living as we did the herd-life +of boys with little or no intrusion from our elders, and they men who +had been brought up in the same way as ourselves, we were debarred from +any real interest in philosophy, history, art, literature and music, or +any advancing notions in social life or politics. I speak of the +generality, not of the few black swans among us. We were reactionaries +almost to a boy. I remember one summer term Gladstone came down to speak +to us, and we repaired to the Speech Room with white collars and dark +hearts, muttering what we would do to that Grand Old Man if we could +have our way. But he contrived to charm us, after all, till we cheered +him vociferously. In that queer life we had all sorts of unwritten rules +of suppression. You must turn up your trousers; must not go out with +your umbrella rolled. Your hat must be worn tilted forward; you must not +walk more than two-a-breast till you reached a certain form, nor be +enthusiastic about anything, except such a supreme matter as a drive +over the pavilion at cricket, or a run the whole length of the ground at +football. You must not talk about yourself or your home people, and for +any punishment you must assume complete indifference. + +I dwell on these trivialities because every year thousands of British +boys enter these mills which grind exceeding small, and because these +boys constitute in after life the great majority of the official, +military, academic, professional, and a considerable proportion of the +business classes of Great Britain. They become the Englishmen who say: +"Really!" and they are for the most part the Englishmen who travel and +reach America. The great defence I have always heard put up for our +public schools is that they form character. As oatmeal is supposed to +form bone in the bodies of Scotsmen, so our public schools are supposed +to form good, sound moral fibre in British boys. And there is much in +this plea. The life does make boys enduring, self-reliant, good-tempered +and honourable, but it most carefully endeavours to destroy all original +sin of individuality, spontaneity, and engaging freakishness. It +implants, moreover, in the great majority of those who have lived it the +mental attitude of that swell, who when asked where he went for his +hats, replied: "Blank's, of course. Is there another fellow's?" + +To know all is to excuse all--to know all about the bringing-up of +English public school boys makes one excuse much. The atmosphere and +tradition of those places is extraordinarily strong, and persists +through all modern changes. Thirty-seven years have gone since I was a +new boy, but cross-examining a young nephew who left not long ago, I +found almost precisely the same features and conditions. The war, which +has changed so much of our social life, will have some, but no very +great, effect on this particular institution. The boys still go there +from the same kind of homes and preparatory schools and come under the +same kind of masters. And the traditional unemotionalism, the cult of a +dry and narrow stoicism, is rather fortified than diminished by the +times we live in. + +Our universities, on the other hand, are now mere ghosts of their old +selves. At a certain old college in Oxford, last term, they had only two +English students. In the chapel under the Joshua Reynolds window, +through which the sun was shining, hung a long "roll of honour," a +hundred names and more. In the college garden an open-air hospital was +ranged under the old city wall, where we used to climb and go wandering +in the early summer mornings after some all-night spree. Down on the +river the empty college barges lay void of life. From the top of one of +them an aged custodian broke into words: "Ah! Oxford'll never be the +same again in my time. Why, who's to teach 'em rowin'? When we do get +undergrads again, who's to teach 'em? All the old ones gone, killed, +wounded and that. No! Rowin'll never be the same again--not in my time." +That was _the_ tragedy of the war for him. Our universities will recover +faster than he thinks, and resume the care of our particular "Kultur," +and cap the products of our public schools with the Oxford accent and +the Oxford manner. + +An acute critic tells me that Americans reading such deprecatory words +as these by an Englishman about his country's institutions would say +that this is precisely an instance of what an American means by the +Oxford manner. Americans whose attitude towards their own country is +that of a lover to his lady or a child to its mother, cannot--he +says--understand how Englishmen can be critical of their own country, +and yet love her. Well, the Englishman's attitude to his country is that +of a man to himself, and the way he runs her down is but a part of that +special English bone-deep self-consciousness. Englishmen (the writer +amongst them) love their country as much as the French love France and +the Americans America; but she is so much a part of them that to speak +well of her is like speaking well of themselves, which they have been +brought up to regard as "bad form." When Americans hear Englishmen +speaking critically of their own country, let them note it for a sign of +complete identification with that country rather than of detachment from +it. But on the whole it must be admitted that English universities have +a broadening influence on the material which comes to them so set and +narrow. They do a little to discover for their children that there are +many points of view, and much which needs an open mind in this world. +They have not precisely a democratic influence, but taken by themselves +they would not be inimical to democracy. And when the war is over they +will surely be still broader in philosophy and teaching. Heaven forbid +that we should see vanish all that is old, and has, as it were, the +virginia-creeper, the wistaria bloom of age upon it; there is a beauty +in age and a health in tradition, ill dispensed with. What is hateful in +age is its lack of understanding and of sympathy; in a word--its +intolerance. Let us hope this wind of change may sweep out and sweeten +the old places of our country, sweep away the cobwebs and the dust, our +narrow ways of thought, our mannikinisms. But those who hate intolerance +dare not be intolerant with the foibles of age; we should rather see +them as comic, and gently laugh them out. I pretend to no proper +knowledge of the American people; but, though amongst them there are +doubtless pockets of fierce prejudice, I have on the whole the +impression of a wide and tolerant spirit. To that spirit one would +appeal when it comes to passing judgment on the educated Briton. He may +be self-sufficient, but he has grit; and at bottom grit is what +Americans appreciate more than anything. If the motto of the old Oxford +college, "Manners makyth man," were true, one would often be sorry for +the Briton. But his manners do not make him; they mar him. His goods are +all absent from the shop window; he is not a man of the world in the +wider meaning of that expression. And there is, of course, a +particularly noxious type of travelling Briton, who does his best, +unconsciously, to deflower his country wherever he goes. Selfish, +coarse-fibred, loud-voiced--the sort which thanks God he is a Briton--I +suppose because nobody else will do it for him. + +We live in times when patriotism is exalted above all other virtues, +because there happen to lie before the patriotic tremendous chances for +the display of courage and self-sacrifice. Patriotism ever has that +advantage, as the world is now constituted; but patriotism and +provincialism are sisters under the skin, and they who can only see +bloom on the plumage of their own kind, who prefer the bad points of +their countrymen to the good points of foreigners, merely write +themselves down blind of an eye, and panderers to herd feeling. America +is advantaged in this matter. She lives so far away from other nations +that she might well be excused for thinking herself the only people in +the world; but in the many strains of blood which go to make up America +there is as yet a natural corrective to the narrower kind of patriotism. +America has vast spaces and many varieties of type and climate, and life +to her is still a great adventure. Americans have their own form of +self-absorption, but seem free as yet from the special competitive +self-centrement which has been forced on Britons through long centuries +by countless continental rivalries and wars. Insularity was driven into +the very bones of our people by the generation-long wars of Napoleon. A +distinguished French writer, André Chevrillon, whose book[B] may be +commended to any one who wishes to understand British peculiarities, +used these words in a recent letter: "You English are so strange to us +French, you are so utterly different from any other people in the +world." Yes! We are a lonely race. Deep in our hearts, I think, we feel +that only the American people could ever really understand us. And +being extraordinarily self-conscious, perverse, and proud, we do our +best to hide from Americans that we have any such feeling. It would +distress the average Briton to confess that he wanted to be understood, +had anything so natural as a craving for fellowship or for being liked. +We are a weird people, though we seem so commonplace. In looking at +photographs of British types among photographs of other European +nationalities, one is struck by something which is in no other of those +races--exactly as if we had an extra skin; as if the British animal had +been tamed longer than the rest. And so he has. His political, social, +legal life was fixed long before that of any other Western country. He +was old, though not mouldering, before the _Mayflower_ touched American +shores and brought there avatars, grave and civilised as ever founded +nation. There is something touching and terrifying about our character, +about the depth at which it keeps its real yearnings, about the +perversity with which it disguises them, and its inability to show its +feelings. We are, deep down, under all our lazy mentality, the most +combative and competitive race in the world, with the exception, +perhaps, of the American. This is at once a spiritual link with America, +and yet one of the great barriers to friendship between the two +peoples. We are not sure whether we are better men than Americans. +Whether we are really better than French, Germans, Russians, Italians, +Chinese, or any other race is, of course, more than a question; but +those peoples are all so different from us that we are bound, I suppose, +secretly to consider ourselves superior. But between Americans and +ourselves, under all differences, there is some mysterious deep kinship +which causes us to doubt and makes us irritable, as if we were +continually being tickled by that question: Now am I really a better man +than he? Exactly what proportion of American blood at this time of day +is British, I know not; but enough to make us definitely cousins--always +an awkward relationship. We see in Americans a sort of image of +ourselves; feel near enough, yet far enough, to criticise and carp at +the points of difference. It is as though a man went out and +encountered, in the street, what he thought for the moment was himself, +and, wounded in his _amour propre_, instantly began to disparage the +appearance of that fellow. Probably community of language rather than of +blood accounts for our sense of kinship, for a common means of +expression cannot but mould thought and feeling into some kind of unity. +One can hardly overrate the intimacy which a common literature brings. +The lives of great Americans, Washington and Franklin, Lincoln and Lee +and Grant, are unsealed for us, just as to Americans are the lives of +Marlborough and Nelson, Pitt and Gladstone and Gordon. Longfellow and +Whittier and Whitman can be read by the British child as simply as Burns +and Shelley and Keats. Emerson and William James are no more difficult +to us than Darwin and Spencer to Americans. Without an effort we rejoice +in Hawthorne and Mark Twain, Henry James and Howells, as Americans can +in Dickens and Thackeray, Meredith and Thomas Hardy. And, more than all, +Americans own with ourselves all literature in the English tongue before +the _Mayflower_ sailed; Chaucer and Spenser and Shakespeare, Raleigh, +Ben Jonson, and the authors of the English Bible Version are their +spiritual ancestors as much as ever they are ours. The tie of language +is all-powerful--for language is the food formative of minds. A volume +could be written on the formation of character by literary humour alone. +The American and Briton, especially the British townsman, have a kind of +bone-deep defiance of Fate, a readiness for anything which may turn up, +a dry, wry smile under the blackest sky, and an individual way of +looking at things which nothing can shake. Americans and Britons both, +we must and will think for ourselves, and know why we do a thing before +we do it. We have that ingrained respect for the individual conscience +which is at the bottom of all free institutions. Some years before the +war an intelligent and cultivated Austrian, who had lived long in +England, was asked for his opinion of the British. "In many ways," he +said, "I think you are inferior to us; but one great thing I have +noticed about you which we have not. You think and act and speak for +yourselves." If he had passed those years in America instead of in +England he must needs have pronounced the same judgment of Americans. +Free speech, of course, like every form of freedom, goes in danger of +its life in war-time. The other day, in Russia, an Englishman came on a +street meeting shortly after the first revolution had begun. An +extremist was addressing the gathering and telling them that they were +fools to go on fighting, that they ought to refuse and go home, and so +forth. The crowd grew angry, and some soldiers were for making a rush at +him; but the chairman, a big, burly peasant, stopped them with these +words: "Brothers, you know that our country is now a country of free +speech. We must listen to this man, we must let him say anything he +will. But, brothers, when he's finished, we'll bash his head in!" + +I cannot assert that either Britons or Americans are incapable in times +like these of a similar interpretation of "free speech." Things have +been done in our country, and will be done in America, which should make +us blush. But so strong is the free instinct in both countries that some +vestiges of it will survive even this war, for democracy is a sham +unless it means the preservation and development of this instinct of +thinking for oneself throughout a people. "Government of the people by +the people for the people" means nothing unless individuals keep their +consciences unfettered and think freely. Accustom people to be nose-led +and spoon-fed, and democracy is a mere pretence. The measure of +democracy is the measure of the freedom and sense of individual +responsibility in its humblest citizens. And democracy--I say it with +solemnity--has yet to prove itself. + +A scientist, Dr. Spurrell, in a recent book, "Man and his Forerunners," +diagnoses the growth of civilisations somewhat as follows: A +civilisation begins with the enslavement by some hardy race of a tame +race living a tame life in more congenial natural surroundings. It is +built up on slavery, and attains its maximum vitality in conditions +little removed therefrom. Then, as individual freedom gradually grows, +disorganisation sets in and the civilisation slowly dissolves away in +anarchy. Dr. Spurrell does not dogmatise about our present civilisation, +but suggests that it will probably follow the civilisations of the past +into dissolution. I am not convinced of that, because of certain factors +new to the history of man. Recent discoveries are unifying the world; +such old isolated swoops of race on race are not now possible. In our +great industrial States, it is true, a new form of slavery has arisen, +but not of man by man, rather of man by machines. Moreover, all past +civilisations have been more or less Southern, and subject to the +sapping influence of the sun. Modern civilisation is essentially +Northern. The individualism, however, which, according to Dr. Spurrell, +dissolved the Empires of the past, exists already, in a marked degree, +in every modern State; and the problem before us is to discover how +democracy and liberty of the subject can be made into enduring props +rather than dissolvents. It is the problem of making democracy genuine. +And certainly, if that cannot be achieved and perpetuated, there is +nothing to prevent democracy drifting into anarchism and dissolving +modern States, till they are the prey of pouncing dictators, or of +States not so far gone in dissolution. What, for instance, will happen +to Russia if she does not succeed in making her democracy genuine? A +Russia which remains anarchic must very quickly become the prey of her +neighbours on West and East. + +Ever since the substantial introduction of democracy nearly a century +and a half ago with the American War of Independence, Western +civilisation has been living on two planes or levels--the autocratic +plane, with which is bound up the idea of nationalism, and the +democratic, to which has become conjoined the idea of internationalism. +Not only little wars, but great wars such as this, come because of +inequality in growth, dissimilarity of political institutions between +States; because this State or that is basing its life on different +principles from its neighbours. The decentralisation, delays, critical +temper, and importance of home affairs prevalent in democratic countries +make them at once slower, weaker, less apt to strike, and less prepared +to strike than countries where bureaucratic brains subject to no real +popular check devise world policies which can be thrust, prepared to the +last button, on the world at a moment's notice. The free and critical +spirit in America, France, and Britain has kept our democracies +comparatively unprepared for anything save their own affairs. + +We fall into glib usage of words like democracy and make fetiches of +them without due understanding. Democracy is inferior to autocracy from +the aggressively national point of view; it is not necessarily superior +to autocracy as a guarantee of general well-being; it may even turn out +to be inferior unless we can improve it. But democracy is the rising +tide; it may be dammed or delayed, but cannot be stopped. It seems to be +a law in human nature that where, in any corporate society, the idea of +self-government sets foot it refuses to take that foot up again. State +after State, copying the American example, has adopted the democratic +principle; the world's face is that way set. And civilisation is now so +of a pattern that the Western world may be looked on as one State and +the process of change therein from autocracy to democracy regarded as +though it were taking place in a single old-time country such as Greece +or Rome. If throughout Western civilisation we can secure the single +democratic principle of government, its single level of State morality +in thought and action, we shall be well on our way to unanimity +throughout the world; for even in China and Japan the democratic virus +is at work. It is my belief that only in a world thus uniform, and freed +from the danger of pounce by autocracies, have States any chance to +develop the individual conscience to a point which shall make democracy +proof against anarchy and themselves proof against dissolution; and +only in such a world can a League of Nations to enforce peace succeed. + +But even if we do secure a single plane for Western civilisation and +ultimately for the world, there will be but slow and difficult progress +in the lot of mankind. And unless we secure it, there will be only a +march backwards. + +For this advance to a uniform civilisation the solidarity of the +English-speaking races is vital. Without that there will be no bottom on +which to build. + +The ancestors of the American people sought a new country because they +had in them a reverence for the individual conscience; they came from +Britain, the first large State in the Christian era to build up the idea +of political freedom. The instincts and ideals of our two races have +ever been the same. That great and lovable people, the French, with +their clear thought and expression, and their quick blood, have +expressed those ideals more vividly than either of us. But the +phlegmatic and the dry tenacity of our English and American temperaments +has ever made our countries the most settled and safe homes of the +individual conscience, and of its children--Democracy, Freedom and +Internationalism. Whatever their faults--and their offences cry aloud to +such poor heaven as remains of chivalry and mercy--the Germans are in +many ways a great race, but they possess two qualities dangerous to the +individual conscience--unquestioning obedience and exaltation. When they +embrace the democratic idea they may surpass us all in its logical +development, but the individual conscience will still not be at ease +with them. We must look to our two countries to guarantee its strength +and activity, and if we English-speaking races quarrel and become +disunited, civilisation will split up again and go its way to ruin. We +are the ballast of the new order. + +I do not believe in formal alliances or in grouping nations to exclude +and keep down other nations. Friendships between countries should have +the only true reality of common sentiment, _and be animated by desire +for the general welfare of mankind_. We need no formal bonds, but we +have a sacred charge in common, to let no petty matters, differences of +manner, or divergencies of material interest, destroy our spiritual +agreement. Our pasts, our geographical positions, our temperaments make +us, beyond all other races, the hope and trustees of mankind's advance +along the only line now open--democratic internationalism. It is +childish to claim for Americans or Britons virtues beyond those of other +nations, or to believe in the superiority of one national culture to +another; they are different, that is all. It is by accident that we find +ourselves in this position of guardianship to the main line of human +development; no need to pat ourselves on the back about it. But we are +at a great and critical moment in the world's history--how critical none +of us alive will ever realise. The civilisation slowly built since the +fall of Rome has either to break up and dissolve into jagged and +isolated fragments through a century of wars; or, unified and reanimated +by a single idea, to move forward on one plane and attain greater height +and breadth. + +Under the pressure of this war there is, beneath the lip-service we pay +to democracy, a disposition to lose faith in it because of its undoubted +weakness and inconvenience in a struggle with States autocratically +governed; there is even a sort of secret reaction to autocracy. On those +lines there is no way out of a future of bitter rivalries, chicanery and +wars, and the probable total failure of our civilisation. The only cure +which I can see lies in democratising the whole world and removing the +present weaknesses and shams of democracy by education of the individual +conscience in every country. Good-bye to that chance if Americans and +Britons fall foul of each other, refuse to pool their thoughts and +hopes, and to keep the general welfare of mankind in view. They have +got to stand together, not in aggressive and jealous policies, but in +defence and championship of the self-helpful, self-governing, "live and +let live" philosophy of life. + +The house of the future is always dark. There are few corner-stones to +be discerned in the temple of our fate. But of these few one is the +brotherhood and bond of the English-speaking races, not for narrow +purposes, but that mankind may yet see faith and good-will enshrined, +yet breathe a sweeter air, and know a life where Beauty passes, with the +sun on her wings. + +We want in the lives of men a "Song of Honour," as in Ralph Hodgson's +poem: + + "The song of men all sorts and kinds, + As many tempers, moods and minds + As leaves are on a tree, + As many faiths and castes and creeds, + As many human bloods and breeds, + As in the world may be." + +In the making of that song the English-speaking races will assuredly +unite. What made this world we know not; the principle of life is +inscrutable and will for ever be; but we know that Earth is yet on the +up-grade of existence, the mountain-top of man's life not reached, that +many centuries of growth are yet in front of us before Nature begins to +chill this planet till it swims, at last, another moon, in space. In the +climb to that mountain-top of a happy life for mankind our two great +nations are as guides who go before, roped together in perilous ascent. +On their nerve, loyalty, and wisdom the adventure now hangs. What +American or British knife will sever the rope? + +He who ever gives a thought to the life of man at large, to his miseries +and disappointments, to the waste and cruelty of existence, will +remember that if American or Briton fail himself, or fail the other, +there can but be for us both, and for all other peoples, a hideous slip, +a swift and fearful fall into an abyss, whence all shall be to begin +over again. + +We shall not fail--neither ourselves, nor each other. Our comradeship +will endure. + +1917. + +[B] "England and the War." Hodder & Stoughton. + + + + +ANGLO-AMERICAN DRAMA AND ITS FUTURE[C] + + +There is a maxim particularly suitable to those who follow any art: +"Don't talk about what you do!" And yet, once in a way, one must clear +the mind and put into words what lies at the back of endeavour. + +What, then, is lying at the back of any growth or development there may +have been of late in drama? + +In my belief, simply an outcrop of sincerity--of fidelity to mood, to +impression, to self. A man here and there has turned up who has imagined +something true to what he has really seen and felt, and has projected it +across the foot-lights in such a way as to make other people feel it. +This is all that has happened lately on our stage. And if it be growth, +it will not be growth in quantity, since there is nothing like sincerity +for closing the doors of theatres. For, just consider what sincerity +excludes: All care for balance at the author's bank--even when there is +no balance; all habit of consulting the expression on the public's +face; all confectioning of French plays; all the convenient practice of +adding up your plots on the principle that two and two make five. These +it excludes. It includes: Nothing because it pays; nothing because it +will make a sensation; no situations faked; no characters falsified; no +fireworks; only something imagined and put down in a passion of +sincerity. What plays, you may say, are left? Well, that was the +development in our drama before this war began. The war arrested it, as +it arrested every movement of the day in civil life. But whether in war +or peace, the principles which underlie art remain the same and are +always worth consideration. + +Sincerity in the theatre and commercial success are not necessarily, but +they are generally, opposed. It is more or less a happy accident when, +they coincide. This grim truth cannot be blinked. Not till the heavens +fall will the majority of the public demand sincerity. And all that they +who care for sincerity can hope for is that the supply of sincere drama +will gradually increase the demand for it--gradually lessen the majority +which has no use for that disturbing quality. The burden of this +struggle is on the shoulders of the dramatists. It is useless and +unworthy for them to complain that the public will not stand sincerity, +that they cannot get sincere plays acted, and so forth. If they have not +the backbone to produce what they feel they ought to produce, without +regard to what the public wants, then good-bye to progress of any kind. +If they are of the crew who cannot see any good in a fight unless they +know it is going to end in victory; if they expect the millennium with +every spring--they will advance nothing. Their job is to set their +teeth, do their work in their own way, without thinking much about +result, and not at all about reward, except from their own consciences. +Those who want sincerity will always be the few, but they may well be +more numerous than now; and to increase their number is worth a +struggle. That struggle was the much-sneered-at, much-talked-of +so-called "new" movement in our British drama. + +Now it was the fashion to dub this new drama the "serious" drama; the +label was unfortunate, and not particularly true. If Rabelais or Robert +Burns appeared again in mortal form and took to writing plays, they +would be "new" dramatists with a vengeance--as new as ever Ibsen was, +and assuredly they would be sincere. But could they well be called +"serious"? Can we call Synge, or St. John Hankin, or Shaw, or Barrie +serious? Hardly! Yet they are all of this new movement in their very +different ways, because they are sincere. The word "serious," in fact, +has too narrow a significance and admits a deal of pompous stuff which +is not sincere. While the word "sincere" certainly does not characterise +all that is popularly included under the term "new drama," it as +certainly does characterise (if taken in its true sense of fidelity to +self) all that is really new in it, and excludes no mood, no +temperament, no form of expression which can pass the test of ringing +true. Look, for example, at the work of those two whom we could so ill +spare--Synge and St. John Hankin. They were as far apart as dramatists +well could be, except that each had found a special medium--the one a +kind of lyric satire, the other a neat, individual sort of comedy--which +seemed exactly to express his spirit. Both forms were in a sense +artificial, but both were quite sincere; for through them each of these +two dramatists, so utterly dissimilar, shaped forth the essence of his +broodings and visions of life, with all their flavour and individual +limitations. And that is all one means by--all one asks of--sincerity. + +Then why make such a fuss about it? + +Because it is rare, and an implicit quality of any true work of art, +realistic or romantic. + +Art is not art unless it is made out of an artist's genuine feeling and +vision, not out of what he has been told he ought to feel and see. For +art exists not to confirm people in their tastes and prejudices, not to +show them what they have seen before, but to present them with a new +vision of life. And if drama be an art (which the great public denies +daily, but a few of us still believe), it must reasonably be expected to +present life as each dramatist sees it, and not to express things +because they pander to popular prejudice, or are sensational, or because +they pay. + +If you want further evidence that the new dramatic movement is marked +out by its struggle for sincerity, and by that alone, examine a little +the various half-overt oppositions with which it meets. + +Why is the commercial manager against it? + +Because it is quite naturally his business to cater for the great +public; and, as before said, the majority of the public does not, never +will, want sincerity; it is too disturbing. The commercial manager will +answer: "The great public does not dislike sincerity, it only dislikes +dullness." Well! Dullness is not an absolute, but a very relative +term--a term likely to have a different meaning for a man who knows +something about life and art from that which it has for a man who knows +less. And one may remark that if the great public's standard of what is +really "amusing" is the true one, it is queer that the plays which +tickle the great public hardly ever last a decade, while the plays which +do not tickle them occasionally last for centuries. The "dullest" plays, +one might say roughly, are those which last the longest. Witness +Euripides! + +Why are so many actor-managers against the new drama? + +Because their hearts are quite naturally set on such insincere +distortions of values as are necessary to a constant succession of "big +parts" for themselves. Sincerity does not necessarily exclude heroic +characters, but it does exclude those mock heroics which actor-managers +have been known to prefer--not to real heroics, perhaps, but to simple +and sound studies of character. + +Why is the Censorship against it? + +Because censorship is quite naturally the guardian of the ordinary +prejudices of sentiment and taste, and quaintly innocent of knowledge +that in any art fidelity of treatment is essential to a theme. Indeed, I +am sure that this peculiar office would regard it as fantastic for a +poor devil of an artist to want to be faithful or sincere. The demand +would appear pedantic and extravagant. + +Some say that the critics are against the new drama. That is not in the +main true. The inclination of most critics is to welcome anything with +a flavour of its own; it would be odd indeed if it were not so--they get +so much of the other food! They are, in general, friends to sincerity. +But the trouble with the critic is rather the fixed idea. He has to +print his opinion of an author's work, while other men have only to +think it; and when it comes to receiving a fresh impression of the same +author, his already recorded words are liable to act on him rather as +the eyes of a snake act on a rabbit. Indeed, it must be very awkward, +when you have definitely labelled an author this, or that, to find from +his next piece of work that he is the other as well! The critic who can +make blank his soul of all that he has said before may indeed exist--in +Paradise! + +Why is the greater public against the new drama? + +By the greater public I in no sense mean the public who don't keep motor +cars--the greater public comes from the West-end as much as ever it +comes from the East-end. Its opposition to the "new drama" is neither +covert, doubtful, nor conscious of itself. The greater public is like an +aged friend of mine, who, if you put into his hands anything but +Sherlock Holmes, or The Waverley Novels, says: "Oh! that dreadful book!" +His taste is excellent, only he does feel that an operation should be +performed on all dramatists and novelists by which they should be +rendered incapable of producing anything but what my aged friend is used +to. The greater public, in fact, is either a too well-dined organism +which wishes to digest its dinner, or a too hard-worked organism longing +for a pleasant dream. I sympathise with the greater public!... + +A friend once said to me: "Champagne has killed the drama." It was half +a truth. Champagne is an excellent thing, and must not be disturbed. +Plays should not have anything in them which can excite the mind. They +should be of a quality to just remove the fumes by eleven o'clock and +make ready the organism for those suppers which were eaten before the +war. Another friend once said to me: "It is the rush and hurry and +strenuousness of modern life which is scotching the drama." Again, it +was half a truth. Why should not the hard-worked man have his pleasant +dream, his detective story, his good laugh? The pity is that sincere +drama would often provide as agreeable dreams for the hard-worked man as +some of those reveries in which he now indulges, if only he would try it +once or twice. That is the trouble--to get him to give it a chance. + +The greater public will by preference take the lowest article in art +offered to it. An awkward remark, and unfortunately true. But if a +better article be substituted, the greater public very soon enjoys it +every bit as much as the article replaced, and so on--up to a point +which we need not fear we shall ever reach. Not that sincere dramatists +are consciously trying to supply the public with a better article. A man +could not write anything sincere with the elevation of the public as +incentive. If he tried, he would be as lost as ever were the Pharisees +making broad their phylacteries. He can only express himself sincerely +_by not considering the public at all_. People often say that this is +"cant," but it really isn't. There does exist a type of mind which +cannot express itself in accordance with what it imagines is required; +can only express itself for itself, and take the usually unpleasant +consequences. This is, indeed, but an elementary truth, which since the +beginning of the world has lain at the bottom of all real artistic +achievement. It is not cant to say that the only things vital in drama, +as in every art, are achieved when the maker has fixed his soul on the +making of a thing which shall seem fine to himself. It is the only +standard; all the others--success, money, even the pleasure and benefit +of other people--lead to confusion in the artist's spirit, and to the +making of dust castles. To please your best self is the only way of +being sincere. Most weavers of drama, of course, are perfectly sincere +when they start out to ply their shuttles; but how many persevere in +that mood to the end of their plays, in defiance of outside +consideration? Here--says one to himself--it will be too strong meat; +there it will not be sufficiently convincing; this natural length will +be too short, that end too appalling; in such and such a shape I shall +never get my play taken; I must write that part up and tone this +character down. And when it is all done, effectively, falsely--what is +there? A prodigious run, perhaps. But--the grave of all which makes the +life of an artist worth the living. Well! well! We who believe this will +never get too many others to believe it! Those heavens will not fall; +theatre doors will remain open; the heavy diners will digest, and the +over-driven man will dream. And yet, with each sincere thing made--even +if only fit for reposing within a drawer--its maker is stronger, and +will some day, perhaps, make that which need not lie covered away, but +reach out from him to other men. + +It is a wide word--sincerity. "A Midsummer Night's Dream" is no less +sincere than "Hamlet," "The Mikado" as faithful to its mood of satiric +frolicking as Ibsen's "Ghosts" to its mood of moral horror. Sincerity +bars out no themes; it only demands that the dramatist's moods and +visions should be intense enough to keep him absorbed; that he should +have something to say so engrossing to himself that he has no need to +stray here and there and gather purple plums to eke out what was +intended to be an apple tart. Here is the heart of the matter: You +cannot get sincere drama out of those who do not see and feel with +sufficient fervour; and you cannot get good sincere drama out of those +who will not hoe their rows to the very end. There is no faking and no +scamping to the good in art. You may turn out the machine-made article +very natty, but for the real hand-made thing you must have toiled in the +sweat of your brow. In Britain it is a little difficult to persuade +people that the writing of plays and novels is work. To many it remains +one of those inventions of a certain potentate for idle hands to do. To +some persons in high life, and addicted to field sports, it is still a +species of licensed buffoonery, to be regulated by a sort of +circus-master with a whip in one hand and a gingerbread nut in the +other. By the truly simple soul it is thus summed up: "Work! Why, 'e +sits writin' all day." To some, both green and young, it shines as a +vocation entirely glorious and exhilarating. If one may humbly believe +the evidence of his own senses, it is not any of these, but a patient +calling, glamorous now and then, but with fifty minutes of hard labour +and yearning to every ten of satisfaction. Not a pursuit, maybe, which +one would change, but then, what man with a profession flies to others +that he knows not of? + +Novelists, it is true, even if they have not been taken too seriously by +the people of these islands, have for a long time past respected +themselves, but the calling of a dramatist till quite of late has been +but an invertebrate and spiritless concern. Pruned and prismed by the +censor, exploited by the actor, dragooned and slashed by the manager, +ignored by the public, who never even bothered to inquire the names of +those who supplied it with digestives--it was a slave's job. Thanks to a +little sincerity it is not now a slave's job, and will not again, I +think, become one. + +From time to time in that vehicle of improvisation, that modern fairy +tale--our daily paper--we read words such as these: "What has become of +the boasted renascence of our stage?" or: "So much for all the +trumpeting about the new drama!" When we come across such words, we +remember that it is only natural for journals to say to-day the opposite +of what they said yesterday. For they have to suit all tastes and +preserve a decent equilibrium! + +There is a new safeguard of the self-respecting dramatist which no +amount of improvising for or against will explain away. Plays are now +not merely acted, they are published and read, and will be read more and +more. This does not mean, as some say, that they are being written for +the study--they were never being written more deliberately, more +carefully, for the stage. It does mean that they are tending more and +more to comply with fidelity to theme, fidelity to self; and therefore +are more and more able to bear the scrutiny of cold daylight. And for +the first time, perhaps, since the days of Shakespeare there are +dramatists in this country, not a few, faithful to themselves. + +Now, all this is not merely fortuitous. For, however abhorrent such a +notion may be to those yet wedded to Victorian ideals, we were, even +before the war, undoubtedly passing through great changes in our +philosophy of life. Just as a plant keeps on conforming to its +environment, so our beliefs and ideals are conforming to our new social +conditions and discoveries. There is in the air a revolt against +prejudice, and a feeling that things must be re-tested. The spirit +which, dwelling in pleasant places, would never re-test anything is now +looked on askance. Even on our stage we are not enamoured of it. It is +not the artist's business (be he dramatist or other) to preach. +Admitted! His business is to portray; but portray truly he cannot if he +has any of that glib doctrinaire spirit, devoid of the insight which +comes from instinctive sympathy. He must look at _life_, not at a mirage +of life compounded of authority, tradition, comfort, habit. The sincere +artist, by the very nature of him, is bound to be curious and +perceptive, with an instinctive craving to identify himself with the +experience of others. This is his value, whether he express it in +comedy, epic, satire, or tragedy. Sincerity distrusts tradition, +authority, comfort, habit; cannot breathe the air of prejudice, and +cannot stand the cruelties which arise from it. So it comes about that +the new drama's spirit is essentially, inevitably human and--humane, +essentially distasteful to many professing followers of the Great +Humanitarian, who, if they were but sincere, would see that they +secretly abhor His teachings and in practice continually invert them. + +It is a fine age we live in--this age of a developing social conscience, +and worthy of a fine and great art. But, though no art is fine unless it +has sincerity, no amount of sincere intention will serve unless the +expression of it be well-nigh perfect. An author is judged, not by +intention but by achievement; and criticism is innately inclined to +remark first on the peccadillo points of a person, a poem, or a play. If +there be a scar on the forehead, a few false quantities, or weak +endings, if there is an absence in the third act of some one who +appeared in the first--it is always much simpler to complain of this +than to feel or describe the essence of the whole. But this very +pettiness in our criticism is, fortunately, a sort of safeguard. The +French writer Buffon said: "_Bien écrire, c'est tout; car bien écrire +c'est bien sentir, bien penser, et bien dire._" ... Let the artist then, +by all means, make his work impeccable, clothe his ideas, feelings, +visions, in just such garments as can withstand the winds of criticism. +He himself must be his cruellest critic. Before cutting his cloth let +him very carefully determine the precise thickness, shape, and colour +best suited to the condition of his temperature. For there are still +playwrights who, working in the full blast of an _affaire_ between a +poet and the wife of a stockbroker, will murmur to themselves: "Now for +a little lyricism!" and drop into it. Or when the strong, silent +stockbroker has brought his wife once more to heel: "Now for the moral!" +and gives it us. Or when things are getting a little too intense: "Now +for humour and variety!" and bring in the curate. This kind of tartan +kilt is very pleasant on its native heath of London; but--hardly the +garment of good writing. Good writing is only the perfect clothing of +mood--the just right form. Shakespeare's form, you will say, was +extraordinarily loose, wide, plastic; but then his spirit was ever +changing its mood--a true chameleon. And as to the form of Mr. Shaw--who +was once compared with Shakespeare--why! there is none. And yet, what +form could so perfectly express Mr. Shaw's glorious crusade against +stupidity, his wonderfully sincere and lifelong mood of sticking pins +into a pig! + +We are told, _ad nauseam_, that the stage has laws of its own, to which +all dramatists must bow. Quite true! The stage _has_ the highly +technical laws of its physical conditions, which cannot be neglected. +But even when they are all properly attended to, it is only behind the +elbow of one who feels strongly and tries to express sincerely that +right expression stands. The imaginative mood, coming who knows when, +staying none too long, is a mistress who deserves, and certainly +expects, fidelity. True to her while she is there, do not, when she is +not there, insult her by looking in every face and thinking it will +serve! These are laws of sincerity which not even a past-master in the +laws of the stage can afford to neglect. Anything is better than +resorting to moral sentiments and solutions because they are current +coin, or to decoration because it is "the thing." And--as to humour: +though nothing is more precious than the genuine topsy-turvy feeling, +nothing is more pitifully unhumorous than the dragged-in epigram or +dismal knockabout, which has no connection with the persons or +philosophy of the play. + +I suppose it is easy to think oneself sincere; it is certainly difficult +to be that same. Imagine the smile, and the blue pencil, of the Spirit +of Sincerity if we could appoint him Censor. I would not lift my pen +against that Censorship though he excised--as perhaps he might--the half +of my work. Sometimes one has a glimpse of his ironic face and his swift +fingers, busy with those darkening pages. Once I dreamed about him. It +was while a certain Commission was sitting on the British Censorship, +which still so admirably guards Insincerity, and he was giving evidence +before them. This, I remember, was what he said: + +"You wish to learn of me what is sincerity? Look into yourselves, for +what lies deepest within you. Each living thing varies from every other +living thing, and never twice are there quite the same set of premises +from which to draw conclusion. Give up asking of any but yourselves for +the whereabouts of truth; and if some one says that he can tell you +where it is, don't believe him; he might as well lay a trail of sand and +think it will stay there for ever." He stopped, and I could see him +looking to judge what impression he had made upon the Commission. But +those gentlemen behaved as if they had not heard him. The Spirit of +Sincerity coughed. "By Jove, gentlemen," he said, "it's clear you don't +care what impression you make on me. Evidently it is for me to learn +sincerity from you!" + +There was once a gentleman, lately appointed to assist in the control of +the exuberance of plays, who stated in public print that there had been +no plays of any value written since 1885, entirely denying that this new +drama was any better than the old drama, cut to the pattern of Scribe +and Sardou. Certainly, novelty is not necessarily improvement. +Comparison must be left to history. But it is just as well to remember +that we are not born connoisseurs of plays. Without trying the new we +shall not know if it is better than the old. To appreciate even drama at +its true value, a man must be educated just a little. When I first went +to the National Gallery in London I was struck dumb with love of +Landseer's stags and a Greuze damsel with her cheek glued to her own +shoulder, and became voluble from admiration of the large Turner and the +large Claude hung together in that perpetual prize-fight! At a second +visit I discovered Sir Joshua's "Countess of Albemarle" and old Crome's +"Mousehold Heath," and did not care quite so much for Landseer's stags. +And again and again I went, and each time saw a little differently, a +little clearer, until at last my time was spent before Titian's "Bacchus +and Ariadne," Botticelli's "Portrait of a Young Man," the Francescas, Da +Messina's little "Crucifixion," the Uccello battle picture (that great +test of education), the Velasquez (?) "Admiral," Hogarth's "Five +Servants," and the immortal "Death of Procris." Admiration for stags and +maidens--where was it? + +This analogy of pictures does not pretend that our "new drama" is as far +in front of the old as the "Death of Procris" is in front of Landseer's +stags. Alas, no! It merely suggests that taste is encouraged by an open +mind, and is a matter of gradual education. + +To every man his sincere opinion! But before we form opinions, let us +all walk a little through our National Gallery of drama, with inquiring +eye and open mind, to see and know for ourselves. For, _to know_, a man +cannot begin too young, cannot leave off too old. And always he must +have a mind which feels it will never know enough. In this way alone he +_will_, perhaps, know something before he dies. + +And even if he require of the drama only buffoonery, or a digestive for +his dinner, why not be able to discern good buffoonery from bad, and the +pure digestive from the drug? + +One is, I suppose, prejudiced in favour of this "new drama" of +sincerity, of these poor productions of the last fifteen years, or so. +It may be, indeed, that many of them will perish and fade away. But they +are, at all events, the expression of the sincere moods of men who ask +no more than to serve an art, which, heaven knows, has need of a little +serving. + + * * * * * + +So much for the principles underlying the advance of the drama. But what +about the chances of drama itself under the new conditions which will +obtain when the war ends? + +For the moment our world is still convulsed, and art of every kind +trails a lame foot before a public whose eyes are fixed on the vast and +bloody stage of the war. When the last curtain falls, and rises again on +the scenery of Peace, shall we have to revalue everything? Surely not +the fundamental truths; these reflections on the spirit which underlie +all true effort in dramatic art may stand much as they were framed, now +five years ago. Fidelity to mood, to impression, to self will remain +what it was--the very kernel of good dramatic art; whether that fidelity +will find a more or less favourable environment remains the interesting +speculation. When we come to after-war conditions a sharp distinction +will have to be drawn between the chances of sincere drama in America +and Britain. It is my strong impression that sincere dramatists in +America are going to have an easier time than they had before the war, +but that with us they are going to have a harder. My reasons are +threefold. The first and chief reason is economic. However much America +may now have to spend, with her late arrival, vaster resources, and +incomparably greater recuperative power, she will feel the economic +strain but little in comparison with Britain. Britain, not at once, but +certainly within five years of the war's close, will find that she has +very much less money to spend on pleasure. Now, under present conditions +of education, when the average man has little to spend on pleasure, he +spends it first in gratifying his coarser tastes. And the average Briton +is going to spend his little on having his broad laughs and his crude +thrills. By the time he has gratified that side of himself he will have +no money left. Those artists in Britain who respect æsthetic truths and +practise sincerity will lose even the little support they ever had from +the great public there; they will have to rely entirely on that small +public which always wanted truth and beauty, and will want it even more +passionately after the war. But that little public will be poorer also, +and, I think, not more numerous than it was. The British public is going +to be split more definitely into two camps--a very big and a very little +camp. What this will mean to the drama of sincerity only those who have +watched its struggle in the past will be able to understand. The trouble +in Britain--and I daresay in every country--is that the percentage of +people who take art of any kind seriously is ludicrously small. And our +impoverishment will surely make that percentage smaller by cutting off +the recruiting which was always going on from the ranks of the great +public. How long it will take Britain to recover even pre-war conditions +I do not venture to suggest. But I am pretty certain that there is no +chance for a drama of truth and beauty there for many years to come, +unless we can get it endowed in such a substantial way as shall tide it +over--say--the next two decades. What we require is a London theatre +undeviatingly devoted to the production of nothing but the real thing, +which will go its own way, year in, year out, quite without regard to +the great public; and we shall never get it unless we can find some +benevolent, public-spirited person or persons who will place it in a +position of absolute security. If we could secure this endowment, that +theatre would become in a very few years the most fashionable, if not +the most popular, in London, and even the great public would go to it. +Nor need such a theatre be expensive--as theatres go--for it is to the +mind and not to the eye that it must appeal. A sufficient audience is +there ready; what is lacking is the point of focus, a single-hearted and +coherent devotion to the best, and the means to pursue that ideal +without extravagance but without halting. Alas! in England, though +people will endow or back almost anything else, they will not endow or +back an art theatre. + +So much for the economic difficulty in Britain; what about America? The +same cleavage obtains in public taste, of course, but numbers are so +much larger, wealth will be so much greater, the spirit is so much more +inquiring, the divisions so much less fast set, that I do not anticipate +for America any block on the line. There will still be plenty of money +to indulge every taste. + +Art, and especially, perhaps, dramatic art, which of all is most +dependent on a favourable economic condition, will gravitate towards +America, which may well become in the next ten years not only the +mother, but the foster-mother, of the best Anglo-Saxon drama. + +My next reason for thinking that sincerity in art will have a better +chance with Americans than in Britain in the coming years is +psychological. They are so young a nation, we are so old; world-quakes +to them are such an adventure, to us a nerve-racking, if not a +health-shattering event. They will take this war in their stride, we +have had to climb laboriously over it. They will be left buoyant; we, +with the rest of Europe, are bound to lie for long years after in the +trough of disillusionment. The national mood with them will be more than +ever that of inquiry and exploit. With us, unless I make a mistake, +after a spurt of hedonism--a going on the spree--there will be +lassitude. Every European country has been overtried in this hideous +struggle, and Nature, with her principle of balance, is bound to take +redress. For Americans the war, nationally speaking, will have been but +a bracing of the muscles and nerves, a clearing of the skin and eyes. +Such a mental and moral condition will promote in them a deeper +philosophy and a more resolute facing of truth. + +And that brings me to my third reason. The American outlook will be +permanently enlarged by this tremendous experience. Materially and +spiritually she will have been forced to witness and partake of the +life, thought, culture, and troubles of the old world. She will have, +unconsciously, assimilated much, been diverted from the beer and +skittles of her isolated development in a great new country. Americans +will find themselves suddenly grown up. Not till a man is grown up does +he see and feel things deeply enough to venture into the dark well of +sincerity. + +America is an eager nation. She has always been in a hurry. If I had to +point out the capital defect in the attractive temperament of the +American people, I should say it was a passion for short cuts. That has +been, in my indifferent judgment, the very natural, the inevitable +weakness in America's spiritual development. The material possibilities, +the opportunities for growth and change, the vast spaces, the climate, +the continual influxions of new blood and new habits, the endless shifts +of life and environment, all these factors have been against that deep +brooding over things, that close and long scrutiny into the deeper +springs of life, out of which the sincerest and most lasting forms of +art emerge; nearly all the conditions of American existence during the +last fifty years have been against the settled life and atmosphere which +influence men to the re-creation in art form of that which has sunk +deep into their souls. Those who have seen the paintings of the Italian +artist Segantini will understand what I mean. There have been many +painters of mountains, but none whom I know of save he who has +reproduced the very spirit of those great snowy spaces. He spent his +life among them till they soaked into his nerves, into the very blood of +him. All else he gave up, to see and feel them so that he might +reproduce them in his art. Or let me take an instance from America. That +enchanting work of art "Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn," by the great +Mark Twain. What reproduction of atmosphere and life; what scent of the +river, and old-time country life, it gives off! How the author must have +been soaked in it to have produced those books! + +The whole tendency of our age has been away from hand-made goods, away +from the sort of life which produced the great art of the past. That is +too big a subject to treat of here. But certainly a sort of feverish +impatience has possessed us all, America not least. It may be said that +this will be increased by the war. I think the opposite. Hard spiritual +experience and contact with the old world will deepen the American +character and cool its fevers, and Americans will be more thorough, +less impatient, will give themselves to art and to the sort of life +which fosters art, more than they have ever yet given themselves. Great +artists, like Whistler and Henry James, will no longer seek their quiet +environments in Europe. I believe that this war will be for America the +beginning of a great art age; I hope so with all my heart. For art will +need a kind home and a new lease of life. + +A certain humble and yet patient and enduring belief in himself and his +own vision is necessary to the artist. I think that Americans have only +just begun to believe in themselves as artists, but that this belief is +now destined to grow quickly. America has a tremendous atmosphere of her +own, a wonderful life, a wonderful country, but so far she has been +skating over its surface. The time has come when she will strike down, +think less in terms of material success and machine-made perfections. +The time has come when she will brood, and interpret more and more the +underlying truths, and body forth an art which shall be a spiritual +guide, shed light, and show the meaning of her multiple existence. It +will reveal dark things, but also those quiet heights to which man's +spirit turns for rest and faith in this bewildering maze of a world. And +to this art about to come--art inevitably moves slowly--into its own, +to American drama, poetry, fiction, music, painting, sculpture--sincerity, +an unswerving fidelity to self, alone will bring the dignity worthy of +a great and free people. + +1913-1917. + +[C] The first part of this paper was published in the _Hibbert Journal_ +in 1910. + + + + +SPECULATIONS[D] + + +"When we survey the world around, the wondrous things which there +abound"--especially the developments of these last years--there must +come to some of us a doubt whether this civilisation of ours is to have +a future. Mr. Lowes Dickenson, in an able book, "The Choice Before Us," +has outlined the alternate paths which the world may tread after the +war--"National Militarism" or "International Pacifism." He has pointed +out with force the terrible dangers on the first of these two paths, the +ruinous strain and ultimate destruction which a journey down it will +inflict on every nation. But, holding a brief for International +Pacifism, he was not, in that book, at all events, concerned to point +out the dangers which beset Peace. When, in the words of President +Wilson, we have made the world safe for democracy, it will be high time +to set about making it safe against civilisation itself. + +The first thing, naturally, is to ensure a good long spell of peace. If +we do not, we need not trouble ourselves for a moment over the future of +civilisation--there will be none. But a long spell of peace is +probable; for, though human nature is never uniform, and never as one +man shall we get salvation; sheer exhaustion, and disgust with its +present bed-fellows--suffering, sacrifice, and sudden death--will almost +surely force the world into international quietude. For the first time +in history organised justice, such as for many centuries has ruled the +relations between individuals, may begin to rule those between States, +and free us from menace of war for a period which may be almost +indefinitely prolonged. To perpetuate this great change in the life of +nations is very much an affair of getting men used to that change; of +setting up a Tribunal which they can see and pin their faith to, which +works, and proves its utility, which they would miss if it were +dissolved. States are proverbially cynical, but if an International +Court of Justice, backed by international force, made good in the +settlement of two or three serious disputes, allayed two or three +crises, it would with each success gain prestige, be firmer and more +difficult to uproot, till it might at last become as much a matter of +course in the eyes of the cynical States as our Law Courts are in the +eyes of our enlightened selves. + +Making, then, the large but by no means hopeless assumption that such a +change may come, how is our present civilisation going to "pan out"? + +In Samuel Butler's imagined country, "Erewhon," the inhabitants had +broken up all machinery, abandoned the use of money, and lived in a +strange elysium of health and beauty. I often wonder how, without +something of the sort, modern man is to be prevented from falling into +the trombone he blows so loudly, from being destroyed by the very +machines he has devised for his benefit. The problem before modern man +is clearly that of becoming master, instead of slave, of his own +civilisation. The history of the last hundred and fifty years, +especially in England, is surely one long story of ceaseless banquet and +acute indigestion. Certain Roman Emperors are popularly supposed to have +taken drastic measures during their feasts to regain their appetites; we +have not their "slim" wisdom; we do not mind going on eating when we +have had too much. + +I do not question the intentions of civilisation--they are most +honourable. To be clean, warm, well nourished, healthy, decently +leisured, and free to move quickly about the world, are certainly pure +benefits. And these are presumably the prime objects of our toil and +ingenuity, the ideals to be served, by the discovery of steam, +electricity, modern industrial machinery, telephony, flying. If we +attained those ideals, and stopped there--well and good. Alas! the +amazing mechanical conquests of the age have crowded one on another so +fast that we have never had time to digest their effects. Each as it +came we hailed as an incalculable benefit to mankind, and so it was, or +would have been, if we had not the appetites of cormorants and the +digestive powers of elderly gentlemen. Our civilisation reminds one of +the corpse in the Mark Twain story which, at its own funeral, got up and +rode with the driver. It is watching itself being buried. We discover, +and scatter discovery broadcast among a society uninstructed in the +proper use of it. Consider the town-ridden, parasitic condition of Great +Britain--_the country which cannot feed itself_. If we are beaten in +this war, it will be because we have let our industrial system run away +with us; because we became so sunk in machines and money-getting that we +forgot our self-respect. No self-respecting nation would have let its +food-growing capacity and its country life down to the extent that we +have. If we are beaten--which God forbid--we shall deserve our fate. And +why did our industrial system get such a mad grip on us? Because we did +not master the riot of our inventions and discoveries. Remember the +spinning jenny--whence came the whole system of Lancashire cotton +factories which drained a countryside of peasants and caused a +deterioration of physique from which as yet there has been no recovery. +Here was an invention which was to effect a tremendous saving of labour +and be of sweeping benefit to mankind. Exploited without knowledge, +scruple, or humanity, it also caused untold misery and grievous national +harm. Read, mark, and learn Mr. and Mrs. Hammond's book, "The Town +Labourer." The spinning jenny and similar inventions have been the +forces which have dotted beautiful counties of England with the blackest +and most ill-looking towns in the world, have changed the proportion of +country- to town-dwellers from about 3 as against 2 in 1761 to 2 as +against 7 in 1911; have strangled our powers to feed ourselves, and so +made us a temptation to our enemies and a danger to the whole world. We +have made money by it; our standard of wealth has gone up. I remember +having a long talk with a very old shepherd on the South Downs, whose +youth and early married life were lived on eight shillings a week; and +he was no exception. Nowadays our agricultural wage averages over thirty +shillings, though it buys but little more than the eight. Still, the +standard of wealth has superficially advanced, if that be any +satisfaction. But have health, beauty, happiness among the great bulk of +the population? + +Consider the mastery of the air. To what use has it been put, so far? To +practically none, save the destruction of life. About five years before +the war some of us in England tried to initiate an international +movement to ban the use of flying for military purposes. The effort was +entirely abortive. The fact is, man never goes in front of events, +always insists on disastrously buying his experience. And I am inclined +to think we shall continue to advance backwards unless we intern our +inventors till we have learned to run the inventions of the last century +instead of letting them run us. Counsels of perfection, however, are +never pursued. But what _can_ we do? We can try to ban certain outside +dangers internationally, such as submarines and air-craft, in war; and, +inside, we might establish a Board of Scientific Control to ensure that +no inventions are exploited under conditions obviously harmful. + +Suppose, for instance, that the spinning jenny had come before such a +Board, one imagines they might have said: "If you want to use this +peculiar novelty, you must first satisfy us that your employees are +going to work under conditions favourable to health"--in other words, +the Factory Acts, Town Planning, and no Child Labour, from the start. +Or, when rubber was first introduced: "You are bringing in this new and, +we dare say, quite useful article. We shall, however, first send out and +see the conditions under which you obtain it." Having seen, they would +have added: "You will alter those conditions, and treat your native +labour humanely, or we will ban your use of this article," to the grief +and anger of those periwig-pated persons who write to the papers about +grandmotherly legislation and sickly sentimentalism. + +Seriously, the history of modern civilisation shows that, while we can +only trust individualism to make discoveries, we cannot at all trust it +to apply discovery without some sort of State check in the interests of +health, beauty, and happiness. Officialdom is on all our nerves. But +this is a very vital matter, and the suggestion of a Board of Scientific +Control is not so fantastic as it seems. Certain results of inventions +and discoveries cannot, of course, be foreseen, but able and impartial +brains could foresee a good many and save mankind from the most rampant +results of raw and unconsidered exploitation. The public is a child; and +the child who suddenly discovers that there is such a thing as candy, if +left alone, can only be relied on to make itself sick. + +Let us stray for a frivolous moment into the realms of art, since the +word art is claimed for what we know as the "film." This discovery went +as it pleased for a few years in the hands of inventors and commercial +agents. In these few years such a raging taste for cowboy, crime, and +Chaplin films has been developed, that a Commission which has just been +sitting on the matter finds that the public will not put up with more +than a ten per cent. proportion of educational film in the course of an +evening's entertainment. Now, the film as a means of transcribing actual +life is admittedly of absorbing interest and great educational value; +but, owing to this false start, we cannot get it swallowed in more than +extremely small doses as a food and stimulant, while it is being gulped +down to the dregs as a drug or irritant. Of the film's claim to the word +art I am frankly sceptical. My mind is open--and when one says that, one +generally means it is shut. But art is long: the Cro-Magnon men of +Europe decorated the walls of their caves quite beautifully, some say +twenty-five, some say seventy, thousand years ago; so it may well +require a generation to tell us what is art and what is not among the +new experiments continually being made. Still, the film is a restless +thing, and I cannot think of any form of art, as hitherto we have +understood the word, to which that description could be applied, unless +it be those Wagner operas which I have disliked not merely since the war +began, but from childhood up. During the filming of the play "Justice" I +attended at rehearsal to see Mr. Gerald du Maurier play the cell scene. +Since in that scene there is not a word spoken in the play itself, there +is no difference in _kind_ between the appeal of play or film. But the +live rehearsal for the filming was at least twice as affecting as the +dead result of that rehearsal on the screen. The film, of course, is in +its first youth, but I see no signs as yet that it will ever overcome +the handicap of its physical conditions, and attain the real +emotionalising powers of art. The film sweeps up into itself, of course, +a far wider surface of life in a far shorter space of time; but the +medium is flat, has no blood in it; and experience tells one that no +amount of surface and quantity in art ever make up for lack of depth and +quality. Who would not cheerfully give the Albert Memorial for a little +figure by Donatello! Since, however, the film takes the line of least +resistance, and makes a rapid, lazy, superficial appeal, it may very +well oust the drama. And, to my thinking, of course, that will be all to +the bad, and intensely characteristic of machine-made civilisation, +whose motto seems to be: "Down with Shakespeare and Euripides--up with +the Movies!" The film is a very good illustration of the whole tendency +of modern life under the too-rapid development of machines; roughly +speaking, we seem to be turning up yearly more and more ground to less +and less depth. We are getting to know life as superficially as the +Egyptian interpreter knew language, who, [as we read in the _Manchester +Guardian_,] when the authorities complained that he was overstaying his +leave, wrote back: "My absence is impossible. Some one has removed my +wife. My God, I am annoyed." + +There is an expression--"high-brow"--maybe complimentary in origin, but +become in some sort a term of contempt. A doubter of our general +divinity is labelled "high-brow" at once, and his doubts drop like water +off the public's back. Any one who questions our triumphant progress is +tabooed for a pedant. That will not alter the fact, I fear, that we are +growing feverish, rushed, and complicated, and have multiplied +conveniences to such an extent that we do nothing with them but scrape +the surface of life. We were rattling into a new species of barbarism +when the war came, and unless we take a pull, shall continue to rattle +after it is over. The underlying cause in every country is the increase +of herd-life, based on machines, money-getting, and the dread of being +dull. Every one knows how fearfully strong that dread is. But to be +capable of being dull is in itself a disease. + +And most of modern life seems to be a process of creating disease, then +finding a remedy which in its turn creates another disease, demanding +fresh remedy, and so on. We pride ourselves, for example, on scientific +sanitation; well, what is scientific sanitation if not one huge +palliative of evils, which have arisen from herd-life, enabling +herd-life to be intensified, so that we shall presently need even more +scientific sanitation? The old shepherd on the South Downs had never +come in contact with it, yet he was very old, very healthy, hardy, and +contented. He had a sort of simple dignity, too, that we have most of us +lost. The true elixirs _vitæ_--for there be two, I think--are open-air +life and a proud pleasure in one's work; we have evolved a mode of +existence in which it is comparatively rare to find these two conjoined. +In old countries, such as Britain, the evils of herd-life are at present +vastly more acute than in a new country such as America. On the other +hand, the further one is from hell the faster one drives towards it, and +machines are beginning to run along with America even more violently +than with Europe. + +When our Tanks first appeared they were described as snouting monsters +creeping at their own sweet will. I confess that this is how my inflamed +eye sees all our modern machines--monsters running on their own, +dragging us along, and very often squashing us. + +We are, I believe, awakening to the dangers of this "Gadarening," this +rushing down the high cliff into the sea, possessed and pursued by the +devils of--machinery. But if any man would see how little alarmed he +really is--let him ask himself how much of his present mode of existence +he is prepared to alter. Altering the modes of other people is +delightful; one would have great hope of the future if we had nothing +before us but that. The medieval Irishman, in Froude, indicted for +burning down the cathedral at Armagh, together with the Archbishop, +defended himself thus: "As for the cathedral, 'tis true I burned it; but +indeed an' I wouldn't have, only they told me himself was inside." We +are all ready to alter our opponents, if not to burn them. But even if +we were as ardent reformers as that Irishman we could hardly force men +to live in the open, or take a proud pleasure in their work, or enjoy +beauty, or not concentrate themselves on making money. No amount of +legislation will make us "lilies of the field" or "birds of the air," +or prevent us from worshipping false gods, or neglecting to reform +ourselves. + +I once wrote the unpopular sentence, "Democracy at present offers the +spectacle of a man running down a road followed at a more and more +respectful distance by his own soul." I am a democrat, or I should never +have dared. For democracy, substitute "Modern Civilisation," which +prides itself on redress after the event, agility in getting out of the +holes into which it has snouted, and eagerness to snout into fresh ones. +It foresees nothing, and avoids less. It is purely empirical, if one may +use such a "high-brow" word. + +Politics are popularly supposed to govern the direction, and statesmen +to be the guardian angels, of Civilisation. It seems to me that they +have little or no power over its growth. They are of it, and move with +it. Their concern is rather with the body than with the mind or soul of +a nation. One needs not to be an engineer to know that to pull a man up +a wall one must be higher than he; that to raise general taste one must +have better taste than that of those whose taste he is raising. + +Now, to my indifferent mind, education in the large sense--not politics +at all--is the only agent really capable of improving the trend of +civilisation, the only lever we can use. Believing this, I think it a +thousand pities that neither Britain nor America, nor, so far as I know, +any other country, has as yet evolved machinery through which there +might be elected a supreme Director, or, say, a little Board of three +Directors, of the nation's spirit, an Educational President, as it were, +with power over the nation's spirit analogous to that which America's +elected political President has over America's body. Our Minister of +Education is as a rule an ordinary Member of the Government, an ordinary +man of affairs--though at the moment an angel happens to have strayed +in. Why cannot education be regarded, like religion in the past, as +something sacred, not merely a department of political administration? +Ought we not for this most vital business of education to be ever on the +watch for the highest mind and the finest spirit of the day to guide us? +To secure the appointment of such a man, or triumvirate, by democratic +means, would need a special sifting process of election, which could +never be too close and careful. One might use for the purpose the actual +body of teachers in the country to elect delegates to select a jury to +choose finally the flower of the national flock. It would be worth any +amount of trouble to ensure that we always had the best man or men. And +when we had them we should give them a mandate as real and substantial +as America now gives to her political President. We should intend them +not for mere lay administrators and continuers of custom, but for true +fountain-heads and initiators of higher ideals of conduct, learning, +manners, and taste; nor stint them of the means necessary to carry those +ideals into effect. Hitherto, the supposed direction of ideals--in +practice almost none--has been left to religion. But religion as a +motive force is at once too personal, too lacking in unanimity, and too +specialised to control the educational needs of a modern State; +religion, as I understand it, is essentially emotional and individual; +when it becomes practical and worldly it strays outside its true +province and loses beneficence. Education as I want to see it would take +over the control of social ethics, and learning, but make no attempt to +usurp the emotional functions of religion. Let me give you an example: +Those elixirs _vitæ_--open-air life and a proud pleasure in one's +work--imagine those two principles drummed into the heads and hearts of +all the little scholars of the age, by men and women who had been taught +to believe them the truth. Would this not gradually have an incalculable +effect on the trend of our civilisation? Would it not tend to create a +demand for a simple and sane life; help to get us back to the land; +produce reluctance to work at jobs in which no one can feel pride and +pleasure, and so diminish the power of machines and of commercial +exploitation? But teachers could only be inspired with such ideals by +master spirits. And my plea is that we should give ourselves the chance +of electing and making use of such master spirits. We all know from +everyday life and business that the real, the only problem is to get the +best men to run the show; when we get them the show runs well, when we +don't there is nothing left but to pay the devil. The chief defect of +modern civilisation based on democracy is the difficulty of getting best +men quickly enough. Unless Democracy--government by the people--makes of +itself Aristocracy--government by the best people--it is running +steadily to seed. Democracy to be sound must utilise not only the ablest +men of affairs, but the aristocracy of spirit. The really vital concern +of such an elected Head of Education, himself the best man of all, would +be the discovery and employment of other best men, best Heads of Schools +and Colleges, whose chief concern in turn would be the discovery and +employment of best subordinates. The better the teacher the better the +ideals; quite obviously, the only hope of raising ideals is to raise the +standard of those who teach, from top to toe of the educational +machine. What we want, in short, is a sort of endless band--throwing up +the finest spirit of the day till he forms a head or apex whence virtue +runs swiftly down again into the people who elected him. This is the +principle, as it seems to me, of the universe itself, whose symbol is +neither circle nor spire, but circle and spire mysteriously combined. + +America has given us an example of this in her political system; perhaps +she will now oblige in her educational. I confess that I look very +eagerly and watchfully towards America in many ways. After the war she +will be more emphatically than ever, in material things, the most +important and powerful nation of the earth. We British have a legitimate +and somewhat breathless interest in the use she will make of her +strength, and in the course of her national life, for this will greatly +influence the course of our own. But power for real light and leading in +America will depend, not so much on her material wealth, or her armed +force, as on what the attitude towards life and the ideals of her +citizens are going to be. Americans have a certain eagerness for +knowledge; they have also, for all their absorption in success, the +aspiring eye. They do want the good thing. They don't always know it +when they see it, but they want it. These qualities, in combination +with material strength, give America her chance. Yet, if she does not +set her face against "Gadarening," we are all bound for downhill. If she +goes in for spreadeagleism, if her aspirations are towards quantity not +quality, we shall all go on being commonised. If she should get that +purse-and-power-proud fever which comes from national success, we are +all bound for another world flare-up. The burden of proving that +democracy can be real and yet live up to an ideal of health and beauty +will be on America's shoulders, and on ours. What are we and Americans +going to make of our inner life, of our individual habits of thought? +What are we going to reverence, and what despise? Do we mean to lead in +spirit and in truth, not in mere money and guns? Britain is an old +country, still in her prime, I hope; but America is as yet on the +threshold. Is she to step out into the sight of the world as a great +leader? That is for America the long decision, to be worked out, not so +much in her Senate and her Congress, as in her homes and schools. On +America, after the war, the destiny of civilisation may hang for the +next century. If she mislays, indeed, if she does not improve the power +of self-criticism--that special dry American humour which the great +Lincoln had--she might soon develop the intolerant provincialism which +has so often been the bane of the earth and the undoing of nations. If +she gets swelled-head the world will get cold-feet. Above all, if she +does not solve the problems of town life, of Capital and Labour, of the +distribution of wealth, of national health, and attain to a mastery over +inventions and machinery--she is in for a cycle of mere anarchy, +disruption, and dictatorships, into which we shall all follow. The motto +"_noblesse oblige_" applies as much to democracy as ever it did to the +old-time aristocrat. It applies with terrific vividness to America. +Ancestry and Nature have bestowed on her great gifts. Behind her stand +Conscience, Enterprise, Independence, and Ability--such were the +companions of the first Americans, and are the comrades of American +citizens to this day. She has abounding energy, an unequalled spirit of +discovery; a vast territory not half developed, and great natural +beauty. I remember sitting on a bench overlooking the Grand Canyon of +Arizona; the sun was shining into it, and a snow-storm was whirling down +there. All that most marvellous work of Nature was flooded to the brim +with rose and tawny-gold, with white, and wine-dark shadows; the +colossal carvings as of huge rock-gods and sacrificial altars, and great +beasts, along its sides, were made living by the very mystery of light +and darkness, on that violent day of spring--I remember sitting there, +and an old gentleman passing close behind, leaning towards me and saying +in a sly, gentle voice: "How are you going to tell it to the folks at +home?" America has so much that one despairs of telling to the folks at +home, so much grand beauty to be to her an inspiration and uplift +towards high and free thought and vision. Great poems of Nature she has, +wrought in the large, to make of her and keep her a noble people. In our +beloved Britain--all told, not half the size of Texas--there is a quiet +beauty of a sort which America has not. I walked not long ago from +Worthing to the little village of Steyning, in the South Downs. It was +such a day as one too seldom gets in England; when the sun was dipping +and there came on the cool chalky hills the smile of late afternoon, and +across a smooth valley on the rim of the Down one saw a tiny group of +trees, one little building, and a stack, against the clear-blue, pale +sky--it was like a glimpse of Heaven, so utterly pure in line and +colour, so removed, and touching. The tale of loveliness in our land is +varied and unending, but it is not in the grand manner. America has the +grand manner in her scenery and in her blood, for over there all are the +children of adventure and daring, every single white man an emigrant +himself or a descendant of one who had the pluck to emigrate. She has +already had past-masters in dignity, but she has still to reach as a +nation the grand manner in achievement. She knows her own dangers and +failings, her qualities and powers; but she cannot realise the intense +concern and interest, deep down behind our provoking stolidities, with +which we of the old country watch her, feeling that what she does reacts +on us above all nations, and will ever react more and more. Underneath +surface differences and irritations we English-speaking peoples are fast +bound together. May it not be in misery and iron! If America walks +upright, so shall we; if she goes bowed under the weight of machines, +money, and materialism, we, too, shall creep our ways. We run a long +race, we nations; a generation is but a day. But in a day a man may +leave the track, and never again recover it! + +Democracies must not be content to leave the ideals of health and beauty +to artists and a leisured class; that is the way into a treeless, +waterless desert. It has struck me forcibly that we English-speaking +democracies are all right underneath, and all wrong on the surface; our +hearts are sound, but our skin is in a deplorable condition. Our taste, +take it all round, is dreadful. For a petty illustration: Ragtime +music. Judging by its popularity, one would think it must be a splendid +discovery; yet it suggests little or nothing but the comic love-making +of two darkies. We ride it to death; but its jigging, jogging, jumpy +jingle refuses to die on us, and America's young and ours grow up in the +tradition of its soul-forsaken sounds. Take another tiny illustration: +The new dancing. Developed from cake-walk, to fox-trot, by way of tango. +Precisely the same spiritual origin! And not exactly in the grand manner +to one who, like myself, loves and believes in dancing. Take the +"snappy" side of journalism. In San Francisco a few years ago the Press +snapped a certain writer and his wife, in their hotel, and next day +there appeared a photograph of two intensely wretched-looking beings +stricken by limelight, under the headline: "Blank and wife enjoy freedom +and gaiety in the air." Another writer told me that as he set foot on a +car leaving a great city a young lady grabbed him by the coat-tail and +cried: "Say, Mr. Asterisk, what are your views on a future life?" Not in +the grand manner, all this; but, if you like, a sign of vitality and +interest; a mere excrescence. But are not these excrescences symptoms of +a fever lying within our modern civilisation, a febrility which is going +to make achievement of great ends and great work more difficult? We +Britons, as a breed, are admittedly stolid; we err as much on that score +as Americans on the score of restlessness; yet we are both subject to +these excrescences. There is something terribly infectious about +vulgarity; and taste is on the down-grade following the tendencies of +herd-life. It is not a process to be proud of. + +Enough of Jeremiads, there is a bright side to our civilisation. + +This modern febrility does not seem able to attack the real inner man. +If there is a lamentable increase of vulgarity, superficiality, and +restlessness in our epoch, there is also an inspiring development of +certain qualities. Those who were watching human nature before the war +were pretty well aware of how, under the surface, unselfishness, ironic +stoicism, and a warm humanity were growing. These are the great Town +Virtues; the fine flowers of herd-life. A big price is being paid for +them, but they are almost beyond price. The war has revealed them in +full bloom. _Revealed them, not produced them!_ Who, in the future, with +this amazing show before him, will dare to talk about the need for war +to preserve courage and unselfishness? From the first shot these wonders +of endurance, bravery, and sacrifice were shown by the untrained +citizens of countries nearly fifty years deep in peace! Never, I +suppose, in the world's history, has there been so marvellous a display, +in war, of the bedrock virtues. The soundness at core of the modern man +has had one long triumphant demonstration. Out of a million instances, +take that little story of a Mr. Lindsay, superintendent of a pumping +station at some oil-wells in Mesopotamia. A valve in the oil-pipe had +split, and a fountain of oil was being thrown up on all sides, while, +thirty yards off, and nothing between, the furnaces were in full blast. +To prevent a terrible conflagration and great loss of life, and to save +the wells, it was necessary to shut off those furnaces. That meant +dashing through the oil-stream and arriving saturated at the flames. The +superintendent did not hesitate a moment, and was burnt to death. Such +deeds as this men and women have been doing all through the war. + +When you come to think, this modern man is a very new and marvellous +creature. Without quite realising it, we have evolved a fresh species of +stoic, even more stoical, I suspect, than were the old Stoics. Modern +man has cut loose from leading-strings; he stands on his own feet. His +religion is to take what comes without flinching or complaint, as part +of the day's work, which an unknowable God, Providence, Creative +Principle, or whatever it shall be called, has appointed. Observation +tells me that modern man at large, far from inclining towards the new, +personal, elder-brotherly God of Mr. Wells, has turned his face the +other way. He confronts life and death alone. By courage and kindness +modern man exists, warmed by the glow of the great human fellowship. He +has re-discovered the old Greek saying: "God is the helping of man by +man"; has found out in his unselfconscious way that if he does not help +himself, and help his fellows, he cannot reach that inner peace which +satisfies. To do his bit, and to be kind! It is by that creed, rather +than by any mysticism, that he finds the salvation of his soul. His +religion is to be a common-or-garden hero, without thinking anything of +it; for, of a truth, this is the age of conduct. + +After all, does not the only real spiritual warmth, not tinged by +Pharisaism, egotism, or cowardice, come from the feeling of doing your +work well and helping others; is not all the rest embroidery, luxury, +pastime, pleasant sound and incense? Modern man, take him in the large, +does not believe in salvation to beat of drum; or that, by leaning up +against another person, however idolised and mystical, he can gain +support. He is a realist with too romantic a sense, perhaps, of the +mystery which surrounds existence to pry into it. And, like modern +civilisation itself, he is the creature of West and North, of +atmospheres, climates, manners of life which foster neither inertia, +reverence, nor mystic meditation. Essentially man of action, in ideal +action he finds his only true comfort; and no attempts to discover for +him new gods and symbols will divert him from the path made for him by +the whole trend of his existence. I am sure that padres at the front see +that the men whose souls they have gone out to tend are living the +highest form of religion; that in their comic courage, unselfish +humanity, their endurance without whimper of things worse than death, +they have gone beyond all pulpit-and-death-bed teaching. And who are +these men? Just the early manhood of the race, just modern man as he was +before the war began and will be when the war is over. + +This modern world, of which we English and Americans are perhaps the +truest types, stands revealed, from beneath its froth, frippery, and +vulgar excrescences, sound at core--a world whose implicit motto is: +"The good of all humanity." But the herd-life, which is its +characteristic, brings many evils, has many dangers; and to preserve a +sane mind in a healthy body is the riddle before us. Somehow we must +free ourselves from the driving domination of machines and +money-getting, not only for our own sakes but for that of all mankind. + +And there is another thing of the most solemn importance: We +English-speaking nations are by chance as it were the ballast of the +future. It is _absolutely necessary_ that we should remain united. The +comradeship we now feel must and surely shall abide. For unless we work +together, and in no selfish or exclusive spirit--good-bye to +Civilisation! It will vanish like the dew off grass. The betterment not +only of the British nations and America, but of all mankind, is and must +be our object. + +When from all our hearts this great weight is lifted; when no longer in +those fields death sweeps his scythe, and our ears at last are free from +the rustling thereof--then will come the test of magnanimity in all +countries. Will modern man rise to the ordering of a sane, a free, a +generous life? Each of us loves his own country best, be it a little +land or the greatest on earth; but jealousy is the dark thing, the +creeping poison. Where there is true greatness, let us acclaim it; where +there is true worth, let us prize it--as if it were our own. + +This earth is made too subtly, of too multiple warp and woof, for +prophecy. When he surveys the world around, the wondrous things which +there abound, the prophet closes foolish lips. Besides, as the historian +tells us: "Writers have that undeterminateness of spirit which commonly +makes literary men of no use in the world." So I, for one, prophesy not. +Still, we do know this: All English-speaking peoples will go to the +adventure of peace with something of big purpose and spirit in their +hearts, with something of free outlook. The world is wide and Nature +bountiful enough for all, if we keep sane minds. The earth is fair and +meant to be enjoyed, if we keep sane bodies. Who dare affront this world +of beauty with mean views? There is no darkness but what the ape in us +still makes, and in spite of all his monkey-tricks modern man is at +heart further from the ape than man has yet been. + +To do our jobs really well and to be brotherly! To seek health, and +ensue beauty! If, in Britain and America, in all the English-speaking +nations, we can put that simple faith into real and thorough practice, +what may not this century yet bring forth? Shall man, the highest +product of creation, be content to pass his little day in a house, like +unto Bedlam? + +When the present great task in which we have joined hands is ended; when +once more from the shuttered mad-house the figure of Peace steps forth +and stands in the sun, and we may go our ways again in the beauty and +wonder of a new morning--let it be with this vow in our hearts: "No more +of Madness--in War, in _Peace_!" + +1917-18. + +[D] A paper read on March 21st, 1918. + + + + +THE LAND, 1917 + + +I + +If once more through ingenuity, courage, and good luck we find the +submarine menace "well in hand," and go to sleep again--if we reach the +end of the war without having experienced any sharp starvation, and go +our ways to trade, to eat, and forget--What then? It is about twenty +years since the first submarine could navigate--and about seventeen +since flying became practicable. There are a good many years yet before +the world, and numberless developments in front of these new +accomplishments. Hundreds of miles are going to be what tens are now; +thousands of machines will take the place of hundreds. + +We have ceased to live on an island in any save a technically +geographical sense, and the sooner we make up our minds to the fact, the +better. If in the future we act as we have in the past--rather the habit +of this country--I can imagine that in fifteen years' time or so we +shall be well enough prepared against war of the same magnitude and +nature as this war, and that the country which attacks us will launch an +assault against defences as many years out of date. + +I can imagine a war starting and well-nigh ending at once, by a quiet +and simultaneous sinking, from under water and from the air, of most +British ships, in port or at sea. I can imagine little standardised +submarines surreptitiously prepared by the thousand, and tens of +thousands of the enemy population equipped with flying machines, +instructed in flying as part of their ordinary civil life, and ready to +serve their country at a moment's notice, by taking a little flight and +dropping a little charge of an explosive many times more destructive +than any in use now. The agility of submarines and flying machines will +grow almost indefinitely. And even if we carry our commerce under the +sea instead of on the surface, we shall not be guaranteed against attack +by air. The air menace is, in fact, infinitely greater than that from +under water. I can imagine all shipping in port, the Houses of +Parliament, the Bank of England, most commercial buildings of +importance, and every national granary wrecked or fired in a single +night, on a declaration of war springing out of the blue. The only +things I cannot imagine wrecked or fired are the British character and +the good soil of Britain. + +These are sinister suggestions, but there is really no end to what might +now be done to us by any country which deliberately set its own +interests and safety above all considerations of international right, +especially if such country were moved to the soul by longing for +revenge, and believed success certain. After this world-tragedy let us +hope nations may have a little sense, less of that ghastly provincialism +whence this war sprang; that no nation may teach in its schools that it +is God's own people, entitled to hack through, without consideration of +others; that professors may be no longer blind to all sense of +proportion; Emperors things of the past; diplomacy open and responsible; +a real Court of Nations at work; Military Chiefs unable to stampede a +situation; journalists obliged to sign their names and held accountable +for inflammatory writings. Let us hope, and let us by every means +endeavour to bring about this better state of the world. But there is +many a slip between cup and lip; there is also such a thing as hatred. +And to rely blindly on a peace which, at the best, must take a long time +to prove its reality, is to put our heads again under our wings. Once +bit, twice shy. We shall make a better world the quicker if we try +realism for a little. + +Britain's situation is now absurdly weak, without and within. And its +weakness is due to one main cause--_the fact that we do not grow our own +food_. To get the better of submarines in this war will make no +difference to our future situation. A little peaceful study and +development of submarines and aircraft will antiquate our present +antidotes. You cannot chain air and the deeps to war uses and think you +have done with their devilish possibilities a score of years afterwards +because for the moment the submarine menace or the air menace is "well +in hand." + +At the end of the war I suppose the Channel Tunnel will be made. And +quite time too! But even that will not help us. We get no food from +Europe, and never shall again. Not even by linking ourselves to Europe +can we place ourselves in security from Europe. Faith may remove +mountains, but it will not remove Britain to the centre of the Atlantic. +Here we shall remain, every year nearer and more accessible to secret +and deadly attack. + +The next war, if there be one--which Man forbid--may be fought without +the use of a single big ship or a single infantryman. It may begin, +instead of ending, by being a war of starvation; it may start, as it +were, where it leaves off this time. And the only way of making even +reasonably safe is to grow our own food. If for years to come we have to +supplement by State granaries, they must be placed underground; not even +there will they be too secure. Unless we grow our own food after this +war we shall be the only great country which does not, and a constant +temptation to any foe. To be self-sufficing will be the first precaution +taken by our present enemies, in order that blockade may no longer be a +weapon in our hands, so far as _their_ necessary food is concerned. + +Whatever arrangements the world makes after the war to control the +conduct of nations in the future, the internal activities of those +nations will remain unfettered, capable of deadly shaping and plausible +disguise in the hands of able and damnable schemers. + +The submarine menace of the present is merely awkward, and no doubt +surmountable--it is nothing to the submarine-_cum_-air menace of peace +time a few years hence. _It will be impossible to guard against surprise +under the new conditions._ If we do not grow our own food, we could be +knocked out of time in the first round. + +But besides the danger from overseas, we have an inland danger to our +future just as formidable--the desertion of our countryside and the +town-blight which is its corollary. + +Despair seizes on one reading that we should cope with the danger of the +future by new cottages, better instruction to farmers, better kinds of +manure and seed, encouragement to co-operative societies, a cheerful +spirit, and the storage of two to three years' supply of grain. +Excellent and necessary, in their small ways--they are a mere stone to +the bread we need. + +In that programme and the speech which put it forward I see insufficient +grasp of the outer peril and hardly any of the gradual destruction with +which our overwhelming town life threatens us; not one allusion to the +physical and moral welfare of our race, except this: "That boys should +be in touch with country life and country tastes is of first importance, +and that their elementary education should be given in terms of country +things is also of enormous importance." That is all, and it shows how +far we have got from reality, and how difficult it will be to get +back; for the speaker was once Minister for Agriculture. + +Our justifications for not continuing to feed ourselves were: Pursuit of +wealth, command of the sea, island position. Whatever happens in this +war, we have lost the last two in all but a superficial sense. Let us +see whether the first is sufficient justification for perseverance in a +mode of life which has brought us to an ugly pass. + +Our wonderful industrialism began about 1766, and changed us from +exporting between the years 1732 and 1766 11,250,000 quarters of wheat +to importing 7,500,000 quarters between the years 1767 and 1801. In one +hundred and fifty years it has brought us to the state of importing more +than three-quarters of our wheat, and more than half our total food. +Whereas in 1688 (figures of Gregory and Davenant) about four-fifths of +the population of England was rural, in 1911 only about two-ninths was +rural. This transformation has given us great wealth, extremely +ill-distributed; plastered our country with scores of busy, populous, +and hideous towns; given us a merchant fleet which before the war had a +gross tonnage of over 20,000,000, or not far short of half the world's +shipping. It has, or had, fixed in us the genteel habit of eating very +doubtfully nutritious white bread made of the huskless flour of wheat; +reduced the acreage of arable land in the United Kingdom from its +already insufficient maximum of 23,000,000 acres to its 1914 figure of +19,000,000 acres; made England, all but its towns, look very like a +pleasure garden; and driven two shibboleths deep into our minds, "All +for wealth" and "Hands off the food of the people." + +All these "good" results have had certain complementary disadvantages, +some of which we have just seen, some of which have long been seen. + +Of these last, let me first take a small sentimental disadvantage. We +have become more parasitic by far than any other nation. To eat we have +to buy with our manufactures an overwhelming proportion of our vital +foods. The blood in our veins is sucked from foreign bodies, in return +for the clothing we give them--not a very self-respecting thought. We +have a green and fertile country, and round it a prolific sea. Our +country, if we will, can produce, with its seas, all the food we need to +eat. We know that quite well, but we elect to be nourished on foreign +stuff, because we are a practical people and prefer shekels to +sentiment. We do not mind being parasitic. Taking no interest nationally +in the growth of food, we take no interest nationally in the cooking of +it; the two accomplishments subtly hang together. Pride in the food +capacity, the corn and wine and oil, of their country has made the +cooking of the French the most appetising and nourishing in the world. +The French do cook: we open tins. The French preserve the juices of +their home-grown food: we have no juices to preserve. The life of our +poorer classes is miserably stunted of essential salts and savours. They +throw away skins, refuse husks, make no soups, prefer pickle to genuine +flavour. But home-grown produce really is more nourishing than tinned +and pickled and frozen foods. If we honestly feed ourselves we shall not +again demand the old genteel flavourless white bread without husk or +body in it; we shall eat wholemeal bread, and take to that salutary +substance, oatmeal, which, if I mistake not, has much to say in making +the Scots the tallest and boniest race in Europe. + +Now for a far more poignant disadvantage. We have become tied up in +teeming congeries, to which we have grown so used that we are no longer +able to see the blight they have brought on us. Our great industrial +towns, sixty odd in England alone, with a population of 15,000,000 to +16,000,000, are our glory, our pride, and the main source of our wealth. +They are the growth, roughly speaking, of five generations. They began +at a time when social science was unknown, spread and grew in unchecked +riot of individual moneymaking, till they are the nightmare of social +reformers, and the despair of all lovers of beauty. They have mastered +us so utterly, morally and physically, that we regard them and their +results as matter of course. They _are_ public opinion, so that for the +battle against town-blight there is no driving force. They paralyse the +imaginations of our politicians because their voting power is so +enormous, their commercial interests are so huge, and the food +necessities of their populations seem so paramount. + +I once bewailed the physique of our towns to one of our most cultivated +and prominent Conservative statesmen. He did not agree. He thought that +probably physique was on the up-grade. This commonly held belief is based +on statistics of longevity and sanitation. But the same superior +sanitation and science applied to a rural population would have +lengthened the lives of a much finer and better-looking stock. Here are +some figures: Out of 1,650 passers-by, women and men, observed in +perhaps the "best" district of London--St. James's Park, Trafalgar +Square, Westminster Bridge, and Piccadilly--in May of this year, only +310 had any pretensions to not being very plain or definitely ugly-not +one in five. And out of that 310 only eleven had what might be called +real beauty. Out of 120 British soldiers observed round Charing Cross, +sixty--just one-half--passed the same standard. But out of seventy-two +Australian soldiers, fifty-four, or three-quarters, passed, and several +had real beauty. Out of 120 men, women, and children taken at random in +a remote country village (five miles from any town, and eleven miles +from any town of 10,000 inhabitants) ninety--or just three-quarters +also--pass this same standard of looks. It is significant that the +average here is the same as the average among Australian soldiers, who, +though of British stock, come from a country as yet unaffected by town +life. You ask, of course, what standard is this? A standard which covers +just the very rudiments of proportion and comeliness. People in small +country towns, I admit, have little or no more beauty than people in +large towns. This is curious, but may be due to too much inbreeding. + +The first counter to conclusions drawn from such figures is obviously: +"The English are an ugly people." I said that to a learned and æsthetic +friend when I came back from France last spring. He started, and then +remarked: "Oh, well; not as ugly as the French, anyway." A great error; +much plainer if you take _the bulk, and not the pick_, of the population +in both countries. It may not be fair to attribute French superiority in +looks entirely to the facts that they grow nearly all their own food +(and cook it well), and had in 1906 four-sevenths of their population in +the country as against our own two-ninths in 1911, because there is the +considerable matter of climate. But when you get so high a proportion of +comeliness in _remote_ country districts in England, it _is_ fair to +assume that climate does not account for anything like all the +difference. I do not believe that the English are naturally an ugly +people. The best English type is perhaps the handsomest in the world. +The physique and looks of the richer classes are as notoriously better +than those of the poorer classes as the physique and looks of the remote +country are superior to those of crowded towns. Where conditions are +free from cramp, poor air, poor food, and _herd-life_, English physique +quite holds its own with that of other nations. + +We do not realise the great deterioration of our stock, the squashed-in, +stunted, disproportionate, commonised look of the bulk of our people, +because, as we take our walks abroad, we note only faces and figures +which strike us as good-looking; the rest pass unremarked. Ugliness has +become a matter of course. There is no reason, save town life, why this +should be so. But what does it matter if we _have_ become ugly? We work +well, make money, and have lots of moral qualities. A fair inside is +better than a fair outside. I do think that we are in many ways a very +wonderful people; and our townsfolk not the least wonderful. But that is +all the more reason for trying to preserve our physique. + +Granted that an expressive face, with interest in life stamped on it, is +better than "chocolate box" or "barber's block" good looks, that agility +and strength are better than symmetry without agility and strength; the +trouble is that there is no interest stamped on so many of our faces, +no agility or strength in so many of our limbs. If there were, those +faces and limbs would pass my standard. The old Greek cult of the body +was not to be despised. I defy even the most rigid Puritans to prove +that a satisfactory moral condition can go on within an exterior which +exhibits no signs of a live, able, and serene existence. By living on +its nerves, overworking its body, starving its normal aspirations for +fresh air, good food, sunlight, and a modicum of solitude, a country can +get a great deal out of itself, a terrific lot of wealth, in three or +four generations; but it is living on its capital, physically speaking. +This is precisely what we show every sign of doing; and partly what I +mean by "town-blight." + + +II + +The impression I get, in our big towns, is most peculiar--considering +that we are a free people. The faces and forms have a look of being +possessed. To express my meaning exactly is difficult. There is a dulled +and driven look, and yet a general expression of "Keep smiling--Are we +down-hearted? No." It is as if people were all being forced along by a +huge invisible hand at the back of their necks, whose pressure they +resent yet are trying to make the best of, because they cannot tell +whence it comes. To understand, you must watch the grip from its very +beginnings. The small children who swarm in the little grey playground +streets of our big towns pass their years in utter abandonment. They +roll and play and chatter in conditions of amazing unrestraint and +devil-may-care-dom in the midst of amazing dirt and ugliness. The +younger they are, as a rule, the chubbier and prettier they are. +Gradually you can see herd-life getting hold of them, the impact of ugly +sights and sounds commonising the essential grace and individuality of +their little features. On the lack of any standard or restraint, any +real glimpse of Nature, any knowledge of a future worth striving for, or +indeed of any future at all, they thrive forward into that hand-to-mouth +mood from which they are mostly destined never to emerge. Quick and +scattery as monkeys, and never alone, they become, at a rake's progress, +little fragments of the herd. On poor food, poor air, and habits of +least resistance, they wilt and grow distorted, acquiring withal the +sort of pathetic hardihood which a Dartmoor pony will draw out of moor +life in a frozen winter. All round them, by day, by night, stretches the +huge, grey, grimy waste of streets, factory walls, chimneys, murky +canals, chapels, public-houses, hoardings, posters, butchers' shops--a +waste where nothing beautiful exists save a pretty cat or pigeon, a blue +sky, perhaps, and a few trees and open spaces. The children of the class +above, too, of the small shop-people, the artisans--do they escape? Not +really. The same herd-life and the same sights and sounds pursue them +from birth; they also are soon divested of the grace and free look which +you see in country children walking to and from school or roaming the +hedges. Whether true slum children, or from streets a little better off, +quickly they all pass out of youth into the iron drive of commerce and +manufacture, into the clang and clatter, the swish and whirr of wheels, +the strange, dragging, saw-like hubbub of industry, or the clicking and +pigeon-holes of commerce; perch on a devil's see-saw from monotonous +work to cheap sensation and back. Considering the conditions it is +wonderful that they stand it as well as they do; and I should be the +last to deny that they possess remarkable qualities. But the modern +industrial English town is a sort of inferno where people dwell with a +marvellous philosophy. What would you have? They have never seen any way +out of it. And this, perhaps, would not be so pitiful if for each +bond-servant of our town-tyranny there was in store a prize--some +portion of that national wealth in pursuit of which the tyrant drives +us; if each worker had before him the chance of emergence at, say, +fifty. But, Lord God! for five that emerge, ninety-and-five stay bound, +less free and wealthy at the end of the chapter than they were at the +beginning. And the quaint thing is--they know it; know that they will +spend their lives in smoky, noisy, crowded drudgery, and in crowded +drudgery die. Wealth goes to wealth, and all they can hope for is a few +extra shillings a week, with a corresponding rise in prices. They know +it, but it does not disturb them, for they were born of the towns, have +never glimpsed at other possibilities. Imprisoned in town life from +birth, they contentedly perpetuate the species of a folk with an ebbing +future. Yes, ebbing! For if it be not, why is there now so much +conscious effort to arrest the decay of town workers' nerves and sinews? +Why do we bother to impede a process which is denied? If there be no +town-blight on us, why a million indications of uneasiness and a +thousand little fights against the march of a degeneration so natural, +vast, and methodical, that it brings them all to naught? Our physique is +slowly rotting, and that is the plain truth of it. + +But it does not stop with deteriorated physique. Students of faces in +the remoter country are struck by the absence of what, for want of a +better word, we may call vulgarity. That insidious defacement is seen to +be a thing of towns, and not at all a matter of "class." The simplest +country cottager, shepherd, fisherman, has as much, often a deal more, +dignity than numbers of our upper classes, who, in spite of the desire +to keep themselves unspotted, are still, from the nature of their +existence, touched by the herd-life of modern times. For vulgarity is +the natural product of herd-life; an amalgam of second-hand thought, +cheap and rapid sensation, defensive and offensive self-consciousness, +gradually plastered over the faces, manners, voices, whole beings, of +those whose elbows are too tightly squeezed to their sides by the +pressure of their fellows, whose natures are cut off from Nature, whose +senses are rendered imitative by the too insistent impact of certain +sights and sounds. Without doubt the rapid increase of town-life is +responsible for our acknowledged vulgarity. The same process is going on +in America and in Northern Germany; but we unfortunately had the lead, +and seem to be doing our best to keep it. Cheap newspapers, on the +sensational tip-and-run system, perpetual shows of some kind or other, +work in association, every kind of thing in association, at a speed too +great for individual digestion, and in the presence of every device for +removing the need for individual thought; the thronged streets, the +football match with its crowd emotions; beyond all, the cinema--a +compendium of all these other influences--make town-life a veritable +forcing-pit of vulgarity. We are all so deeply in it that we do not see +the process going on; or, if we admit it, hasten to add: "But what does +it matter?--there's no harm in vulgarity; besides, it's inevitable, you +can't set the tide back." Obviously, the vulgarity of town-life cannot +be exorcised by Act of Parliament; there is not indeed the faintest +chance that Parliament will recognise such a side to the question at +all, since there is naturally no public opinion on this matter. + +Everybody must recognise and admire certain qualities specially fostered +by town-life; the extraordinary patience, cheerful courage, philosophic +irony, and unselfishness of our towns-people--qualities which in this +war, both at the front and at home, have been of the greatest value. +They are worth much of the price paid. But in this life all is a +question of balance; and my contention is, not so much that town-life in +itself is bad, as that we have pushed it to a point of excess terribly +dangerous to our physique, to our dignity, and to our sense of beauty. +Must our future have no serene and simple quality, not even a spice of +the influence of Nature, with her air, her trees, her fields, and wide +skies? Say what you like, it is elbow-room for limbs and mind and lungs +which keeps the countryman free from that dulled and driven look, and +gives him individuality. I know all about the "dullness" and "monotony" +of rural life, bad housing and the rest of it. All true enough, but the +cure is not exodus, it is improvement in rural-life conditions, more +co-operation, better cottages, a fuller, freer social life. What we in +England now want more than anything is air--for lungs and mind. We have +overdone herd-life. We _are_ dimly conscious of this, feel vaguely that +there is something "rattling" and wrong about our progress, for we have +had many little spasmodic "movements" back to the land these last few +years. But what do they amount to? Whereas in 1901 the proportion of +town to country population in England and Wales was 3 10/37--1, in 1911 +it was 3 17/20--1; very distinctly greater! At this crab's march we +shall be some time getting "back to the land." Our effort, so far, has +been something like our revival of Morris dancing, very pleasant and +æsthetic, but without real economic basis or strength to stand up +against the lure of the towns. And how queer, ironical, and pitiful is +that lure, when you consider that in towns one-third of the population +are just on or a little below the line of bare subsistence; that the +great majority of town workers have hopelessly monotonous work, stuffy +housing, poor air, and little leisure. But there it is--the charm of the +lighted-up unknown, of company, and the streets at night! The countryman +goes to the town in search of adventure. Honestly--does he really find +it? He thinks he is going to improve his prospects and his mind. His +prospects seldom brighten. He sharpens his mind, only to lose it and +acquire instead that of the herd. + +To compete with this lure of the towns, there must first be _national_ +consciousness of its danger; then coherent _national_ effort to fight +it. We must destroy the shibboleth: "All for wealth!" and re-write it: +"All for health!"--the only wealth worth having. Wealth is not an end, +surely. Then, to what is it the means, if not to health? Once we admit +that in spite of our wealth our national health is going downhill +through town-blight, we assert the failure of our country's ideals and +life. And if, having got into a vicious state of congested town +existence, we refuse to make an effort to get out again, because it is +necessary to "hold our own commercially," and feed "the people" cheaply, +we are in effect saying: "We certainly are going to hell, but look--how +successfully!" I suggest rather that we try to pull ourselves up again +out of the pit of destruction, even if to do so involves us in a certain +amount of monetary loss and inconvenience. Yielding to no one in desire +that "the people" should be well, nay better, fed, I decline utterly to +accept the doctrine that there is no way of doing this compatible with +an increased country population and the growth of our own food. In +national matters, where there is a general and not a mere Party will, +there is a way, and the way is not to be recoiled from because the first +years of the change may necessitate Governmental regulation. Many people +hold that our salvation will come through education. Education on right +lines underlies everything, of course; but unless education includes the +growth of our own food and return to the land in substantial measure, +education cannot save us. + +It may be natural to want to go to hell; it is certainly easy; we have +gone so far in that direction that we cannot hope to be haloed in our +time. For good or evil, the great towns are here, and we can but +mitigate. The indicated policy of mitigation is fivefold:-- + +(1) Such solid economic basis to the growth of our food as will give us +again national security, more arable land than we have ever had, and on +it a full complement of well-paid workers, with better cottages, and a +livened village life. + +(2) A vast number of small holdings, State-created, with co-operative +working. + +(3) A wide belt-system of garden allotments round every town, industrial +or not. + +(4) Drastic improvements in housing, feeding, and sanitation in the +towns themselves. + +(5) Education that shall raise not only the standard of knowledge but +the standard of taste in town and country. + +All these ideals are already well in the public eye--on paper. But they +are incoherently viewed and urged; they do not as yet form a national +creed. Until welded and supported by all parties in the State, they will +not have driving power enough to counteract the terrific momentum with +which towns are drawing us down into the pit. One section pins its faith +to town improvement; another to the development of small holdings; a +third to cottage building; a fourth to education; a fifth to support of +the price of wheat; a sixth to the destruction of landlords. +Comprehensive vision of the danger is still lacking, and comprehensive +grasp of the means to fight against it. + +We are by a long way the most town-ridden country in the world; our +towns by a long way the smokiest and worst built, with the most inbred +town populations. We have practically come to an end of our +country-stock reserves. Unless we are prepared to say: "This is a +desirable state of things; let the inbreeding of town stocks go on--we +shall evolve in time a new type immune to town life; a little ratty +fellow all nerves and assurance, much better than any country +clod!"--which, by the way, is exactly what some of us do say! Unless we +mean as a nation to adopt this view and rattle on, light-heartedly, +careless of menace from without and within, assuring ourselves that +health and beauty, freedom and independence, as hitherto understood, +have always been misnomers, and that nothing whatever matters so long as +we are rich--unless all this, we must give check to the present state of +things, restore a decent balance between town and country stock, grow +our own food, and establish a permanent tendency away from towns. + +All this fearfully unorthodox and provocative of sneers, and--goodness +knows--I do not enjoy saying it. But needs must when the devil drives. +It may be foolish to rave against the past and those factors and +conditions which have put us so utterly in bond to towns--especially +since this past and these towns have brought us such great wealth and so +dominating a position in the world. It cannot be foolish, now that we +have the wealth and the position, to resolve with all our might to free +ourselves from bondage, to be masters, not servants, of our fate, to get +back to firm ground, and make Health and Safety what they ever should +be--the true keystones of our policy. + + +III + +In the midst of a war like this the first efforts of any Government have +to be directed to immediate ends. But under the pressure of the war the +Government has a unique chance to initiate the comprehensive, +far-reaching policy which alone can save us. Foundations to safety will +only be laid if our representatives can be induced now to see this +question of the land as _the_ question of the future, no matter what +happens in the war; to see that, whatever success we attain, we cannot +remove the two real dangers of the future, sudden strangulation through +swift attack by air and under sea--unless we grow our own food; and slow +strangulation by town-life--unless we restore the land. Our imaginations +are stirred, the driving force is here, swift action possible, and +certain extraordinary opportunities are open which presently must close +again. + +On demobilisation we have the chance of our lives to put men on the +land. Because this is still a Party question, to be sagaciously debated +up hill and down dale three or four years hence, we shall very likely +grasp the mere shadow and miss the substance of that opportunity. If the +Government had a mandate "Full steam ahead" we could add at the end of +the war perhaps a million men (potentially four million people) to our +food-growing country population; as it is, we may add thereto a few +thousands, lose half a million to the Colonies, and discourage the +rest--patting our own backs the while. To put men on the land we must +have the land ready in terms of earth, not of paper; and have it in the +right places, within easy reach of town or village. Things can be done +just now. We know, for instance, that in a few months half a million +allotment-gardens have been created in urban areas and more progress +made with small holdings than in previous years. I repeat, we have a +chance which will not recur to scotch the food danger, and to restore a +healthier balance between town and country stocks. Shall we be +penny-wise and lose this chance for the luxury of "free and full +discussion of a controversial matter at a time when men's minds are not +full of the country's danger"? This _is_ the country's danger--there is no +other. And this is the moment for full and free discussion of it, for +full and free action too. Who doubts that a Government which brought +this question of the land in its widest aspects to the touch-stone of +full debate at once, would get its mandate, would get the power it +wanted--not to gerrymander, but to build? + +Consider the Corn Production Bill. I will quote Mr. Prothero: "National +security is not an impracticable dream. It is within our reach, within +the course of a few years, and it involves no great dislocation of other +industries." (Note that.) "For all practical purposes, if we could grow +at home here 82 per cent, of all the food that we require for five +years, we should be safe, and that amount of independence of sea-borne +supplies we can secure, and secure within a few years.... We could +obtain that result if we could add 8,000,000 acres of arable land to our +existing area--that is to say, if we increased it from 19,000,000 acres +to 27,000,000 acres. If you once got that extension of your arable area, +the nation would be safe from the nightmare of a submarine menace, and +the number of additional men who would be required on the land would be +something about a quarter of a million." (Note that.) "The present Bill +is much less ambitious." It is. And it is introduced by one who knows +and dreads, as much as any of us, the dangerous and unballasted +condition into which we have drifted; introduced with, as it were, +apology, as if he feared that, unambitious though, it be, it will +startle the nerves of Parliament. On a question so vast and vital you +are bound to startle by any little measure. Nothing but an heroic +measure would arouse debate on a scale adequate to reach and stir the +depths of our national condition, and wake us all, politicians and +public, to appreciate the fact that our whole future is in this matter, +and that it must be tackled. + +If we are not capable now of grasping the vital nature of this issue we +assuredly never shall be. Only five generations have brought us to the +parasitic, town-ridden condition we are in. The rate of progress in +deterioration will increase rapidly with each coming generation. We +have, as it were, turned seven-ninths of our population out into poor +paddocks, to breed promiscuously among themselves. We have the chance to +make our English and Welsh figures read: Twenty-four millions of +town-dwellers to twelve of country, instead of, as now, twenty-eight +millions to eight. Consider what that would mean to the breeding of the +next generation. In such extra millions of country stock our national +hope lies. What we should never dream of permitting with our domestic +animals, we are not only permitting but encouraging among ourselves; we +are doing all we can to perpetuate and increase poor stock; stock +without either quality or bone, run-down, and ill-shaped. And, just as +the progress in the "stock" danger is accelerated with each generation, +so does the danger from outside increase with every year which sees +flying and submarining improve, and our food capacity standing still. + +The great argument against a united effort to regain our ballast is: We +must not take away too many from our vital industries. Why, even the +Minister of Agriculture, who really knows and dreads the danger, almost +apologises for taking two hundred and fifty thousand from those vital +industries, to carry out, not his immediate, but his ideal, programme. +Vital industries! Ah! vital to Britain's destruction within the next few +generations unless we mend our ways! The great impediment is the force +of things as they are, the huge vested interests, the iron network of +vast enterprises frightened of losing profit. If we pass this moment, +when men of every class and occupation, even those who most thrive on +our town-ridden state, are a little frightened; if we let slip this +chance for a real reversal--can we hope that anything considerable will +be done, with the dice loaded as they are, the scales weighted so +hopelessly in favour of the towns? Representatives of seven-ninths will +always see that representatives of two-ninths do not outvote them. This +is a crude way of putting it, but it serves; because, after all, an +elector is only a little bundle of the immediate needs of his locality +and mode of life, outside of which he cannot see, and which he does not +want prejudiced. He is not a fool, like me, looking into the future. And +his representatives have got to serve him. The only chance, in a +question so huge, vital, and _long_ as this, is that greatly distrusted +agent--Panic Legislation. When panic makes men, for a brief space, open +their eyes and see truth, then it is valuable. Before our eyes close +again and see nothing but the darkness of the daily struggle for +existence, let us take advantage, and lay foundations which will be +difficult, at least, to overturn. + +What has been done so far, and what more can be done? A bounty on corn +has been introduced. I suppose nobody, certainly not its promoter, is +enamoured of this. But it does not seem to have occurred to every one +that you cannot eat nuts without breaking their shells, or get out of +evil courses without a transition period of extreme annoyance to +yourself. "Bounty" is, in many quarters, looked on as a piece of petting +to an interest already pampered. Well--while we look on the land as an +"interest" in competition with other "interests" and not as _the_ vital +interest of the country, underlying every other, so long shall we +continue to be "in the soup." The land needs fostering, and again +fostering, because the whole vicious tendency of the country's life has +brought farming to its present pass and farmers to their attitude of +mistrust. Doctrinaire objections are now ridiculous. An economic basis +must be re-established, or we may as well cry "Kamerad" at once and hold +up our hands to Fate. The greater the arable acreage in this country, +the less will be the necessity for a bounty on corn. Unlike most +stimulants, it is one which gradually stimulates away the need for it. +With every year and every million acres broken up, not only will the +need for bounty diminish, but the present mistrustful breed of farmer +will be a step nearer to extinction. Shrewd, naturally conservative, and +somewhat intolerant of anything so dreamy as a national point of view, +they will not live for ever. The up-growing farmer will not be like +them, and about the time the need for bounty is vanishing the new farmer +will be in possession. But in the meantime land must be broken up until +8,000,000 acres at least are conquered; and bounty is the only lever. It +will not be lever enough without constant urging. In Mr. Prothero's +history of English farming occur these words: "A Norfolk farmer migrated +to Devonshire in 1780, where he drilled and hoed his roots; though his +crops were far superior to those of other farmers in the district, yet +at the close of the century no neighbour had followed his example." + +But even the break-up of 8,000,000 acres, though it may make us safe for +food, will only increase our country population by 250,000 labourers and +their families (a million souls)--a mere beginning towards the +satisfaction of our need. We want in operation, before demobilisation +begins, a great national plan for the creation of good small holdings +run on co-operative lines. And to this end, why should not the +suggestion of tithe redemption, thrown out by Mr. Prothero, on pages 399 +and 400 of "English Farming: Past and Present," be adopted? The annual +value of tithes is about £5,000,000. Their extinction should provide the +Government with about 2,500,000 acres, enough at one stroke to put +three or four hundred thousand soldiers on the land. The tithe-holders +would get their money, landlords would not be prejudiced; the +Government, by virtue of judicious choice and discretionary compulsion, +would obtain the sort of land it wanted, and the land would be for ever +free of a teasing and vexatious charge. The cost to the Government +would be £100,000,000 (perhaps more) on the best security it could have. +"Present conditions," I quote from the book, "are favourable to such a +transaction. The price of land enables owners to extinguish the rent +charge by the surrender of a reasonable acreage, and the low price of +Consols enables investors to obtain a larger interest for their money." +For those not familiar with this notion, the process, in brief, is this: +The Government pays the tithe-holder the capitalised value of his tithe, +and takes over from the landlord as much land as produces in net annual +rent the amount of the tithe-rent charge, leaving the rest of his land +tithe-free for ever. There are doubtless difficulties and objections, +but so there must be to any comprehensive plan for obtaining an amount +of land at all adequate. Time is of desperate importance in this matter. +It is already dangerously late, but if the Government would turn-to now +with a will, the situation could still be saved, and this unique chance +for re-stocking our countryside would not be thrown away. + +I alluded to the formation within a few months of half a million +garden-allotments--plots of ground averaging about ten poles each, taken +under the Defence of the Realm Act from building and other land in +urban areas, and given to cultivators, under a guarantee, for the growth +of vegetables. This most valuable effort, for which the Board of +Agriculture deserves the thanks of all, is surely capable of very great +extension. Every town, no matter how quickly it may be developing, is +always surrounded by a belt of dubious land--not quite town and not +quite country. When town development mops up plots in cultivation, a +hole can be let out in an elastic belt which is capable of almost +indefinite expansion. But this most useful and health-giving work has +only been possible under powers which will cease when the immediate +danger to the State has passed. If a movement, which greatly augments +our home-grown food supply and can give quiet, healthy, open-air, +interesting work for several hours a week to perhaps a million out of +our congested town populations--if such a movement be allowed to +collapse at the coming of peace, it will be nothing less than criminal. +I plead here that the real danger to the State will not pass but rather +begin, with the signing of peace, that the powers to acquire and grant +these garden-allotments should be continued, and every effort made to +foster and _extend_ the movement. Considering that, whatever we do to +re-colonise our land, we must still have in this country a dangerously +huge town population, this kitchen-garden movement can be of +incalculable value in combating town-blight, in securing just that air +to lungs and mind, and just that spice of earth reality which all +town-dwellers need so much. + +Extension of arable land by at least 8,000,000 acres; creation of +hundreds of thousands of small holdings by tithe redemption, or +another scheme still in the blue; increase and perpetuation of +garden-allotments--besides all these we want, of course, agricultural +schools and facilities for training; _co-operatively organised finance, +transport, and marketing of produce_; for without schooling, and +co-operation, no system of small holding on a large scale can possibly +succeed. We now have the labourer's minimum wage, which, I think, will +want increasing; but we want good rural housing on an economically sound +basis, an enlivened village life, and all that can be done to give the +worker on the land a feeling that he can rise, the sense that he is not +a mere herd, at the beck and call of what has been dubbed the "tyranny +of the countryside." The land gives work which is varied, alive, and +interesting beyond all town industries, save those, perhaps, of art and +the highly-skilled crafts and professions. If we can once get land-life +back on to a wide and solid basis, it should hold its own. + +Dare any say that this whole vast question of the land, with its +throbbing importance, yea--seeing that demobilisations do not come every +year--its desperately immediate importance, is not fit matter for +instant debate and action; dare any say that we ought to relegate it to +that limbo "After the war"? In grim reality it takes precedence of every +other question. It is infinitely more vital to our safety and our health +than consideration of our future commercial arrangements. In our present +Parliament--practically, if not sentimentally speaking--all shades of +opinion are as well represented as they are likely to be in future +Parliaments--even the interests of our women and our soldiers; to put +off the good day when this question is threshed out, is to crane at an +imagined hedge. + +Let us know now at what we are aiming, let us admit and record in the +black and white of legislation that we intend to trim our course once +more for the port of health and safety. If this Britain of ours is going +to pin her whole future to a blind pursuit of wealth, without +considering whether that wealth is making us all healthier and happier, +many of us, like Sancho, would rather retire at once, and be made +"governors of islands." For who can want part or lot on a ship which +goes yawing with every sail set into the dark, without rudder, compass, +or lighted star? + +I, for one, want a Britain who refuses to take the mere immediate line +of least resistance, who knows and sets her course, and that a worthy +one. So do we all, I believe, at heart--only, the current is so mighty +and strong, and we are so used to it! + +By the parasitic and town-ridden condition we are in now, and in which +without great and immediate effort we are likely to remain, we degrade +our patriotism. That we should have to tremble lest we be starved is a +miserable, a humiliating thought. To have had so little pride and +independence of spirit as to have come to this, to have been such +gobblers at wealth--who dare defend it? We have made our bed; let us, +now, refuse to lie thereon. Better the floor than this dingy feather +couch of suffocation. + +Our country is dear to us, and many are dying for her. There can be no +consecration of their memory so deep or so true as this regeneration of +The Land. + +1917 + + + + +THE LAND, 1918 + + +I + +INTRODUCTORY + +Can one assume that the pinch of this war is really bringing home to us +the vital need of growing our own food henceforth? I do not think so. Is +there any serious shame felt at our parasitic condition? None. Are we in +earnest about the resettlement of the land? Not yet. + +All our history shows us to be a practical people with short views. +"_Tiens! Une montagne!_" Never was a better summing up of British +character than those words of the French cartoonist during the Boer War, +beneath his picture of a certain British General of those days, riding +at a hand gallop till his head was butting a cliff. Without seeing a +hand's breadth before our noses we have built our Empire, our towns, our +law. We are born empiricists, and must have our faces ground by hard +facts, before we attempt to wriggle past them. We have thriven so far, +but the ruin of England is likely to be the work of practical men who +burn the house down to roast the pig, because they cannot see beyond the +next meal. Visions are airy; but I propose to see visions for a moment, +and Britain as she _might_ be in 1948. + +I see our towns, not indeed diminished from their present size, but no +larger; much cleaner, and surrounded by wide belts of garden allotments, +wherein town workers spend many of their leisure hours. I see in Great +Britain fifty millions instead of forty-one; but the town population +only thirty-two millions as now, and the rural population eighteen +millions instead of the present nine. I see the land farmed in three +ways: very large farms growing corn and milk, meat and wool, or sugar +beet; small farms _co-operatively run_ growing everything; and large +groups of co-operative small holdings, growing vegetables, fruit, pigs, +poultry, and dairy produce to some extent. There are no game laws to +speak of, and certainly no large areas of ground cut to waste for +private whims. I see very decent cottages everywhere, with large plots +of ground at economic rents, and decently waged people paying them; no +tithes, but a band of extinguished tithe-holders, happy with their +compensation. The main waterways of the country seem joined by wide +canals, and along these canals factories are spread out on the garden +city plan, with allotments for the factory workers. Along better roads +run long chains of small holdings, so that the co-operated holders have +no difficulty in marketing their produce. I see motor transport; tractor +ploughs; improved farm machinery; forestry properly looked after, and +foreshores reclaimed; each village owning its recreation hall, with +stage and cinema attached; and public-houses run only on the principle +of no commission on the drink sold; every school teaching the truth that +happiness and health, not mere money and learning, are the prizes of +life and the objects of education, and for ever impressing on the +scholars that life in the open air and pleasure in their work are the +two chief secrets of health and happiness. In every district a model +farm radiates scientific knowledge of the art of husbandry, bringing +instruction to each individual farmer, and leaving him no excuse for +ignorance. The land produces what it ought; not, as now, feeding with +each hundred acres only fifty persons, while a German hundred acres, not +nearly so favoured by Nature, feeds seventy-five. Every little girl has +been taught to cook. Farmers are no longer fearful of bankruptcy, as in +the years from 1875 to 1897, but hold their own with all comers, proud +of their industry, the spine and marrow of a country which respects +itself once more. There seems no longer jealousy or division between +town and country; and statesmen by tacit consent leave the land free +from Party politics. I see taller and stronger men and women, rosier and +happier children; a race no longer narrow, squashed, and +disproportionate; no longer smoke-dried and nerve-racked, with the +driven, don't-care look of a town-ridden land. And surely the words "Old +England" are spoken by all voices with a new affection, as of a land no +longer sucking its sustenance from other lands, but sound and sweet, the +worthy heart once more of a great commonwealth of countries. + +All this I seem to see, if certain things are done now and persevered in +hereafter. But let none think that we can restore self-respect and the +land-spirit to this country under the mere momentary pressure of our +present-day need. Such a transformation cannot come unless we are +genuinely ashamed that Britain should be a sponge; unless we truly wish +to make her again sound metal, ringing true, instead of a splay-footed +creature, dependent for vital nourishment on oversea supplies--a cockshy +for every foe. + +We are practically secured by Nature, yet have thrown security to the +winds because we cannot feed ourselves! We have as good a climate and +soil as any in the world, not indeed for pleasure, but for health and +food, and yet, I am sure, we are rotting physically faster than any +other people! + +Let the nation put that reflection in its pipe and smoke it day by day; +for only so shall we emerge from a bad dream and seize again on our +birthright. + +Let us dream a little of what we might become. Let us not crawl on with +our stomachs to the ground, and not an ounce of vision in our heads for +fear lest we be called visionaries. And let us rid our minds of one or +two noxious superstitions. It is not true that country life need mean +dull and cloddish life; it has in the past, because agriculture as been +neglected for the false glamour of the towns, and village life left to +seed down. There is no real reason why the villager should not have all +he needs of social life and sane amusement; village life only wants +organising. It is not true that country folk must be worse fed and worse +plenished than town folk. This has only been so sometimes because a +starved industry which was losing hope has paid starvation wages. It is +not true that our soil and climate are of indifferent value for the +growth of wheat. The contrary is the case. "The fact which has been lost +sight of in the past twenty years must be insisted on nowadays, that +England is naturally one of the best, if not the very best wheat-growing +country in the world. Its climate and soil are almost ideal for the +production of the heaviest crops": Professor R. H. Biffen. "The view of +leading German agriculturists is that their soils and climate are +distinctly inferior to those of Britain": Mr. T. H. Middleton, Assistant +Secretary to the Board of Agriculture. + +We have many mouths in this country, but no real excuse for not growing +the wherewithal to feed them. + +To break the chains of our lethargy and superstitions, let us keep +before us a thought and a vision--the thought that, since the air is +mastered and there are pathways under the sea, we, the proudest people +in the world, will exist henceforth by mere merciful accident, _until we +grow our own food_; and the vision of ourselves as a finer race in body +and mind than we have ever yet been. And then let us be practical by all +means; for in the practical measures of the present, spurred on by that +thought, inspired by that vision, alone lies the hope and safety of the +future. + +What are those measures? + + +II + +WHEAT + +The measure which underlies all else is the ploughing up of permanent +grass--the reconversion of land which was once arable, the addition to +arable of land which has never been arable, so as to secure the only +possible basis of success--the wheat basis. + +I have before me a Report on the Breaking up of Grass Land in fifty-five +counties for the winter of 1916-1917, which shows four successes for +every failure. The Report says: "It has been argued during the past few +months that it is hopeless to attempt to plough out old grass land in +the expectation of adding to the nation's food. The experience of 1917 +does not support this contention. It shows not only that the successes +far outnumber the failures, but that the latter are to some extent +preventable." + +The Government's 1918 tillage programme for England and Wales was to +increase (as compared with 1916), (1) the area under corn by 2,600,000 +acres, (2) the area under potatoes and mangolds by 400,000 acres, (3) +the arable land by 2,000,000 acres. I have it on the best authority that +the Government hopes to better this in the forth-coming harvest. That +shows what our farmers can do with their backs to the wall. It sometimes +happens in this world that we act virtuously without in any way +believing that virtue is its own reward. Most of our farmers are hoeing +their rows in this crisis in the full belief that they are serving the +country to the hurt of their own interests; they will not, I imagine, +realise that they are laying the foundations of a future prosperity +beyond their happiest dreams until the crisis is long past. All the more +credit to them for a great effort. They by no means grasp at present the +fact that with every acre they add to arable, with each additional acre +of wheat, they increase their own importance and stability, and set the +snowball of permanent prosperity in their industry rolling anew. Pasture +was a policy adopted by men who felt defeat in their bones, saw +bankruptcy round every corner. Those who best know seem agreed that +after the war the price of wheat will not come down with a run. The +world shortage of food and shipping will be very great, and the "new +world's" surplus will be small. Let our farmers take their courage in +their hands, play a bold game, and back their own horse for the next +four or five seasons, and they will, _if supported by the country_, be +in a position once more to defy competition. Let them have faith and go +for the gloves and they will end by living without fear of the new +worlds. "There is a tide in the affairs of men." This is the British +farmer's tide, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. But only +if the British farmer intends that Britain shall feed herself; only if +he farms the land of Britain so that acre by acre it yields the maximum +of food. A hundred acres under potatoes feeds 420 persons; a hundred +acres under wheat feeds 200 persons; a hundred acres of grass feeds +fifteen persons. It requires no expert to see that the last is the +losing horse; for increase of arable means also increase of winter food, +and in the long run increase, not decrease, of live stock. In Denmark +(1912) arable was to permanent grass as about 4 to 5; in the United +Kingdom it was only as about 5 to 7. Yet in Denmark there were five +cattle to every eight acres of grass, and in the United Kingdom only +four cattle to every nine acres. + +Let me quote Professor Biffen on the prospects of wheat: "In the United +States the amount exported tends to fall. The results are so marked that +we find American agricultural experts seriously considering the +possibility of the United States having to become a wheat importing +country in order to feed the rapidly growing population." When she does, +that wheat will come from Canada; and "there are several other facts +which lead one to question the statement so frequently made that Canada +will shortly be the Empire's granary...." He thinks that the Argentine +(which trebles her population every forty years) is an uncertain source; +that Russia, where the population also increases with extreme rapidity, +is still more uncertain; that neither India nor Australia are dependable +fields of supply. "The world's crop continues to increase slowly, and +concurrently the number of wheat consumers increases.... Prices have +tended to rise of late years, a fact which may indicate that the world's +consumption is increasing faster than its rate of production. There are +now no vast areas of land comparable with those of North and South +America awaiting the pioneer wheat growers, and consequently _there is +no likelihood of any repetition of the over-production characteristic of +the period of 1874-1894_.... + +"If as there is every reason to hope the problem of breeding +satisfactory strong wheats" (for this country) "has been solved, then +their cultivation should add about £1 to the value of the produce of +every acre of wheat in the country.... + +"At a rough estimate the careful use of artificials might increase the +average yield of the acre from four quarters up to five.... + +"England is one of the best, if not the very best wheat-growing country +in the world." + +That, shortly, is the wheat position for this country in the view of our +most brilliant practical expert. I commend it to the notice of those who +are faint-hearted about the future of wheat in Britain. + +With these prospects and possibilities before him, _and a fair price for +wheat guaranteed him_, is the British farmer going to let down the land +to grass again when the war is over? The fair price for wheat will be +the point on which his decision will turn. When things have settled down +after the war, the fair price will be that at which the _average_ farmer +can profitably grow wheat, and such a price must be maintained--by +bounty, if necessary. It never can be too often urged on politicians and +electorate that they, who thwart a policy which makes wheat-growing firm +and profitable, are knocking nails in the coffin of their country. We +are no longer, and never shall again be, an island. The air is +henceforth as simple an avenue of approach as Piccadilly is to Leicester +Square. If we are ever attacked there will be no time to get our second +wind, unless we can feed ourselves. And since we are constitutionally +liable to be caught napping, we shall infallibly be brought to the +German heel next time, if we are not self-supporting. But if we are, +there will be no next time. An attempt on us will not be worth the cost. +Further, we are running to seed physically from too much town-life and +the failure of country stocks; we shall never stem that rot unless we +re-establish agriculture on a large scale. To do that, in the view of +nearly all who have thought this matter out, we must found our farming +on wheat; grow four-fifths instead of one-fifth of our supply, and all +else will follow. + +In England and Wales 11,246,106 acres were arable land in 1917, and +15,835,375 permanent grass land. To reverse these figures, at least, is +the condition of security, perhaps even of existence in the present and +the only guarantee of a decent and safe future. + + +III + +HOLDINGS + +One expert pins faith to large farms; another to small holdings. How +agreeable to think that both are right. We cannot afford to neglect any +type of holding; all must be developed and supported, for all serve +vital purposes. For instance, the great development of small holdings in +Germany is mainly responsible for the plentiful supply of labour on the +land there; "until measures can be devised for greatly increasing the +area under holdings of less than 100 acres in Britain we are not likely +to breed and maintain in the country a sufficient number of that class +of worker which will be required if we are greatly to extend our arable +land": Mr. T. H. Middleton, Assistant Secretary to the Board of +Agriculture. But I am not going into the _pros_ and _cons_ of the +holdings question. I desire rather to point out here that a moment is +approaching, which will never come again, for the resettling of the +land. + +A rough census taken in 1916 among our soldiers gave the astounding +figure of 750,000 desirous of going on the land. That figure will shrink +to a mere skeleton unless on demobilisation the Government is ready with +a comprehensive plan. The men fall roughly into two classes: those who +were already on the land; those who were not. The first will want to go +back to their own districts, but not to the cottages and wages they had +before the war. For them, it is essential to provide new cottages with +larger gardens, otherwise they will go to the Dominions, to America, or +to the towns. A fresh census should be taken and kept up to date, the +wants of each man noted, and a definite attempt made now to earmark +sites and material for building, to provide the garden plots, and plan +the best and prettiest type of cottage. For lack of labour and material +no substantial progress can be made with housing while the war is on, +but if a man can see his cottage and his ground ready, in the air, he +will wait; if he cannot, he will be off, and we shall have lost him. +Wages are not to fall again below twenty-five shillings, and will +probably stay at a considerably higher level. The cottage and the garden +ground for these men will be the determining factor, and that garden +ground should be at least an acre. A larger class by far will be men who +were not on the land, but having tasted open-air life, think they wish +to continue it. A fresh census of this class and their wants should be +taken also. It will subdivide them into men who want the life of +independent medium and small holders, with from 100 to 20 acres of land, +and men who with 5 or 10 acres of their own are willing to supplement +their living by seasonal work on the large farms. For all a +cut-and-dried scheme providing land and homes is absolutely essential. +If they cannot be assured of having these within a few months of their +return to civil life, they will go either to the Dominions or back to +the towns. One of them, I am told, thus forecasts their future wants: +"When we're free we shall have a big spree in the town; we shall then +take the first job that comes along; if it's an indoor job we shan't be +able to stick it and shall want to get on the land." I am pretty sure +he's wrong. He will want his spree, of course; but _if he is allowed to +go back to a town job_ he is not at all likely to leave it again. Men so +soon get used to things, and the towns have a fierce grip. For this +second class, no less than the first, it is vital to have the land +ready, and the cottages estimated for. I think men of both these +classes, when free, should be set at once to the building of their own +homes and the preparation of their land. I think huts ought to be ready +for them and their wives till their homes are habitable. A man who takes +a hand in the building of his house, and the first work on his new +holding, is far less likely to abandon his idea of settling on the land +than a man who is simply dumped into a ready-made concern. That is human +nature. Let him begin at the beginning, and while his house is going up +be assisted and instructed. Frankly, I am afraid that in the difficulty +of fixing on an ideal scheme and ideal ways of working it, we shall +forget that the moment of demobilisation is unique. Any scheme, however +rough and ready, which will fix men or their intention of settling on +the land in Britain at the moment of demobilisation will be worth a +hundred better-laid plans which have waited for perfection till that one +precious moment is overpast. While doctors quarrel, or lay their heads +together, the patient dies. + +The Government, I understand, have adopted a scheme by which they can +secure land. If they have not ascertained from these men what land they +will want, and secured that land by the time the men are ready, that +scheme will be of little use to them. + +The Government, I gather, have decided on a huge scheme for urban and +rural housing. About that I have this to say. The rural housing ought to +take precedence of the urban, not because it is more intrinsically +necessary, but because if the moment of demobilisation is let slip for +want of rural cottages, we shall lose our very life blood, our future +safety, perhaps our existence as a nation. We must seize on this one +precious chance of restoring the land and guaranteeing our future. The +towns can wait a little for their housing, the country cannot. It is a +sort of test question for our leaders in every Party. Surely they will +rise to the vital necessity of grasping this chance! If, when the danger +of starvation has been staring us hourly in the face for years on end, +and we have for once men in hundreds of thousands waiting and hoping to +be settled on the land, to give us the safety of the future--if, in such +circumstances, we cannot agree to make the most of that chance, it will +show such lack of vision that I really feel we may as well throw up the +sponge. If jealousy by towns of country can so blind public opinion to +our danger and our chance, so that no precedence can be given to rural +needs, well, then, frankly we are not fit to live as a nation. + +I am told that Germany has seen to this matter. She does not mean to be +starved in the future; she intends to keep the backbone of her country +sound. She, who already grew 80 per cent. of her food, will grow it all. +She, who already appreciated the dangers of a rampant industrialism, +will take no further risks with the physique of her population. We who +did not grow one-half of our food, and whose riotous industrialism has +made far greater inroads on our physique; we who, though we have not yet +suffered the privations of Germany, have been in far more real +danger--we shall talk about it, say how grave the situation is, how +"profoundly" we are impressed by the need to feed ourselves--and we +shall act, I am very much afraid, too late. + +There are times when the proverb: "Act in haste and repent at leisure" +should be written "Unless you act in haste you will repent at leisure." +This is such a time. We can take, of course, the right steps or the +wrong steps to settle our soldiers on the land; but no wrong step we can +take will be so utterly wrong as to let the moment of demobilisation +slip. We have a good and zealous Minister of Agriculture, we have good +men alive to the necessity, working on this job. If we miss the chance +it will be because "interests" purblind, selfish and perverse, and a +lethargic public opinion, do not back them; because we want to talk it +out; because trade and industry think themselves of superior importance +to the land. Henceforth trade and industry are of secondary importance +in this country. There is only one thing of absolutely vital importance, +and that is agriculture. + + +IV + +INSTRUCTION + +I who have lived most of my time on a farm for many years, in daily +contact with farmer and labourer, do really appreciate what variety and +depth of knowledge is wanted for good farming. It is a lesson to the +armchair reformer to watch a farmer walking across the "home meadow" +whence he can see a good way over his land. One can feel the slow wisdom +working in his head. A halt, a look this way and that, a whistle, the +call of some instruction so vernacular that only a native could +understand; the contemplation of sheep, beasts, sky, crops; always +something being noted, and shrewd deductions made therefrom. It is a +great art, and, like all art, to be learned only with the sweat of the +brow and a long, minute attention to innumerable details. You cannot +play at farming, and you cannot "mug it up." One understands the +contempt of the farmer born and bred for the book-skilled gentleman who +tries to instruct his grandmother in the sucking of eggs. The farmer's +knowledge, acquired through years of dumb wrestling with Nature, in his +own particular corner, is his strength and--his weakness. Vision of the +land at large, of its potentialities, and its needs is almost of +necessity excluded. The practical farmers of our generation might well +be likened unto sailing-ship seamen in an age when it has suddenly +become needful to carry commerce by steam. They are pupils of the stern +taskmaster bankruptcy; the children of the years from 1874-1897, when +the nation had turned its thumb down on British farmers, and left them +to fight, unaided, against extinction. They have been brought up to +carry on against contrary winds and save themselves as best they could. +Well, they have done it; and now they are being asked to reverse their +processes in the interests of a country which left them in the lurch. +Naturally they are not yet persuaded that the country will not leave +them in the lurch again. + +Instruction of the British farmer begins with the fortification of his +will by confidence. When you ask him to plough up grass land, to revise +the rotation of his crops, to grow wheat, to use new brands of corn, to +plough with tractors, and to co-operate, you are asking a man deeply and +deservedly cynical about your intentions and your knowledge. He has seen +wheat fail all his life, he has seen grass succeed. Grass has saved him, +and now he is asked to turn his back on it. Little wonder that he curses +you for a meddling fool. "Prove it!" he says--and you cannot. You could +if you had it in your power to show him that your guarantee of a fair +price for wheat was "good as the Bank." Thus, the first item of +instruction to the farmer consists in the definite alteration of public +opinion towards the land by adoption of the _sine quâ non_ that in +future we will feed ourselves. The majority of our farmers do not think +their interests are being served by the present revolution of farming. +Patriotic fear for the country, and dread of D.O.R.A.--not quite the +same thing--are driving them on. Besides, it is the townsmen of Britain, +_not the farmers_, who are in danger of starvation, not merely now, but +henceforth for evermore until we feed ourselves. If starvation really +knocked at our doors, the only houses it would not enter would be the +houses of those who grow food. The farmers in Germany are all right; +they would be all right here. The townsmen of this country were +entirely responsible for our present condition, and the very least they +can do is to support their own salvation. But while with one corner of +their mouths the towns are now shouting: "Grow food! Feed us, please!" +with the other they are still inclined to add: "You pampered industry!" +Alas! we cannot have it both ways. + +The second point I want to make about instruction is the importance of +youth. In America, where they contemplate a labour shortage of 2,000,000 +men on their farms, they are using boys from sixteen to twenty-one, when +their military age begins. Can we not do the same here? Most of our boys +from fifteen to eighteen are now on other work. But the work they are +doing could surely be done by girls or women. If we could put even a +couple of hundred thousand boys of that age on the land it would be the +solution of our present agricultural labour shortage, and the very best +thing that could happen for the future of farming. The boys would learn +at first hand; they would learn slowly and thoroughly; and many of them +would stay on the land. They might be given specialised schooling in +agriculture, the most important schooling we can give our rising +generation, while all of them would gain physically. By employing women +on the land, where we can employ boys of from fifteen to eighteen, we +are blind-alleying. Women will not stay on the land in any numbers; few +will wish that they should. Boys will, and every one would wish that +they may. + +The third point I want to make concerns the model farm. If we are to +have resettlement on any large scale and base our farming on crops in +future, the accessibility of the best practical advice is an absolute +essential. + +Till reformed education begins to take effect, the advice and aid of +"model" farmers should be available in every district. Some recognised +diploma might with advantage be given to farmers for outstanding merit +and enterprise. No instruction provided from our advisory agricultural +councils or colleges can have as much prestige and use in any district +as the advice of the leading farmer who had been crowned as a successful +expert. It is ever well in this country to take advantage of the +competitive spirit which lies deep in the bones of our race. To give the +best farmers a position and prestige to which other farmers can aspire +would speed up effort everywhere. We want more competition in actual +husbandry and less competition in matters of purchase and sale. And that +brings us to the vital question of co-operation. + + +V + +CO-OPERATION (SMALL HOLDINGS) + +"The most important economic question for all nations in the past has +been, and in the future will be, the question of a sufficient food +supply, independent of imports. + +"It is doubtful whether the replacement of German agriculture on a sound +basis in the last ten years is to be ascribed in a greater measure to +technical advance in agricultural methods, or to the development of the +co-operative system. Perhaps it would be right to say that for the large +farms it is due to the first, and for the smaller farms (three quarters +of the arable land in Germany) to the second. _For it is only through +co-operation that the advantages of farming on a large scale are made +possible for smaller farmers._ The more important of those advantages +are the regulated purchase of all raw materials and half-finished +products (artificial manures, feeding stuffs, seeds, etc.), better +prices for products, facilities for making use, in moderation, of +personal credit at a cheap rate of interest, together with the +possibility of saving and putting aside small sums of interest; all +these advantages of the large farmer have been placed within the reach +of the small farmers by local co-operative societies for buying, +selling, and farming co-operatively, as well as by saving and other +banks, all connected to central associations and central co-operative +societies. + +"_Over two million small farmers are organised in Germany on +co-operative lines._"[E] + +Nearly two million small farmers co-operated in Germany; and here-how +many? The Registrar returns the numbers for 1916 at 1,427 small holders. + +In the view of all authorities co-operation is essential for the success +of small farmers and small holders; but it needs no brilliant intellect, +nor any sweep of the imagination to see a truth plainer than the nose on +a man's face. + +"There is some reason to hope," says Mr. Middleton, "that after the war +agriculturalists will show a greater disposition to co-operate; but we +cannot expect co-operation to do as much for British agriculture as it +has done for the Germans, who so readily join societies and support +co-operative efforts." + +So much the worse for us! + +The Agricultural Organisation Society, the officially recognised agency +for fostering the co-operative principle, has recently formed an +Agricultural Wholesale Society with a large subscribed capital, for the +purchase of all farming requirements, and the marketing of produce, to +be at the disposal of all co-operated farmers, small holders, and +allotment holders, whose societies are affiliated to the Agricultural +Organisation. Society. This is a step of infinite promise. The drawing +together of these three classes of workers on the land is in itself a +matter of great importance. One of the chief complaints of small holders +in the past has been that large holders regard them askance. The same, +perhaps, applies to the attitude of the small holder to the allotment +holder. That is all bad. Men and women on the land should be one big +family, with interests, and sympathies in common and a neighbourly +feeling. + +A leaflet of the Agricultural Organisation Society thus describes a +certain co-operative small holdings' society with seventeen members +renting ninety acres. "It owns a team of horses, cart, horse-hoe, +plough, ridger, harrow, Cambridge roller, marker; and hires other +implements as required; it insures, buys, and sells co-operatively. This +year (for patriotic reasons) wheat and potatoes form the chief crop, +with sufficient oats, barley, beans and mangolds to feed the horses and +the pigs, of which there are many. The society last year marketed more +fat pigs than the rest of the village and adjoining farms put together. + +"The land, on the whole, is undoubtedly better cultivated and cropped, +and _supports a far larger head of population per acre than the +neighbouring large farms_." Even allowing that the first statement may +be disputed, the last is beyond dispute, and is _the_ important thing to +bear in mind about small holdings from the national point of view; for +every extra man and woman on the land is a credit item in the bank book +of the nation's future. + +"In addition," says the leaflet, "there is a friendly spirit prevalent +among the members, who are always willing to help each other, and at +harvest time combine to gather in the crops." + +With more land, not only some, but all the members of this little +society could support themselves entirely on their holdings. "The +members value their independence and freedom, but recognise the value of +combined action and new ideas." + +Now this is exactly what we want. For instance, these members have found +out that the profit on potatoes when home-grown farmyard manure alone +was used was only 14_s._ 6_d._ per acre; and that a suitable combination +of artificial manures gave a profit of £14 12_s._ 6_d._ an acre, with +double the yield. Mutual help and the spread of knowledge; more men and +women on the land--this is the value of the agricultural co-operative +movement, whose importance to this country it is impossible to +over-estimate. + +From letters of small holders I take the following remarks:-- + +"Of course it's absolutely necessary that the prospective small holder +should have a thorough knowledge of farming." + +"In regard to implements, you need as many of some sorts on a small +holding as you do on a large farm. A small man can't afford to buy all, +so he has to work at a disadvantage.... Then as to seeds, why not buy +them wholesale, and sell them to the small holder, also manures, and +many other things which the small holder has to pay through the nose +for." + +"Men with no actual knowledge of land work would rarely succeed whatever +financial backing they might receive." + +"About here small holdings are usually let to men who have been +tradesmen or pitmen, and they of course cannot be expected to make the +most of them." + +"When you restrict a farmer to 50 acres he ought to be provided with +ample and proper buildings for every kind of stock he wishes to keep." + +These few remarks, which might be supplemented _ad libitum_, illustrate +the difficulties and dangers which beset any large scheme of land +settlement by our returning soldiers and others. Such a scheme is bound +to fail unless it is based most firmly on co-operation, for, without +that, the two absolute essentials--knowledge, with the benefit of +practical advice and help; and assistance by way of co-operative +finance, and co-operatively-owned implements, will be lacking. + +Set the returning soldier down on the land to work it on his own and, +whatever his good-will, you present the countryside with failure. Place +at his back pooled labour, monetary help and knowledge, and, above all, +the spirit of mutual aid, and you may, and I believe will, triumph over +difficulties, which are admittedly very great. + + +VI + +CO-OPERATION (ALLOTMENTS) + +The growth of allotment gardens is a striking feature of our +agricultural development under stimulus of the war. They say a million +and a half allotment gardens are now being worked on. That is, no doubt, +a papery figure; nor is it so much the number, as what is being done on +them, that matters. Romance may have "brought up the nine-fifteen," but +it will not bring up potatoes. Still, these new allotments without doubt +add very greatly to our food supply, give hosts of our town population +healthy work in the open air, and revive in them that "earth instinct" +which was in danger of being utterly lost. The spade is a grand +corrective of nerve strain, and the more town and factory workers take +up allotment gardens, the better for each individual, and for us all as +a race. + +They say nearly all the ground available round our towns has already +been utilised. But DORA, in her wild career, may yet wring out another +hundred thousand acres. I wish her well in this particular activity. And +the Government she serves with such devotion will betray her if, when +DORA is in her grave--consummation devoutly to be wished--her work on +allotment gardens is not continued. There is always a ring of land round +a town, like a halo round the moon. As the town's girth increases, so +should that halo; and even in time of peace, larger and larger, not less +and less, should grow the number of town dwellers raising vegetables, +fruit and flowers, resting their nerves and expanding lungs and muscles +with healthy outdoor work. + +"In no direction is the co-operative principle more adaptable or more +useful than in the matter of Allotment Associations." + +There are now allotment associations in many parts of the country. One +at Winchester has over 1,000 tenant members. And round the great +manufacturing towns many others have been formed. + +To illustrate the advantages of such co-operation, let me quote a little +from the Hon. Secretary of the Urmston Allotments Association, near +Manchester: "Though the Urmston men had foremost in their mind the aim +of producing payable crops ... they determined that their allotments +should be convenient and comfortable to work, and pleasing to look +upon.... It is a delusion often found among novices that ordinary ground +takes a long time to get into decent order; and is an expensive +business. But enlightened and energetic men _working together_ can do +wonderful things. They did them at Urmston. The ground was only broken +up in March, 1916, but in the same season splendid crops of peas, +potatoes and other vegetables were raised by the holders, _the majority +of whom had little or no previous experience of gardening_.... So as to +deal with the main needs of the members co-operatively in the most +effective manner a Trading Committee was appointed to advise and make +contracts.... Manure, lime, salt, and artificial manures have been +ordered collectively; and seeds and other gardening requisites arranged +for at liberal discounts." + +Besides all this the association has fought the potato wart disease; had +its soil analyzed; educated its members through literature and lectures; +made roads and fences; looked after the appearance of its plots, and +encouraged flower-growing. Finally, a neighbourly feeling of friendly +emulation has grown up among its members. And this is their conclusion: +"The advantages of co-operation are not confined to economy in time and +money, for the common interest that binds all members to seek the +success of the Association, also provides the means of developing and +utilising the individual talents of the members for communal and +national purposes." + +They speak, indeed, like a book, and every word is true--which is not +always the same thing. + +The Agricultural Organization Society gives every assistance in forming +these associations; and the more there are of them the greater will be +the output of food, the strength and knowledge of the individual +plot-holder, the stability of his tenure, and the advantage of the +nation. + +Mistrust and reserve between workers on the land, be they large +farmers, small farmers, or plotholders is the result of combining +husbandry with the habits and qualities of the salesman. If a man's +business is to get the better of his neighbours on market days, it will +be his pleasure to doubt them on all other days. + +The co-operative system, by conducting purchase and sale impersonally, +removes half the reason and excuse for curmudgeonery, besides securing +better prices both at sale and purchase. To the disgust of the cynic, +moral and material advantage here go hand in hand. Throughout +agriculture co-operation will do more than anything else to restore +spirit and economy to an industry which had long become dejected, +suspicious and wasteful; and it will help to remove jealousy and +distrust between townsmen and countrymen. The allotment holder, if +encouraged and given fixity of tenure, or at all events the power of +getting fresh ground if he must give up what he has--a vital +matter--will become the necessary link between town and country, with +mind open to the influence of both. The more he is brought into working +contact with the small holder and the large farmer the better he will +appreciate his own importance to the country and ensure theirs. But this +contact can only be established through some central body, and by use of +a wholesale society for trading and other purposes, such as has just +been set up for all classes of co-operated agriculturalists. + +Addressing a recent meeting of its members, the Chairman of the +Agricultural Organisation Society, Mr. Leslie Scott, spoke thus:--"We +have to cover the country" (with co-operative societies), "and we have +got to get all the farmers in! If we can carry out any such scheme as +this, which will rope in all the farmers of the country, what a +magnificent position we shall be in! You will have your great trading +organisation with its central wholesale society! You will have your +organisation side with the Agricultural Organisation Society at the +centre.... You will be able to use that side for all the ancillary +purposes connected with farming; and do a great deal in the way of +expert assistance. And through your electing the Board of Governors of +the Agricultural Organisation Society, with the provincial branch +Committees, you will have what is in effect a central Parliament in +London.... You will be able to put before the country, both locally and +here in London, the views of the farming community, and, those views +will get from Government Departments an attention which the farming +industry in the past has failed to get. You will command a power in the +country." + +And in a letter to Mr. Scott, read at the same meeting, the present +Minister of Agriculture had this to say about co-operation: + +"Farming is a business in which as in every other industry union is +strength.... Every farmer should belong to a co-operative society.... +Small societies like small farmers, must" (in their turn) +"co-operate.... The word 'farmers' is intended to include all those who +cultivate the land. In this sense allotment holders are farmers, and I +trust that the union of all cultivators of the land in this sense will +help to bridge the gap between town and country." + +That townsman and countryman should feel their interests to be at bottom +the same goes to the root of any land revival. + + +VII + +VALEDICTORY + +"There are many who contend that the nation will never again allow its +rural industry to be neglected and discouraged as it was in the past; +that the war has taught a lesson which will not soon be forgotten. This +view of the national temperament is considered by others to be too +confident. It is the firm conviction of this school that the consumer +will speedily return to his old habit of indifference to national +stability in the matter of food, and that Parliament acting at his +bidding, will manifest equal apathy." + +These words, taken from a leader in _The Times_ of February 11th, 1918, +bring me back to the starting point of these ragged reflections. There +will be no permanent stablishing of our agriculture, no lasting advance +towards safety and health, if we have not vision and a fixed ideal. The +ruts of the past were deep, and our habit is to walk along without +looking to left or right. A Liberalism worthy of the word should lift +its head and see new paths. The Liberalism of the past, bent on the +improvement of the people and the growth of good-will between nations, +forgot in that absorption to take in the whole truth. Fixing its eyes on +measures which should redeem the evils of the day, it did not see that +those evils were growing faster than all possible remedy, because we had +forgotten that a great community bountifully blessed by Nature has no +business to exist parasitically on the earth produce of other +communities; and because our position under pure free trade, and pure +industrialism, was making us a tempting bait for aggression, and +retarding the very good-will between nations which it desired so +earnestly. + +The human animal perishes if not fed. We have gone so far with our +happy-go-lucky scheme of existence that it has become necessary to +remind ourselves of that. So long as we had money we thought we could +continue to exist. Not so. Henceforth till we feed ourselves again, we +live on sufferance, and dangle before all eyes the apple of discord. A +self-supporting Britain, free from this carking fear, would become once +more a liberalising power. A Britain fed from overseas can only be an +Imperialistic Junker, armed to the teeth, jealous and doubtful of each +move by any foreigner; prizing quantity not quality; indifferent about +the condition of his heart. Such a Britain dare not be liberal if it +will. + +The greatest obstacle to a true League of Nations, with the exception of +the condition of Russia, will be the condition of Britain, till she can +feed herself. + +I believe in the principle of free trade, because it forces man to put +his best leg foremost. But all is a question of degree in this world. It +is no use starting a donkey, in the Derby, and bawling in its ear: "A +fair field and no favour!" especially if all your money is on the +donkey. All our money is henceforth on our agriculture till we have +brought it into its own. And that can only be done at present with the +help of bounty. + +The other day a Canadian free trader said: "It all depends on what sort +of peace we secure; if we have a crushing victory, I see no reason why +Britain should not go on importing her food." + +Fallacy--politically and biologically! The worst thing that could happen +to us after the war would be a sense of perfect security, in which to +continue to neglect our agriculture and increase our towns. Does any man +think that a momentary exhaustion of our enemy is going to prevent that +huge and vigorous nation from becoming strong again? Does he believe +that we can trust a League of Nations--a noble project, for which we +must all work--to prevent war till we have seen it successful for at +least a generation? Does he consider that our national physique will +stand another fifty years of rampant industrialism without fresh country +stocks to breed from? Does he suppose that the use of the air and the +underparts of the sea is more than just beginning? + +Politically, our independence in the matter of food is essential to good +will between the nations. Biologically, more country life is essential +to British health. The improvement of town and factory conditions may do +something to arrest degeneration, but in my firm conviction it cannot +hope to do enough in a land where towns have been allowed to absorb +seven-ninths of the population, and--such crowded, grimy towns! + +Even from the economic point of view it will be far cheaper to restore +the countryside and re-establish agriculture on a paying basis than to +demolish and rebuild our towns till they become health resorts. And +behind it all there is this: Are we satisfied with the trend of our +modern civilisation? Are we easy in our consciences? Have not machines, +and the demands of industry run away with our sense of proportion? Grant +for a moment that this age marks the highest water so far of British +advance. Are we content with that high-water mark? In health, happiness, +taste, beauty, we are surely far from the ideal. I do not say that +restoration of the land will work a miracle; but I do say that nothing +we can do will benefit us so potently as the redress of balance between +town and country life. + +We are at the parting of the ways. The war has brought us realisation +and opportunity. We can close our eyes again and drift, or we can move +forward under the star of a new ideal. The principle which alone +preserves the sanity of nations is the principle of balance. Not even +the most enraged defender of our present condition will dare maintain +that we have followed out that principle. The scales are loaded in +favour of the towns, till they almost touch earth; unless our eyes are +cleared to see that, unless our will is moved to set it right, we shall +bump the ground before another two decades have slipped away, and in the +mud shall stay, an invitation to any trampling heel. + +I have tried to indicate general measures and considerations vital to +the resettlement of the land, conscious that some of my readers will +have forgotten more than I know, and that what could be said would fill +volumes. But the thought which, of all others, I have wished to convey +is this: Without vision we perish. Without apprehension of danger and +ardour for salvation in the great body of this people there is no hope +of anything save a momentary spurt, which will die away, and leave us +plodding down the hill. There are two essentials. The farmer--and that +means every cultivator of the land--must have faith in the vital +importance of his work and in the possibility of success; the townsman +must see and believe that the future of the country, and with it his own +prosperity, is involved in the revival of our agriculture and bound up +with our independence of oversea supply. Without that vision and belief +in the townsman the farmer will never regain faith, and without that +faith of the farmer agriculture will not revive. + +Statesmen may contrive, reformers plan, farmers struggle on, but if +there be not conviction in the body politic, it will be no use. + +Resettlement of the land, and independence of outside food supply, is +the only hope of welfare and safety for this country. Fervently +believing that, I have set down these poor words. + +1918. + +[E] From an essay by the President of the German Agricultural Council, +quoted by Mr. T. H. Middleton, of the Board of Agriculture, in his +report on the recent development of German agriculture. + + + + +GROTESQUES + +Κυνηδόν + + +I + +The Angel Æthereal, on his official visit to the Earth in 1947, paused +between the Bank and the Stock Exchange to smoke a cigarette and +scrutinise the passers-by. + +"How they swarm," he said, "and with what seeming energy--in such an +atmosphere! Of what can they be made?" + +"Of money, sir," replied his dragoman; "in the past, the present, or the +future. Stocks are booming. The barometer of joy stands very high. +Nothing like it has been known for thirty years; not, indeed, since the +days of the Great Skirmish." + +"There is, then, a connection between joy and money?" remarked the +Angel, letting smoke dribble through his chiselled nostrils. + +"Such is the common belief; though to prove it might take time. I will, +however, endeavour to do this if you desire it, sir." + +"I certainly do," said the Angel; "for a less joyous-looking crowd I +have seldom seen. Between every pair of brows there is a furrow, and no +one whistles." + +"You do not understand," returned his dragoman; "nor indeed is it +surprising, for it is not so much the money as the thought that some day +you need no longer make it which causes joy." + +"If that day is coming to all," asked the Angel, "why do they not look +joyful?" + +"It is not so simple as that, sir. To the majority of these persons that +day will never come, and many of them know it--these are called clerks; +to some amongst the others, even, it will not come--these will be called +bankrupts; to the rest it will come, and they will live at Wimblehurst +and other islands of the blessed, when they have become so accustomed to +making money that to cease making it will be equivalent to boredom, if +not torture, or when they are so old that they can but spend it in +trying to modify the disabilities of age." + +"What price joy, then?" said the Angel, raising his eyebrows. "For that, +I fancy, is the expression you use?" + +"I perceive, sir," answered his dragoman, "that you have not yet +regained your understanding of the human being, and especially of the +breed which inhabits this country. Illusion is what we are after. +Without our illusions we might just as well be angels or Frenchmen, who +pursue at all events to some extent the sordid reality known as '_le +plaisir_,' or enjoyment of life. In pursuit of illusion we go on making +money and furrows in our brows, for the process is wearing. I speak, of +course, of the bourgeoisie or Patriotic classes; for the practice of the +Laborious is different, though their illusions are the same." + +"How?" asked the Angel briefly. + +"Why, sir, both hold the illusion that they will one day be joyful +through the possession of money; but whereas the Patriotic expect to +make it through the labour of the Laborious, the Laborious expect to +make it through the labour of the Patriotic." + +"Ha, ha!" said the Angel. + +"Angels may laugh," replied his dragoman, "but it is a matter to make +men weep." + +"You know your own business best," said the Angel, "I suppose." + +"Ah! sir, if we did, how pleasant it would be. It is frequently my fate +to study the countenances and figures of the population, and I find the +joy which the pursuit of illusion brings them is insufficient to +counteract the confined, monotonous and worried character of their +lives." + +"They are certainly very plain," said the Angel. + +"They are," sighed his dragoman, "and getting plainer every day. Take +for instance that one," and he pointed to a gentleman going up the +steps. "Mark how he is built. The top of his grizzled head is narrow, +the bottom of it broad. His body is short and thick and square; his legs +even thicker, and his feet turn out too much; the general effect is +almost pyramidal. Again, take this one," and he indicated a gentleman +coming down the steps, "you could thread his legs and body through a +needle's eye, but his head would defy you. Mark his boiled eyes, his +flashing spectacles, and the absence of all hair. Disproportion, sir, +has become endemic." + +"Can this not be corrected?" asked the Angel. + +"To correct a thing," answered his dragoman, "you must first be aware of +it, and these are not; no more than they are aware that it is +disproportionate to spend six days out of every seven in a +counting-house or factory. Man, sir, is the creature of habit, and when +his habits are bad, man is worse." + +"I have a headache," said the Angel; "the noise is more deafening than +it was when I was here in 1910." + +"Yes, sir; since then we have had the Great Skirmish, an event which +furiously intensified money-making. We, like every other people, have +ever since been obliged to cultivate the art of getting five out of +two-and-two. The progress of civilisation has been considerably speeded +up thereby, and everything but man has benefited; even horses, for they +are no longer overloaded and overdriven up Tower Hill or any other." + +"How is that," asked the Angel, "if the pressure of work is greater?" + +"Because they are extinct," said his dragoman; "entirely superseded by +electric and air traction, as you see." + +"You appear to be inimical to money," the Angel interjected, with a +penetrating look. "Tell me, would you really rather own one shilling +than five and sixpence?" + +"Sir," replied his dragoman, "you are putting the candidate before the +caucus, as the saying is. For money is nothing but the power to purchase +what one wants. You should rather be inquiring what I want." + +"Well, what do you?" said the Angel. + +"To my thinking," answered his dragoman, "instead of endeavouring to +increase money when we found ourselves so very bankrupt, we should have +endeavoured to decrease our wants. The path of real progress, sir, is +the simplification of life and desire till we have dispensed even with +trousers and wear a single clean garment reaching to the knees; till we +are content with exercising our own limbs on the solid earth; the +eating of simple food we have grown ourselves; the hearing of our own +voices, and tunes on oaten straws; the feel on our faces of the sun and +rain and wind; the scent of the fields and woods; the homely roof, and +the comely wife unspoiled by heels, pearls, and powder; the domestic +animals at play, wild birds singing, and children brought up to colder +water than their fathers. It should have been our business to pursue +health till we no longer needed the interior of the chemist's shop, the +optician's store, the hairdresser's, the corset-maker's, the thousand +and one emporiums which patch and prink us, promoting our fancies and +disguising the ravages which modern life makes in our figures. Our +ambition should have been to need so little that, with our present +scientific knowledge, we should have been able to produce it very easily +and quickly, and have had abundant leisure and sound nerves and bodies +wherewith to enjoy nature, art, and the domestic affections. The tragedy +of man, sir, is his senseless and insatiate curiosity and greed, +together with his incurable habit of neglecting the present for the sake +of a future which will never come." + +"You speak like a book," said the Angel. + +"I wish I did," retorted his dragoman, "for no book I am able to procure +enjoins us to stop this riot, and betake ourselves to the pleasurable +simplicity which alone can save us." + +"You would be bored stiff in a week," said the Angel. + +"We should, sir," replied his dragoman, "because from our schooldays we +are brought up to be acquisitive, competitive, and restless. Consider +the baby in the perambulator, absorbed in contemplating the heavens and +sucking its own thumb. Existence, sir, should be like that." + +"A beautiful metaphor," said the Angel. + +"As it is, we do but skip upon the hearse of life." + +"You would appear to be of those whose motto is: 'Try never to leave +things as you find them,'" observed the Angel. + +"Ah, sir!" responded his dragoman, with a sad smile, "the part of a +dragoman is rather ever to try and find things where he leaves them." + +"Talking of that," said the Angel dreamily, "when I was here in 1910, I +bought some Marconi's for the rise. What are they at now?" + +"I cannot tell you," replied his dragoman in a deprecating voice, "but +this I will say: Inventors are not only the benefactors but the curses +of mankind, and will be so long as we do not find a way of adapting +their discoveries to our very limited digestive powers. The chronic +dyspepsia of our civilisation, due to the attempt to swallow every +pabulum which ingenuity puts before it, is so violent that I sometimes +wonder whether we shall survive until your visit in 1984." + +"Ah!" said the Angel, pricking his ears; "you really think there is a +chance?" + +"I do indeed," his dragoman answered gloomily. "Life is now one long +telephone call--and what's it all about? A tour in darkness! A rattling +of wheels under a sky of smoke! A never-ending game of poker!" + +"Confess," said the Angel, "that you have eaten something which has not +agreed with you?" + +"It is so," answered his dragoman; "I have eaten of modernity, the +damndest dish that was ever set to lips. Look at those fellows," he went +on, "busy as ants from nine o'clock in the morning to seven in the +evening. And look at their wives!" + +"Ah! yes," said the Angel cheerily; "let us look at their wives," and +with three strokes of his wings he passed to Oxford Street. + +"Look at them!" repeated his dragoman, "busy as ants from ten o'clock in +the morning to five in the evening." + +"Plain is not the word for _them_," said the Angel sadly. "What are they +after, running in and out of these shop-holes?" + +"Illusion, sir. The romance of business there, the romance of commerce +here. They have got into these habits and, as you know, it is so much +easier to get in than to get out. Would you like to see one of their +homes?" + +"No, no," said the Angel, starting back and coming into contact with a +lady's hat. "Why do they have them so large?" he asked, with a certain +irritation. + +"In order that they may have them small next season," replied his +dragoman. "The future, sir; the future! The cycle of beauty and eternal +hope, and, incidentally, _the good of trade_. Grasp that phrase and you +will have no need for further inquiry, and probably no inclination." + +"One could get American sweets in here, I guess," said the Angel, +entering. + + +II + +"And where would you wish to go to-day, sir?" asked his dragoman of the +Angel who was moving his head from side to side like a dromedary in the +Haymarket. + +"I should like," the Angel answered, "to go into the country." + +"The country!" returned his dragoman, doubtfully. "You will find very +little to see there." + +"Natheless," said the Angel, spreading his wings. + +"These," gasped his dragoman, after a few breathless minutes, "are the +Chilterns--they will serve; any part of the country is now the same. +Shall we descend?" + +Alighting on what seemed to be a common, he removed the cloud moisture +from his brow, and shading his eyes with his hand, stood peering into +the distance on every side. "As I thought," he said; "there has been no +movement since I brought the Prime here in 1944; we shall have some +difficulty in getting lunch." + +"A wonderfully peaceful spot," said the Angel. + +"True," said his dragoman. "We might fly sixty miles in any direction +and not see a house in repair." + +"Let us!" said the Angel. They flew a hundred, and alighted again. + +"Same here!" said his dragoman. "This is Leicestershire. Note the +rolling landscape of wild pastures." + +"I am getting hungry," said the Angel. "Let us fly again." + +"I have told you, sir," remarked his dragoman, while they were flying, +"that we shall have the greatest difficulty in finding any inhabited +dwelling in the country. Had we not better alight at Blackton or +Bradleeds?" + +"No," said the Angel. "I have come for a day in the fresh air." + +"Would bilberries serve?" asked his dragoman; "for I see a man gathering +them." + +The Angel closed his wings, and they dropped on to a moor close to an +aged man. + +"My worthy wight," said the Angel, "we are hungry. Would you give us +some of your bilberries?" + +"Wot oh!" ejaculated the ancient party; "never 'eard yer comin'. Been +flyin' by wireless, 'ave yer? Got an observer, I see," he added, jerking +his grizzled chin at the dragoman. "Strike me, it's the good old dyes o' +the Gryte Skirmish over agyne." + +"Is this," asked the Angel, whose mouth was already black with +bilberries, "the dialect of rural England?" + +"I will interrogate him, sir," said his dragoman, "for in truth I am at +a loss to account for the presence of a man in the country." He took the +old person by his last button and led him a little apart. Returning to +the Angel, who had finished the bilberries, he whispered: + +"It is as I thought. This is the sole survivor of the soldiers settled +on the land at the conclusion of the Great Skirmish. He lives on +berries and birds who have died a natural death." + +"I fail to understand," answered the Angel. "Where is all the rural +population, where the mansions of the great, the thriving farmer, the +contented peasant, the labourer about to have his minimum wage, the Old, +the Merrie England of 1910?" + +"That," responded his dragoman somewhat dramatically, extending his hand +towards the old man, "_that_ is the rural population, and he a cockney +hardened in the Great Skirmish, or he could never have stayed the +course." + +"What!" said the Angel; "is no food grown in all this land!" + +"Not a cabbage," replied his dragoman; "not a mustard and cress--outside +the towns, that is." + +"I perceive," said the Angel, "that I have lost touch with much that is +of interest. Give me, I pray, a brief sketch of the agricultural +movement." + +"Why, sir," replied his dragoman, "the agricultural movement in this +country since the days of the Great Skirmish, when all were talking of +resettling the land, may be summed up in two words: 'Town Expansion.' In +order to make this clear to you, however, I must remind you of the +political currents of the past thirty years. You will not recollect +that during the Great Skirmish, beneath the seeming absence of politics, +there were germinating the Parties of the future. A secret but resolute +intention was forming in all minds to immolate those who had played any +part in politics before and during the important world-tragedy which was +then being enacted, especially such as continued to hold portfolios, or +persisted in asking questions in the House of Commons, as it was then +called. It was not that people held them to be responsible, but nerves +required soothing, and there is no anodyne, as you know, sir, equal to +human sacrifice. The politician was, as one may say--'off.' No sooner, +of course, was peace declared than the first real General Election was +held, and it was with a certain chagrin that the old Parties found +themselves in the soup. The Parties which had been forming beneath the +surface swept the country; one called itself the Patriotic, and was +called by its opponents the Prussian Party; the other called itself the +Laborious, and was called by its opponents the Loafing Party. Their +representatives were nearly all new men. In the first flush of peace, +with which the human mind ever associates plenty, they came out on such +an even keel that no Government could pass anything at all. Since, +however, it was imperative to find the interest on a National Debt of +£8,000,000,000, a further election was needed. This time, though the +word Peace remained, the word Plenty had already vanished; and the +Laborious Party, which, having much less to tax, felt that it could tax +more freely, found itself in an overwhelming majority. You will be +curious to hear, sir, of what elements this Party was composed. Its +solid bulk were the returned soldiers, and the other manual workers of +the country; but to this main body there was added a rump, of pundits, +men of excellent intentions, brains, and principles, such as in old days +had been known as Radicals and advanced Liberals. These had joined out +of despair, feeling that otherwise their very existence was jeopardised. +To this collocation--and to one or two other circumstances, as you will +presently see, sir--the doom of the land must be traced. Now, the +Laborious Party, apart from its rump, on which it would or could not +sit--we shall never know now--had views about the resettlement of the +land not far divergent from those held by the Patriotic Party, and they +proceeded to put a scheme into operation, which, for perhaps a year, +seemed to have a prospect of success. Many returned soldiers were +established in favourable localities, and there was even a disposition +to place the country on a self-sufficing basis in regard to food. But +they had not been in power eighteen months when their rump--which, as I +have told you, contained nearly all their principles--had a severe +attack of these. 'Free Trade,'--which, say what you will, follows the +line of least resistance and is based on the 'good of trade'--was, they +perceived, endangered, and they began to agitate against bonuses on corn +and preferential treatment of a pampered industry. The bonus on corn was +in consequence rescinded in 1924, and in lieu thereof the system of +small holdings was extended--on paper. At the same time the somewhat +stunning taxation which had been placed upon the wealthy began to cause +the break-up of landed estates. As the general bankruptcy and exhaustion +of Europe became more and more apparent the notion of danger from future +war began to seem increasingly remote, and the 'good of trade' became +again the one object before every British eye. Food from overseas was +cheapening once more. The inevitable occurred. Country mansions became a +drug in the market, farmers farmed at a loss; small holders went bust +daily, and emigrated; agricultural labourers sought the towns. In 1926 +the Laborious Party, who had carried the taxation of their opponents to +a pitch beyond the power of human endurance, got what the racy call +'the knock,' and the four years which followed witnessed the bitterest +internecine struggle within the memory of every journalist. In the +course of this strife emigration increased and the land emptied rapidly. +The final victory of the Laborious Party, in 1930, saw them, still +propelled by their rump, committed, among other things, to a pure town +policy. They have never been out of power since; the result you see. +Food is now entirely brought from overseas, largely by submarine and air +service, in tabloid form, and expanded to its original proportions on +arrival by an ingenious process discovered by a German. The country is +now used only as a subject for sentimental poets, and to fly over, or by +lovers on bicycles at week-ends." + +"_Mon Dieu!_" said the Angel thoughtfully. "To me, indeed, it seems that +this must have been a case of: 'Oh! What a surprise!'" + +"You are not mistaken, sir," replied his dragoman; "people still open +their mouths over this consummation. It is pre-eminently an instance of +what will happen sometimes when you are not looking, even to the +English, who have been most fortunate in this respect. For you must +remember that all Parties, even the Pundits, have always declared that +rural life and all that, don't you know, is most necessary, and have +ever asserted that they were fostering it to the utmost. But they +forgot to remember that our circumstances, traditions, education, and +vested interests so favoured town life and the 'good of trade' that it +required a real and unparliamentary effort not to take that line of +least resistance. In fact, we have here a very good example of what I +told you the other day was our most striking characteristic--never +knowing where we are till after the event. But what with fog and +principles, how can you expect we should? Better be a little town +blighter with no constitution and high political principles, than your +mere healthy country product of a pampered industry. But you have not +yet seen the other side of the moon." + +"To what do you refer?" asked the Angel. + +"Why, sir, to the glorious expansion of the towns. To this I shall +introduce you to-morrow, if such is your pleasure." + +"Is London, then, not a town?" asked the Angel playfully. + +"London?" cried his dragoman; "a mere pleasure village. To which real +town shall I take you? Liverchester?" + +"Anywhere," said the Angel, "where I can get a good dinner." So-saying, +he paid the rural population with a smile and spread his wings. + + +III + +"The night is yet young," said the Angel Æthereal on leaving the White +Heart Hostel at Liverchester, "and I have had perhaps too much to eat. +Let us walk and see the town." + +"As you will, sir," replied his dragoman; "there is no difference +between night and day, now that they are using the tides for the +provision of electric power." + +The Angel took a note of the fact. "What do they manufacture here?" he +asked. + +"The entire town," returned his dragoman, "which now extends from the +old Liverpool to the old Manchester (as indeed its name implies), is +occupied with expanding the tabloids of food which are landed in its +port from the new worlds. This and the town of Brister, reaching from +the old Bristol to the old Gloucester, have had the monopoly of food +expansion for the United Kingdom since 1940." + +"By what means precisely?" asked the Angel. + +"Congenial environment and bacteriology," responded his dragoman. They +walked for some time in silence, flying a little now and then in the +dirtier streets, before the Angel spoke again: + +"It is curious," he said, "but I perceive no difference between this +town and those I remember on my visit in 1910, save that the streets +are better lighted, which is not an unmixed joy, for they are dirty and +full of people whose faces do not please me." + +"Ah! sir," replied his dragoman, "it is too much to expect that the +wonderful darkness which prevailed at the time of the Great Skirmish +could endure; then, indeed, one could indulge the hope that the houses +were all built by Wren, and the people all clean and beautiful. There is +no poetry now." + +"No!" said the Angel, sniffing, "but there is atmosphere, and it is not +agreeable." + +"Mankind, when herded together, _will_ smell," answered his dragoman. +"You cannot avoid it. What with old clothes, patchouli, petrol, fried +fish and the fag, those five essentials of human life, the atmosphere of +Turner and Corot are as nothing." + +"But do you not run your towns to please yourselves?" said the Angel. + +"Oh, no, sir! The resistance would be dreadful. They run us. You see, +they are so very big, and have such prestige. Besides," he added, "even +if we dared, we should not know how. For, though some great and good man +once brought us plane-trees, we English are above getting the best out +of life and its conditions, and despise light Frenchified taste. Notice +the principle which governs this twenty-mile residential stretch. It was +intended to be light, but how earnest it has all turned out! You can +tell at a glance that these dwellings belong to the species 'house' and +yet are individual houses, just as a man belongs to the species 'man,' +and yet, as they say, has a soul of his own. This principle was +introduced off the Avenue Road a few years before the Great Skirmish, +and is now universal. Any person who lives in a house identical with +another house is not known. Has anything heavier and more conscientious +ever been seen?" + +"Does this principle also apply to the houses of the working-man?" +inquired the Angel. + +"Hush, sir!" returned his dragoman, looking round him nervously; "a +dangerous word. The LABORIOUS dwell in palaces built after the design of +an architect called Jerry, with communal kitchens and baths." + +"Do they use them?" asked the Angel with some interest. + +"Not as yet, indeed," replied his dragoman; "but I believe they are +thinking of it. As you know, sir, it takes time to introduce a custom. +Thirty years is but as yesterday." + +"The Japanese wash daily," mused the Angel. + +"Not a Christian nation," replied his dragoman; "nor have they the dirt +to contend with which is conspicuous here. Let us do justice to the +discouragement which dogs the ablutions of such as know they will soon +be dirty again. It was confidently supposed, at the time of the Great +Skirmish, which introduced military discipline and so entirely abolished +caste, that the habit of washing would at last become endemic throughout +the whole population. Judge how surprised were we of that day when the +facts turned out otherwise. Instead of the Laborious washing more, the +Patriotic washed less. It may have been the higher price of soap, or +merely that human life was not very highly regarded at the time. We +cannot tell. But not until military discipline disappeared, and caste +was restored, which happened the moment peace returned, did the +survivors of the Patriotic begin to wash immoderately again, leaving the +Laborious to preserve a level more suited to democracy." + +"Talking of levels," said the Angel; "is the populace increasing in +stature?" + +"Oh, no, indeed!" responded his dragoman; "the latest statistics give a +diminution of one inch and a half during the past generation." + +"And in longevity?" asked the Angel. + +"As to that, babies and old people are now communally treated, and all +those diseases which are curable by lymph are well in hand." + +"Do people, then, not die?" + +"Oh, yes, sir! About as often as before. There are new complaints which +redress the balance." + +"And what are those?" + +"A group of diseases called for convenience Scienticitis. Some think +they come from the present food system; others from the accumulation of +lymphs in the body; others, again, regard them as the result of dwelling +on the subject--a kind of hypnotisation by death; a fourth school hold +them traceable to town air; while a fifth consider them a mere +manifestation of jealousy on the part of Nature. They date, one may say, +with confidence, from the time of the Great Skirmish, when men's minds +were turned with some anxiety to the question of statistics, and babies +were at a premium." + +"Is the population, then, much larger?" + +"You mean smaller, sir, do you not? Not perhaps so much smaller as you +might expect; but it is still nicely down. You see, the Patriotic Party, +including even those Pontificals whose private practice most discouraged +all that sort of thing, began at once to urge propagation. But their +propaganda was, as one may say, brain-spun; and at once bumped +up--pardon the colloquialism--against the economic situation. The +existing babies, it is true, were saved; the trouble was rather that the +babies began not to exist. The same, of course, obtained in every +European country, with the exception of what was still, in a manner of +speaking, Russia; and if that country had but retained its homogeneity, +it would soon by sheer numbers have swamped the rest of Europe. +Fortunately, perhaps, it did not remain homogeneous. An incurable +reluctance to make food for cannon and impose further burdens on selves +already weighted to the ground by taxes, developed in the peoples of +each Central and Western land; and in the years from 1920 to 1930 the +downward curve was so alarming in Great Britain that if the Patriotic +Party could only have kept office long enough at a time they would, no +doubt, have enforced conception at the point of the bayonet. Luckily or +unluckily, according to taste, they did not; and it was left for more +natural causes to produce the inevitable reaction which began to set in +after 1930, when the population of the United Kingdom had been reduced +to some twenty-five millions. About that time commerce revived. The +question of the land had been settled by its unconscious abandonment, +and people began to see before them again the possibility of supporting +families. The ingrained disposition of men and women to own pets, +together with 'the good of trade,' began once more to have its way; and +the population rose rapidly. A renewed joy in life, and the assurance of +not having to pay the piper, caused the slums, as they used to be +called, to swarm once more, and filled the communal crèches. And had it +not been for the fact that any one with physical strength, or love of +fresh air, promptly emigrated to the Sister Nations on attaining the age +of eighteen we might now, sir, be witnessing an overcrowding equal to +that of the times before the Great Skirmish. The movement is receiving +an added impetus with the approach of the Greater Skirmish between the +Teutons and Mongolians, for it is expected that trade will boom and much +wealth accrue to those countries which are privileged to look on with +equanimity at this great new drama, as the editors are already calling +it." + +"In all this," said the Angel Æthereal, "I perceive something rather +sordid." + +"Sir," replied his dragoman earnestly, "your remark is characteristic of +the sky, where people are not made of flesh and blood; pay, I believe, +no taxes; and have no experience of the devastating consequences of war. +I recollect so well when I was a young man, before the Great Skirmish +began, and even when it had been going on several years, how glibly the +leaders of opinion talked of human progress, and how blind they were to +the fact that it has a certain connection with environment. You must +remember that ever since that large and, as some still think, rather +tragic occurrence environment has been very dicky and Utopia not +unrelated to thin air. It has been perceived time and again that the +leaders of public opinion are not always confirmed by events. The new +world, which was so sapiently prophesied by rhetoricians, is now nigh +thirty years old, and, for my part, I confess to surprise that it is not +worse than it actually is. I am moralising, I fear, however, for these +suburban buildings grievously encourage the philosophic habit. Rather +let us barge along and see the Laborious at their labours, which are +never interrupted now by the mere accident of night." + +The Angel increased his speed till they alighted amid a forest of tall +chimneys, whose sirens were singing like a watch of nightingales. + +"There is a shift on," said the dragoman. "Stand here, sir; we shall see +them passing in and out." + +The Laborious were not hurrying, and went by uttering the words: "Cheer +oh!" "So long!" and "Wot abaht it!" + +The Angel contemplated them for a time before he said: "It comes back to +me now how they used to talk when they were doing up my flat on my visit +in 1910." + +"Give me, I pray, an imitation," said his dragoman. + +The Angel struck the attitude of one painting a door. "William," he +said, rendering those voices of the past, "what money are you +obtaining?" + +"Not half, Alfred." + +"If that is so, indeed, William, should you not rather leave your tools +and obtain better money? I myself am doing this." + +"Not half, Alfred." + +"Round the corner I can obtain more money by working for fewer hours. In +my opinion there is no use in working for less money when you can obtain +more. How much does Henry obtain?" + +"Not half, Alfred." + +"What I am now obtaining is, in my opinion, no use at all." + +"Not half, Alfred." + +Here the Angel paused, and let his hand move for one second in a +masterly exhibition of activity. + +"It is doubtful, sir," said his dragoman, "whether you would be +permitted to dilute your conversation with so much labour in these days; +the rules are very strict." + +"Are there, then, still Trades Unions?" asked the Angel. + +"No, indeed," replied his dragoman; "but there are Committees. That +habit which grew up at the time of the Great Skirmish has flourished +ever since. Statistics reveal the fact that there are practically no +adults in the country between the ages of nineteen and fifty who are not +sitting on Committees. At the time of the Great Skirmish all Committees +were nominally active; they are now both active and passive. In every +industry, enterprise, or walk of life a small active Committee directs; +and a large passive Committee, formed of everybody else, resists that +direction. And it is safe to say that the Passive Committees are active +and the Active Committees passive; in this way no inordinate amount of +work is done. Indeed, if the tongue and the electric button had not +usurped practically all the functions of the human hand, the State would +have some difficulty in getting its boots blacked. But a ha'poth of +visualisation is worth three lectures at ten shillings the stall, so +enter, sir, and see for yourself." + +Saying this, he pushed open the door. + +In a shed, which extended beyond the illimitable range of the Angel's +eye, machinery and tongues were engaged in a contest which filled the +ozone with an incomparable hum. Men and women in profusion were leaning +against walls or the pillars on which the great roof was supported, +assiduously pressing buttons. The scent of expanding food revived the +Angel's appetite. + +"I shall require supper," he said dreamily. + +"By all means, sir," replied his dragoman; "after work--play. It will +afford you an opportunity to witness modern pleasures in our great +industrial centres. But what a blessing is electric power!" he added. +"Consider these lilies of the town, they toil not, neither do they +spin----" + +"Yet Solomon in all his glory," chipped in the Angel eagerly, "had not +their appearance, you bet." + +"Indeed they are an insouciant crowd," mused his dragoman. "How tinkling +is their laughter! The habit dates from the days of the Great Skirmish, +when nothing but laughter would meet the case." + +"Tell me," said the Angel, "are the English satisfied at last with their +industrial conditions, and generally with their mode of life in these +expanded towns?" + +"Satisfied? Oh dear, no, sir! But you know what it is: They are obliged +to wait for each fresh development before they can see what they have to +counteract; and, since that great creative force, 'the good of trade,' +is always a little stronger than the forces of criticism and reform, +each development carries them a little further on the road to----" + +"Hell! How hungry I am again!" exclaimed the Angel. "Let us sup!" + + +IV + +"Laughter," said the Angel Æthereal, applying his wineglass to his nose, +"has ever distinguished mankind from all other animals with the +exception of the dog. And the power of laughing at nothing distinguishes +man even from that quadruped." + +"I would go further, sir," returned his dragoman, "and say that the +power of laughing at that which should make him sick distinguishes the +Englishman from all other varieties of man except the negro. Kindly +observe!" He rose, and taking the Angel by the waist, fox-trotted him +among the little tables. + +"See!" he said, indicating the other supper-takers with a circular +movement of his beard, "they are consumed with laughter. The habit of +fox-trotting in the intervals of eating has been known ever since it +was introduced by Americans a generation ago, at the beginning of the +Great Skirmish, when that important people had as yet nothing else to +do; but it still causes laughter in this country. A distressing custom," +he wheezed, as they resumed their seats, "for not only does it disturb +the oyster, but it compels one to think lightly of the human species. +Not that one requires much compulsion," he added, "now that music-hall, +cinema, and restaurant are conjoined. What a happy idea that was of +Berlin's, and how excellent for business! Kindly glance for a +moment--but not more--at the left-hand stage." + +The Angel turned his eyes towards a cinematograph film which was being +displayed. He contemplated it for the moment without speaking. + +"I do not comprehend," he said at last, "why the person with the +arrested moustaches is hitting so many people with that sack of flour." + +"To cause amusement, sir," replied his dragoman. "Look at the laughing +faces around you." + +"But it is not funny," said the Angel. + +"No, indeed," returned his dragoman. "Be so good as to carry your eyes +now to the stage on the right, but not for long. What do you see?" + +"I see a very red-nosed man beating a very white-nosed man about the +body." + +"It is a real scream, is it not?" + +"No," said the Angel drily. "Does nothing else ever happen on these +stages?" + +"Nothing. Stay! _Revues_ happen!" + +"What are _revues_?" asked the Angel. + +"Criticisms of life, sir, as it would be seen by persons inebriated on +various intoxicants." + +"They should be joyous." + +"They are accounted so," his dragoman replied; "but for my part, I +prefer to criticise life for myself, especially when I am drunk." + +"Are there no plays, no operas?" asked the Angel from behind his glass. + +"Not in the old and proper sense of these words. They disappeared +towards the end of the Great Skirmish." + +"What food for the mind is there, then?" asked the Angel, adding an +oyster to his collection. + +"None in public, sir, for it is well recognised, and has been ever since +those days, that laughter alone promotes business and removes the +thought of death. You cannot recall, as I can, sir, the continual stream +which used to issue from theatres, music-halls, and picture-palaces in +the days of the Great Skirmish, nor the joviality of the Strand and the +more expensive restaurants. I have often thought," he added with a touch +of philosophy, "what a height of civilisation we must have reached to +go jesting, as we did, to the Great Unknown." + +"Is that really what the English did at the time of the Great Skirmish?" +asked the Angel. + +"It is," replied his dragoman solemnly. + +"Then they are a very fine people, and I can put up with much about them +which seems to me distressing." + +"Ah! sir, though, being an Englishman, I am sometimes inclined to +disparage the English, I am yet convinced that you could not fly a +week's journey and come across another race with such a peculiar +nobility, or such an unconquerable soul, if you will forgive my using a +word whose meaning is much disputed. May I tempt you with a clam?" he +added, more lightly. "We now have them from America--in fair +preservation, and very nasty they are, in my opinion." + +The Angel took a clam. + +"My Lord!" he said, after a moment of deglutition. + +"Quite so!" replied his dragoman. "But kindly glance at the right-hand +stage again. There is a _revue_ on now. What do you see?" + +The Angel made two holes with his forefingers and thumbs and, putting +them to his eyes, bent a little forward. + +"Tut, tut!" he said; "I see some attractive young females with very few +clothes on, walking up and down in front of what seem to me, indeed, to +be two grown-up men in collars and jackets as of little boys. What +precise criticism of life is this conveying?" + +His dragoman answered in reproachful accents: + +"Do you not feel, sir, from your own sensations, how marvellously this +informs one of the secret passions of mankind? Is there not in it a +striking revelation of the natural tendencies of the male population? +Remark how the whole audience, including your august self, is leaning +forward and looking through their thumb-holes?" + +The Angel sat back hurriedly. + +"True," he said, "I was carried away. But that is not the criticism of +life which art demands. If it had been, the audience, myself included, +would have been sitting back with their lips curled dry, instead of +watering." + +"For all that," replied his dragoman, "it is the best we can give you; +anything which induces the detached mood of which you spoke, has been +banned from the stage since the days of the Great Skirmish; it is so +very bad for business." + +"Pity!" said the Angel, imperceptibly edging forward; "the mission of +art is to elevate." + +"It is plain, sir," said his dragoman, "that you have lost touch with +the world as it is. The mission of art--now truly democratic--is to +level--in principle up, in practice down. Do not forget, sir, that the +English have ever regarded æstheticism as unmanly, and grace as immoral; +when to that basic principle you add the principle of serving the taste +of the majority, you have perfect conditions for a sure and gradual +decrescendo." + +"Does taste, then, no longer exist?" asked the Angel. + +"It is not wholly, as yet, extinct, but lingers in the communal kitchens +and canteens, as introduced by the Young Men's Christian Association in +the days of the Great Skirmish. While there is appetite there is hope, +nor is it wholly discouraging that taste should now centre in the +stomach; for is not that the real centre of man's activity? Who dare +affirm that from so universal a foundation the fair structure of +æstheticism shall not be rebuilt? The eye, accustomed to the look of +dainty dishes and pleasant cookery, may once more demand the +architecture of Wren, the sculpture of Rodin, the paintings of--dear +me--whom? Why, sir, even before the days of the Great Skirmish, when you +were last on earth, we had already begun to put the future of +æstheticism on a more real basis, and were converting the concert-halls +of London into hotels. Few at the time saw the far-reaching +significance of that movement, or realised that æstheticism was to be +levelled down to the stomach, in order that it might be levelled up +again to the head, on true democratic principles." + +"But what," said the Angel, with one of his preternatural flashes of +acumen, "what if, on the other hand, taste should continue to sink and +lose even its present hold on the stomach? If all else has gone, why +should not the beauty of the kitchen go?" + +"That indeed," sighed his dragoman, placing his hand on his heart, "is a +thought which often gives me a sinking sensation. Two liqueur brandies," +he murmured to the waiter. "But the stout heart refuses to despair. +Besides, advertisements show decided traces of æsthetic advance. All the +great painters, poets, and fiction writers are working on them; the +movement had its origin in the propaganda demanded by the Great +Skirmish. You will not recollect the war poetry of that period, the +patriotic films, the death cartoons, and other remarkable achievements. +We have just as great talents now, though their object has not perhaps +the religious singleness of those stirring times. Not a food, corset, or +collar which has not its artist working for it! Toothbrushes, +nutcrackers, babies' baths--the whole caboodle of manufacture--are now +set to music. Such themes are considered subliminal if not sublime. No, +sir, I will not despair; it is only at moments when I have dined poorly +that the horizon seems dark. Listen--they have turned on the +'Kalophone,' for you must know that all music now is beautifully made by +machine--so much easier for every one." + +The Angel raised his head, and into his eyes came the glow associated +with celestial strains. + +"The tune," he said, "is familiar to me." + +"Yes, sir," answered his dragoman, "for it is 'The Messiah' in ragtime. +No time is wasted, you notice; all, even pleasure, is intensively +cultivated, on the lines of least resistance, thanks to the feverishness +engendered in us by the Great Skirmish, when no one knew if he would +have another chance, and to the subsequent need for fostering industry. +But whether we really enjoy ourselves is perhaps a question to answer +which you must examine the English character." + +"That I refuse to do," said the Angel. + +"And you are wise, sir, for it is a puzzler, and many have cracked their +heads over it. But have we not been here long enough? We can pursue our +researches into the higher realms of art to-morrow." + +A beam from the Angel's lustrous eyes fell on a lady at the next table. +"Yes, perhaps we had better go," he sighed. + + +V + +"And so it is through the fields of true art that we shall walk this +morning?" said the Angel Æthereal. + +"Such as they are in this year of Peace 1947," responded his dragoman, +arresting him before a statue; "for the development of this hobby has +been peculiar since you were here in 1910, when the childlike and +contortionist movement was just beginning to take hold of the British." + +"Whom does this represent?" asked the Angel. + +"A celebrated publicist, recently deceased at a great age. You see him +unfolded by this work of multiform genius, in every aspect known to art, +religion, nature, and the population. From his knees downwards he is +clearly devoted to nature, and is portrayed as about to enter his bath. +From his waist to his knees he is devoted to religion--mark the complete +disappearance of the human aspect. From his neck to his waist he is +devoted to public affairs; observe the tweed coat, the watch chain, and +other signs of practical sobriety. But the head is, after all, the crown +of the human being, and is devoted to art. This is why you cannot make +out that it is a head. Note its pyramidal severity, its cunning little +ears, its box-built, water-tightal structure. The hair you note to be in +flames. Here we have the touch of beauty--the burning shrub. In the +whole you will observe that aversion from natural form and the single +point of view, characteristic of all twentieth-century æsthetics. The +whole thing is a very great masterpiece of childlike contortionism. To +do things as irresponsibly as children and contortionists--what a happy +discovery of the line of least resistance in art that was! Mark, by the +way, this exquisite touch about the left hand." + +"It appears to be deformed," said the Angel, going a step nearer. + +"Look closer still," returned his dragoman, "and you will see that it is +holding a novel of the great Russian, upside down. Ever since that +simple master who so happily blended the childlike with the +contortionist became known in this country they have been trying to go +him one better, in letters, in painting, in sculpture, and in music, +refusing to admit that he was the last cry; and until they have beaten +him this movement simply cannot cease; it may therefore go on for ever, +for he was the limit. That hand symbolises the whole movement." + +"How?" said the Angel. + +"Why, sir, somersault is its mainspring. Did you never observe the great +Russian's method? Prepare your characters to do one thing, and make them +very swiftly do the opposite. Thus did that terrific novelist +demonstrate his overmastering range of vision and knowledge of the +depths of human nature. Since his characters never varied this routine +in the course of some eight thousand pages, people have lightly said +that he repeated himself. But what of that? Consider what perfect +dissociation he thereby attained between character and action; what +nebulosity of fact; what a truly childlike and mystic mix-up of all +human values hitherto known! And here, sir, at the risk of tickling you, +I must whisper." The dragoman made a trumpet of his hand: "Fiction can +only be written by those who have exceptionally little knowledge of +ordinary human nature, and great fiction only by such as have none at +all." + +"How is that?" said the Angel, somewhat disconcerted. + +"Surprise, sir, is the very kernel of all effects in art, and in real +life people _will_ act as their characters and temperaments determine +that they shall. This dreadful and unmalleable trait would have upset +all the great mystic masters from generation to generation if they had +only noticed it. But did they? Fortunately not. These greater men +naturally put into their books the greater confusion and flux in which +their extraordinary selves exist! The nature they portray is not human, +but super- or subter-human, which you will. Who would have it otherwise?" + +"Not I," said the Angel. "For I confess to a liking for what is called +the 'tuppence coloured.' But Russians are not as other men, are they?" + +"They are not," said his dragoman, "but the trouble is, sir, that since +the British discovered him, every character in our greater fiction has a +Russian soul, though living in Cornwall or the Midlands, in a British +body under a Scottish or English name." + +"Very piquant," said the Angel, turning from the masterpiece before him. +"Are there no undraped statues to be seen?" + +"In no recognisable form. For, not being educated to the detached +contemplation which still prevailed to a limited extent even as late as +the days of the Great Skirmish, the populace can no longer be trusted +with such works of art; they are liable to rush at them, for embrace, or +demolition, as their temperaments may dictate." + +"The Greeks are dead, then," said the Angel. + +"As door-nails, sir. They regarded life as a thing to be enjoyed--a +vice you will not have noticed in the British. The Greeks were an +outdoor people, who lived in the sun and the fresh air, and had none of +the niceness bred by the life of our towns. We have long been renowned +for our delicacy about the body; nor has the tendency been decreased by +constituting Watch Committees of young persons in every borough. These +are now the arbiters of art, and nothing unsuitable to the child of +seven passes their censorship." + +"How careful!" said the Angel. + +"The result has been wonderful," remarked his dragoman. "Wonderful!" he +repeated, dreamily. "I suppose there is more smouldering sexual desire +and disease in this country than in any other." + +"Was that the intention?" asked the Angel. + +"Oh! no, sir! That is but the natural effect of so remarkably pure a +surface. All is within instead of without. Nature has now wholly +disappeared. The process was sped up by the Great Skirmish. For, since +then, we have had little leisure and income to spare on the +gratification of anything but laughter; this and the 'unco-guid' have +made our art-surface glare in the eyes of the nations, thin and spotless +as if made of tin." + +The Angel raised his eyebrows. "I had hoped for better things," he +said. + +"You must not suppose, sir," pursued his dragoman, "that there is not +plenty of the undraped, so long as it is vulgar, as you saw just now +upon the stage, for that is good business; the line is only drawn at the +danger-point of art, which is always very bad business in this country. +Yet even in real life the undraped has to be grotesque to be admitted; +the one fatal quality is natural beauty. The laugh, sir, the laugh--even +the most hideous and vulgar laugh--is such a disinfectant. I should, +however, say in justice to our literary men, that they have not +altogether succumbed to the demand for cachinnations. A school, which +first drew breath before the Great Skirmish began, has perfected itself, +till now we have whole tomes where hardly a sentence would be +intelligible to any save the initiate; this enables them to defy the +Watch Committees, with other Philistines. We have writers who +mysteriously preach the realisation of self by never considering anybody +else; of purity through experience of exotic vice; of courage through +habitual cowardice; and of kindness through Prussian behaviour. They are +generally young. We have others whose fiction consists of autobiography +interspersed with philosophic and political fluencies. These may be of +any age from eighty odd to the bitter thirties. We have also the copious +and chatty novelist; and transcribers of the life of the Laborious, +whom the Laborious never read. Above all, we have the great Patriotic +school, who put the national motto first, and write purely what is good +for trade. In fact, we have every sort, as in the old days." + +"It would appear," said the Angel, "that the arts have stood somewhat +still." + +"Except for a more external purity, and a higher internal corruption," +replied his dragoman. + +"Are artists still noted for their jealousies?" asked the Angel. + +"They are, sir; for that is inherent in the artistic temperament, which +is extremely touchy about fame." + +"And do they still get angry when those gentlemen--the----" + +"Critics," his dragoman suggested. "They get angry, sir; but critics are +usually anonymous, and from excellent reasons; for not only are the +passions of an angry artist very high, but the knowledge of an angry +critic is not infrequently very low, especially of art. It is kinder to +save life, where possible." + +"For my part," said the Angel, "I have little regard for human life, and +consider that many persons would be better buried." + +"That may be," his dragoman retorted with some irritation; "'_errare +est humanum_.' But I, for one, would rather be a dead human being any +day than a live angel, for I think they are more charitable." + +"Well," said the Angel genially, "you have the prejudice of your kind. +Have you an artist about the place, to show me? I do not recollect any +at Madame Tussaud's." + +"They have taken to declining that honour. We could see one in real life +if we went to Cornwall." + +"Why Cornwall?" + +"I cannot tell you, sir. There is something in the air which affects +their passions." + +"I am hungry, and would rather go to the Savoy," said the Angel, walking +on. + +"You are in luck," whispered his dragoman, when they had seated +themselves at a table covered with prawns; "for at the next on your left +is our most famous exponent of the mosaic school of novelism." + +"Then here goes!" replied the Angel. And, turning to his neighbour, he +asked pleasantly: "How do you do, sir? What is your income?" + +The gentleman addressed looked up from his prawn, and replied wearily: +"Ask my agent. He may conceivably possess the knowledge you require." + +"Answer me this, at all events," said the Angel, with more dignity, if +possible: "How do you write your books? For it must be wonderful to +summon around you every day the creatures of your imagination. Do you +wait for afflatus?" + +"No," said the author; "er--no! I--er--" he added weightily, "sit down +every morning." + +The Angel rolled his eyes and, turning to his dragoman, said in a +well-bred whisper: "He sits down every morning! My Lord, how good for +trade!" + + +VI + +"A glass of sherry, dry, and ham sandwich, stale, can be obtained here, +sir," said the dragoman; "and for dessert, the scent of parchment and +bananas. We will then attend Court 45, where I shall show you how +fundamentally our legal procedure has changed in the generation that has +elapsed since the days of the Great Skirmish." + +"Can it really be that the Law has changed? I had thought it immutable," +said the Angel, causing his teeth to meet with difficulty: "What will be +the nature of the suit to which we shall listen?" + +"I have thought it best, sir, to select a divorce case, lest you should +sleep, overcome by the ozone and eloquence in these places." + +"Ah!" said the Angel: "I am ready." + +The Court was crowded, and they took their seats with difficulty, and a +lady sitting on the Angel's left wing. + +"The public _will_ frequent this class of case," whispered his dragoman. +"How different when you were here in 1910!" + +The Angel collected himself: "Tell me," he murmured, "which of the +grey-haired ones is the judge?" + +"He in the bag-wig, sir," returned his dragoman; "and that little lot is +the jury," he added, indicating twelve gentlemen seated in two rows. + +"What is their private life?" asked the Angel. + +"No better than it should be, perhaps," responded his dragoman +facetiously; "but no one can tell that from their words and manner, as +you will presently see. These are special ones," he added, "and pay +income tax, so that their judgment in matters of morality is of +considerable value." + +"They have wise faces," said the Angel. "Which is the prosecutor?" + +"No, no!" his dragoman answered, vividly: "This is a civil case. That is +the plaintiff with a little mourning about her eyes and a touch of red +about her lips, in the black hat with the aigrette, the pearls, and the +fashionably sober clothes." + +"I see her," said the Angel: "an attractive woman. Will she win?" + +"We do not call it winning, sir; for this, as you must know, is a sad +matter, and implies the breaking-up of a home. She will most unwillingly +receive a decree, at least, I think so," he added; "though whether it +will stand the scrutiny of the King's Proctor we may wonder a little, +from her appearance." + +"King's Proctor?" said the Angel. "What is that?" + +"A celestial Die-hard, sir, paid to join together again those whom man +have put asunder." + +"I do not follow," said the Angel fretfully. + +"I perceive," whispered his dragoman, "that I must make clear to you the +spirit which animates our justice in these matters. You know, of course, +that the intention of our law is ever to penalise the wrong-doer. It +therefore requires the innocent party, like that lady there, to be +exceptionally innocent, not only before she secures her divorce, but for +six months afterwards." + +"Oh!" said the Angel. "And where is the guilty party?" + +"Probably in the south of France," returned his dragoman, "with the new +partner of his affections. They have a place in the sun; this one a +place in the Law Courts." + +"Dear me!" said the Angel. "Does she prefer that?" + +"There are ladies," his dragoman replied, "who find it a pleasure to +appear, no matter where, so long as people can see them in a pretty hat. +But the great majority would rather sink into the earth than do this +thing." + +"The face of this one is most agreeable to me; I should not wish her to +sink," said the Angel warmly. + +"Agreeable or not," resumed his dragoman, "they have to bring their +hearts for inspection by the public if they wish to become free from the +party who has done them wrong. This is necessary, for the penalisation +of the wrong-doer." + +"And how will he be penalised?" asked the Angel naïvely. + +"By receiving his freedom," returned his dragoman, "together with the +power to enjoy himself with his new partner, in the sun, until, in due +course, he is able to marry her." + +"This is mysterious to me," murmured the Angel. "Is not the boot on the +wrong leg?" + +"Oh! sir, the law would not make a mistake like that. You are bringing +a single mind to the consideration of this matter, but that will never +do. This lady is a true and much-wronged wife; that is--let us hope +so!--to whom our law has given its protection and remedy; but she is +also, in its eyes, somewhat reprehensible for desiring to avail herself +of that protection and remedy. For, though the law is now purely the +affair of the State and has nothing to do with the Appointed, it still +secretly believes in the religious maxim: 'Once married, always +married,' and feels that however much a married person is neglected or +ill-treated, she should not desire to be free." + +"She?" said the Angel. "Does a man never desire to be free?" + +"Oh, yes! sir, and not infrequently." + +"Does your law, then, not consider him reprehensible in that desire?" + +"In theory, perhaps; but there is a subtle distinction. For, sir, as you +observe from the countenances before you, the law is administered +entirely by males, and males cannot but believe in the divine right of +males to have a better time than females; and, though they do not say +so, they naturally feel that a husband wronged by a wife is more injured +than a wife wronged by a husband." + +"There is much in that," said the Angel. "But tell me how the oracle is +worked--for it may come in handy!" + +"You allude, sir, to the necessary procedure? I will make this clear. +There are two kinds of cases: what I may call the 'O.K.' and what I may +call the 'rig.' Now in the 'O.K.' it is only necessary for the +plaintiff, if it be a woman, to receive a black eye from her husband and +to pay detectives to find out that he has been too closely in the +company of another; if it be a man, he need not receive a black eye from +his wife, and has merely to pay the detectives to obtain the same +necessary information." + +"Why this difference between the sexes?" asked the Angel. + +"Because," answered his dragoman, "woman is the weaker sex, things are +therefore harder for her." + +"But," said the Angel, "the English have a reputation for chivalry." + +"They have, sir." + +"Well----" began the Angel. + +"When these conditions are complied with," interrupted his dragoman, "a +suit for divorce may be brought, which may or may not be defended. Now, +the 'rig,' which is always brought by the wife, is not so simple, for it +must be subdivided into two sections: 'Ye straight rig' and 'Ye crooked +rig.' 'Ye straight rig' is where the wife cannot induce her husband to +remain with her, and discovering from him that he has been in the close +company of another, wishes to be free of him. She therefore tells the +Court that she wishes him to come back to her, and the Court will tell +him to go back. Whereon, if he obey, the fat is sometimes in the fire. +If, however, he obeys not, which is the more probable, she may, after a +short delay, bring a suit, adducing the evidence she has obtained, and +receive a decree. This may be the case before you, or, on the other +hand, it may not, and will then be what is called 'Ye crooked rig.' If +that is so, these two persons, having found that they cannot live in +conjugal friendliness, have laid their heads together for the last time, +and arranged to part; the procedure will now be the same as in 'Ye +straight rig.' But the wife must take the greatest care to lead the +Court to suppose that she really wishes her husband to come back; for, +if she does not, it is collusion. The more ardent her desire to part +from him, the more care she must take to pretend the opposite! But this +sort of case is, after all, the simplest, for both parties are in +complete accord in desiring to be free of each other, so neither does +anything to retard that end, which is soon obtained." + +"About that evidence?" said the Angel. "What must the man do?" + +"He will require to go to an hotel with a lady friend," replied his +dragoman; "once will be enough. And, provided they are called in the +morning, there is no real necessity for anything else." + +"H'm!" said the Angel. "This, indeed, seems to me to be all around about +the bush. Could there not be some simple method which would not +necessitate the perversion of the truth?" + +"Ah, no!" responded his dragoman. "You forget what I told you, sir. +However unhappy people may be together, our law grudges their +separation; it requires them therefore to be immoral, or to lie, or +both, before they can part." + +"Curious!" said the Angel. + +"You must understand, sir, that when a man says he will take a woman, +and a woman says she will take a man, for the rest of their natural +existence, they are assumed to know all about each other, though not +permitted, of course, by the laws of morality to know anything of real +importance. Since it is almost impossible from a modest acquaintanceship +to make sure whether they will continue to desire each other's company +after a completed knowledge, they are naturally disposed to go it +'blind,' if I may be pardoned the expression, and will take each other +for ever on the smallest provocations. For the human being, sir, makes +nothing of the words 'for ever,' when it sees immediate happiness before +it. You can well understand, therefore, how necessary it is to make it +very hard for them to get untied again." + +"I should dislike living with a wife if I were tired of her," said the +Angel. + +"Sir," returned his dragoman confidentially, "in that sentiment you +would have with you the whole male population. And, I believe, the whole +of the female population would feel the same if they were tired of you, +as the husband." + +"That!" said the Angel, with a quiet smile. + +"Ah! yes, sir; but does not this convince you of the necessity to force +people who are tired of each other to go on living together?" + +"No," said the Angel, with appalling frankness. + +"Well," his dragoman replied soberly, "I must admit that some have +thought our marriage laws should be in a museum, for they are unique; +and, though a source of amusement to the public, and emolument to the +profession, they pass the comprehension of men and angels who have not +the key of the mystery." + +"What key?" asked the Angel. + +"I will give it you, sir," said his dragoman: "The English have a genius +for taking the shadow of a thing for its substance. 'So long,' they say, +'as our marriages, our virtue, our honesty, and happiness _seem_ to be, +they _are_.' So long, therefore, as we do not dissolve a marriage it +remains virtuous, honest and happy though the parties to it may be +unfaithful, untruthful, and in misery. It would be regarded as awful, +sir, for marriage to depend on mutual liking. We English cannot bear +the thought of defeat. To dissolve an unhappy marriage is to recognise +defeat by life, and we would rather that other people lived in +wretchedness all their days than admit that members of our race had come +up against something too hard to overcome. The English do not care about +making the best out of this life in reality so long as they can do it in +appearance." + +"Then they believe in a future life?" + +"They did to some considerable extent up to the 'eighties of the last +century, and their laws and customs were no doubt settled in accordance +therewith, and have not yet had time to adapt themselves. We are a +somewhat slow-moving people, always a generation or two behind our real +beliefs." + +"They have lost their belief, then?" + +"It is difficult to arrive at figures, sir, on such a question. But it +has been estimated that perhaps one in ten adults now has some +semblance of what may be called active belief in a future existence." + +"And the rest are prepared to let their lives be arranged in accordance +with the belief of that tenth?" asked the Angel, surprised. "Tell me, do +they think their matrimonial differences will be adjusted over there, or +what?" + +"As to that, all is cloudy; and certain matters would be difficult to +adjust without bigamy; for general opinion and the law permit the +remarriage of persons whose first has gone before." + +"How about children?" said the Angel; "for that is no inconsiderable +item, I imagine." + +"Yes, sir, they are a difficulty. But here, again, my key will fit. So +long as the marriage _seems_ real, it does not matter that the children +know it isn't and suffer from the disharmony of their parents." + +"I think," said the Angel acutely, "there must be some more earthly +reason for the condition of your marriage laws than those you give me. +It's all a matter of property at bottom, I suspect." + +"Sir," said his dragoman, seemingly much struck, "I should not be +surprised if you were right. There is little interest in divorce where +no money is involved, and our poor are considered able to do without it. +But I will never admit that this is the reason for the state of our +divorce laws. No, no; I am an Englishman." + +"Well," said the Angel, "we are wandering. Does this judge believe what +they are now saying to him?" + +"It is impossible to inform you, for judges are very deep and know all +that is to be known on these matters. But of this you may be certain: if +anything is fishy to the average apprehension, he will not suffer it to +pass his nose." + +"Where is the average apprehension?" asked the Angel. + +"There, sir," said his dragoman, pointing to the jury with his chin, +"noted for their common sense." + +"And these others with grey heads who are calling each other friend, +though they appear to be inimical?" + +"Little can be hid from them," returned his dragoman; "but this case, +though defended as to certain matters of money, is not disputed in +regard to the divorce itself. Moreover, they are bound by professional +etiquette to serve their clients through thin and thick." + +"Cease!" said the Angel; "I wish to hear this evidence, and so does the +lady on my left wing." + +His dragoman smiled in his beard, and made no answer. + +"Tell me," remarked the Angel, when he had listened, "does this woman +get anything for saying she called them in the morning?" + +"Fie, sir!" responded his dragoman; "only her expenses to the Court and +back. Though indeed, it is possible that after she had called them, she +got half a sovereign from the defendant to impress the matter on her +mind, seeing that she calls many people every day." + +"The whole matter," said the Angel with a frown, "appears to be in the +nature of a game; nor are the details as savoury as I expected." + +"It would be otherwise if the case were defended, sir," returned his +dragoman; "then, too, you would have had an opportunity of understanding +the capacity of the human mind for seeing the same incident to be both +black and white; but it would take much of your valuable time, and the +Court would be so crowded that you would have a lady sitting on your +right wing also, and possibly on your knee. For, as you observe, ladies +are particularly attached to these dramas of real life." + +"If my wife were a wrong one," said the Angel, "I suppose that, +according to your law, I could not sew her up in a sack and place it in +the water?" + +"We are not now in the days of the Great Skirmish," replied his dragoman +somewhat coldly. "At that time any soldier who found his wife unfaithful, as we call it, +could shoot her with impunity and receive the plaudits and possibly a +presentation from the populace, though he himself may not have been +impeccable while away--a masterly method of securing a divorce. But, as +I told you, our procedure has changed since then; and even soldiers now +have to go to work in this roundabout fashion." + +"Can he not shoot the paramour?" asked the Angel. + +"Not even that," answered his dragoman. "So soft and degenerate are the +days. Though, if he can invent for the paramour a German name, he will +still receive but a nominal sentence. Our law is renowned for never +being swayed by sentimental reasons. I well recollect a case in the days +of the Great Skirmish, when a jury found contrary to the plainest facts +sooner than allow that reputation for impartiality to be tarnished." + +"Ah!" said the Angel absently; "what is happening now?" + +"The jury are considering their verdict. The conclusion is, however, +foregone, for they are not retiring. The plaintiff is now using her +smelling salts." + +"She is a fine woman," said the Angel emphatically. + +"Hush, sir! The judge might hear you." + +"What if he does?" asked the Angel in surprise. + +"He would then eject you for contempt of Court." + +"Does he not think her a fine woman, too?" + +"For the love of justice, sir, be silent," entreated his dragoman. "This +concerns the happiness of three, if not of five lives. Look! She is +lifting her veil; she is going to use her handkerchief." + +"I cannot bear to see a woman cry," said the Angel, trying to rise; +"please take this lady off my left wing." + +"Kindly sit tight!" murmured his dragoman to the lady, leaning across +behind the Angel's back. "Listen, sir!" he added to the Angel: "The jury +are satisfied that what is necessary has taken place. All is well; she +will get her decree." + +"Hurrah!" said the Angel in a loud voice. + +"If that noise is repeated, I will have the Court cleared." + +"I am going to repeat it," said the Angel firmly; "she is beautiful!" + +His dragoman placed a hand respectfully over the Angel's mouth. "Oh, +sir!" he said soothingly, "do not spoil this charming moment. Hark! He +is giving her a decree _nisi_, with costs. To-morrow it will be in all +the papers, for it helps to sell them. See! She is withdrawing; we can +now go." And he disengaged the Angel's wing. + +The Angel rose quickly and made his way towards the door. "I am going to +walk out with her," he announced joyously. + +"I beseech you," said his dragoman, hurrying beside him, "remember the +King's Proctor! Where is your chivalry? For _he_ has none, sir--not a +little bit!" + +"Bring him to me; I will give it him!" said the Angel, kissing the tips +of his fingers to the plaintiff, who was vanishing in the gloom of the +fresh air. + + +VII + +In the Strangers' room of the Strangers' Club the usual solitude was +reigning when the Angel Æthereal entered. + +"You will be quiet here," said his dragoman, drawing up two leather +chairs to the hearth, "and comfortable," he added, as the Angel crossed +his legs. "After our recent experience, I thought it better to bring you +where your mind would be composed, since we have to consider so +important a subject as morality. There is no place, indeed, where we +could be so completely sheltered from life, or so free to evolve from +our inner consciousness the momentous conclusions of the armchair +moralist. When you have had your sneeze," he added, glancing at the +Angel, who was taking snuff, "I shall make known to you the conclusions +I have formed in the course of a chequered career." + +"Before you do that," said the Angel, "it would perhaps be as well to +limit the sphere of our inquiry." + +"As to that," remarked his dragoman, "I shall confine my information to +the morals of the English since the opening of the Great Skirmish, in +1914, just a short generation of three and thirty years ago; and you +will find my theme readily falls, sir, into the two main compartments of +public and private morality. When I have finished you can ask me any +questions." + +"Proceed!" said the Angel, letting his eyelids droop. + +"Public morality," his dragoman began, "is either superlative, +comparative, positive, or negative. And superlative morality is found, +of course, only in the newspapers. It is the special prerogative of +leader-writers. Its note, remote and unchallengeable, was well struck by +almost every organ at the commencement of the Great Skirmish, and may be +summed up in a single solemn phrase: 'We will sacrifice on the altar of +duty the last life and the last dollar--except the last life and dollar +of the last leader-writer.' For, as all must see, that one had to be +preserved, to ensure and comment on the consummation of the sacrifice. +What loftier morality can be conceived? And it has ever been a grief to +the multitude that the lives of those patriots and benefactors of their +species should, through modesty, have been unrevealed to such as pant to +copy them. Here and there the lineaments of a tip-topper were +discernible beneath the disguise of custom; but what fair existences +were screened! I may tell you at once, sir, that the State was so much +struck at the time of the Great Skirmish by this doctrine of the utter +sacrifice of others that it almost immediately adopted the idea, and has +struggled to retain it ever since. Indeed, only the unaccountable +reluctance of 'others' to be utterly sacrificed has ensured their +perpetuity." + +"In 1910," said the Angel, "I happened to notice that the Prussians had +already perfected that system. Yet it was against the Prussians that +this country fought?" + +"That is so," returned his dragoman; "there were many who drew attention +to the fact. And at the conclusion of the Great Skirmish the reaction +was such that for a long moment even the leader-writers wavered in their +selfless doctrines; nor could continuity be secured till the Laborious +Party came solidly to the saddle in 1930. Since then the principle has +been firm but the practice has been firmer, and public morality has +never been altogether superlative. Let us pass to comparative public +morality. In the days of the Great Skirmish this was practised by those +with names, who told others what to do. This large and capable body +included all the preachers, publicists, and politicians of the day, and +in many cases there is even evidence that they would have been willing +to practise what they preached if their age had not been so venerable or +their directive power so invaluable." + +"_In_-valuable," murmured the Angel; "has that word a negative +signification?" + +"Not in all cases," said his dragoman with a smile; "there were men whom +it would have been difficult to replace, though not many, and those +perhaps the least comparatively moral. In this category, too, were +undoubtedly the persons known as conchies." + +"From conch, a shell?" asked the Angel. + +"Not precisely," returned his dragoman; "and yet you have hit it, sir, +for into their shells they certainly withdrew, refusing to have anything +to do with this wicked world. Sufficient unto them was the voice within. +They were not well treated by an unfeeling populace." + +"This is interesting to me," said the Angel. "To what did they object?" + +"To war," replied his dragoman. "'What is it to us,' they said, 'that +there should be barbarians like these Prussians, who override the laws +of justice and humanity?'--words, sir, very much in vogue in those days. +'How can it affect our principles if these rude foreigners have not our +views, and are prepared, by cutting off the food supplies of this +island, to starve us into submission to their rule? Rather than turn a +deaf ear to the voice within we are prepared for general starvation; +whether we are prepared for the starvation of our individual selves we +cannot, of course, say until we experience it. But we hope for the best, +and believe that we shall go through with it to death, in the undesired +company of all who do not agree with us.' And it is certain, sir, that +some of them were capable of this; for there is, as you know, a type of +man who will die rather than admit that his views are too extreme to +keep himself and his fellow-men alive." + +"How entertaining!" said the Angel. "Do such persons still exist?" + +"Oh! yes," replied the dragoman; "and always will. Nor is it, in my +opinion, altogether to the disadvantage of mankind, for they afford a +salutary warning to the human species not to isolate itself in fancy +from the realities of existence and extinguish human life before its +time has come. We shall now consider the positively moral. At the time +of the Great Skirmish these were such as took no sugar in their tea and +invested all they had in War Stock at five per cent. without waiting for +what were called Premium Bonds to be issued. They were a large and +healthy group, more immediately concerned with commerce than the war. +But the largest body of all were the negatively moral. These were they +who did what they crudely called 'their bit,' which I may tell you, sir, +was often very bitter. I myself was a ship's steward at the time, and +frequently swallowed much salt water, owing to the submarines. But I was +not to be deterred, and would sign on again when it had been pumped out +of me. Our morality was purely negative, if not actually low. We acted, +as it were, from instinct, and often wondered at the sublime sacrifices +which were being made by our betters. Most of us were killed or injured +in one way or another; but a blind and obstinate mania for not giving in +possessed us. We were a simple lot." The dragoman paused and fixed his +eyes on the empty hearth. "I will not disguise from you," he added, +"that we were fed-up nearly all the time; and yet--we couldn't stop. +Odd, was it not?" + +"I wish I had been with you," said the Angel, "for--to use that word +without which you English seem unable to express anything--you were +heroes." + +"Sir," said his dragoman, "you flatter us by such encomium. We were, I +fear, dismally lacking in commercial spirit, just men and women in the +street having neither time nor inclination to examine our conduct and +motives, nor to question or direct the conduct of others. Purely +negative beings, with perhaps a touch of human courage and human +kindliness in us. All this, however, is a tale of long ago. You can now +ask me any questions, sir, before I pass to private morality." + +"You alluded to courage and kindliness," said the Angel: "How do these +qualities now stand?" + +"The quality of courage," responded his dragoman, "received a set-back +in men's estimation at the time of the Great Skirmish, from which it has +never properly recovered. For physical courage was then, for the first +time, perceived to be most excessively common; it is, indeed, probably a +mere attribute of the bony chin, especially prevalent in the +English-speaking races. As to moral courage, it was so hunted down that +it is still somewhat in hiding. Of kindliness there are, as you know, +two sorts: that which people manifest towards their own belongings; and +that which they do not as a rule manifest towards every one else." + +"Since we attended the Divorce Court," remarked the Angel with +deliberation, "I have been thinking. And I fancy no one can be really +kind unless they have had matrimonial trouble, preferably in conflict +with the law." + +"A new thought to me," observed his dragoman attentively; "and yet you +may be right, for there is nothing like being morally outcast to make +you feel the intolerance of others. But that brings us to private +morality." + +"Quite!" said the Angel, with relief. "I forgot to ask you this morning +how the ancient custom of marriage was now regarded in the large?" + +"Not indeed as a sacrament," replied his dragoman; "such a view was +becoming rare already at the time of the Great Skirmish. Yet the notion +might have been preserved but for the opposition of the Pontifical of +those days to the reform of the Divorce Laws. When principle opposes +common sense too long, a landslide follows." + +"Of what nature, then, is marriage now?" + +"Purely a civil, or uncivil, contract, as the case may be. The holy +state of judicial separation, too, has long been unknown." + +"Ah!" said the Angel, "that was the custom by which the man became a +monk and the lady a nun, was it not?" + +"In theory, sir," replied his dragoman, "but in practice not a little +bit, as you may well suppose. The Pontifical, however, and the women, +old and otherwise, who supported them, had but small experience of life +to go on, and honestly believed that they were punishing those +still-married but erring persons who were thus separated. These, on the +contrary, almost invariably assumed that they were justified in free +companionships, nor were they particular to avoid promiscuity! So it +ever is, sir, when the great laws of Nature are violated in deference to +the Higher Doctrine." + +"Are children still born out of wedlock?" asked the Angel. + +"Yes," said his dragoman, "but no longer considered responsible for the +past conduct of their parents." + +"Society, then, is more humane?" + +"Well, sir, we shall not see the Millennium in that respect for some +years to come. Zoos are still permitted, and I read only yesterday a +letter from a Scottish gentleman pouring scorn on the humane proposal +that prisoners should be allowed to see their wives once a month without +bars or the presence of a third party; precisely as if we still lived in +the days of the Great Skirmish. Can you tell me why it is that such +letters are always written by Scotsmen?" + +"Is it a riddle?" asked the Angel. + +"It is indeed, sir." + +"Then it bores me. Speaking generally, are you satisfied with current +virtue now that it is a State matter, as you informed me yesterday?" + +"To tell you the truth, sir, I do not judge my neighbours; sufficient +unto myself is the vice thereof. But one thing I observe, the less +virtuous people assume themselves to be, the more virtuous they commonly +are. Where the limelight is not, the flower blooms. Have you not +frequently noticed that they who day by day cheerfully endure most +unpleasant things, while helping their neighbours at the expense of +their own time and goods, are often rendered lyrical by receiving a +sovereign from some one who would never miss it, and are ready to +enthrone him in their hearts as a king of men? The truest virtue, sir, +must be sought among the lowly. Sugar and snow may be seen on the top, +but for the salt of the earth one must look to the bottom." + +"I believe you," said the Angel. "It is probably harder for a man in the +limelight to enter virtue than for the virtuous to enter the limelight. +Ha, ha! Is the good old custom of buying honour still preserved?" + +"No, sir; honour is now only given to such as make themselves too noisy +to be endured, and saddles the recipient with an obligation to preserve +public silence for a period not exceeding three years. That maximum +sentence is given for a dukedom. It is reckoned that few can survive so +fearful a term." + +"Concerning the morality of this new custom," said the Angel, "I feel +doubtful. It savours of surrender to the bully and the braggart, does it +not?" + +"Rather to the bore, sir; not necessarily the same thing. But whether +men be decorated for making themselves useful, or troublesome, the +result in either case is to secure a comparative inertia, which has ever +been the desideratum; for you must surely be aware, sir, how a man's +dignity weighs him down." + +"Are women also rewarded in this way?" + +"Yes, and very often; for although their dignity is already ample, their +tongues are long, and they have little shame and no nerves in the matter +of public speaking." + +"And what price their virtue?" asked the Angel. + +"There is some change since the days of the Great Skirmish," responded +his dragoman. "They do not now so readily sell it, except for a wedding +ring; and many marry for love. Women, indeed, are often deplorably +lacking in commercial spirit; and though they now mix in commerce, have +not yet been able to adapt themselves. Some men even go so far as to +think that their participation in active life is not good for trade and +keeps the country back." + +"They are a curious sex," said the Angel; "I like them, but they make +too much fuss about babies." + +"Ah! sir, there is the great flaw. The mother instinct--so heedless and +uncommercial! They seem to love the things just for their own sakes." + +"Yes," said the Angel, "there's no future in it. Give me a cigar." + + +VIII + +"What, then, is the present position of 'the good'?" asked the Angel +Æthereal, taking wing from Watchester Cathedrome towards the City +Tabernacle. + +"There are a number of discordant views, sir," his dragoman whiffled +through his nose in the rushing air; "which is no more novel in this +year of Peace 1947 than it was when you were here in 1910. On the far +right are certain extremists, who believe it to be what it +was--omnipotent, but suffering the presence of 'the bad' for no reason +which has yet been ascertained; omnipresent, though presumably absent +where 'the bad' is present; mysterious, though perfectly revealed; +terrible, though loving; eternal, though limited by a beginning and an +end. They are not numerous, but all stall-holders, and chiefly +characterised by an almost perfect intolerance of those whose views do +not coincide with their own; nor will they suffer for a moment any +examination into the nature of 'the good,' which they hold to be +established for all time, in the form I have stated, by persons who have +long been dead. They are, as you may imagine, somewhat out of touch with +science, such as it is, and are regarded by the community at large +rather with curiosity than anything else." + +"The type is well known in the sky," said the Angel. "Tell me: Do they +torture those who do not agree with them?" + +"Not materially," responded his dragoman. "Such a custom was extinct +even before the days of the Great Skirmish, though what would have +happened if the Patriotic or Prussian Party had been able to keep power +for any length of time we cannot tell. As it is, the torture they apply +is purely spiritual, and consists in looking down their noses at all who +have not their belief and calling them erratics. But it would be a +mistake to underrate their power, for human nature loves the Pontifical, +and there are those who will follow to the death any one who looks down +his nose, and says: 'I know!' Moreover, sir, consider how unsettling a +question 'the good' is, when you come to think about it and how +unfatiguing the faith which precludes all such speculation." + +"That is so," said the Angel thoughtfully. + +"The right centre," continued his dragoman, "is occupied by the small +yet noisy Fifth Party. These are they who play the cornet and +tambourine, big drum and concertina, descendants of the Old Prophet, and +survivors of those who, following a younger prophet, joined them at the +time of the Great Skirmish. In a form ever modifying with scientific +discovery they hold that 'the good' is a superman, bodiless yet bodily, +with a beginning but without an end. It is an attractive faith, enabling +them to say to Nature: '_Je m'en fiche de tout cela._ My big brother +will look after me Pom!' One may call it anthropomorphia, for it seems +especially soothing to strong personalities. Every man to his creed, as +they say; and I would never wish to throw cold water on such as seek to +find 'the good' by closing one eye instead of two, as is done by the +extremists on the right." + +"You are tolerant," said the Angel. + +"Sir," said his dragoman, "as one gets older, one perceives more and +more how impossible it is for man not to regard himself as the cause of +the universe, and for certain individual men not to believe themselves +the centre of the cause. For such to start a new belief is a biological +necessity, and should by no means be discouraged. It is a +safety-valve--the form of passion which the fires of youth take in men +after the age of fifty, as one may judge by the case of the prophet +Tolstoy and other great ones. But to resume: In the centre, of course, +are situated the enormous majority of the community, whose view is that +they have no view of what 'the good' is." + +"None?" repeated the Angel Æthereal, somewhat struck. + +"Not the faintest," answered his dragoman. "These are the only true +mystics; for what is a mystic if not one with an impenetrable belief in +the mystery of his own existence? This group embraces the great bulk of +the Laborious. It is true that many of them will repeat what is told +them of 'the good' as if it were their own view, without compunction, +but this is no more than the majority of persons have done from the +beginning of time." + +"Quite," admitted the Angel; "I have observed that phenomenon in the +course of my travels. We will not waste words on them." + +"Ah, sir!" retorted his dragoman, "there is more wisdom in these persons +than you imagine. For, consider what would be the fate of their brains +if they attempted to think for themselves. Moreover, as you know, all +definite views about 'the good' are very wearing, and it is better, so +this great majority thinks, to let sleeping dogs lie than to have them +barking in its head. But I will tell you something," the dragoman added: +"These innumerable persons have a secret belief of their own, old as the +Greeks, that good fellowship is all that matters. And, in my opinion, +taking 'the good' in its limited sense, it is an admirable creed." + +"Oh! cut on!" said the Angel. + +"My mistake, sir!" said his dragoman. "On the left centre are grouped +that increasing section whose view is that since everything is very bad, +'the good' is ultimate extinction--'Peace, perfect peace,' as the poet +says. You will recollect the old tag: 'To be or not to be.' These are +they who have answered that question in the negative; pessimists +masquerading to an unsuspecting public as optimists. They are no doubt +descendants of such as used to be called 'Theosophians,' a sect which +presupposed everything and then desired to be annihilated; or, again, +of the Christian Scientites, who simply could not bear things as they +were, so set themselves to think they were not, with some limited amount +of success, if I remember rightly. I recall to mind the case of a lady +who lost her virtue, and recovered it by dint of remembering that she +had no body." + +"Curious!" said the Angel. "I should like to question her; let me have +her address after the lecture. Does the theory of reincarnation still +obtain?" + +"I do not wonder, sir, that you are interested in the point, for +believers in that doctrine are compelled, by the old and awkward rule +that 'Two and two make four,' to draw on other spheres for the +reincarnation of their spirits." + +"I do not follow," said the Angel. + +"It is simple, however," answered his dragoman, "for at one time on +earth, as is admitted, there was no life. The first incarnation, +therefore--an amÅ“ba, we used to be told--enclosed a spirit, possibly +from above. It may, indeed, have been yours, sir. Again, at some time on +this earth, as is admitted, there will again be no life; the last spirit +will therefore flit to an incarnation, possibly below; and again, sir, +who knows, it may be yours." + +"I cannot jest on such a subject," said the Angel, with a sneeze. + +"No offence," murmured his dragoman. "The last group, on the far left, +to which indeed I myself am not altogether unaffiliated, is composed of +a small number of extremists, who hold that 'the good' is things as they +are--pardon the inevitable flaw in grammar. They consider that what is +now has always been, and will always be; that things do but swell and +contract and swell again, and so on for ever and ever; and that, since +they could not swell if they did not contract, since without the black +there could not be the white, nor pleasure without pain, nor virtue +without vice, nor criminals without judges; even contraction, or the +black, or pain, or vice, or judges, are not 'the bad,' but only +negatives; and that all is for the best in the best of all possible +worlds. They are Voltairean optimists masquerading to an unsuspecting +population as pessimists. 'Eternal Variation' is their motto." + +"I gather," said the Angel, "that these think there is no purpose in +existence?" + +"Rather, sir, that existence _is_ the purpose. For, if you consider, any +other conception of purpose implies fulfilment, or an _end_, which they +do not admit, just as they do not admit a beginning." + +"How logical!" said the Angel. "It makes me dizzy! You have renounced +the idea of climbing, then?" + +"Not so," responded his dragoman. "We climb to the top of the pole, +slide imperceptibly down, and begin over again; but since we never +really know whether we are climbing or sliding, this does not depress +us." + +"To believe that this goes on for ever is futile," said the Angel. + +"So we are told," replied his dragoman, without emotion. "_We_ think, +however, that the truth is with us, in spite of jesting Pilate." + +"It is not for me," said the Angel, with dignity, "to argue with my +dragoman." + +"No, sir, for it is always necessary to beware of the open mind. I +myself find it very difficult to believe the same thing every day. And +the fact is that whatever you believe will probably not alter the truth, +which may be said to have a certain mysterious immutability, considering +the number of efforts men have made to change it from time to time. We +are now, however, just above the City Tabernacle, and if you will close +your wings we shall penetrate it through the clap-trap-door which +enables its preachers now and then to ascend to higher spheres." + +"Stay!" said the Angel; "let me float a minute while I suck a +peppermint, for the audiences in these places often have colds." And +with that delicious aroma clinging to them they made their entry through +a strait gate in the roof and took their seats in the front row, below a +tall prophet in eyeglasses, who was discoursing on the stars. The Angel +slept heavily. + +"You have lost a good thing, sir," said his dragoman reproachfully, when +they left the Tabernacle. + +"In my opinion," the Angel playfully responded, "I won a better, for I +went nap. What can a mortal know about the stars?" + +"Believe me," answered his dragoman, "the subject is not more abstruse +than is generally chosen." + +"If he had taken religion I should have listened with pleasure," said +the Angel. + +"Oh! sir, but in these days such a subject is unknown in a place of +worship. Religion is now exclusively a State affair. The change began +with discipline and the Education Bill in 1918, and has gradually +crystallised ever since. It is true that individual extremists on the +right make continual endeavours to encroach on the functions of the +State, but they preach to empty houses." + +"And the Deity?" said the Angel: "You have not once mentioned Him. It +has struck me as curious." + +"Belief in the Deity," responded his dragoman, "perished shortly after +the Great Skirmish, during which there was too active and varied an +effort to revive it. Action, as you know, sir, always brings reaction, +and it must be said that the spiritual propaganda of those days was so +grossly tinged with the commercial spirit that it came under the head of +profiteering and earned for itself a certain abhorrence. For no sooner +had the fears and griefs brought by the Great Skirmish faded from men's +spirits than they perceived that their new impetus towards the Deity had +been directed purely by the longing for protection, solace, comfort, and +reward, and not by any real desire for 'the good' in itself. It was this +truth, together with the appropriation of the word by Emperors, and the +expansion of our towns, a process ever destructive of traditions, which +brought about extinction of belief in His existence." + +"It was a large order," said the Angel. + +"It was more a change of nomenclature," replied his dragoman. "The +ruling motive for belief in 'the good' is still the hope of getting +something out of it--the commercial spirit is innate." + +"Ah!" said the Angel, absently. "Can we have another lunch now? I could +do with a slice of beef." + +"An admirable idea, sir," replied his dragoman; "we will have it in the +White City." + + +IX + +"What in your opinion is the nature of happiness?" asked the Angel +Æthereal, as he finished his second bottle of Bass, in the grounds of +the White City. The dragoman regarded his angel with one eye. + +"The question is not simple, sir, though often made the subject of +symposiums in the more intellectual journals. Even now, in the middle of +the twentieth century, some still hold that it is a by-product of fresh +air and good liquor. The Old and Merrie England indubitably procured it +from those elements. Some, again, imagine it to follow from high +thinking and low living, while no mean number believe that it depends on +women." + +"Their absence or their presence?" asked the Angel, with interest. + +"Some this and others that. But for my part, it is not altogether the +outcome of these causes." + +"Is this now a happy land?" + +"Sir," returned his dragoman, "all things earthly are comparative." + +"Get on with it," said the Angel. + +"I will comply," responded his dragoman reproachfully, "if you will +permit me first to draw your third cork. And let me say in passing that +even your present happiness is comparative, or possibly superlative, as +you will know when you have finished this last bottle. It may or may not +be greater; we shall see." + +"We shall," said the Angel, resolutely. + +"You ask me whether this land is happy; but must we not first decide +what happiness is? And how difficult this will be you shall soon +discover. For example, in the early days of the Great Skirmish, +happiness was reputed non-existent; every family was plunged into +anxiety or mourning; and, though this to my own knowledge was not the +case, such as were not pretended to be. Yet, strange as it may appear, +the shrewd observer of those days was unable to remark any indication of +added gloom. Certain creature comforts, no doubt, were scarce, but there +was no lack of spiritual comfort, which high minds have ever associated +with happiness; nor do I here allude to liquor. What, then, was the +nature of this spiritual comfort, you will certainly be asking. I will +tell you, and in seven words: People forgot themselves and remembered +other people. Until those days it had never been realised what a lot of +medical men could be spared from the civil population; what a number of +clergymen, lawyers, stockbrokers, artists, writers, politicians, and +other persons, whose work in life is to cause people to think about +themselves, never would be missed. Invalids knitted socks and forgot to +be unwell; old gentlemen read the papers and forgot to talk about their +food; people travelled in trains and forgot not to fall into +conversation with each other; merchants became special constables and +forgot to differ about property; the House of Lords remembered its +dignity and forgot its impudence; the House of Commons almost forgot to +chatter. The case of the working man was the most striking of all--he +forgot he was the working man. The very dogs forgot themselves, though +that, to be sure, was no novelty, as the Irish writer demonstrated in +his terrific outburst: 'On my doorstep.' But time went on, and hens in +their turn forgot to lay, ships to return to port, cows to give enough +milk, and Governments to look ahead, till the first flush of +self-forgetfulness which had dyed peoples' cheeks----" + +"Died on them," put in the Angel, with a quiet smile. + +"You take my meaning, sir," said his dragoman, "though I should not have +worded it so happily. But certainly the return to self began, and +people used to think: 'This war is not so bloody as I thought, for I am +getting better money than I ever did, and the longer it lasts the more I +shall get, and for the sake of this I am prepared to endure much.' The +saying "Beef and beer, for soon you must put up the shutters," became +the motto of all classes. 'If I am to be shot, drowned, bombed, ruined, +or starved to-morrow,' they said, 'I had better eat, drink, marry, and +buy jewelry to-day.' And so they did, in spite of the dreadful efforts +of one bishop and two gentlemen who presided over the important question +of food. They did not, it is true, relax their manual efforts to +accomplish the defeat of their enemies, or 'win the war,' as it was +somewhat loosely called; but they no longer worked with their spirits, +which, with a few exceptions, went to sleep. For, sir, the spirit, like +the body, demands regular repose, and in my opinion is usually the first +of the two to snore. Before the Great Skirmish came at last to its +appointed end the snoring from spirits in this country might have been +heard in the moon. People thought of little but money, revenge, and what +they could get to eat, though the word 'sacrifice' was so accustomed to +their lips that they could no more get it off them than the other forms +of lip-salve, increasingly in vogue. They became very merry. And the +question I would raise is this: By which of these two standards shall we +assess the word 'happiness'? Were these people happy when they mourned +and thought not of self; or when they merried and thought of self all +the time?" + +"By the first standard," replied the Angel, with kindling eyes. +"Happiness is undoubtedly nobility." + +"Not so fast, sir," replied his dragoman; "for I have frequently met +with nobility in distress; and, indeed, the more exalted and refined the +mind, the unhappier is frequently the owner thereof, for to him are +visible a thousand cruelties and mean injustices which lower natures do +not perceive." + +"Hold!" exclaimed the Angel: "This is blasphemy against Olympus, 'The +Spectator,' and other High-Brows." + +"Sir," replied his dragoman gravely, "I am not one of those who accept +gilded doctrines without examination; I read in the Book of Life rather +than in the million tomes written by men to get away from their own +unhappiness." + +"I perceive," said the Angel, with a shrewd glance, "that you have +something up your sleeve. Shake it out!" + +"My conclusion is this, sir," returned his dragoman, well pleased: "Man +is only happy when he is living at a certain pressure of life to the +square inch; in other words, when he is so absorbed in what he is doing, +making, saying, thinking, or dreaming, that he has lost +self-consciousness. If there be upon him any ill--such as toothache or +moody meditation--so poignant as to prevent him losing himself in the +interest of the moment, then he is not happy. Nor must he merely think +himself absorbed, but actually be so, as are two lovers sitting under +one umbrella, or he who is just making a couplet rhyme." + +"Would you say, then," insinuated the Angel, "that a man is happy when +he meets a mad bull in a narrow lane? For there will surely be much +pressure of life to the square inch." + +"It does not follow," responded his dragoman; "for at such moments one +is prone to stand apart, pitying himself and reflecting on the +unevenness of fortune. But if he collects himself and meets the occasion +with spirit he will enjoy it until, while sailing over the hedge, he has +leisure to reflect once more. It is clear to me," he proceeded, "that +the fruit of the tree of knowledge in the old fable was not, as has +hitherto been supposed by a puritanical people, the mere knowledge of +sex, but symbolised rather general self-consciousness; for I have little +doubt that Adam and Eve sat together under one umbrella long before +they discovered they had no clothes on. Not until they became +self-conscious about things at large did they become unhappy." + +"Love is commonly reputed by some, and power by others, to be the keys +of happiness," said the Angel, regardless of his grammar. + +"Duds," broke in his dragoman. "For love and power are only two of the +various paths to absorption, or unconsciousness of self; mere methods by +which men of differing natures succeed in losing their self-consciousness, +for he who, like Saint Francis, loves all creation, has +no time to be conscious of loving himself, and he who rattles the +sword and rules like Bill Kaser, has no time to be conscious that he is +not ruling himself. I do not deny that such men may be happy, but not +because of the love or the power. No, it is because they are loving or +ruling with such intensity that they forget themselves in doing it." + +"There is much in what you say," said the Angel thoughtfully. "How do +you apply it to the times and land in which you live?" + +"Sir," his dragoman responded, "the Englishman never has been, and is +not now, by any means so unhappy as he looks, for, where you see a +furrow in the brow, or a mouth a little open, it portends absorption +rather than thoughtfulness--unless, indeed, it means adenoids--and is +the mark of a naturally self-forgetful nature; nor should you suppose +that poverty and dirt which abound, as you see, even under the sway of +the Laborious, is necessarily deterrent to the power of living in the +moment; it may even be a symptom of that habit. The unhappy are more +frequently the clean and leisured, especially in times of peace, when +they have little to do save sit under mulberry trees, invest money, pay +their taxes, wash, fly, and think about themselves. Nevertheless, many +of the Laborious also live at half-cock, and cannot be said to have lost +consciousness of self." + +"Then democracy is not synonymous with happiness?" asked the Angel. + +"Dear sir," replied his dragoman, "I know they said so at the time of +the Great Skirmish. But they said so much that one little one like that +hardly counted. I will let you into a secret. We have not yet achieved +democracy, either here or anywhere else. The old American saying about +it is all very well, but since not one man in ten has any real opinion +of his own on any subject on which he votes, he cannot, with the best +will in the world, put it on record. Not until he learns to have and +record his own real opinion will he truly govern himself for himself, +which is, as you know, the test of true democracy." + +"I am getting fuddled," said the Angel. "What is it you want to make you +happy?" + +His dragoman sat up: "If I am right," he purred, "in my view that +happiness is absorption, our problem is to direct men's minds to +absorption in right and pleasant things. An American making a corner in +wheat is absorbed and no doubt happy, yet he is an enemy of mankind, for +his activity is destructive. We should seek to give our minds to +creation, to activities good for others as well as for ourselves, to +simplicity, pride in work, and forgetfulness of self in every walk of +life. We should do things for the sheer pleasure of doing them, and not +for what they may or may not be going to bring us in, and be taught +always to give our whole minds to it; in this way only will the edge of +our appetite for existence remain as keen as a razor which is stropped +every morning by one who knows how. On the negative side we should be +brought up to be kind, to be clean, to be moderate, and to love good +music, exercise, and fresh air." + +"That sounds a bit of all right," said the Angel. "What measures are +being taken in these directions?" + +"It has been my habit, sir, to study the Education Acts of my country +ever since that which was passed at the time of the Great Skirmish; but, +with the exception of exercise, I have not as yet been able to find any +direct allusion to these matters. Nor is this surprising when you +consider that education is popularly supposed to be, not for the +acquisition of happiness, but for the good of trade or the promotion of +acute self-consciousness through what we know as culture. If by any +chance there should arise a President of Education so enlightened as to +share my views, it would be impossible for him to mention the fact for +fear of being sent to Colney Hatch." + +"In that case," asked the Angel, "you do not believe in the progress of +your country?" + +"Sir," his dragoman replied earnestly, "you have seen this land for +yourself and have heard from me some account of its growth from the days +when you were last on earth, shortly before the Great Skirmish; it will +not have escaped your eagle eye that this considerable event has had +some influence in accelerating the course of its progression; and you +will have noticed how, notwithstanding the most strenuous intentions at +the close of that tragedy, we have yielded to circumstance and in every +direction followed the line of least resistance." + +"I have a certain sympathy with that," said the Angel, with a yawn; "it +is so much easier." + +"So we have found; and our country has got along, perhaps, as well as +one could have expected, considering what it has had to contend with: +pressure of debt; primrose paths; pelf; party; patrio-Prussianism; the +people; pundits; Puritans; proctors; property; philosophers; the +Pontifical; and progress. I will not disguise from you, however, that we +are far from perfection; and it may be that on your next visit, +thirty-seven years hence, we shall be further. For, however it may be +with angels, sir, with men things do not stand still; and, as I have +tried to make clear to you, in order to advance in body and spirit, it +is necessary to be masters of your environment and discoveries instead +of letting them be masters of you. Wealthy again we may be; healthy and +happy we are not, as yet." + +"I have finished my beer," said the Angel Æthereal, with finality, "and +am ready to rise. You have nothing to drink! Let me give you a +testimonial instead!" Pulling a quill from his wing, he dipped it in the +mustard and wrote: "A Dry Dog--No Good For Trade" on his dragoman's +white hat. "I shall now leave the earth," he added. + +"I am pleased to hear it," said his dragoman, "for I fancy that the +longer you stay the more vulgar you will become. I have noticed it +growing on you, sir, just as it does on us." + +The Angel smiled. "Meet me by sunlight alone," he said, "under the +left-hand lion in Trafalgar Square at this hour of this day, in 1984. +Remember me to the waiter, will you? So long!" And, without pausing for +a reply, he spread his wings, and soared away. + +"_L'homme moyen sensuel! Sic itur ad astra!_" murmured his dragoman +enigmatically, and, lifting his eyes, he followed the Angel's flight +into the empyrean. + +1917-18. + + + + +_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ + + + VILLA RUBEIN, and Other Stories + THE ISLAND PHARISEES + THE MAN OF PROPERTY + THE COUNTRY HOUSE + FRATERNITY + THE PATRICIAN + THE DARK FLOWER + THE FREELANDS + BEYOND + FIVE TALES + + A COMMENTARY + A MOTLEY + THE INN OF TRANQUILLITY + THE LITTLE MAN, and Other Satires + A SHEAF + ANOTHER SHEAF + + PLAYS: FIRST SERIES + _and Separately_ + + THE SILVER BOX + JOY + STRIFE + + PLAYS: SECOND SERIES + _and Separately_ + + THE ELDEST SON + THE LITTLE DREAM + JUSTICE + + PLAYS: THIRD SERIES + _and Separately_ + + THE FUGITIVE + THE PIGEON + THE MOB + + A BIT O' LOVE + + MOODS, SONGS, AND DOGGERELS + MEMORIES. Illustrated + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: + +* Inconsistent hyphenation retained as printed in the original. + +* The footnotes have been moved to the end of the relevant chapter. + +* p. 56: Corrected spelling of word "lacheront" to "lâcheront" located +in the phrase "Les Anglais ne lacheront pas". + +* p. 149: Corrected spelling of word "gound" to "ground" +located in line "up yearly more and more gound to less and less". + +* p. 174: Removed extraneous "the" located in the phrase +"for the the speaker was once Minister for Agriculture". + +* p. 205: "hand" in the phrase "riding at a hand gallop" (a speed +between a canter and a full out gallop) retained as printed. + +* p. 207: Corrected spelling of word "knowlledge" to "knowledge" located +in line "district a model farm radiates scientific knowlledge". + +* p. 273: Replaced the period after "no." with a comma located in line +"Oh dear, no. sir!". + +* p. 322: Added missing comma after the word "dignity" located +in the phrase "said the Angel, with dignity".] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Another Sheaf, by John Galsworthy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANOTHER SHEAF *** + +***** This file should be named 29711-0.txt or 29711-0.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/1/29711/ + +Produced by D Alexander, Larry B. 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Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + https://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. diff --git a/29711-0.zip b/29711-0.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..2c5b845 --- /dev/null +++ b/29711-0.zip diff --git a/29711-8.txt b/29711-8.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..b3d96c3 --- /dev/null +++ b/29711-8.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7816 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Another Sheaf, by John Galsworthy + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Another Sheaf + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: August 17, 2009 [EBook #29711] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANOTHER SHEAF *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander, Larry B. Harrison and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + + + + + ANOTHER SHEAF + + BY + + JOHN GALSWORTHY + + NEW YORK + CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS + 1919 + + + + + Copyright, 1919, by + Charles Scribner's Sons + + Published January, 1919 + + Copyright, 1917, by THE CROWELL PUBLISHING CO. + Copyright, 1918, by HARPER & BROTHERS + Copyright, 1918, by THE YALE PUBLISHING ASSN., Inc. + + + + +TO MORLEY ROBERTS + + + + +CONTENTS + + + PAGE + THE ROAD 1 + + THE SACRED WORK 4 + + BALANCE SHEET OF THE SOLDIER-WORKMAN 14 + + THE CHILDREN'S JEWEL FUND 46 + + FRANCE, 1916-1917--AN IMPRESSION 53 + + ENGLISHMAN AND RUSSIAN 82 + + AMERICAN AND BRITON 88 + + ANGLO-AMERICAN DRAMA AND ITS FUTURE 112 + + SPECULATIONS 140 + + THE LAND, 1917 169 + + THE LAND, 1918 205 + + GROTESQUES 245 + + + + +ANOTHER SHEAF + + + + +THE ROAD + + +The road stretched in a pale, straight streak, narrowing to a mere +thread at the limit of vision--the only living thing in the wild +darkness. All was very still. It had been raining; the wet heather and +the pines gave forth scent, and little gusty shivers shook the dripping +birch trees. In the pools of sky, between broken clouds, a few stars +shone, and half of a thin moon was seen from time to time, like the +fragment of a silver horn held up there in an invisible hand, waiting to +be blown. + +Hard to say when I first became aware that there was movement on the +road, little specks of darkness on it far away, till its end was +blackened out of sight, and it seemed to shorten towards me. Whatever +was coming darkened it as an invading army of ants will darken a streak +of sunlight on sand strewn with pine needles. Slowly this shadow crept +along till it had covered all but the last dip and rise; and still it +crept forward in that eerie way, as yet too far off for sound. + +Then began the voice of it in the dripping stillness, a tramping of +weary feet, and I could tell that this advancing shadow was formed of +men, millions of them moving all at one speed, very slowly, as if +regulated by the march of the most tired among them. They had blotted +out the road, now, from a few yards away to the horizon; and suddenly, +in the dusk, a face showed. + +Its eyes were eager, its lips parted, as if each step was the first the +marcher had ever taken; and yet he was stumbling, almost asleep from +tiredness. A young man he was, with skin drawn tight over his heavy +cheek-bones and jaw, under the platter of his helmet, and burdened with +all his soldier's load. At first I saw his face alone in the darkness, +startlingly clear; and then a very sea of helmeted faces, with their +sunken eyes shining, and their lips parted. Watching them pass--heavy +and dim and spectre-like in the darkness, those eager dead-beat men--I +knew as never before how they had longed for this last march, and in +fancy seen the road, and dreamed of the day when they would be trudging +home. Their hearts seemed laid bare to me, the sickening hours they had +waited, dreaming and longing, in boots rusty with blood. And the night +was full of the loneliness and waste they had been through.... + + * * * * * + +Morning! At the edge of the town the road came arrow-straight to the +first houses and their gardens, past them, and away to the streets. In +every window and at each gate children, women, men, were looking down +the road. Face after face was painted, various, by the sunlight, homely +with line and wrinkle, curve and dimple, pallid or ruddy, but the look +in the eyes of all these faces seemed the same. "I have waited so long," +it said, "I cannot wait any more--I cannot!" Their hands were clasped, +and by the writhing of those hands I knew how they had yearned, and the +madness of delight waiting to leap from them--wives, mothers, fathers, +children, the patient hopers against hope. + +Far out on the road something darkened the sunlight. _They were +coming!_ + + + + +THE SACRED WORK + + +The Angel of Peace, watching the slow folding back of this darkness, +will look on an earth of cripples. The field of the world is strewn with +half-living men. That loveliness which is the creation of the æsthetic +human spirit; that flowering of directed energy which we know as +civilisation; that manifold and mutual service which we call +progress--all stand mutilated and faltering. As though, on a pilgrimage +to the dreamed-of Mecca, water had failed, and by the wayside countless +muffled forms sat waiting for rain; so will the long road of mankind +look to-morrow. + +In every township and village of our countries men stricken by the war +will dwell for the next half-century. The figure of Youth must go +one-footed, one-armed, blind of an eye, lesioned and stunned, in the +home where it once danced. The half of a generation can never again step +into the sunlight of full health and the priceless freedom of unharmed +limbs. + +_So comes the sacred work._ + +Can there be limit to the effort of gratitude? Niggardliness and delay +in restoring all of life that can be given back is sin against the +human spirit, a smear on the face of honour. + +Love of country, which, like some little secret lamp, glows in every +heart, hardly to be seen of our eyes when the world is at peace--love of +the old, close things, the sights, sounds, scents we have known from +birth; loyalty to our fathers' deeds and our fathers' hopes; the clutch +of Motherland--this love sent our soldiers and sailors forth to the long +endurance, to the doing of such deeds, and the bearing of so great and +evil pain as can never be told. The countries for which they have dared +and suffered have now to play their part. + +The conscience of to-day is burdened with a load well-nigh unbearable. +Each hour of the sacred work unloads a little of this burden. + +To lift up the man who has been stricken on the battlefield, restore him +to the utmost of health and agility, give him an adequate pension, and +re-equip him with an occupation suited to the forces left him--that is a +process which does not cease till the sufferer fronts the future keen, +hopeful, and secure. And such restoration is at least as much a matter +of spirit as of body. Consider what it means to fall suddenly out of +full vigour into the dark certainty that you can never have full +strength again, though you live on twenty, forty, sixty years. The flag +of your courage may well be down half-mast! Apathy--that creeping nerve +disease--is soon your bed-fellow and the companion of your walks. A +curtain has fallen before your vision; your eyes no longer range. The +Russian "Nichevo"--the "what-does-it-matter?" mood--besets you. Fate +seems to say to you: "Take the line of least resistance, friend--you are +done for!" But the sacred work says to Fate: "_Retro, Satanas!_ This our +comrade is not your puppet. He shall yet live as happy and as useful--if +not as active--a life as he ever lived before. You shall not crush him! +We shall tend him from clearing station till his discharge better than +wounded soldier has ever yet been tended. In special hospitals, +orthopædic, paraplegic, phthisic, neurasthenic, we shall give him back +functional ability, solidity of nerve or lung. The flesh torn away, the +lost sight, the broken ear-drum, the destroyed nerve, it is true, we +cannot give back; but we shall so re-create and fortify the rest of him +that he shall leave hospital ready for a new career. Then we shall teach +him how to tread the road of it, so that he fits again into the national +life, becomes once more a workman with pride in his work, a stake in the +country, and the consciousness that, handicapped though he be, he runs +the race level with his fellows, and is by that so much the better man +than they. And beneath the feet of this new workman we shall put the +firm plank of a pension." + +The sacred work fights the creeping dejections which lie in wait for +each soul and body, for the moment stricken and thrown. It says to Fate: +"You shall not pass!" + +And the greatest obstacle with which it meets is the very stoicism and +nonchalance of the sufferer! To the Anglo-Saxon, especially, those +precious qualities are dangerous. That horse, taken to the water, will +too seldom drink. Indifference to the future has a certain loveability, +but is hardly a virtue when it makes of its owner a weary drone, eking +out a pension with odd jobs. The sacred work is vitally concerned to +defeat this hand-to-mouth philosophy. Side by side in man, and +especially in Anglo-Saxon, there live two creatures. One of them lies on +his back and smokes; the other runs a race; now one, now the other, +seems to be the whole man. The sacred work has for its end to keep the +runner on his feet; to proclaim the nobility of running. A man will do +for mankind or for his country what he will not do for himself; but +mankind marches on, and countries live and grow, and need our services +in peace no less than in war. Drums do not beat, the flags hang furled, +in time of peace; but a quiet music is ever raising its call to service. +He who in war has flung himself, without thought of self, on the bayonet +and braved a hail of bullets often does not hear that quiet music. It is +the business of the sacred work to quicken his ear to it. Of little use +to man or nation would be the mere patching-up of bodies, so that, like +a row of old gossips against a sunlit wall, our disabled might sit and +weary out their days. If that were all we could do for them, gratitude +is proven fraudulent, device bankrupt; and the future of our countries +must drag with a lame foot. + +To one who has watched, rather from outside, it seems that restoration +worthy of that word will only come if the minds of all engaged in the +sacred work are always fixed on this central truth: "Body and spirit are +inextricably conjoined; to heal the one without the other is +impossible." If a man's mind, courage and interest be enlisted in the +cause of his own salvation, healing goes on apace, the sufferer is +remade. If not, no mere surgical wonders, no careful nursing, will avail +to make a man of him again. Therefore I would say: "From the moment he +enters hospital, look after his mind and his will; give them food; +nourish them in subtle ways, increase that nourishment as his strength +increases. Give him interest in his future; light a star for him to fix +his eyes on. So that, when he steps out of hospital, you shall not have +to begin to train one who for months, perhaps years, has been living, +mindless and will-less, the life of a half-dead creature." + +That this is a hard task none who knows hospital life can doubt. + +That it needs special qualities and special effort quite other than the +average range of hospital devotion is obvious. But it saves time in the +end, and without it success is more than doubtful. The crucial period is +the time spent in hospital; use that period to re-create not only body, +but mind and will-power, and all shall come out right; neglect to use it +thus, and the heart of many a sufferer, and of many a would-be healer, +will break from sheer discouragement. + +The sacred work is not departmental; it is one long organic process from +the moment when a man is picked up from the field of battle to the +moment when he is restored to the ranks of full civil life. Our eyes +must not be fixed merely on this stressful present, but on the world as +it will be ten years hence. I see that world gazing back, like a +repentant drunkard at his own debauch, with a sort of horrified +amazement and disgust. I see it impatient of any reminiscence of this +hurricane; hastening desperately to recover what it enjoyed before life +was wrecked and pillaged by these blasts of death. Hearts, which now +swell with pity and gratitude when our maimed soldiers pass the streets, +will, from sheer familiarity, and through natural shrinking from +reminder, be dried to a stony indifference. "Let the dead past bury its +dead" is a saying terribly true, and perhaps essential to the +preservation of mankind. The world of ten years hence will shrug its +shoulders if it sees maimed and _useless_ men crawling the streets of +its day, like winter flies on a windowpane. + +It is for the sacred work to see that there shall be no winter flies. A +niche of usefulness and self-respect exists for every man, however +handicapped; but that niche must be found for him. To carry the process +of restoration to a point short of this is to leave the cathedral +without spire. + +Of the men and women who have this work in hand I have seen enough--in +France and in my own country, at least--to know their worth, and the +selfless idealism which animates them. Their devotion, courage, +tenacity, and technical ability are beyond question or praise. I would +only fear that in the hard struggle they experience to carry each day's +work to its end, to perfect their own particular jobs, all so important +and so difficult, vision of the whole fabric they are helping to raise +must often be obscured. And I would venture to say: "Only by looking +upon each separate disabled soldier as the complete fabric can you +possibly keep that vision before your eyes. Only by revivifying in each +separate disabled soldier the _will to live_ can you save him from the +fate of merely continuing to exist." + +There are wounded men, many, whose spirit is such that they will march +in front of any effort made for their recovery. I well remember one of +these--a Frenchman--nearly paralysed in both legs. All day long he would +work at his "macramé," and each morning, after treatment, would demand +to try and stand. I can see his straining efforts now, his eyes like the +eyes of a spirit; I can hear his daily words: "_Il me semble que j'ai un +peu plus de force dans mes jambes ce matin, Monsieur!_" though, I fear, +he never had. Men of such indomitable initiative, though not rare, are +but a fraction. The great majority have rather the happy-go-lucky soul. +For them it is only too easy to postpone self-help till sheer necessity +drives, or till some one in whom they believe inspires them. The work of +re-equipping these with initiative, with a new interest in life, with +work which they can do, is one of infinite difficulty and complexity. +Nevertheless, it must be done. + +The great publics of our countries do not yet, I think, see that they +too have their part in the sacred work. So far they only seem to feel: +"Here's a wounded hero; let's take him to the movies, and give him tea!" +Instead of choking him with cheap kindness each member of the public +should seek to reinspire the disabled man with the feeling that he is no +more out of the main stream of life than they are themselves; and each, +according to his or her private chances, should help him to find that +special niche which he can best, most cheerfully, and most usefully fill +in the long future. + +The more we drown the disabled in tea and lip gratitude the more we +unsteel his soul, and the harder we make it for him to win through, +when, in the years to come, the wells of our tea and gratitude have +dried up. We can do a much more real and helpful thing. I fear that +there will soon be no one of us who has not some personal friend +disabled. Let us regard that man as if he were ourselves; let us treat +him as one who demands a full place in the ranks of working life, and +try to find it for him. + +In such ways alone will come a new freemasonry to rebuild this ruined +temple of our day. The ground is rubbled with stones--fallen, and still +falling. Each must be replaced; freshly shaped, cemented, and mortised +in, that the whole may once more stand firm and fair. In good time, to a +clearer sky than we are fortunate enough to look on, our temple shall +rise again. The birds shall not long build in its broken walls, nor +lichens moss it. The winds shall not long play through these now jagged +windows, nor the rain drift in, nor moonlight fill it with ghosts and +shadows. To the glory of man we will stanchion, and raise and roof it +anew. + +Each comrade who for his Motherland has, for the moment, lost his future +is a miniature of that shattered temple. + +To restore him, and with him the future of our countries, that is the +sacred work. + + + + +THE BALANCE SHEET OF THE SOLDIER-WORKMAN + + +Let the reader take what follows with more than a grain of salt. No one +can foretell--surely not this writer--with anything approaching +certainty what will be the final effect of this war on the +soldier-workman. One can but marshal some of the more obvious and +general liabilities and assets, and try to strike a balance. The whole +thing is in flux. Millions are going into the crucible at every +temperature; and who shall say at all precisely what will come out or +what conditions the product issuing will meet with, though they +obviously cannot be the same as before the war? For in considering this +question, one must run into the account on either side not only the +various effects of the war on the soldier-workman, but the altered +influences his life will encounter in the future, so far as one can +foresee; and this is all navigation in uncharted waters. + +Talking with and observing French soldiers during the winter of +1916-1917, and often putting to them this very question: How is the war +going to affect the soldier-workman? I noticed that their answers +followed very much the trend of class and politics. An adjutant, +sergeant, or devout Catholic considered that men would be improved, gain +self-command, and respect for law and order, under prolonged discipline +and daily sacrifice. A freethinker of the educated class, or a private +of Socialistic tendencies, on the other hand, would insist that the +strain must make men restless, irritable, more eager for their rights, +less tolerant of control. Each imagined that the war would further the +chances of the future as they dreamed of it. If I had talked with +capitalists--there are none among French soldiers--they would doubtless +have insisted that after-war conditions were going to be easier, just as +the "_sans-sous_" maintained that they were going to be harder and +provocative of revolution. In a word, the wish was father to the +thought. + +Having observed this so strongly, the writer of these speculations says +to himself: "Let me, at all events, try to eliminate any bias, and see +the whole thing as should an umpire--one of those pure beings in white +coats, purged of all the prejudices, passions, and predilections of +mankind. Let me have no temperament for the time being, for I have to +set down--not what would be the effect on me if I were in their place, +or what would happen to the future if I could have my way, but what +would happen all the same if I were not alive. Only from an impersonal +point of view, if there be such a thing, am I going to get even +approximately at the truth." + +Impersonally, then, one notes the credit facts and probabilities towards +the future's greater well-being; and those on the debit side, of +retrogression from the state of well-being, such as it was, which +prevailed when war was declared. + +First, what will be the physical effect of the war on the +soldier-workman? Military training, open-air life, and plentiful food +are of such obvious physical advantage in the vast majority of cases as +to need no pointing out. And how much improvement was wanted is patent +to any one who has a remnant left of the old Greek worship of the body. +It has made one almost despair of industrialised England to see the +great Australians pass in the streets of London. We English cannot +afford to neglect the body any longer; we are becoming, I am much +afraid, a warped, stunted, intensely plain people. On that point I +refuse to speak with diffidence, for it is my business to know something +about beauty, and in our masters and pastors I see no sign of knowledge +and little inkling of concern, since there is no public opinion to drive +them forward to respect beauty. One-half of us regard good looks as +dangerous and savouring of immorality; the other half look upon them as +"swank," or at least superfluous. Any interest manifested in such a +subject is confined to a few women and a handful of artists. Let any one +who has an eye for looks take the trouble to observe the people who pass +in the streets of any of our big towns, he will count perhaps one in +five--not beautiful--but with some pretensions to being not absolutely +plain; and one can say this without fear of hurting any feelings, for +all will think themselves exceptions. Frivolity apart, there is a dismal +lack of good looks and good physique in our population; and it will be +all to the good to have had this physical training. If that training had +stopped short of the fighting line it would be physically entirely +beneficial; as it is, one has unfortunately to set against its +advantages--leaving out wounds and mutilation altogether--a considerable +number of overstrained hearts and nerves, not amounting to actual +disablement; and a great deal of developed rheumatism. + +Peace will send back to their work very many men better set up and +hardier; but many also obviously or secretly weakened. Hardly any can go +back as they were. Yet, while training will but have brought out +strength which was always latent, and which, unless relapse be guarded +against, must rapidly decline, cases of strain and rheumatism will for +the most part be permanent, and such as would not have taken place under +peace conditions. Then there is the matter of venereal disease, which +the conditions of military life are carefully fostering--no negligible +factor on the debit side; the health of many hundreds must be written +off on that score. To credit, again, must be placed increased personal +cleanliness, much greater handiness and resource in the small ways of +life, and an even more complete endurance and contempt of illness than +already characterised the British workman, if that be possible. On the +whole I think that, physically, the scales will balance pretty evenly. + +Next, what will be the effect of the war on the mental powers of the +soldier-workman? Unlike the French (sixty per cent. of whose army are +men working on the land), our army must contain at least ninety per +cent. of town workers, whose minds in time of peace are kept rather more +active than those of workers on the land by the ceaseless friction and +small decisions of town life. To gauge the result of two to five years' +military life on the minds of these town workers is a complicated and +stubborn problem. Here we have the exact converse of the physical case. +If the army life of the soldier-workman stopped short of service at the +front one might say at once that the effect on his mind would be far +more disastrous than it is. The opportunity for initiative and decision, +the mental stir of camp and depôt life is _nil_ compared with that of +service in the fighting line. And for one month at the front a man +spends perhaps five at the rear. Military life, on its negative side, is +more or less a suspension of the usual channels of mental activity. By +barrack and camp life the normal civilian intellect is, as it were, +marooned. On that desert island it finds, no doubt, certain new and very +definite forms of activity, but any one who has watched old soldiers +must have been struck by the "arrested" look which is stamped on most of +them--by a kind of remoteness, of concentrated emptiness, as of men who +by the conditions of their lives have long been prevented from thinking +of anything outside a ring fence. Two to five years' service will not be +long enough to set the old soldier's stamp on a mind, but one can see +the process beginning; and it will be quite long enough to encourage +laziness in minds already disposed to lying fallow. Far be it from this +pen to libel the English, but a feverish mental activity has never been +their vice; intellect, especially in what is known as the working-class, +is leisurely; it does not require to be encouraged to take its ease. +Some one has asked me: "_Can_ the ordinary worker think less in the +army than when he wasn't in the army?" In other words: "Did he ever +think at all?" The British worker is, of course, deceptive; he does not +look as if he were thinking. Whence exactly does he get his +stolidity--from climate, self-consciousness, or his competitive spirit? +All the same, thought does go on in him, shrewd and "near-the-bone"; +life-made rather than book-made thought. Its range is limited by its +vocabulary; it starts from different premises, reaches different +conclusions from those of the "pundit," and so is liable to seem to the +latter non-existent. But let a worker and an educated man sit opposite +each other in a railway carriage without exchanging a word, as is the +fashion with the English, and which of their two silent judgments on the +other will be superior? I am not sure, but I rather think the worker's. +It will have a kind of deadly realism. In camp and depôt life the mind +standing-at-ease from many civilian frictions and needs for decision, +however petty, and shaken away from civilian ruts, will do a good deal +of thinking of a sort, be widened, and probably re-value many +things--especially when its owner goes abroad and sees fresh types, +fresh manners, and the world. But actual physical exertion, and the +inertia which follows it, bulk large in military service, and many who +"never thought at all" before they became soldiers will think still +less after! I may be cynical, but it seems to me that the chief stimulus +to thought in the ordinary mind is money, the getting and the spending +thereof; that what we call "politics," those social interests which form +at least half the staple of the ordinary worker's thought, are made up +of concern as to the wherewithal to live. In the army money is a fixed +quantity which demands no thought, neither in the getting nor the +spending; and the constant mental activity which in normal life circles +round money of necessity dries up. + +But against this indefinite general rusting of mind machinery in the +soldier-workman's life away from the fighting line certain definite +considerations must be set. Many soldiers will form a habit of +reading--in the new armies the demand for books is great; some in sheer +boredom will have begun an all-round cultivation of their minds; others +again will be chafing continually against this prolonged holding-up of +their habitual mental traffic--and when a man chafes he does not exactly +rust; so that, while the naturally lazy will have been made more lazy, +the naturally eager may be made very eager. + +The matter of age, too, is not unimportant. A soldier of twenty, +twenty-five, even up to thirty, probably seldom feels that the mode of +life from which he has been taken is set and permanent. He may be +destined to do that work all his days, but the knowledge of this has not +so far bitten him; he is not yet in the swing and current of his career, +and feels no great sense of dislocation. But a man of thirty-five or +forty, taken from an occupation which has got grip on him, feels that +his life has had a slice carved out of it. He may realise the necessity +better than the younger man, take his duty more seriously, but must have +a sensation as if his springs were let down flat. The knowledge that he +has to resume his occupation again in real middle age, with all the +steam escaped, must be profoundly discouraging; therefore I think his +mental activity will suffer more than that of the younger man. The +recuperative powers of youth are so great that very many of our younger +soldiers will unrust quickly and at a bound regain all the activity +lost. Besides, a very great many of the younger men will not go back to +the old job. But older men, though they will go back to what they were +doing before more readily than their juniors, will go back with +diminished hope and energy, and a sort of fatalism. At forty, even at +thirty-five, every year begins to seem important, and several years will +have been wrenched out of their working lives just, perhaps, when they +were beginning to make good. + +Turning to the spells of service at the front--there will be no rusting +there--the novelty of sensation, the demand for initiative and +adaptability are too great. A soldier said to me: "My two years in depôt +and camp were absolutely deadening; that eight weeks at the front before +I was knocked over were the best eight weeks I ever had." Spells at the +front must wipe out all or nearly all the rust; but against them must be +set the deadening spells of hospital, which too often follow, the +deadening spells of training which have gone before; and the more +considerable though not very permanent factor--that laziness and +dislocation left on the minds of many who have been much in the firing +line. As the same young soldier put it: "I can't concentrate now as I +could on a bit of work--it takes me longer; all the same, where I used +to chuck it when I found it hard, I set my teeth now." In other words, +less mental but more moral grip. + +On the whole, then, so far as mental effect goes, I believe the balance +must come out on the debit side. + +And, now, what will be the spiritual effect of the war on the +soldier-workman? And by "spiritual" I mean the effect of his new life +and emotional experience, neither on his intellect, nor exactly on his +"soul"--for very few men have anything so rarefied--but on his +disposition and character. + +Has any one the right to discuss this who has not fought? It is with the +greatest diffidence that I hazard any view. On the other hand, the +effects are so various, and so intensely individual, that perhaps only +such a one has a chance of forming a general judgment unbiassed by +personal experience and his own temperament. What thousands of strange +and poignant feelings must pass through even the least impressionable +soldier who runs the gamut of this war's "experience"! And there will +not be too many of our soldier-workmen returning to civil life without +having had at least a taste of everything. The embryo Guardsman who +sticks his bayonet into a sack, be he never so unimaginative, with each +jab of that bayonet pictures dimly the body of a "Hun," and gets used to +the sensation of spitting it. On every long march there comes a time +that may last hours when the recruit feels done up, and yet has to go on +"sticking it." Never a day passes, all through his service, without some +moment when he would give his soul to be out of it all and back in some +little elysium of the past; but he has to grit his teeth and try to +forget. Hardly a man who, when he first comes under fire, has not a +struggle with himself which amounts to a spiritual victory. Not many +who do not arrive at a "Don't care" state of mind that is almost equal +to a spiritual defeat. No soldier who does not rub shoulders during his +service with countless comrades strange to him, and get a wider +understanding and a fuller tolerance. Not a soul in the trenches, one +would think, who is not caught up into a mood of comradeship and +self-suppression which amounts almost to exaltation. Not one but has to +fight through moods almost reaching extinction of the very love of life. +And shall all this--and the many hard disappointments, and the long +yearning for home and those he loves, and the chafing against continual +restraints, and the welling-up of secret satisfaction in the "bit done," +the knowledge that Fate is not beating, cannot beat him; and the sight +of death all round, and the looking into Death's eyes--staring those +eyes down; and the long bearing of pain; and the pity for his comrades +bearing pain--shall all this pass his nature by without marking it for +life? When all is over, and the soldier-workman back in civil life, will +his character be enlarged or shrunken? The nature of a man is never +really changed, no more than a leopard's skin, it is but developed or +dwarfed. The influences of the war will have as many little forms as +there are soldiers, and to attempt precision of summary is clearly +vain. It is something of a truism to suggest that the war will ennoble +and make more serious those who before the war took a noble and serious +view of life; and that on those who took life callously it will have a +callousing effect. The problem is rather to discover what effect, if +any, will be made on that medium material which was neither definitely +serious nor obviously callous. And for this we must go to consideration +of main national characteristics. It is--for one thing--very much the +nature of the Briton to look on life as a game with victory or defeat at +the end of it, and to feel it impossible that he can be defeated. He is +not so much concerned to "live" as to win this life match. He is +combative from one minute to the next, reacts instantly against any +attempt to down him. The war for him is a round in this great personal +match of his with Fate, and he is completely caught up in the idea of +winning it. He is spared that double consciousness of the French soldier +who wants to "live," who goes on indeed superbly fighting "_pour la +France_" out of love for his country, but all the time cannot help +saying to himself: "What a fool I am--what sort of life is this?" I have +heard it said by one who ought to know, if any one can, that the British +soldier hardly seems to have a sense of patriotism, but goes through it +all as a sort of private "scrap" in which he does not mean to be beaten, +and out of loyalty to his regiment, his "team," so to speak. This is +partly true, but the Briton is very deep, and there are feelings at the +bottom of his well which never see the light. If the British soldier +were fighting on a line which ran from Lowestoft through York to +Sunderland, he might show very different symptoms. Still, at bottom he +would always, I think, feel the business to be first in the nature of a +contest with a force which was trying to down him personally. In this +contest he is being stretched, and steeled--that is, hardened and +confirmed--in the very quality of stubborn combativeness which was +already his first characteristic. + +Take another main feature of the national character--the Briton is +ironic. Well, the war is deepening his irony. It must, for it is a +monstrously ironic business. + +Some--especially those who wish to--believe in a religious revival among +the soldiers. There's an authentic story of two convalescent soldiers +describing a battle. The first finished thus: "I tell you it makes you +think of God." The second--a thoughtful type--ended with a pause, and +then these words: "Who could believe in God after that?" Like all else +in human life, it depends on temperament. The war will speed up +"belief" in some and "disbelief" in others. But, on the whole, comic +courage shakes no hands with orthodoxy. + +The religious movement which I think _is_ going on is of a subtler and a +deeper sort altogether. Men are discovering that human beings are finer +than they had supposed. A young man said to me: "Well, I don't know +about religion, but I know that my opinion of human nature is about +fifty per cent. better than it was." That conclusion has been arrived at +by countless thousands. It is a great factor--seeing that the belief of +the future will be belief in the God within; and a frank agnosticism +concerning the great "Why" of things. Religion will become the +exaltation of self-respect, of what we call the divine in man. "The +Kingdom of God" is within you. That belief, old as the hills, and +reincarnated by Tolstoi years ago, has come into its own in the war; for +it has been clearly proved to be the real faith of modern man, +underneath all verbal attempts to assert the contrary. This--the white +side of war--is an extraordinarily heartening phenomenon; and if it sent +every formal creed in the world packing there would still be a gain to +religion. + +Another main characteristic of the Briton, especially of the "working" +Briton, is improvidence--he likes, unconsciously, to live from hand to +mouth, careless of the morrow. The war is deepening that characteristic +too--it must, for who could endure if he fretted over what was going to +happen to him, with death so in the wind? + +Thus the average soldier-workman will return from the war confirmed and +deepened in at least three main national characteristics: His combative +hardihood, his ironic humour, and his improvidence. I think he will have +more of what is called "character"; whether for good or evil depends, I +take it, on what we connote by those terms, and in what context we use +them. I may look on "character" as an asset, but I can well imagine +politicians and trades union leaders regarding it with profound +suspicion. Anyway, he will not be the lamb that he was not even before +the war. He will be a restive fellow, knowing his own mind better, and +possibly his real interest less well; he will play less for safety, +since safety will have become to him a civilian sort of thing, rather +contemptible. He will have at once a more interesting and a less +reliable character from the social and political point of view. + +And what about his humanity? Can he go through all this hell of +slaughter and violence untouched in his gentler instincts? There will +be--there must be--some brutalisation. But old soldiers are not usually +inhumane--on the contrary, they are often very gentle beings. I distrust +the influence of the war on those who merely write and read about it. I +think editors, journalists, old gentlemen, and women will be brutalised +in larger numbers than our soldiers. An intelligent French soldier said +to me of his own countrymen: "After six months of civil life, you won't +know they ever had to 'clean up' trenches and that sort of thing." If +this is true of the Frenchman, it will be more true of the less +impressionable Briton. If I must sum up at all on what, for want of a +better word, I have called the "spiritual" count, I can only say that +there will be a distinct increase of "character," and leave it to the +reader to decide whether that falls on the debit or the credit side. + +On the whole then, an increase of "character," a slight loss of mental +activity, and neither physical gain nor loss to speak of. + +We have now to consider the rather deadly matter of demobilisation. One +hears the suggestion that not more than 30,000 men shall be disbanded +per week; this means two years at least. Conceive millions of men whose +sense of sacrifice has been stretched to the full for a definite object +which has been gained--conceive them held in a weary, and, as it seems +to them, unnecessary state of suspense. Kept back from all they long +for, years after the reality of their service has departed! If this does +not undermine them, I do not know what will. Demobilisation--they +say--must be cautious. "No man should be released till a place in the +industrial machine is ready waiting for him!" So, in a counsel of +perfection, speak the wise who have not been deprived of home life, +civil liberty, and what not for a dismal length of two, three, and +perhaps four years. No! Demobilisation should be as swift as possible, +and risks be run to make it swift. The soldier-workman who goes back to +civil life within two or three months after peace is signed goes back +with a glow still in his heart. But he who returns with a rankling sense +of unmerited, unintelligible delay--most prudently, of course, +ordained--goes back with "cold feet" and a sullen or revolting spirit. +What men will stand under the shadow of a great danger from a sense of +imminent duty, they will furiously chafe at when that danger and sense +of duty are no more. The duty will then be to their families and to +themselves. There is no getting away from this, and the country will be +well advised not to be too coldly cautious. Every one, of course, must +wish to ease to the utmost the unprecedented economic and industrial +confusion which the signing of peace will bring, but it will be better +to risk a good deal of momentary unemployment and discontent rather than +neglect the human factor and keep men back long months in a service of +which they will be deadly sick. How sick they will be may perhaps be +guessed at from the words of a certain soldier: "After the war you'll +_have_ to have conscription. You won't get a man to go into the army +without!" What is there to prevent the Government from beginning now to +take stock of the demands of industry, from having a great land +settlement scheme cut and dried, and devising means for the swiftest +possible demobilisation? The moment peace is signed the process of +re-absorption into civil life should begin at once and go on without +interruption as swiftly as the actual difficulties of transport permit. +They, of themselves, will hold up demobilisation quite long enough. The +soldier-workman will recognise and bear with the necessary physical +delays, but he will not tolerate for a moment any others for his +so-called benefit.[A] + +And what sort of civil life will it be which awaits the +soldier-workman? I suppose, if anything is certain, a plenitude, nay a +plethora, of work is assured for some time after the war. Capital has +piled up in hands which will control a vast amount of improved and +convertible machinery. Purchasing power has piled up in the shape of +savings out of the increased national income. Granted that income will +at once begin to drop all round, shrinking perhaps fast to below the +pre-war figures, still at first there must be a rolling river of demand +and the wherewithal to satisfy it. For years no one has built houses, or +had their houses done up; no one has bought furniture, clothes, or a +thousand other articles which they propose buying the moment the war +stops. Railways and rolling stock, roads, housing, public works of all +sorts, private motor cars, and pleasure requirements of every kind have +been let down and starved. Huge quantities of shipping must be replaced; +vast renovations of destroyed country must be undertaken; numberless +repairs to damaged property; the tremendous process of converting or +re-converting machinery to civil uses must be put through; State schemes +to deal with the land, housing, and other problems will be in full +blast; a fierce industrial competition will commence; and, above all, we +must positively grow our own food in the future. Besides all this we +shall have lost at least a million workers through death, disablement, +and emigration; indeed, unless we have some really attractive land +scheme ready we may lose a million by emigration alone. In a word, the +demand for labour, at the moment, will be overwhelming, and the vital +question only one of readjustment. In numberless directions women, boys, +and older men have replaced the soldier-workman. Hundreds of thousands +of soldiers, especially among the first three million, have been +guaranteed reinstatement. Hundreds of thousands of substitutes will, +therefore, be thrown out of work. With the exception of the skilled men +who have had to be retained in their places all through, and the men who +step back into places kept for them, the whole working population will +have to be refitted with jobs. The question of women's labour will not +be grave at first because there will be work for all and more than all, +but the jigsaw puzzle which industry will have to put together will try +the nerves and temper of the whole community. In the French army the +peasant soldier is jealous and sore because he has had to bear the chief +burden of the fighting, while the mechanic has to a great extent been +kept for munition making, transport, and essential civil industry. With +us it is if anything the other way. In the French army, too, the +feeling runs high against the "_embusqué_," the man who--often +unjustly--is supposed to have avoided service. I do not know to what +extent the same feeling prevails in our army, but there is certainly an +element of it, which will not make for content or quietude. + +Another burning question after the war will be wages. We are assured +they are going to keep up. Well, we shall see. Certain special rates +will, of course, come down at once. And if, in general, wages keep up, +it will not, I think, be for very long. Still, times will be good at +first for employers and employed. At first--and then! + +Some thinkers insist that the war has to an appreciable extent been +financed out of savings which would otherwise have been spent on luxury. +But the amount thus saved can easily be exaggerated--the luxurious class +is not really large, and against their saving must be set the spending +by the working classes, out of increased wages, on what in peace years +were not necessities of their existence. In other words, the luxurious +or investing class has cut off its peace-time fripperies, saved and lent +to the Government; the Government has paid the bulk of this money to the +working class, who have spent most of it in what to them would be +fripperies in time of peace. It may be, it _is_, all to the good that +luxurious tastes should be clipped from the wealthy, and a higher +standard of living secured to the workers, but this is rather a matter +of distribution and social health than of economics in relation to the +financing of the war. + +There are those who argue that because the general productive effort of +the country during the war has been speeded up to half as much again as +that of normal times, by tapping women's labour, by longer hours and +general improvement in machinery and industrial ideas, the war will not +result in any great economic loss, and that we may with care and effort +avoid the coming of bad times after the first boom. The fact remains, +and anybody can test it for himself, that there is a growing shortage of +practically everything except--they say--cheap jewellery and pianos. I +am no economist, but that does seem to indicate that this extra +production has not greatly compensated for the enormous application of +labour and material resources to the quick-wasting ends of war instead +of to the slow-wasting ends of civil life. In other words, a vast amount +of productive energy and material is being shot away. Now this, I +suppose, would not matter, in fact might be beneficial to trade by +increasing demand, if the purchasing power of the public remained what +it was before the war. But in all the great countries of the world, +even America, the peoples will be faced with taxation which will soak up +anything from one-fifth to one-third of their incomes, and, even +allowing for a large swelling of those incomes from war savings, so that +a great deal of what the State takes with one hand she will return to +the investing public with the other, the diminution of purchasing power +is bound to make itself increasingly felt. When the reconversion of +machinery to civil ends has been completed, the immediate arrears of +demand supplied, shipping and rolling-stock replaced, houses built, +repairs made good, and so forth, this slow shrinkage of purchasing power +in every country will go hand in hand with shrinkage of demand, decline +of trade and wages, and unemployment, in a slow process, till they +culminate in what one fears may be the worst "times" we have ever known. +Whether those "times" will set in one, two, or even six years after the +war, is, of course, the question. A certain school of thought insists +that this tremendous taxation after the war, and the consequent +impoverishment of enterprise and industry, can be avoided, or at all +events greatly relieved, by national schemes for the development of the +Empire's latent resources; in other words, that the State should even +borrow more money to avoid high taxation and pay the interests on +existing loans, should acquire native lands, and swiftly develop mineral +rights and other potentialities. I hope there may be something in this, +but I am a little afraid that the wish is father to the thought, and +that the proposition contains an element akin to the attempt to lift +oneself up by the hair of one's own head; for I notice that many of its +disciples are recruited from those who in old days were opposed to the +State development of anything, on the ground that individual energy in +free competition was a still greater driving power. + +However we may wriggle in our skins and juggle with the chances of the +future, I suspect that we shall have to pay the piper. We have without +doubt, during the war, been living to a great extent on our capital. Our +national income has gone up, _out of capital_, from twenty-two hundred +to about three thousand six hundred millions, and will rapidly shrink to +an appropriate figure. Wealth may, I admit, recover much more quickly +than deductions from the past would lead us to expect. Under the war's +pressure secrets have been discovered, machinery improved, men's +energies and knowledge brightened and toned up. The Prime Minister not +long ago said: "If you insist on going back to pre-war conditions, then +God help this country!" A wise warning. If the country could be got to +pull together in an effort to cope with peace as strenuous as our effort +to cope with the war has been one would not view the economic future +with disquietude. But one is bound to point out that if the war has +proved anything it has proved that the British people require a maximum +of danger dangled in front of their very noses before they can be roused +to any serious effort, and that danger in time of peace has not the +poster-like quality of danger in time of war; it does not hit men in the +eye, it does not still differences of opinion, and party struggles, by +its scarlet insistence. I hope for, but frankly do not see, the coming +of an united national effort demanding extra energy, extra organising +skill, extra patience, and extra self-sacrifice at a time when the whole +nation will feel that it has earned a rest, and when the lid has once +more been taken off the political cauldron. I fancy, dismally, that a +people and a Press who have become so used to combat and excitement will +demand and seek further combat and excitement, and will take out this +itch amongst themselves in a fashion even more strenuous than before the +war. I am not here concerned to try to cheer or depress for some +immediate and excellent result, as we have all got into the habit of +doing during the war, but to try to conjure truth out of the darkness +of the future. The vast reconstructive process which ought to be, and +perhaps is, beginning now will, I think, go ahead with vigour while the +war is on, and for some little time after; but I fear it will then split +into _pro_ and _con_, see-saw, and come to something of a standstill. + +These, so sketchily set down, are a few of the probable items--credit +and debit--in the industrial situation which will await the +soldier-workman emerging from the war. A situation agitated, +cross-currented, bewildering, but busy, and by no means economically +tight at first, slowly becoming less bewildering, gradually growing less +and less busy, till it reaches ultimately a bad era of unemployment and +social struggle. The soldier-workman will go back, I believe, to two or +three years at least of good wages and plentiful work. But when, after +that, the pinch begins to come, it will encounter the quicker, more +resentful blood of men who in the constant facing of great danger have +left behind them all fear of consequences; of men who in the survival of +one great dislocation to their lives, have lost the dread of other +dislocations. The war will have implanted a curious deep restlessness in +the great majority of soldier souls. Can the workmen of the future +possibly be as patient and law-abiding as they were before the war, in +the face of what seems to them injustice? I don't think so. The enemy +will again be Fate--this time in the form of capital, trying to down +them; and the victory they were conscious of gaining over Fate in the +war will have strengthened and quickened their fibre to another fight, +and another conquest. The seeds of revolution are supposed to lie in +war. They lie there because war generally brings in the long run +economic stress, but also because of the recklessness or +"character"--call it what you will--which the habitual facing of danger +develops. The self-control and self-respect which military service under +war conditions will have brought to the soldier-workman will be an added +force in civil life; but it is a fallacy, I think, to suppose, as some +do, that it will be a force on the side of established order. It is all +a question of allegiance, and the allegiance of the workman in time of +peace is not rendered to the State, but to himself and his own class. To +the service of that class and the defence of its "rights" this new force +will be given. In measuring the possibilities of revolution, the +question of class rides paramount. Many hold that the war is breaking +down social barriers and establishing comradeship, through hardship and +danger shared. For the moment this is true. But whether that new +comradeship will stand any great pressure of economic stress after +direct regimental relationship between officer and man has ceased and +the war is becoming just a painful memory, is to me very doubtful. But +suppose that to some extent it does stand, we have still the fact that +the control of industry and capital, even as long as ten years after the +war, will be mainly in the hands of men who have not fought, of business +men spared from service either by age or by their too precious +commercial skill. Towards these the soldier-workman will have no tender +feelings, no sense of comradeship. On the contrary--for somewhere back +of the mind of every workman there is, even during his country's danger, +a certain doubt whether all war is not somehow hatched by the +aristocrats and plutocrats of one side, or both. Other feelings obscure +this instinct during the struggle, but it is never quite lost, and will +spring up again the more confirmed for its repression. That we can avoid +a straitened and serious time a few years hence I believe impossible. +Straitened times dismally divide the classes. The war-investments of the +working class may ease things a little, but war-savings will not affect +the outlook of the soldier-workman, for he will have no war-savings, +except his life, and it is from him that revolution or disorder will +come, if it come at all. + +Must it come? I think most certainly, unless between now and then means +be found of persuading capital and labour that their interests and their +troubles are identical, and of overcoming secrecy and suspicion between +them. There are many signs already that capital and labour are becoming +alive to this necessity. But to talk of unity is an amiable distraction +in which we all indulge these days. To find a method by which that talk +may be translated into fact within a few years is perhaps more +difficult. One does not change human nature; and unless the interests of +capital and labour are _in reality_ made one, true co-operation +established, and factory conditions transformed on the lines of the +welfare system--no talk of unity will prevent capitalist and working man +from claiming what seem to them their rights. The labour world is now, +and for some time to come will be, at sixes and sevens in matters of +leadership and responsibility; and this just when sagacious leadership +and loyal following will be most needed. The soldier-workman was already +restive under leadership before the war; returned to civil life, he will +be far more restive. Yet, without leadership, what hope is there of +co-operation with capital; what chance of finding a golden mean of +agreement? But even if the problems of leadership are solved, and +councils of capitalists and labour leaders established, whose decisions +will be followed--one thing is still certain: no half-measures will do; +no seeming cordialities with mental reservations; no simulated +generosity which spills out on the first test; nothing but genuine +friendliness and desire to pull together. Those hard business heads +which distrust all sentiment as if it were a poison are the most +short-sighted heads in the world. There is a human factor in this +affair, as both sides will find to their cost if they neglect it. +Extremists must be sent to Coventry, "caste" feeling dropped on the one +hand, and suspicion dropped on the other; managers, directors, and +labour leaders, all must learn that they are not simply trustees for +their shareholders or for labour, but trustees of a national interest +which embraces them all--or worse will come of it. + +But I am not presumptuous enough to try to teach these cooks how to make +their broth, neither would it come within the scope of these +speculations, which conclude thus: The soldier-workman, physically +unchanged, mentally a little weakened, but more "characterful" and +restive, will step out through a demobilisation--heaven send it be +swift, even at some risk!--into an industrial world, confused and busy +as a beehive, which will hum and throb and flourish for two or three +years, and then slowly chill and thin away into, may be, the winter +ghost of itself, or at best an autumn hive. There, unless he be +convinced, not by words but facts, that his employer is standing side by +side with him in true comradeship, facing the deluge, he will be quick +to rise, and with his newly-found self-confidence take things into his +own hands. Whether, if he does, he will make those things better for +himself would be another inquiry altogether. + +1917. + +[A] Since these words were written one hears of demobilization +schemes ready to the last buttons. Let us hope the buttons won't come +off.--J. G. + + + + +THE CHILDREN'S JEWEL FUND + + +The mere male novelist who takes pen to write on infants awaits the +polished comment: "He knows nothing of the subject--rubbish; pure +rubbish!" One must run that risk. + +In the report of the National Baby Week it is written:--"Is it worth +while to destroy our best manhood now unless we can ensure that there +will be happy, healthy citizens to carry on the Empire in the future?" I +confess to approaching this subject from the point of view of the infant +citizen rather than of the Empire. And I have wondered sometimes if it +is worth while to save the babies, seeing the conditions they often have +to face as grown men and women. But that, after all, would be to throw +up the sponge, which is not the part of a Briton. It is written +also:--"After the war a very large increase in the birth-rate may be +looked for." For a year or two, perhaps; but the real after-effect of +the war will be to decrease the birth-rate in every European country, or +I am much mistaken. "No food for cannon, and no extra burdens," will be +the cry. And little wonder! This, however, does not affect the question +of children actually born or on their way. If not quantity, we can at +all events have quality. + +I also read an account of the things to be done to keep "baby" alive, +which filled me with wonder how any of us old babies managed to survive, +and I am afraid that unless we grow up healthy we are not worth the +trouble. The fact is: The whole business of babies is an activity to be +engaged in with some regard to the baby, or we commit a monstrous +injustice, and drag the hands of the world's clock backwards. + +How do things stand? Each year in this country about 100,000 babies die +before they have come into the world; and out of the 800,000 born, about +90,000 die. Many mothers become permanently damaged in health by evil +birth conditions. Many children grow up mentally or physically +defective. One in four of the children in our elementary schools are not +in a condition to benefit properly by their schooling. What sublime +waste! Ten in a hundred of them suffer from malnutrition; thirty in the +hundred have defective eyes; eighty in the hundred need dental +treatment; twenty odd in the hundred have enlarged tonsils or adenoids. +Many, perhaps most, of these deaths and defects are due to the avoidable +ignorance, ill-health, mitigable poverty, and other handicaps which dog +poor mothers before and after a baby's birth. One doesn't know which to +pity most--the mothers or the babies. Fortunately, to help the one is to +help the other. In passing I would like to record two sentiments: my +strong impression that we ought to follow the example of America and +establish Mothers' Pensions; and my strong hope that those who visit the +sins of the fathers upon illegitimate children will receive increasingly +the contempt they deserve from every decent-minded citizen. + +On the general question of improving the health of mothers and babies I +would remind readers that there is no great country where effort is half +so much needed as here; we are nearly twice as town and slum ridden as +any other people; have grown to be further from nature and more feckless +about food; we have damper air to breathe, and less sun to disinfect us. +In New Zealand, with a climate somewhat similar to ours, the infant +mortality rate has, as a result of a widespread educational campaign, +been reduced within the last few years to 50 per 1,000 from 110 per +1,000 a few years ago. It is perhaps too sanguine to expect that we, so +much more town-ridden, can do as well here, but we ought to be able to +make a vast improvement. We have begun to. Since 1904, when this matter +was first seriously taken in hand, our infant mortality rate has +declined from 145 per 1,000 to 91 per 1,000 in 1916. This reduction has +been mainly due to the institution of infant welfare centres and +whole-time health visitors. Of centres there are now nearly 1,200. We +want 5,000 more. Of visitors there are now hardly 1,500. We want, I am +told, 2,000 more. It is estimated that the yearly crop of babies, +700,000, if those of the well-to-do be excepted, can be provided with +infant welfare centres and whole-time health visitors by expenditure at +the rate of £1 a head per year. The Government, which is benevolently +disposed towards the movement, gives half of the annual expenditure; the +other half falls on the municipalities. But these 5,000 new infant +welfare centres and these extra 2,000 health visitors must be started by +voluntary effort and subscription. Once started, the Government and the +municipalities will have to keep them up; but unless we start them, the +babies will go on dying or growing up diseased. The object of the Jewel +Fund, therefore, is to secure the necessary money to get the work into +train. + +What are these Infant Welfare Centres, and have they really all this +magic? They are places where mothers to be, or in being, can come for +instruction and help in all that concerns birth and the care of their +babies and children up to school age. "Prevention is better than cure," +is the motto of these Centres. I went to one of the largest in London. +It has about 600 entries in the year. There were perhaps 40 babies and +children and perhaps 30 mothers there. About 20 of these mothers were +learning sewing or knitting. Five of them were sitting round a nurse who +was bathing a three-weeks-old baby. The young mother who can wash a baby +to the taste and benefit of the baby by the light of nature must clearly +be something of a phenomenon. In a room downstairs were certain little +stoics whose health was poor; they were brought there daily to be +watched. One was an air-raid baby, the thinnest little critter ever +seen; an ashen bit of a thing through which the wind could blow; very +silent, and asking "Why?" with its eyes. They showed me a mother who had +just lost her first baby. The Centre was rescuing it from a pauper's +funeral. I can see her now, coming in and sitting on the edge of a +chair; the sudden puckering of her dried-up little face, the tears +rolling down. I shall always remember the tone of her voice--"It's my +_baby_." Her husband is "doing time"; and want of food and knowledge +while she was "carrying it" caused the baby's death. Several mothers +from her street come to the Centre; but, "keeping herself to herself," +she never heard of it till too late. In a hundred little ways these +Centres give help and instruction. They, and the Health Visitors who go +along with them, are doing a great work; but there are many districts +all over the country where there are no Centres to come to; no help and +instruction to be got, however desperately wanted. Verily this land of +ours still goes like Rachel mourning for her children. Disease, hunger, +deformity, and death still hound our babes, and most of that hounding is +avoidable. We must and shall revolt against the evil lot, which +preventible ignorance, ill health, and poverty bring on hundreds of +thousands of children. + +It is time we had more pride. What right have we to the word "civilised" +till we give mothers and children a proper chance? This is but the Alpha +of decency, the first step of progress. We are beginning to realise +that; but, even now, to make a full effort and make it at once--we have +to beg for jewels. + +What's a jewel beside a baby's life? What's a toy to the health and +happy future of these helpless little folk? + +You who wear jewels, with few exceptions, are or will be mothers--you +ought to know. To help your own children you would strip yourselves. But +the test is the giving for children not one's own. Beneath all flaws, +fatuities, and failings, this, I solemnly believe, is the country of the +great-hearted. I believe that the women of our race, before all women, +have a sense of others. They will not fail the test. + +Into the twilight of the world are launched each year these myriads of +tiny ships. Under a sky of cloud and stars they grope out to the great +waters and the great winds--little sloops of life, on whose voyaging the +future hangs. They go forth blind, feeling their way. Mothers, and you +who will be mothers, and you who have missed motherhood, give them their +chance, bless them with a gem--light their lanterns with your jewels! + +1917. + + + + +FRANCE, 1916-1917 + +AN IMPRESSION + + +It was past eleven, and the packet had been steady some time when we +went on deck and found her moving slowly in bright moonlight up the +haven towards the houses of Le Havre. A night approach to a city by +water has the quality of other-worldness. I remember the same sensation +twice before: coming in to San Francisco from the East by the +steam-ferry, and stealing into Abingdon-on-Thames in a rowing-boat. Le +Havre lay, reaching up towards the heights, still and fair, a little +mysterious, with many lights which no one seemed using. It was cold, but +the air already had a different texture, drier, lighter than the air we +had left, and one's heart felt light and a little excited. In the +moonlight the piled-up, shuttered houses had colouring like that of +flowers at night--pale, subtle, mother-o'-pearl. We moved slowly up +beside the quay, heard the first French voices, saw the first French +faces, and went down again to sleep. + +In the Military Bureau at the station, with what friendly politeness +they exchanged our hospital passes for the necessary forms; but it took +two officials ten minutes of hard writing! And one thought: Is victory +possible with all these forms? It is so throughout France--too many +forms, too many people to fill them up. As if France could not trust +herself without recording in spidery handwriting exactly where she is, +for nobody to look at afterwards. But France _could_ trust herself. A +pity! + +Our only fellow-traveller was not a soldier, but had that indefinable +look of connection with the war wrapped round almost everyone in France. +A wide land we passed, fallow under the November sky; houses hidden +among the square Normandy court-yards of tall trees; not many people in +the fields. + +Paris is Paris, was, and ever shall be! Paris is not France. If the +Germans had taken Paris they would have occupied the bodily heart, the +centre of her circulatory system; but the spirit of France their heavy +hands would not have clutched, for it never dwelt there. Paris is hard +and hurried; France is not. Paris loves pleasure; France loves life. +Paris is a brilliant stranger in her own land. And yet a lot of true +Frenchmen and Frenchwomen live there, and many little plots of real +French life are cultivated. + +At the Gare de Lyon _poilus_ are taking trains for the South. This is +our first real sight of them in their tired glory. They look weary and +dusty and strong; every face has character, no face looks empty or as if +its thought were being done by others. Their laughter is not vulgar or +thick. Alongside their faces the English face looks stupid, the English +body angular and--neat. They are loaded with queer burdens, bread and +bottles bulge their pockets; their blue-grey is prettier than khaki, +their round helmets are becoming. Our Tommies, even to our own eyes, +seem uniformed, but hardly two out of all this crowd are dressed alike. +The French soldier luxuriates in extremes; he can go to his death in +white gloves and dandyism--he can glory in unshavenness and patches. The +words _in extremis_ seem dear to the French soldier; and, _con amore_, +he passes from one extreme to the other. One of them stands gazing up at +the board which gives the hours of starting and the destinations of the +trains. His tired face is charming, and has a look that I cannot +describe--lost, as it were, to all surroundings; a Welshman or a +Highlander, but no pure Englishman, could look like that. + +Our carriage has four French officers; they talk neither to us nor to +each other; they sleep, sitting well back, hardly moving all night; one +of them snores a little, but with a certain politeness. We leave them in +the early morning and get down into the windy station at Valence. In +pre-war days romance began there when one journeyed. A lovely word, and +the gate of the South. Soon after Valence one used to wake and draw +aside a corner of the curtain and look at the land in the first level +sunlight; a strange land of plains, and far, yellowish hills, a land +with a dry, shivering wind over it, and puffs of pink almond blossom. +But now Valence was dark, for it was November, and raining. In the +waiting-room were three tired soldiers trying to sleep, and one sitting +up awake, shyly glad to share our cakes and journals. Then on through +the wet morning by the little branch line into Dauphiné. Two officers +again and a civilian, in our carriage, are talking in low voices of the +war, or in higher voices of lodgings at Valence. One is a commandant, +with a handsome paternal old face, broader than the English face, a +little more in love with life, and a little more cynical about it, with +more depth of colouring in eyes and cheeks and hair. The tone of their +voices, talking of the war, is grave and secret. "_Les Anglais ne +lâcheront pas_" are the only words I plainly hear. The younger officer +says: "And how would you punish?" The commandant's answer is inaudible, +but by the twinkling of his eyes one knows it to be human and sagacious. +The train winds on in the windy wet, through foothills and then young +mountains, following up a swift-flowing river. The chief trees are bare +Lombardy poplars. The chief little town is gathered round a sharp spur, +with bare towers on its top. The colour everywhere is a brownish-grey. + +We have arrived. A tall, strong young soldier, all white teeth and +smiles, hurries our luggage out, a car hurries us up in the rainy wind +through the little town, down again across the river, up a long avenue +of pines, and we are at our hospital. + +Round the long table, at their dinner-hour, what a variety of type among +the men! And yet a likeness, a sort of quickness and sensibility, common +to them all. A few are a little _méfiant_ of these newcomers, with the +_méfiance_ of individual character, not of class distrustfulness, nor of +that defensive expressionless we cultivate in England. The French +soldier has a touch of the child in him--if we leave out the Parisians; +a child who knows more than you do perhaps; a child who has lived many +lives before this life; a wise child, who jumps to your moods and shows +you his "sore fingers" readily when he feels that you want to see them. +He has none of the perverse and grudging attitude towards his own +ailments that we English foster. He is perhaps a little inclined to pet +them, treating them with an odd mixture of stoic gaiety and gloomy +indulgence. It is like all the rest of him; he feels everything so much +quicker than we do--he is so much more impressionable. The variety of +type is more marked physically than in our country. Here is a tall +Savoyard cavalryman, with a maimed hand and a fair moustache brushed up +at the ends, big and strong, with grey eyes, and a sort of sage +self-reliance; only twenty-six, but might be forty. Here is a real +Latin, who was buried by an explosion at Verdun; handsome, with dark +hair and a round head, and colour in his cheeks; an ironical critic of +everything, a Socialist, a mocker, a fine, strong fellow with a clear +brain, who attracts women. Here are two peasants from the Central South, +both with bad sciatica, slower in look, with a mournful, rather +monkeyish expression in their eyes, as if puzzled by their sufferings. +Here is a true Frenchman, a Territorial, from Roanne, riddled with +rheumatism, quick and gay, and suffering, touchy and affectionate, not +tall, brown-faced, brown-eyed, rather fair, with clean jaw and features, +and eyes with a soul in them, looking a little up; forty-eight--the +oldest of them all--they call him _Grandpère_. And here is a printer +from Lyon with shell-shock; medium-coloured, short and roundish and +neat, full of humanity and high standards and domestic affection, and +so polite, with eyes a little like a dog's. And here another with +shell-shock and brown-green eyes, from the "invaded countries"; +_méfiant_, truly, this one, but with a heart when you get at it; neat, +and brooding, quick as a cat, nervous, and wanting his own way. But they +are all so varied. If there are qualities common to all they are +impressionability and capacity for affection. This is not the impression +left on one by a crowd of Englishmen. Behind the politeness and +civilised bearing of the French I used to think there was a little of +the tiger. In a sense perhaps there is, but that is not the foundation +of their character--far from it! Underneath the tiger, again, there is a +man civilised for centuries. Most certainly the politeness of the French +is no surface quality, it is a polish welling up from a naturally +affectionate heart, a naturally quick apprehension of the moods and +feelings of others; it is the outcome of a culture so old that, +underneath all differences, it binds together all those types and +strains of blood--the Savoyard, and the Southerner, the Latin of the +Centre, the man from the North, the Breton, the Gascon, the Basque, the +Auvergnat, even to some extent the Norman, and the Parisian--in a sort +of warm and bone-deep kinship. They have all, as it were, sat for +centuries under a wall with the afternoon sun warming them through and +through, as I so often saw the old town gossips sitting of an afternoon. +The sun of France has made them alike; a light and happy sun, not too +southern, but just southern enough. + +And the women of France! If the men are bound in that mysterious +kinship, how much more so are the women! What is it in the Frenchwoman +which makes her so utterly unique? A daughter in one of Anatole France's +books says to her mother: "_Tu es pour les bijoux, je suis pour les +dessous_." The Frenchwoman spiritually is _pour les dessous_. There is +in her a kind of inherited, conservative, clever, dainty capability; no +matter where you go in France, or in what class--country or town--you +find it. She cannot waste, she cannot spoil, she makes and shows--the +best of everything. If I were asked for a concrete illustration of +self-respect I should say--the Frenchwoman. It is a particular kind of +self-respect, no doubt, very much limited to this world; and perhaps +beginning to be a little frayed. We have some Frenchwomen at the +hospital, the servants who keep us in running order--the dear cook whom +we love not only for her baked meats, proud of her soldier son once a +professor, now a sergeant, and she a woman of property, with two houses +in the little town; patient, kind, very stubborn about her dishes, +which have in them the essential juices and savours which characterise +all things really French. She has great sweetness and self-containment +in her small, wrinkled, yellowish face; always quietly polite and grave, +she bubbles deliciously at any joke, and gives affection sagaciously to +those who merit. A jewel, who must be doing something _pour la France_. +And we have Madame Jeanne Camille, mother of two daughters and one son, +too young to be a soldier. It was her eldest daughter who wanted to come +and scrub in the hospital, but was refused because she was too pretty. +And her mother came instead. A woman who did not need to come, and +nearly fifty, but strong, as the French are strong, with good red blood, +deep colouring, hair still black, and handsome straight features. What a +worker! A lover of talk, too, and of a joke when she has time. And +Claire, of a _languissante_ temperament, as she says; but who would know +it? Eighteen, with a figure abundant as that of a woman of forty, but +just beginning to fine down; holding herself as French girls learn to +hold themselves so young; and with the pretty eyes of a Southern nymph, +clear-brown and understanding, and a little bit wood-wild. Not +self-conscious--like the English girl at that age--fond of work and +play; with what is called "a good head" on her, and a warm heart. A +real woman of France. + +Then there is the "farmeress" at the home farm which gives the hospital +its milk; a splendid, grey-eyed creature, doing the work of her husband +who is at the front, with a little girl and boy rounder and rosier than +anything you ever saw; and a small, one-eyed brother-in-law who drinks. +My God, he drinks! Any day you go into the town to do hospital +commissions you may see the hospital donkey-cart with the charming grey +donkey outside the Café de l'Univers or what not, and know that Charles +is within. He beguiles our _poilus_, and they take little beguiling. +Wine is too plentiful in France. The sun in the wines of France quickens +and cheers the blood in the veins of France. But the gift of wine is +abused. One may see a poster which says--with what truth I know +not--that drink has cost France more than the Franco-Prussian War. +French drunkenness is not so sottish as our beer-and-whiskey-fuddled +variety, but it is not pleasant to see, and mars a fair land. + +What a fair land! I never before grasped the charm of French colouring; +the pinkish-yellow of the pan-tiled roofs, the lavender-grey or dim +green of the shutters, the self-respecting shapes and flatness of the +houses, unworried by wriggling ornamentation or lines coming up in +order that they may go down again; the universal plane trees with their +variegated trunks and dancing lightness--nothing more charming than +plane trees in winter, their delicate twigs and little brown balls +shaking against the clear pale skies, and in summer nothing more green +and beautiful than their sun-flecked shade. Each country has its special +genius of colouring--best displayed in winter. To characterise such +genius by a word or two is hopeless; but one might say the genius of +Spain is brown; of Ireland green; of England chalky blue-green; of Egypt +shimmering sandstone. For France amethystine feebly expresses the +sensation; the blend is subtle, stimulating, rarefied--at all events in +the centre and south. Walk into an English village, however +beautiful--and many are very beautiful--you will not get the peculiar +sharp spiritual sensation which will come on you entering some little +French village or town--the sensation one has looking at a picture by +Francesca. The blue wood-smoke, the pinkish tiles, the grey shutters, +the grey-brown plane trees, the pale blue sky, the yellowish houses, and +above all the clean forms and the clear air. I shall never forget one +late afternoon rushing home in the car from some commission. The setting +sun had just broken through after a misty day, the mountains were +illumined with purple and rose-madder, and snow-tipped against the blue +sky, a wonderful wistaria blue drifted smoke-like about the valley; and +the tall trees--poplars and cypresses--stood like spires. No wonder the +French are _spirituel_, a word so different from our "spiritual," for +that they are not; pre-eminently citizens of this world--even the pious +French. This is why on the whole they make a better fist of social life +than we do, we misty islanders, only half-alive because we set such +store by our unrealised moralities. Not one Englishman in ten now +_really_ believes that he is going to live again, but his disbelief has +not yet reconciled him to making the best of this life, or laid ghosts +of the beliefs he has outworn. Clear air and sun, but not so much as to +paralyse action, have made in France clearer eyes, clearer brains, and +touched souls with a sane cynicism. The French do not despise and +neglect the means to ends. They face sexual realities. They know that to +live well they must eat well, to eat well must cook well, to cook well +must cleanly and cleverly cultivate their soil. May France be warned in +time by our dismal fate! May she never lose her love of the land; nor +let industrialism absorb her peasantry, and the lure of wealth and the +cheap glamour of the towns draw her into their uncharmed circles. We +English have rattled deep into a paradise of machines, chimneys, +cinemas, and halfpenny papers; have bartered our heritage of health, +dignity, and looks for wealth, and badly distributed wealth at that. +France was trembling on the verge of the same precipice when the war +came; with its death and wind of restlessness the war bids fair to tip +her over. Let her hold back with all her might! Her two dangers are +drink and the lure of the big towns. No race can preserve sanity and +refinement which really gives way to these. She will not fare even as +well as we have if she yields; our fibre is coarser and more resistant +than hers, nor had we ever so much grace to lose. It is by grace and +self-respect that France had her pre-eminence; let these wither, as +wither they must in the grip of a sordid and drink-soothed +industrialism, and her star will burn out. The life of the peasant is +hard; peasants are soon wrinkled and weathered; they are not angels; +narrow and over-provident, suspicious, and given to drink, they still +have their roots and being in the realities of life, close to nature, +and keep a sort of simple dignity and health which great towns destroy. +Let France take care of her peasants and her country will take care of +itself. + +Talking to our _poilus_ we remarked that they have not a good word to +throw to their _députés_--no faith in them. About French politicians I +know nothing; but their shoes are unenviable, and will become too tight +for them after the war. The _poilu_ has no faith at all now, if he ever +had, save faith in his country, so engrained that he lets the +life-loving blood of him be spilled out to the last drop, cursing +himself and everything for his heroic folly. + +We had a young Spaniard of the Foreign Legion in our hospital who had +been to Cambridge, and had the "outside" eyes on all things French. In +his view _je m'en foutism_ has a hold of the French army. Strange if it +had not! Clear, quick brains cannot stand Fate's making ninepins of +mankind year after year like this. Fortunately for France, the love of +her sons has never been forced; it has grown like grass and simple wild +herbs in the heart, alongside the liberty to criticise and blame. The +_poilu_ cares for nothing, no, not he! But he is himself a little, +unconscious bit of France, and, for oneself, one always cares. +State-forced patriotism made this war--a fever-germ which swells the +head and causes blindness. A State which teaches patriotism in its +schools is going mad! Let no such State be trusted! They who, after the +war, would have England and France copy the example of the +State-drilled country which opened these flood-gates of death, and +teach mad provincialism under the nickname of patriotism to their +children, are driving nails into the coffins of their countries. _Je +m'en foutism_ is a natural product of three years of war, and better by +far than the docile despair to which so many German soldiers have been +reduced. We were in Lyon when the Russian Revolution and the German +retreat from Bapaume were reported. The town and railway station were +full of soldiers. No enthusiasm, no stir of any kind, only the usual +tired stoicism. And one thought of what the _poilu_ can be like; of our +Christmas dinner-table at the hospital under the green hanging wreaths +and the rosy Chinese lanterns, the hum, the chatter, the laughter of +free and easy souls in their red hospital jackets. The French are so +easily, so incorrigibly gay; the dreary grinding pressure of this war +seems horribly cruel applied to such a people, and the heroism with +which they have borne its untold miseries is sublime. In our little +remote town out there--a town which had been Roman in its time, and +still had bits of Roman walls and Roman arches--every family had its +fathers, brothers, sons, dead, fighting, in prison, or in hospital. The +mothers were wonderful. One old couple, in a _ferblanterie_ shop, who +had lost their eldest son and whose other son was at the front, used to +try hard not to talk about the war, but sure enough they would come to +it at last, each time we saw them, and in a minute the mother would be +crying and a silent tear would roll down the old father's face. Then he +would point to the map and say: "But look where they are, the Boches! +Can we stop? It's impossible. We must go on till we've thrown them out. +It is dreadful, but what would you have? Ah! Our son--he was so +promising!" And the mother, weeping over the tin-tacks, would make the +neatest little parcel of them, murmuring out of her tears: "_Il faut que +ça finisse; mais la France--il ne faut pas que la France--Nos chers fils +auraient été tués pour rien!_" Poor souls! I remember another couple up +on the hillside. The old wife, dignified as a duchess--if duchesses are +dignified--wanting us so badly to come in and sit down that she might +the better talk to us of her sons: one dead, and one wounded, and two +still at the front, and the youngest not yet old enough. And while we +stood there up came the father, an old farmer, with that youngest son. +He had not quite the spirit of the old lady, nor her serenity; he +thought that men in these days were no better than _des bêtes féroces_. +And in truth his philosophy--of an old tiller of the soil--was as +superior to that of emperors and diplomats as his life is superior to +theirs. Not very far from that little farm is the spot of all others in +that mountain country which most stirs the æsthetic and the speculative +strains within one. Lovely and remote, all by itself at the foot of a +mountain, in a circle of the hills, an old monastery stands, now used as +a farm, with one rose window, like a spider's web, spun delicate in +stone tracery. There the old monks had gone to get away from the +struggles of the main valley and the surges of the fighting men. There +even now were traces of their peaceful life; the fish-ponds and the +tillage still kept in cultivation. If they had lived in these days they +would have been at the war, fighting or bearing stretchers, like the +priests of France, of whom eleven thousand, I am told--untruthfully, I +hope--are dead. So the world goes forward--the Kingdom of Heaven comes! + +We were in the town the day that the 1918 class received their +preliminary summons. Sad were the mothers watching their boys parading +the streets, rosetted and singing to show that they had passed and were +ready to be food for cannon. Not one of those boys, I dare say, in his +heart wanted to go; they have seen too many of their brethren return +war-worn, missed too many who will never come back. But they were no +less gay about it than those recruits we saw in the spring of 1913, at +Argelès in the Pyrenees, singing along and shouting on the day of their +enrolment. + +There were other reminders to us, and to the little town, of the +blood-red line drawn across the map of France. We had in our hospital +men from the invaded countries without news of wives and families mured +up behind that iron veil. Once in a way a tiny word would get through to +them, and anxiety would lift a little from their hearts; for a day or +two they would smile. One we had, paralysed in the legs, who would sit +doing macramé work and playing chess all day long; every relative he +had--wife, father, mother, sisters--all were in the power of the German. +As brave a nature as one could see in a year's march, touchingly +grateful, touchingly cheerful, but with the saddest eyes I ever saw. +There was one little reminder in the town whom we could never help going +in to look at whenever we passed the shop whose people had given her +refuge. A little girl of eight with the most charming, grave, pale, +little, grey-eyed face; there she would sit, playing with her doll, +watching the customers. That little refugee at all events was beloved +and happy; only I think she thought we would kidnap her one day--we +stared at her so hard. She had the quality which gives to certain faces +the fascination belonging to rare works of art. + +With all this poignant bereavement and long-suffering amongst them it +would be odd indeed if the gay and critical French nature did not rebel, +and seek some outlet in apathy or bitter criticism. The miracle is that +they go on and on holding fast. Easily depressed, and as easily lifted +up again, grumble they must and will; but their hearts are not really +down to the pitch of their voices; their love of country, which with +them is love of self--the deepest of all kinds of patriotism--is too +absolute. These two virtues or vices (as you please)--critical faculty +and _amour propre_ or vanity, if you prefer it--are in perpetual +encounter. The French are at once not at all proud of themselves and +very proud. They destroy all things French, themselves included, with +their brains and tongues, and exalt the same with their hearts and by +their actions. To the reserved English mind, always on the defensive, +they seem to give themselves away continually; but he who understands +sees it to be all part of that perpetual interplay of opposites which +makes up the French character and secures for it in effect a curious +vibrating equilibrium. "Intensely alive" is the chief impression one has +of the French. They balance between head and heart at top speed in a +sort of electric and eternal see-saw. It is this perpetual quick change +which gives them, it seems to me, their special grip on actuality; they +never fly into the cloud-regions of theories and dreams; their heads +have not time before their hearts have intervened, their hearts not time +before their heads cry: "Hold!" They apprehend both worlds, but with +such rapid alternation that they surrender to neither. Consider how +clever and comparatively warm is that cold thing "religion" in France. I +remember so well the old _curé_ of our little town coming up to lunch, +his interest in the cooking, in the practical matters of our life, and +in wider affairs too; his enjoyment of his coffee and cigarette; and the +curious suddenness with which something seemed "to come over him"--one +could hear his heart saying: "O my people, here am I wasting my time; I +must run to you." I saw him in the court-yard talking to one of our +_poilus_, not about his soul, but about his body; stroking his shoulder +softly and calling him _mon cher fils_. Dear old man! Even religion here +does not pretend to more than it can achieve--help and consolation to +the bewildered and the suffering. It uses forms, smiling a little at +them. + +The secret of French culture lies in this vibrating balance; from quick +marriage of mind and heart, reason and sense, in the French nature, all +the clear created forms of French life arise, forms recognised as forms +with definite utility attached. Controlled expression is the result of +action and reaction. Controlled expression is the essence of culture, +because it alone makes a sufficiently clear appeal in a world which is +itself the result of the innumerable interplay of complementary or dual +laws and forces. French culture is near to the real heart of things, +because it has a sort of quick sanity which never loses its way; or, +when it does, very rapidly recovers the middle of the road. It has the +two capital defects of its virtues. It is too fond of forms and too +mistrustful. The French nature is sane and cynical. Well, it's natural! +The French lie just halfway between north and south; their blood is too +mingled for enthusiasm, and their culture too old. + +I never realised how old France was till we went to Arles. In our +crowded train _poilus_ were packed, standing in the corridors. One very +weary, invited by a high and kindly colonel into our carriage, chatted +in his tired voice of how wonderfully the women kept the work going on +the farms. "When we get a fortnight's leave," he said, "all goes well, +we can do the heavy things the women cannot, and the land is made clean. +It wants that fortnight now and then, _mon colonel_; there is work on +farms that women cannot do." And the colonel vehemently nodded his thin +face. We alighted in the dark among southern forms and voices, and the +little hotel omnibus became enmeshed at once in old, high, very narrow, +Italian-seeming streets. It was Sunday next day; sunny, with a clear +blue sky. In the square before our hotel a simple crowd round the statue +of Mistral chattered or listened to a girl singing excruciating songs; a +crowd as old-looking as in Italy or Spain, aged as things only are in +the South. We walked up to the Arena. Quite a recent development in the +life of Arles, they say, that marvellous Roman building, here cut down, +there built up, by Saracen hands. For a thousand years or more before +the Romans came Arles flourished and was civilised. What had we mushroom +islanders before the Romans came? What had barbaric Prussia? Not even +the Romans to look forward to! The age-long life of the South stands for +much in modern France, correcting the cruder blood which has poured in +these last fifteen hundred years. As one blends wine of very old stock +with newer brands, so has France been blended and mellowed. A strange +cosmic feeling one had, on the top of the great building in that town +older than Rome itself, of the continuity of human life and the futility +of human conceit. The provincial vanity of modern States looked pitiful +in the clear air above that vast stony proof of age. + +In many ways the war has brought us up all standing on the edge of an +abyss. When it is over shall we go galloping over the edge, or, reining +back, sit awhile in our saddles looking for a better track? We were all +on the highway to a hell of material expansion and vulgarity, of cheap +immediate profit, and momentary sensation; north and south in our +different ways, all "rattling into barbarity." Shall we find our way +again into a finer air, where self-respect, not profit, rules, and rare +things and durable are made once more? + +From Arles we journeyed to Marseilles, to see how the first cosmopolitan +town in the world fared in war-time. Here was an amazing spectacle of +swarming life. If France has reason to feel the war most of all the +great countries, Marseilles must surely feel it less than any other +great town; she flourishes in a perfect riot of movement and colour. +Here all the tribes are met, save those of Central Europe--Frenchman, +Serb, Spaniard, Algerian, Greek, Arab, Khabyle, Russian, Indian, +Italian, Englishman, Scotsman, Jew, and Nubian rub shoulders in the +thronged streets. The miles of docks are crammed with ships. Food of all +sorts abounds. In the bright, dry light all is gay and busy. The most +æsthetic, and perhaps most humiliating, sight that a Westerner could see +we came on there: two Arab Spahis walking down the main street in their +long robe uniforms, white and red, and their white linen bonnets bound +with a dark fur and canting slightly backwards. Over six feet high, they +moved unhurrying, smoking their cigarettes, turning their necks slowly +from side to side like camels of the desert. Their brown, thin, bearded +faces wore neither scorn nor interest, only a superb self-containment; +but, beside them, every other specimen of the human race seemed cheap +and negligible. God knows of what they were thinking--as little probably +as the smoke they blew through their chiselled nostrils--but their +beauty and grace were unsurpassable. And, visioning our western and +northern towns and the little, white, worried abortions they breed, one +felt downcast and abashed. + +Marseilles swarmed with soldiers; Lyon, Valence, Arles, even the +smallest cities swarmed with soldiers, and this at the moment when the +Allied offensive was just beginning. If France be nearing the end of her +man-power, as some assert, she conceals it so that one would think she +was at the beginning. + +From Marseilles we went to Lyon. I have heard that town described as +lamentably plain; but compared with Manchester or Sheffield it is as +heaven to hell. Between its two wide rolling rivers, under a line of +heights, it has somewhat the aspect of an enormous commercialised +Florence. Perhaps in foggy weather it may be dreary, but the sky was +blue and the sun shone, a huge _Foire_ was just opening, and every +street bustled in a dignified manner. + +The English have always had a vague idea that France is an immoral +country. To the eye of a mere visitor France is the most moral of the +four Great Powers--France, Russia, England, Germany; has the strongest +family life and the most seemly streets. Young men and maidens are never +seen walking or lying about, half-embraced, as in puritanical England. +Fire is not played with--openly, at least. The slow-fly amorousness of +the British working classes evidently does not suit the quicker blood of +France. There is just enough of the South in the French to keep +demonstration of affection away from daylight. A certain school of +French novelist, with high-coloured tales of Parisian life, is +responsible for his country's reputation. Whatever the Frenchman about +town may be, he seems by no means typical of the many millions of +Frenchmen who are not about town. And if Frenchwomen, as I have heard +Frenchmen say, are _légères_, they are the best mothers in the world, +and their "lightness" is not vulgarly obtruded. They say many domestic +tragedies will be played at the conclusion of the war. If so, they will +not be played in France alone; and compared with the tragedies of +fidelity played all these dreadful years they will be as black rabbits +to brown for numbers. For the truth on morality in France we must go +back, I suspect, to that general conclusion about the French +character--the swift passage from head to heart and back again, which, +prohibiting extremes of puritanism and of licence, preserves a sort of +balance. + +From this war France will emerge changed, though less changed very +likely than any other country. A certain self-sufficiency that was very +marked about French life will have sloughed away. I expect an opening of +the doors, a toleration of other tastes and standards, a softening of +the too narrow definiteness of French opinion. + +Even Paris has opened her heart a little since the war; and the heart of +Paris is close, hard, impatient of strangers. We noticed in our hospital +that whenever we had a Parisian he introduced a different atmosphere, +and led us a quiet or noisy dance. We had one whose name was Aimé, +whose skin was like a baby's, who talked softly and fast, with little +grunts, and before he left was quite the leading personality. We had +another, a red-haired young one; when he was away on leave we hardly +knew the hospital, it was so orderly. The sons of Paris are a breed +apart, just as our Cockneys are. I do not pretend to fathom them; they +have the texture and resilience of an indiarubber ball. And the women of +Paris! Heaven forfend that I should say I know them! They are a sealed +book. Still, even Parisians are less intolerant than in pre-war days of +us dull English, perceiving in us, perhaps, a certain unexpected +usefulness. And, _à propos_! One hears it said that in the regions of +our British armies certain natives believe we have come to stay. What an +intensely comic notion! And what a lurid light it throws on history, on +the mistrust engendered between nations, on the cynicism which human +conduct has forced deep into human hearts. No! If a British Government +could be imagined behaving in such a way, the British population would +leave England, become French citizens, and help to turn out the damned +intruders! + +But _we_ did not encounter anywhere that comic belief. In all this land +of France, chockful of those odd creatures, English men and women, we +found only a wonderful and touching welcome. Not once during those long +months of winter was an unfriendly word spoken in our hearing; not once +were we treated with anything but true politeness and cordiality. +_Poilus_ and peasants, porters and officials, ladies, doctors, servants, +shop-folk, were always considerate, always friendly, always desirous +that we should feel at home. The very dogs gave us welcome! A little +black half-Pomeranian came uninvited and made his home with us in our +hospital; we called him Aristide. But on our walks with him we were +liable to meet a posse of children who would exclaim, "_Pom-pom! Voilà, +Pom-pom!_" and lead him away. Before night fell he would be with us +again, with a bit of string or ribbon, bitten through, dangling from his +collar. His children bored him terribly. We left him in trust to our +_poilus_ on that sad afternoon when "Good-bye" must be said, all those +friendly hands shaken for the last time, and the friendly faces left. +Through the little town the car bore us, away along the valley between +the poplar trees with the first flush of spring on their twigs, and the +magpies flighting across the road to the river-bank. + +The heart of France is deep within her breast; she wears it not upon her +sleeve. But France opened her heart for once and let us see the gold. + +And so we came forth from France of a rainy day, leaving half our hearts +behind us. + +1917. + + + + +ENGLISHMAN AND RUSSIAN + + +It has been my conviction for many years that the Russian and the +Englishman are as it were the complementary halves of a man. What the +Russian lacks the Englishman has; what the Englishman lacks, that has +the Russian. The works of Gogol, Turgenev, Dostoievsky, Tolstoi, +Tchekov--the amazing direct and truthful revelations of these +masters--has let me, I think, into some secrets of the Russian soul, so +that the Russians I have met seem rather clearer to me than men and +women of other foreign countries. For their construing I have been given +what schoolboys call a crib. Only a fool pretends to knowledge--the +heart of another is surely a dark forest; but the heart of a Russian +seems to me a forest less dark than many, partly because the qualities +and defects of a Russian impact so sharply on the perceptions of an +Englishman, but partly because those great Russian novelists in whom I +have delighted, possess, before all other gifts, so deep a talent for +the revelation of truth. In following out this apposition of the Russian +and the Englishman, one may well start with that little matter of +"truth." The Englishman has what I would call a passion for the forms +of truth; his word is his bond--nearly always; he will not tell a +lie--not often; honesty, in his idiom, is the best policy. But he has +little or no regard for the spirit of truth. Quite unconsciously he +revels in self-deception and flies from knowledge of anything which will +injure his intention to "make good," as Americans say. He is, before all +things, a competitive soul who seeks to win rather than to understand or +to "live." And to win, or, shall we say, to maintain to oneself the +illusion of winning, one must carefully avoid seeing too much. The +Russian is light hearted about the forms of truth, but revels in +self-knowledge and frank self-declaration, enjoys unbottoming the +abysses of his thoughts and feelings, however gloomy. In Russia time and +space have no exact importance, living counts for more than dominating +life, emotion is not castrated, feelings are openly indulged in; in +Russia there are the extremes of cynicism, and of faith; of intellectual +subtlety, and simplicity; truth has quite another significance; manners +are different; what we know as "good form" is a meaningless shibboleth. +The Russian rushes at life, drinks the cup to the dregs, then frankly +admits that it has dregs, and puts up with the disillusionment. The +Englishman holds the cup gingerly and sips, determined to make it last +his time, not to disturb the dregs, and to die without having reached +the bottom. + +These are the two poles of that instinctive intention to get out of life +all there is in it--which is ever the unconscious philosophy guiding +mankind. To the Russian it is vital to realise at all costs the fulness +of sensation and reach the limits of comprehension; to the Englishman it +is vital to preserve illusion and go on defeating death until death so +unexpectedly defeats him. + +What this wide distinction comes from I know not, unless from the +difference of our climates and geographical circumstances. Russians are +the children of vast plains and forests, dry air, and extremes of heat +and cold; the English, of the sea, small, uneven hedge-rowed landscapes, +mist, and mean temperatures. By an ironical paradox, we English have +achieved a real liberty of speech and action, even now denied to +Russians, who naturally far surpass us in desire to turn things inside +out and see of what they are made. The political arrangements of a +country are based on temperament; and a political freedom which suits +us, an old people, predisposed to a practical and cautious view of life, +is proving difficult, if not impossible, for Russians, a young people, +who spend themselves so freely. But what Russia will become, politically +speaking, he would be rash who prophesied. + +I suppose what Russians most notice and perhaps envy in us is practical +common sense, our acquired instinct for what is attainable, and for the +best and least elaborate means of attaining it. What we ought to envy in +Russians is a sort of unworldliness--not the feeling that this world is +the preliminary of another, nothing so commercial; but the natural +disposition to live each moment without afterthought, emotionally. Lack +of emotional abandonment is our great deficiency. Whether we can ever +learn to have more is very doubtful. But our imaginative writings, at +all events, have of late been profoundly modified by the Russian novel, +that current in literature far more potent than any of those traced out +in Georg Brandes' monumental study. Russian writers have brought to +imaginative literature a directness in the presentation of vision, a +lack of self-consciousness, strange to all Western countries, and +particularly strange to us English, who of all people are the most +self-conscious. This quality of Russian writers is evidently racial, for +even in the most artful of them--Turgenev--it is as apparent as in the +least sophisticated. It is part, no doubt, of their natural power of +flinging themselves deep into the sea of experience and sensation; of +their self-forgetfulness in a passionate search for truth. + +In such living Russian writers as I have read, in Kuprin, Gorky, and +others, I still see and welcome this peculiar quality of rendering life +through--but not veiled by--the author's temperament; so that the effect +is almost as if no ink were used. When one says that the Russian novel +has already profoundly modified our literature, one does not mean that +we have now nearly triumphed over the need for ink, or that our +temperaments have become Russian; but that some of us have become +infected with the wish to see and record the truth and obliterate that +competitive moralising which from time immemorial has been the +characteristic bane of English art. In other words, the Russian passion +for understanding has tempered a little the English passion for winning. +What we admire and look for in Russian literature is its truth and its +profound and comprehending tolerance. I am credibly informed that what +Russians admire and look for in our literature is its quality of "no +nonsense" and its assertive vigour. In a word, they are attracted by +that in it which is new to them. I venture to hope that they will not +become infected by us in this matter; that nothing will dim in their +writers spiritual and intellectual honesty of vision or tinge them with +self-consciousness. It is still for us to borrow from Russian literary +art, and learn, if we can, to sink ourselves in life and reproduce it +without obtrusion of our points of view, except in that subtle way +which gives to each creative work its essential individuality. Our +boisterousness in art is too self-conscious to be real, and our +restraint is only a superficial legacy from Puritanism. + +Restraint in life and conduct is another matter altogether. There +Russians can learn from us, who are past-masters in control of our +feelings. In all matters of conduct, indeed, we are, as it were, much +older than the Russians; we were more like them, one imagines, in the +days of Elizabeth. + +Either similarity, or great dissimilarity, is generally needful for +mutual liking. Our soldiers appear to get on very well with Russians. +But only exceptional natures in either country could expect to +_understand_ each other thoroughly. The two peoples are as the halves of +a whole; different as chalk from cheese; can supplement, intermingle, +but never replace each other. Both in so different ways are very vital +types of mankind, very deep sunk in their own atmospheres and natures, +very insulated against all that is not Russian, or is not English; +deeply unchangeable and impermeable. It is almost impossible to +de-Anglicise an Englishman; as difficult to de-Russianise a Russian. + +1916. + + + + +AMERICAN AND BRITON + + +On the mutual understanding of each other by Britons and Americans the +future happiness of nations depends more than on any other world cause. + +I have never held a whole-hearted brief for the British character. There +is a lot of good in it, but much which is repellent. It has a kind of +deliberate unattractiveness, setting out on its journey with the words: +"Take me or leave me." One may respect a person of this sort, but it is +difficult either to know or to like him. I am told that an American +officer said recently to a British staff officer in a friendly voice: +"So we're going to clean up Brother Boche together!" and the British +staff officer replied "Really!" No wonder Americans sometimes say: "I've +got no use for those fellows." + +The world is consecrate to strangeness and discovery, and the attitude +of mind concreted in that "Really!" seems unforgivable, till one +remembers that it is manner rather than matter which divides the hearts +of American and Briton. + +In a huge, still half-developed country, where every kind of national +type and habit comes to run a new thread into the rich tapestry of +American life and thought, people must find it almost impossible to +conceive the life of a little old island where traditions persist +generation after generation without anything to break them up; where +blood remains undoctored by new strains; demeanour becomes crystallised +for lack of contrasts; and manner gets set like a plaster mask. The +English manner of to-day, of what are called the classes, is the growth +of only a century or so. There was probably nothing at all like it in +the days of Elizabeth or even of Charles II. The English manner was +still racy when the inhabitants of Virginia, as we are told, sent over +to ask that there might be despatched to them some hierarchical +assistance for the good of their souls, and were answered: "D----n your +souls, grow tobacco!" The English manner of to-day could not even have +come into its own when that epitaph of a lady, quoted somewhere by +Gilbert Murray, was written: "Bland, passionate, and deeply religious, +she was second cousin to the Earl of Leitrim; of such are the Kingdom of +Heaven." About that gravestone motto was a certain lack of the +self-consciousness which is now the foremost characteristic of the +English manner. + +But this British self-consciousness is no mere fluffy _gaucherie_, it is +our special form of what Germans would call "Kultur." Behind every +manifestation of thought or emotion the Briton retains control of self, +and is thinking: "That's all I'll let them see"; even: "That's all I'll +let myself feel." This stoicism is good in its refusal to be foundered; +bad in that it fosters a narrow outlook; starves emotion, spontaneity, +and frank sympathy; destroys grace and what one may describe roughly as +the lovable side of personality. The English hardly ever say just what +comes into their heads. What we call "good form," the unwritten law +which governs certain classes of the Briton, savours of the dull and +glacial; but there lurks within it a core of virtue. It has grown up +like callous shell round two fine ideals--suppression of the ego lest it +trample on the corns of other people, and exaltation of the maxim: +"Deeds before words." Good form, like any other religion, starts well +with some ethical truth, but soon gets commonised and petrified till we +can hardly trace its origin, and watch with surprise its denial and +contradiction of the root idea. + +Without doubt good form had become a kind of disease in England. A +French friend told me how he witnessed in a Swiss Hotel the meeting +between an Englishwoman and her son, whom she had not seen for two +years; she was greatly affected--by the fact that he had not brought a +dinner-jacket. The best manners are no "manners," or at all events no +mannerisms; but many Britons who have even attained to this perfect +purity are yet not free from the paralytic effects of "good form"; are +still self-conscious in the depths of their souls, and never do or say a +thing without trying not to show what they are feeling. All this +guarantees a certain decency in life; but in intimate intercourse with +people of other nations who have not this particular cult of +suppression, we English disappoint, and jar, and often irritate. Nations +have their differing forms of snobbery. At one time the English all +wanted to be second cousins to the Earl of Leitrim, like that lady bland +and passionate. Nowadays it is not so simple. The Earl of Leitrim has +become etherealised. We no longer care how a fellow is born so long as +he behaves as the Earl of Leitrim would have, never makes himself +conspicuous or ridiculous, never shows too much what he's really +feeling, never talks of what he's going to do, and always "plays the +game." The cult is centred in our public schools and universities. + +At a very typical and honoured old public school the writer of this +essay passed on the whole a happy time; but what a curious life, +educationally speaking! We lived rather like young Spartans; and were +not encouraged to think, imagine, or see anything that we learned in +relation to life at large. It's very difficult to teach boys, because +their chief object in life is not to be taught anything, but I should +say we were crammed, not taught at all. Living as we did the herd-life +of boys with little or no intrusion from our elders, and they men who +had been brought up in the same way as ourselves, we were debarred from +any real interest in philosophy, history, art, literature and music, or +any advancing notions in social life or politics. I speak of the +generality, not of the few black swans among us. We were reactionaries +almost to a boy. I remember one summer term Gladstone came down to speak +to us, and we repaired to the Speech Room with white collars and dark +hearts, muttering what we would do to that Grand Old Man if we could +have our way. But he contrived to charm us, after all, till we cheered +him vociferously. In that queer life we had all sorts of unwritten rules +of suppression. You must turn up your trousers; must not go out with +your umbrella rolled. Your hat must be worn tilted forward; you must not +walk more than two-a-breast till you reached a certain form, nor be +enthusiastic about anything, except such a supreme matter as a drive +over the pavilion at cricket, or a run the whole length of the ground at +football. You must not talk about yourself or your home people, and for +any punishment you must assume complete indifference. + +I dwell on these trivialities because every year thousands of British +boys enter these mills which grind exceeding small, and because these +boys constitute in after life the great majority of the official, +military, academic, professional, and a considerable proportion of the +business classes of Great Britain. They become the Englishmen who say: +"Really!" and they are for the most part the Englishmen who travel and +reach America. The great defence I have always heard put up for our +public schools is that they form character. As oatmeal is supposed to +form bone in the bodies of Scotsmen, so our public schools are supposed +to form good, sound moral fibre in British boys. And there is much in +this plea. The life does make boys enduring, self-reliant, good-tempered +and honourable, but it most carefully endeavours to destroy all original +sin of individuality, spontaneity, and engaging freakishness. It +implants, moreover, in the great majority of those who have lived it the +mental attitude of that swell, who when asked where he went for his +hats, replied: "Blank's, of course. Is there another fellow's?" + +To know all is to excuse all--to know all about the bringing-up of +English public school boys makes one excuse much. The atmosphere and +tradition of those places is extraordinarily strong, and persists +through all modern changes. Thirty-seven years have gone since I was a +new boy, but cross-examining a young nephew who left not long ago, I +found almost precisely the same features and conditions. The war, which +has changed so much of our social life, will have some, but no very +great, effect on this particular institution. The boys still go there +from the same kind of homes and preparatory schools and come under the +same kind of masters. And the traditional unemotionalism, the cult of a +dry and narrow stoicism, is rather fortified than diminished by the +times we live in. + +Our universities, on the other hand, are now mere ghosts of their old +selves. At a certain old college in Oxford, last term, they had only two +English students. In the chapel under the Joshua Reynolds window, +through which the sun was shining, hung a long "roll of honour," a +hundred names and more. In the college garden an open-air hospital was +ranged under the old city wall, where we used to climb and go wandering +in the early summer mornings after some all-night spree. Down on the +river the empty college barges lay void of life. From the top of one of +them an aged custodian broke into words: "Ah! Oxford'll never be the +same again in my time. Why, who's to teach 'em rowin'? When we do get +undergrads again, who's to teach 'em? All the old ones gone, killed, +wounded and that. No! Rowin'll never be the same again--not in my time." +That was _the_ tragedy of the war for him. Our universities will recover +faster than he thinks, and resume the care of our particular "Kultur," +and cap the products of our public schools with the Oxford accent and +the Oxford manner. + +An acute critic tells me that Americans reading such deprecatory words +as these by an Englishman about his country's institutions would say +that this is precisely an instance of what an American means by the +Oxford manner. Americans whose attitude towards their own country is +that of a lover to his lady or a child to its mother, cannot--he +says--understand how Englishmen can be critical of their own country, +and yet love her. Well, the Englishman's attitude to his country is that +of a man to himself, and the way he runs her down is but a part of that +special English bone-deep self-consciousness. Englishmen (the writer +amongst them) love their country as much as the French love France and +the Americans America; but she is so much a part of them that to speak +well of her is like speaking well of themselves, which they have been +brought up to regard as "bad form." When Americans hear Englishmen +speaking critically of their own country, let them note it for a sign of +complete identification with that country rather than of detachment from +it. But on the whole it must be admitted that English universities have +a broadening influence on the material which comes to them so set and +narrow. They do a little to discover for their children that there are +many points of view, and much which needs an open mind in this world. +They have not precisely a democratic influence, but taken by themselves +they would not be inimical to democracy. And when the war is over they +will surely be still broader in philosophy and teaching. Heaven forbid +that we should see vanish all that is old, and has, as it were, the +virginia-creeper, the wistaria bloom of age upon it; there is a beauty +in age and a health in tradition, ill dispensed with. What is hateful in +age is its lack of understanding and of sympathy; in a word--its +intolerance. Let us hope this wind of change may sweep out and sweeten +the old places of our country, sweep away the cobwebs and the dust, our +narrow ways of thought, our mannikinisms. But those who hate intolerance +dare not be intolerant with the foibles of age; we should rather see +them as comic, and gently laugh them out. I pretend to no proper +knowledge of the American people; but, though amongst them there are +doubtless pockets of fierce prejudice, I have on the whole the +impression of a wide and tolerant spirit. To that spirit one would +appeal when it comes to passing judgment on the educated Briton. He may +be self-sufficient, but he has grit; and at bottom grit is what +Americans appreciate more than anything. If the motto of the old Oxford +college, "Manners makyth man," were true, one would often be sorry for +the Briton. But his manners do not make him; they mar him. His goods are +all absent from the shop window; he is not a man of the world in the +wider meaning of that expression. And there is, of course, a +particularly noxious type of travelling Briton, who does his best, +unconsciously, to deflower his country wherever he goes. Selfish, +coarse-fibred, loud-voiced--the sort which thanks God he is a Briton--I +suppose because nobody else will do it for him. + +We live in times when patriotism is exalted above all other virtues, +because there happen to lie before the patriotic tremendous chances for +the display of courage and self-sacrifice. Patriotism ever has that +advantage, as the world is now constituted; but patriotism and +provincialism are sisters under the skin, and they who can only see +bloom on the plumage of their own kind, who prefer the bad points of +their countrymen to the good points of foreigners, merely write +themselves down blind of an eye, and panderers to herd feeling. America +is advantaged in this matter. She lives so far away from other nations +that she might well be excused for thinking herself the only people in +the world; but in the many strains of blood which go to make up America +there is as yet a natural corrective to the narrower kind of patriotism. +America has vast spaces and many varieties of type and climate, and life +to her is still a great adventure. Americans have their own form of +self-absorption, but seem free as yet from the special competitive +self-centrement which has been forced on Britons through long centuries +by countless continental rivalries and wars. Insularity was driven into +the very bones of our people by the generation-long wars of Napoleon. A +distinguished French writer, André Chevrillon, whose book[B] may be +commended to any one who wishes to understand British peculiarities, +used these words in a recent letter: "You English are so strange to us +French, you are so utterly different from any other people in the +world." Yes! We are a lonely race. Deep in our hearts, I think, we feel +that only the American people could ever really understand us. And +being extraordinarily self-conscious, perverse, and proud, we do our +best to hide from Americans that we have any such feeling. It would +distress the average Briton to confess that he wanted to be understood, +had anything so natural as a craving for fellowship or for being liked. +We are a weird people, though we seem so commonplace. In looking at +photographs of British types among photographs of other European +nationalities, one is struck by something which is in no other of those +races--exactly as if we had an extra skin; as if the British animal had +been tamed longer than the rest. And so he has. His political, social, +legal life was fixed long before that of any other Western country. He +was old, though not mouldering, before the _Mayflower_ touched American +shores and brought there avatars, grave and civilised as ever founded +nation. There is something touching and terrifying about our character, +about the depth at which it keeps its real yearnings, about the +perversity with which it disguises them, and its inability to show its +feelings. We are, deep down, under all our lazy mentality, the most +combative and competitive race in the world, with the exception, +perhaps, of the American. This is at once a spiritual link with America, +and yet one of the great barriers to friendship between the two +peoples. We are not sure whether we are better men than Americans. +Whether we are really better than French, Germans, Russians, Italians, +Chinese, or any other race is, of course, more than a question; but +those peoples are all so different from us that we are bound, I suppose, +secretly to consider ourselves superior. But between Americans and +ourselves, under all differences, there is some mysterious deep kinship +which causes us to doubt and makes us irritable, as if we were +continually being tickled by that question: Now am I really a better man +than he? Exactly what proportion of American blood at this time of day +is British, I know not; but enough to make us definitely cousins--always +an awkward relationship. We see in Americans a sort of image of +ourselves; feel near enough, yet far enough, to criticise and carp at +the points of difference. It is as though a man went out and +encountered, in the street, what he thought for the moment was himself, +and, wounded in his _amour propre_, instantly began to disparage the +appearance of that fellow. Probably community of language rather than of +blood accounts for our sense of kinship, for a common means of +expression cannot but mould thought and feeling into some kind of unity. +One can hardly overrate the intimacy which a common literature brings. +The lives of great Americans, Washington and Franklin, Lincoln and Lee +and Grant, are unsealed for us, just as to Americans are the lives of +Marlborough and Nelson, Pitt and Gladstone and Gordon. Longfellow and +Whittier and Whitman can be read by the British child as simply as Burns +and Shelley and Keats. Emerson and William James are no more difficult +to us than Darwin and Spencer to Americans. Without an effort we rejoice +in Hawthorne and Mark Twain, Henry James and Howells, as Americans can +in Dickens and Thackeray, Meredith and Thomas Hardy. And, more than all, +Americans own with ourselves all literature in the English tongue before +the _Mayflower_ sailed; Chaucer and Spenser and Shakespeare, Raleigh, +Ben Jonson, and the authors of the English Bible Version are their +spiritual ancestors as much as ever they are ours. The tie of language +is all-powerful--for language is the food formative of minds. A volume +could be written on the formation of character by literary humour alone. +The American and Briton, especially the British townsman, have a kind of +bone-deep defiance of Fate, a readiness for anything which may turn up, +a dry, wry smile under the blackest sky, and an individual way of +looking at things which nothing can shake. Americans and Britons both, +we must and will think for ourselves, and know why we do a thing before +we do it. We have that ingrained respect for the individual conscience +which is at the bottom of all free institutions. Some years before the +war an intelligent and cultivated Austrian, who had lived long in +England, was asked for his opinion of the British. "In many ways," he +said, "I think you are inferior to us; but one great thing I have +noticed about you which we have not. You think and act and speak for +yourselves." If he had passed those years in America instead of in +England he must needs have pronounced the same judgment of Americans. +Free speech, of course, like every form of freedom, goes in danger of +its life in war-time. The other day, in Russia, an Englishman came on a +street meeting shortly after the first revolution had begun. An +extremist was addressing the gathering and telling them that they were +fools to go on fighting, that they ought to refuse and go home, and so +forth. The crowd grew angry, and some soldiers were for making a rush at +him; but the chairman, a big, burly peasant, stopped them with these +words: "Brothers, you know that our country is now a country of free +speech. We must listen to this man, we must let him say anything he +will. But, brothers, when he's finished, we'll bash his head in!" + +I cannot assert that either Britons or Americans are incapable in times +like these of a similar interpretation of "free speech." Things have +been done in our country, and will be done in America, which should make +us blush. But so strong is the free instinct in both countries that some +vestiges of it will survive even this war, for democracy is a sham +unless it means the preservation and development of this instinct of +thinking for oneself throughout a people. "Government of the people by +the people for the people" means nothing unless individuals keep their +consciences unfettered and think freely. Accustom people to be nose-led +and spoon-fed, and democracy is a mere pretence. The measure of +democracy is the measure of the freedom and sense of individual +responsibility in its humblest citizens. And democracy--I say it with +solemnity--has yet to prove itself. + +A scientist, Dr. Spurrell, in a recent book, "Man and his Forerunners," +diagnoses the growth of civilisations somewhat as follows: A +civilisation begins with the enslavement by some hardy race of a tame +race living a tame life in more congenial natural surroundings. It is +built up on slavery, and attains its maximum vitality in conditions +little removed therefrom. Then, as individual freedom gradually grows, +disorganisation sets in and the civilisation slowly dissolves away in +anarchy. Dr. Spurrell does not dogmatise about our present civilisation, +but suggests that it will probably follow the civilisations of the past +into dissolution. I am not convinced of that, because of certain factors +new to the history of man. Recent discoveries are unifying the world; +such old isolated swoops of race on race are not now possible. In our +great industrial States, it is true, a new form of slavery has arisen, +but not of man by man, rather of man by machines. Moreover, all past +civilisations have been more or less Southern, and subject to the +sapping influence of the sun. Modern civilisation is essentially +Northern. The individualism, however, which, according to Dr. Spurrell, +dissolved the Empires of the past, exists already, in a marked degree, +in every modern State; and the problem before us is to discover how +democracy and liberty of the subject can be made into enduring props +rather than dissolvents. It is the problem of making democracy genuine. +And certainly, if that cannot be achieved and perpetuated, there is +nothing to prevent democracy drifting into anarchism and dissolving +modern States, till they are the prey of pouncing dictators, or of +States not so far gone in dissolution. What, for instance, will happen +to Russia if she does not succeed in making her democracy genuine? A +Russia which remains anarchic must very quickly become the prey of her +neighbours on West and East. + +Ever since the substantial introduction of democracy nearly a century +and a half ago with the American War of Independence, Western +civilisation has been living on two planes or levels--the autocratic +plane, with which is bound up the idea of nationalism, and the +democratic, to which has become conjoined the idea of internationalism. +Not only little wars, but great wars such as this, come because of +inequality in growth, dissimilarity of political institutions between +States; because this State or that is basing its life on different +principles from its neighbours. The decentralisation, delays, critical +temper, and importance of home affairs prevalent in democratic countries +make them at once slower, weaker, less apt to strike, and less prepared +to strike than countries where bureaucratic brains subject to no real +popular check devise world policies which can be thrust, prepared to the +last button, on the world at a moment's notice. The free and critical +spirit in America, France, and Britain has kept our democracies +comparatively unprepared for anything save their own affairs. + +We fall into glib usage of words like democracy and make fetiches of +them without due understanding. Democracy is inferior to autocracy from +the aggressively national point of view; it is not necessarily superior +to autocracy as a guarantee of general well-being; it may even turn out +to be inferior unless we can improve it. But democracy is the rising +tide; it may be dammed or delayed, but cannot be stopped. It seems to be +a law in human nature that where, in any corporate society, the idea of +self-government sets foot it refuses to take that foot up again. State +after State, copying the American example, has adopted the democratic +principle; the world's face is that way set. And civilisation is now so +of a pattern that the Western world may be looked on as one State and +the process of change therein from autocracy to democracy regarded as +though it were taking place in a single old-time country such as Greece +or Rome. If throughout Western civilisation we can secure the single +democratic principle of government, its single level of State morality +in thought and action, we shall be well on our way to unanimity +throughout the world; for even in China and Japan the democratic virus +is at work. It is my belief that only in a world thus uniform, and freed +from the danger of pounce by autocracies, have States any chance to +develop the individual conscience to a point which shall make democracy +proof against anarchy and themselves proof against dissolution; and +only in such a world can a League of Nations to enforce peace succeed. + +But even if we do secure a single plane for Western civilisation and +ultimately for the world, there will be but slow and difficult progress +in the lot of mankind. And unless we secure it, there will be only a +march backwards. + +For this advance to a uniform civilisation the solidarity of the +English-speaking races is vital. Without that there will be no bottom on +which to build. + +The ancestors of the American people sought a new country because they +had in them a reverence for the individual conscience; they came from +Britain, the first large State in the Christian era to build up the idea +of political freedom. The instincts and ideals of our two races have +ever been the same. That great and lovable people, the French, with +their clear thought and expression, and their quick blood, have +expressed those ideals more vividly than either of us. But the +phlegmatic and the dry tenacity of our English and American temperaments +has ever made our countries the most settled and safe homes of the +individual conscience, and of its children--Democracy, Freedom and +Internationalism. Whatever their faults--and their offences cry aloud to +such poor heaven as remains of chivalry and mercy--the Germans are in +many ways a great race, but they possess two qualities dangerous to the +individual conscience--unquestioning obedience and exaltation. When they +embrace the democratic idea they may surpass us all in its logical +development, but the individual conscience will still not be at ease +with them. We must look to our two countries to guarantee its strength +and activity, and if we English-speaking races quarrel and become +disunited, civilisation will split up again and go its way to ruin. We +are the ballast of the new order. + +I do not believe in formal alliances or in grouping nations to exclude +and keep down other nations. Friendships between countries should have +the only true reality of common sentiment, _and be animated by desire +for the general welfare of mankind_. We need no formal bonds, but we +have a sacred charge in common, to let no petty matters, differences of +manner, or divergencies of material interest, destroy our spiritual +agreement. Our pasts, our geographical positions, our temperaments make +us, beyond all other races, the hope and trustees of mankind's advance +along the only line now open--democratic internationalism. It is +childish to claim for Americans or Britons virtues beyond those of other +nations, or to believe in the superiority of one national culture to +another; they are different, that is all. It is by accident that we find +ourselves in this position of guardianship to the main line of human +development; no need to pat ourselves on the back about it. But we are +at a great and critical moment in the world's history--how critical none +of us alive will ever realise. The civilisation slowly built since the +fall of Rome has either to break up and dissolve into jagged and +isolated fragments through a century of wars; or, unified and reanimated +by a single idea, to move forward on one plane and attain greater height +and breadth. + +Under the pressure of this war there is, beneath the lip-service we pay +to democracy, a disposition to lose faith in it because of its undoubted +weakness and inconvenience in a struggle with States autocratically +governed; there is even a sort of secret reaction to autocracy. On those +lines there is no way out of a future of bitter rivalries, chicanery and +wars, and the probable total failure of our civilisation. The only cure +which I can see lies in democratising the whole world and removing the +present weaknesses and shams of democracy by education of the individual +conscience in every country. Good-bye to that chance if Americans and +Britons fall foul of each other, refuse to pool their thoughts and +hopes, and to keep the general welfare of mankind in view. They have +got to stand together, not in aggressive and jealous policies, but in +defence and championship of the self-helpful, self-governing, "live and +let live" philosophy of life. + +The house of the future is always dark. There are few corner-stones to +be discerned in the temple of our fate. But of these few one is the +brotherhood and bond of the English-speaking races, not for narrow +purposes, but that mankind may yet see faith and good-will enshrined, +yet breathe a sweeter air, and know a life where Beauty passes, with the +sun on her wings. + +We want in the lives of men a "Song of Honour," as in Ralph Hodgson's +poem: + + "The song of men all sorts and kinds, + As many tempers, moods and minds + As leaves are on a tree, + As many faiths and castes and creeds, + As many human bloods and breeds, + As in the world may be." + +In the making of that song the English-speaking races will assuredly +unite. What made this world we know not; the principle of life is +inscrutable and will for ever be; but we know that Earth is yet on the +up-grade of existence, the mountain-top of man's life not reached, that +many centuries of growth are yet in front of us before Nature begins to +chill this planet till it swims, at last, another moon, in space. In the +climb to that mountain-top of a happy life for mankind our two great +nations are as guides who go before, roped together in perilous ascent. +On their nerve, loyalty, and wisdom the adventure now hangs. What +American or British knife will sever the rope? + +He who ever gives a thought to the life of man at large, to his miseries +and disappointments, to the waste and cruelty of existence, will +remember that if American or Briton fail himself, or fail the other, +there can but be for us both, and for all other peoples, a hideous slip, +a swift and fearful fall into an abyss, whence all shall be to begin +over again. + +We shall not fail--neither ourselves, nor each other. Our comradeship +will endure. + +1917. + +[B] "England and the War." Hodder & Stoughton. + + + + +ANGLO-AMERICAN DRAMA AND ITS FUTURE[C] + + +There is a maxim particularly suitable to those who follow any art: +"Don't talk about what you do!" And yet, once in a way, one must clear +the mind and put into words what lies at the back of endeavour. + +What, then, is lying at the back of any growth or development there may +have been of late in drama? + +In my belief, simply an outcrop of sincerity--of fidelity to mood, to +impression, to self. A man here and there has turned up who has imagined +something true to what he has really seen and felt, and has projected it +across the foot-lights in such a way as to make other people feel it. +This is all that has happened lately on our stage. And if it be growth, +it will not be growth in quantity, since there is nothing like sincerity +for closing the doors of theatres. For, just consider what sincerity +excludes: All care for balance at the author's bank--even when there is +no balance; all habit of consulting the expression on the public's +face; all confectioning of French plays; all the convenient practice of +adding up your plots on the principle that two and two make five. These +it excludes. It includes: Nothing because it pays; nothing because it +will make a sensation; no situations faked; no characters falsified; no +fireworks; only something imagined and put down in a passion of +sincerity. What plays, you may say, are left? Well, that was the +development in our drama before this war began. The war arrested it, as +it arrested every movement of the day in civil life. But whether in war +or peace, the principles which underlie art remain the same and are +always worth consideration. + +Sincerity in the theatre and commercial success are not necessarily, but +they are generally, opposed. It is more or less a happy accident when, +they coincide. This grim truth cannot be blinked. Not till the heavens +fall will the majority of the public demand sincerity. And all that they +who care for sincerity can hope for is that the supply of sincere drama +will gradually increase the demand for it--gradually lessen the majority +which has no use for that disturbing quality. The burden of this +struggle is on the shoulders of the dramatists. It is useless and +unworthy for them to complain that the public will not stand sincerity, +that they cannot get sincere plays acted, and so forth. If they have not +the backbone to produce what they feel they ought to produce, without +regard to what the public wants, then good-bye to progress of any kind. +If they are of the crew who cannot see any good in a fight unless they +know it is going to end in victory; if they expect the millennium with +every spring--they will advance nothing. Their job is to set their +teeth, do their work in their own way, without thinking much about +result, and not at all about reward, except from their own consciences. +Those who want sincerity will always be the few, but they may well be +more numerous than now; and to increase their number is worth a +struggle. That struggle was the much-sneered-at, much-talked-of +so-called "new" movement in our British drama. + +Now it was the fashion to dub this new drama the "serious" drama; the +label was unfortunate, and not particularly true. If Rabelais or Robert +Burns appeared again in mortal form and took to writing plays, they +would be "new" dramatists with a vengeance--as new as ever Ibsen was, +and assuredly they would be sincere. But could they well be called +"serious"? Can we call Synge, or St. John Hankin, or Shaw, or Barrie +serious? Hardly! Yet they are all of this new movement in their very +different ways, because they are sincere. The word "serious," in fact, +has too narrow a significance and admits a deal of pompous stuff which +is not sincere. While the word "sincere" certainly does not characterise +all that is popularly included under the term "new drama," it as +certainly does characterise (if taken in its true sense of fidelity to +self) all that is really new in it, and excludes no mood, no +temperament, no form of expression which can pass the test of ringing +true. Look, for example, at the work of those two whom we could so ill +spare--Synge and St. John Hankin. They were as far apart as dramatists +well could be, except that each had found a special medium--the one a +kind of lyric satire, the other a neat, individual sort of comedy--which +seemed exactly to express his spirit. Both forms were in a sense +artificial, but both were quite sincere; for through them each of these +two dramatists, so utterly dissimilar, shaped forth the essence of his +broodings and visions of life, with all their flavour and individual +limitations. And that is all one means by--all one asks of--sincerity. + +Then why make such a fuss about it? + +Because it is rare, and an implicit quality of any true work of art, +realistic or romantic. + +Art is not art unless it is made out of an artist's genuine feeling and +vision, not out of what he has been told he ought to feel and see. For +art exists not to confirm people in their tastes and prejudices, not to +show them what they have seen before, but to present them with a new +vision of life. And if drama be an art (which the great public denies +daily, but a few of us still believe), it must reasonably be expected to +present life as each dramatist sees it, and not to express things +because they pander to popular prejudice, or are sensational, or because +they pay. + +If you want further evidence that the new dramatic movement is marked +out by its struggle for sincerity, and by that alone, examine a little +the various half-overt oppositions with which it meets. + +Why is the commercial manager against it? + +Because it is quite naturally his business to cater for the great +public; and, as before said, the majority of the public does not, never +will, want sincerity; it is too disturbing. The commercial manager will +answer: "The great public does not dislike sincerity, it only dislikes +dullness." Well! Dullness is not an absolute, but a very relative +term--a term likely to have a different meaning for a man who knows +something about life and art from that which it has for a man who knows +less. And one may remark that if the great public's standard of what is +really "amusing" is the true one, it is queer that the plays which +tickle the great public hardly ever last a decade, while the plays which +do not tickle them occasionally last for centuries. The "dullest" plays, +one might say roughly, are those which last the longest. Witness +Euripides! + +Why are so many actor-managers against the new drama? + +Because their hearts are quite naturally set on such insincere +distortions of values as are necessary to a constant succession of "big +parts" for themselves. Sincerity does not necessarily exclude heroic +characters, but it does exclude those mock heroics which actor-managers +have been known to prefer--not to real heroics, perhaps, but to simple +and sound studies of character. + +Why is the Censorship against it? + +Because censorship is quite naturally the guardian of the ordinary +prejudices of sentiment and taste, and quaintly innocent of knowledge +that in any art fidelity of treatment is essential to a theme. Indeed, I +am sure that this peculiar office would regard it as fantastic for a +poor devil of an artist to want to be faithful or sincere. The demand +would appear pedantic and extravagant. + +Some say that the critics are against the new drama. That is not in the +main true. The inclination of most critics is to welcome anything with +a flavour of its own; it would be odd indeed if it were not so--they get +so much of the other food! They are, in general, friends to sincerity. +But the trouble with the critic is rather the fixed idea. He has to +print his opinion of an author's work, while other men have only to +think it; and when it comes to receiving a fresh impression of the same +author, his already recorded words are liable to act on him rather as +the eyes of a snake act on a rabbit. Indeed, it must be very awkward, +when you have definitely labelled an author this, or that, to find from +his next piece of work that he is the other as well! The critic who can +make blank his soul of all that he has said before may indeed exist--in +Paradise! + +Why is the greater public against the new drama? + +By the greater public I in no sense mean the public who don't keep motor +cars--the greater public comes from the West-end as much as ever it +comes from the East-end. Its opposition to the "new drama" is neither +covert, doubtful, nor conscious of itself. The greater public is like an +aged friend of mine, who, if you put into his hands anything but +Sherlock Holmes, or The Waverley Novels, says: "Oh! that dreadful book!" +His taste is excellent, only he does feel that an operation should be +performed on all dramatists and novelists by which they should be +rendered incapable of producing anything but what my aged friend is used +to. The greater public, in fact, is either a too well-dined organism +which wishes to digest its dinner, or a too hard-worked organism longing +for a pleasant dream. I sympathise with the greater public!... + +A friend once said to me: "Champagne has killed the drama." It was half +a truth. Champagne is an excellent thing, and must not be disturbed. +Plays should not have anything in them which can excite the mind. They +should be of a quality to just remove the fumes by eleven o'clock and +make ready the organism for those suppers which were eaten before the +war. Another friend once said to me: "It is the rush and hurry and +strenuousness of modern life which is scotching the drama." Again, it +was half a truth. Why should not the hard-worked man have his pleasant +dream, his detective story, his good laugh? The pity is that sincere +drama would often provide as agreeable dreams for the hard-worked man as +some of those reveries in which he now indulges, if only he would try it +once or twice. That is the trouble--to get him to give it a chance. + +The greater public will by preference take the lowest article in art +offered to it. An awkward remark, and unfortunately true. But if a +better article be substituted, the greater public very soon enjoys it +every bit as much as the article replaced, and so on--up to a point +which we need not fear we shall ever reach. Not that sincere dramatists +are consciously trying to supply the public with a better article. A man +could not write anything sincere with the elevation of the public as +incentive. If he tried, he would be as lost as ever were the Pharisees +making broad their phylacteries. He can only express himself sincerely +_by not considering the public at all_. People often say that this is +"cant," but it really isn't. There does exist a type of mind which +cannot express itself in accordance with what it imagines is required; +can only express itself for itself, and take the usually unpleasant +consequences. This is, indeed, but an elementary truth, which since the +beginning of the world has lain at the bottom of all real artistic +achievement. It is not cant to say that the only things vital in drama, +as in every art, are achieved when the maker has fixed his soul on the +making of a thing which shall seem fine to himself. It is the only +standard; all the others--success, money, even the pleasure and benefit +of other people--lead to confusion in the artist's spirit, and to the +making of dust castles. To please your best self is the only way of +being sincere. Most weavers of drama, of course, are perfectly sincere +when they start out to ply their shuttles; but how many persevere in +that mood to the end of their plays, in defiance of outside +consideration? Here--says one to himself--it will be too strong meat; +there it will not be sufficiently convincing; this natural length will +be too short, that end too appalling; in such and such a shape I shall +never get my play taken; I must write that part up and tone this +character down. And when it is all done, effectively, falsely--what is +there? A prodigious run, perhaps. But--the grave of all which makes the +life of an artist worth the living. Well! well! We who believe this will +never get too many others to believe it! Those heavens will not fall; +theatre doors will remain open; the heavy diners will digest, and the +over-driven man will dream. And yet, with each sincere thing made--even +if only fit for reposing within a drawer--its maker is stronger, and +will some day, perhaps, make that which need not lie covered away, but +reach out from him to other men. + +It is a wide word--sincerity. "A Midsummer Night's Dream" is no less +sincere than "Hamlet," "The Mikado" as faithful to its mood of satiric +frolicking as Ibsen's "Ghosts" to its mood of moral horror. Sincerity +bars out no themes; it only demands that the dramatist's moods and +visions should be intense enough to keep him absorbed; that he should +have something to say so engrossing to himself that he has no need to +stray here and there and gather purple plums to eke out what was +intended to be an apple tart. Here is the heart of the matter: You +cannot get sincere drama out of those who do not see and feel with +sufficient fervour; and you cannot get good sincere drama out of those +who will not hoe their rows to the very end. There is no faking and no +scamping to the good in art. You may turn out the machine-made article +very natty, but for the real hand-made thing you must have toiled in the +sweat of your brow. In Britain it is a little difficult to persuade +people that the writing of plays and novels is work. To many it remains +one of those inventions of a certain potentate for idle hands to do. To +some persons in high life, and addicted to field sports, it is still a +species of licensed buffoonery, to be regulated by a sort of +circus-master with a whip in one hand and a gingerbread nut in the +other. By the truly simple soul it is thus summed up: "Work! Why, 'e +sits writin' all day." To some, both green and young, it shines as a +vocation entirely glorious and exhilarating. If one may humbly believe +the evidence of his own senses, it is not any of these, but a patient +calling, glamorous now and then, but with fifty minutes of hard labour +and yearning to every ten of satisfaction. Not a pursuit, maybe, which +one would change, but then, what man with a profession flies to others +that he knows not of? + +Novelists, it is true, even if they have not been taken too seriously by +the people of these islands, have for a long time past respected +themselves, but the calling of a dramatist till quite of late has been +but an invertebrate and spiritless concern. Pruned and prismed by the +censor, exploited by the actor, dragooned and slashed by the manager, +ignored by the public, who never even bothered to inquire the names of +those who supplied it with digestives--it was a slave's job. Thanks to a +little sincerity it is not now a slave's job, and will not again, I +think, become one. + +From time to time in that vehicle of improvisation, that modern fairy +tale--our daily paper--we read words such as these: "What has become of +the boasted renascence of our stage?" or: "So much for all the +trumpeting about the new drama!" When we come across such words, we +remember that it is only natural for journals to say to-day the opposite +of what they said yesterday. For they have to suit all tastes and +preserve a decent equilibrium! + +There is a new safeguard of the self-respecting dramatist which no +amount of improvising for or against will explain away. Plays are now +not merely acted, they are published and read, and will be read more and +more. This does not mean, as some say, that they are being written for +the study--they were never being written more deliberately, more +carefully, for the stage. It does mean that they are tending more and +more to comply with fidelity to theme, fidelity to self; and therefore +are more and more able to bear the scrutiny of cold daylight. And for +the first time, perhaps, since the days of Shakespeare there are +dramatists in this country, not a few, faithful to themselves. + +Now, all this is not merely fortuitous. For, however abhorrent such a +notion may be to those yet wedded to Victorian ideals, we were, even +before the war, undoubtedly passing through great changes in our +philosophy of life. Just as a plant keeps on conforming to its +environment, so our beliefs and ideals are conforming to our new social +conditions and discoveries. There is in the air a revolt against +prejudice, and a feeling that things must be re-tested. The spirit +which, dwelling in pleasant places, would never re-test anything is now +looked on askance. Even on our stage we are not enamoured of it. It is +not the artist's business (be he dramatist or other) to preach. +Admitted! His business is to portray; but portray truly he cannot if he +has any of that glib doctrinaire spirit, devoid of the insight which +comes from instinctive sympathy. He must look at _life_, not at a mirage +of life compounded of authority, tradition, comfort, habit. The sincere +artist, by the very nature of him, is bound to be curious and +perceptive, with an instinctive craving to identify himself with the +experience of others. This is his value, whether he express it in +comedy, epic, satire, or tragedy. Sincerity distrusts tradition, +authority, comfort, habit; cannot breathe the air of prejudice, and +cannot stand the cruelties which arise from it. So it comes about that +the new drama's spirit is essentially, inevitably human and--humane, +essentially distasteful to many professing followers of the Great +Humanitarian, who, if they were but sincere, would see that they +secretly abhor His teachings and in practice continually invert them. + +It is a fine age we live in--this age of a developing social conscience, +and worthy of a fine and great art. But, though no art is fine unless it +has sincerity, no amount of sincere intention will serve unless the +expression of it be well-nigh perfect. An author is judged, not by +intention but by achievement; and criticism is innately inclined to +remark first on the peccadillo points of a person, a poem, or a play. If +there be a scar on the forehead, a few false quantities, or weak +endings, if there is an absence in the third act of some one who +appeared in the first--it is always much simpler to complain of this +than to feel or describe the essence of the whole. But this very +pettiness in our criticism is, fortunately, a sort of safeguard. The +French writer Buffon said: "_Bien écrire, c'est tout; car bien écrire +c'est bien sentir, bien penser, et bien dire._" ... Let the artist then, +by all means, make his work impeccable, clothe his ideas, feelings, +visions, in just such garments as can withstand the winds of criticism. +He himself must be his cruellest critic. Before cutting his cloth let +him very carefully determine the precise thickness, shape, and colour +best suited to the condition of his temperature. For there are still +playwrights who, working in the full blast of an _affaire_ between a +poet and the wife of a stockbroker, will murmur to themselves: "Now for +a little lyricism!" and drop into it. Or when the strong, silent +stockbroker has brought his wife once more to heel: "Now for the moral!" +and gives it us. Or when things are getting a little too intense: "Now +for humour and variety!" and bring in the curate. This kind of tartan +kilt is very pleasant on its native heath of London; but--hardly the +garment of good writing. Good writing is only the perfect clothing of +mood--the just right form. Shakespeare's form, you will say, was +extraordinarily loose, wide, plastic; but then his spirit was ever +changing its mood--a true chameleon. And as to the form of Mr. Shaw--who +was once compared with Shakespeare--why! there is none. And yet, what +form could so perfectly express Mr. Shaw's glorious crusade against +stupidity, his wonderfully sincere and lifelong mood of sticking pins +into a pig! + +We are told, _ad nauseam_, that the stage has laws of its own, to which +all dramatists must bow. Quite true! The stage _has_ the highly +technical laws of its physical conditions, which cannot be neglected. +But even when they are all properly attended to, it is only behind the +elbow of one who feels strongly and tries to express sincerely that +right expression stands. The imaginative mood, coming who knows when, +staying none too long, is a mistress who deserves, and certainly +expects, fidelity. True to her while she is there, do not, when she is +not there, insult her by looking in every face and thinking it will +serve! These are laws of sincerity which not even a past-master in the +laws of the stage can afford to neglect. Anything is better than +resorting to moral sentiments and solutions because they are current +coin, or to decoration because it is "the thing." And--as to humour: +though nothing is more precious than the genuine topsy-turvy feeling, +nothing is more pitifully unhumorous than the dragged-in epigram or +dismal knockabout, which has no connection with the persons or +philosophy of the play. + +I suppose it is easy to think oneself sincere; it is certainly difficult +to be that same. Imagine the smile, and the blue pencil, of the Spirit +of Sincerity if we could appoint him Censor. I would not lift my pen +against that Censorship though he excised--as perhaps he might--the half +of my work. Sometimes one has a glimpse of his ironic face and his swift +fingers, busy with those darkening pages. Once I dreamed about him. It +was while a certain Commission was sitting on the British Censorship, +which still so admirably guards Insincerity, and he was giving evidence +before them. This, I remember, was what he said: + +"You wish to learn of me what is sincerity? Look into yourselves, for +what lies deepest within you. Each living thing varies from every other +living thing, and never twice are there quite the same set of premises +from which to draw conclusion. Give up asking of any but yourselves for +the whereabouts of truth; and if some one says that he can tell you +where it is, don't believe him; he might as well lay a trail of sand and +think it will stay there for ever." He stopped, and I could see him +looking to judge what impression he had made upon the Commission. But +those gentlemen behaved as if they had not heard him. The Spirit of +Sincerity coughed. "By Jove, gentlemen," he said, "it's clear you don't +care what impression you make on me. Evidently it is for me to learn +sincerity from you!" + +There was once a gentleman, lately appointed to assist in the control of +the exuberance of plays, who stated in public print that there had been +no plays of any value written since 1885, entirely denying that this new +drama was any better than the old drama, cut to the pattern of Scribe +and Sardou. Certainly, novelty is not necessarily improvement. +Comparison must be left to history. But it is just as well to remember +that we are not born connoisseurs of plays. Without trying the new we +shall not know if it is better than the old. To appreciate even drama at +its true value, a man must be educated just a little. When I first went +to the National Gallery in London I was struck dumb with love of +Landseer's stags and a Greuze damsel with her cheek glued to her own +shoulder, and became voluble from admiration of the large Turner and the +large Claude hung together in that perpetual prize-fight! At a second +visit I discovered Sir Joshua's "Countess of Albemarle" and old Crome's +"Mousehold Heath," and did not care quite so much for Landseer's stags. +And again and again I went, and each time saw a little differently, a +little clearer, until at last my time was spent before Titian's "Bacchus +and Ariadne," Botticelli's "Portrait of a Young Man," the Francescas, Da +Messina's little "Crucifixion," the Uccello battle picture (that great +test of education), the Velasquez (?) "Admiral," Hogarth's "Five +Servants," and the immortal "Death of Procris." Admiration for stags and +maidens--where was it? + +This analogy of pictures does not pretend that our "new drama" is as far +in front of the old as the "Death of Procris" is in front of Landseer's +stags. Alas, no! It merely suggests that taste is encouraged by an open +mind, and is a matter of gradual education. + +To every man his sincere opinion! But before we form opinions, let us +all walk a little through our National Gallery of drama, with inquiring +eye and open mind, to see and know for ourselves. For, _to know_, a man +cannot begin too young, cannot leave off too old. And always he must +have a mind which feels it will never know enough. In this way alone he +_will_, perhaps, know something before he dies. + +And even if he require of the drama only buffoonery, or a digestive for +his dinner, why not be able to discern good buffoonery from bad, and the +pure digestive from the drug? + +One is, I suppose, prejudiced in favour of this "new drama" of +sincerity, of these poor productions of the last fifteen years, or so. +It may be, indeed, that many of them will perish and fade away. But they +are, at all events, the expression of the sincere moods of men who ask +no more than to serve an art, which, heaven knows, has need of a little +serving. + + * * * * * + +So much for the principles underlying the advance of the drama. But what +about the chances of drama itself under the new conditions which will +obtain when the war ends? + +For the moment our world is still convulsed, and art of every kind +trails a lame foot before a public whose eyes are fixed on the vast and +bloody stage of the war. When the last curtain falls, and rises again on +the scenery of Peace, shall we have to revalue everything? Surely not +the fundamental truths; these reflections on the spirit which underlie +all true effort in dramatic art may stand much as they were framed, now +five years ago. Fidelity to mood, to impression, to self will remain +what it was--the very kernel of good dramatic art; whether that fidelity +will find a more or less favourable environment remains the interesting +speculation. When we come to after-war conditions a sharp distinction +will have to be drawn between the chances of sincere drama in America +and Britain. It is my strong impression that sincere dramatists in +America are going to have an easier time than they had before the war, +but that with us they are going to have a harder. My reasons are +threefold. The first and chief reason is economic. However much America +may now have to spend, with her late arrival, vaster resources, and +incomparably greater recuperative power, she will feel the economic +strain but little in comparison with Britain. Britain, not at once, but +certainly within five years of the war's close, will find that she has +very much less money to spend on pleasure. Now, under present conditions +of education, when the average man has little to spend on pleasure, he +spends it first in gratifying his coarser tastes. And the average Briton +is going to spend his little on having his broad laughs and his crude +thrills. By the time he has gratified that side of himself he will have +no money left. Those artists in Britain who respect æsthetic truths and +practise sincerity will lose even the little support they ever had from +the great public there; they will have to rely entirely on that small +public which always wanted truth and beauty, and will want it even more +passionately after the war. But that little public will be poorer also, +and, I think, not more numerous than it was. The British public is going +to be split more definitely into two camps--a very big and a very little +camp. What this will mean to the drama of sincerity only those who have +watched its struggle in the past will be able to understand. The trouble +in Britain--and I daresay in every country--is that the percentage of +people who take art of any kind seriously is ludicrously small. And our +impoverishment will surely make that percentage smaller by cutting off +the recruiting which was always going on from the ranks of the great +public. How long it will take Britain to recover even pre-war conditions +I do not venture to suggest. But I am pretty certain that there is no +chance for a drama of truth and beauty there for many years to come, +unless we can get it endowed in such a substantial way as shall tide it +over--say--the next two decades. What we require is a London theatre +undeviatingly devoted to the production of nothing but the real thing, +which will go its own way, year in, year out, quite without regard to +the great public; and we shall never get it unless we can find some +benevolent, public-spirited person or persons who will place it in a +position of absolute security. If we could secure this endowment, that +theatre would become in a very few years the most fashionable, if not +the most popular, in London, and even the great public would go to it. +Nor need such a theatre be expensive--as theatres go--for it is to the +mind and not to the eye that it must appeal. A sufficient audience is +there ready; what is lacking is the point of focus, a single-hearted and +coherent devotion to the best, and the means to pursue that ideal +without extravagance but without halting. Alas! in England, though +people will endow or back almost anything else, they will not endow or +back an art theatre. + +So much for the economic difficulty in Britain; what about America? The +same cleavage obtains in public taste, of course, but numbers are so +much larger, wealth will be so much greater, the spirit is so much more +inquiring, the divisions so much less fast set, that I do not anticipate +for America any block on the line. There will still be plenty of money +to indulge every taste. + +Art, and especially, perhaps, dramatic art, which of all is most +dependent on a favourable economic condition, will gravitate towards +America, which may well become in the next ten years not only the +mother, but the foster-mother, of the best Anglo-Saxon drama. + +My next reason for thinking that sincerity in art will have a better +chance with Americans than in Britain in the coming years is +psychological. They are so young a nation, we are so old; world-quakes +to them are such an adventure, to us a nerve-racking, if not a +health-shattering event. They will take this war in their stride, we +have had to climb laboriously over it. They will be left buoyant; we, +with the rest of Europe, are bound to lie for long years after in the +trough of disillusionment. The national mood with them will be more than +ever that of inquiry and exploit. With us, unless I make a mistake, +after a spurt of hedonism--a going on the spree--there will be +lassitude. Every European country has been overtried in this hideous +struggle, and Nature, with her principle of balance, is bound to take +redress. For Americans the war, nationally speaking, will have been but +a bracing of the muscles and nerves, a clearing of the skin and eyes. +Such a mental and moral condition will promote in them a deeper +philosophy and a more resolute facing of truth. + +And that brings me to my third reason. The American outlook will be +permanently enlarged by this tremendous experience. Materially and +spiritually she will have been forced to witness and partake of the +life, thought, culture, and troubles of the old world. She will have, +unconsciously, assimilated much, been diverted from the beer and +skittles of her isolated development in a great new country. Americans +will find themselves suddenly grown up. Not till a man is grown up does +he see and feel things deeply enough to venture into the dark well of +sincerity. + +America is an eager nation. She has always been in a hurry. If I had to +point out the capital defect in the attractive temperament of the +American people, I should say it was a passion for short cuts. That has +been, in my indifferent judgment, the very natural, the inevitable +weakness in America's spiritual development. The material possibilities, +the opportunities for growth and change, the vast spaces, the climate, +the continual influxions of new blood and new habits, the endless shifts +of life and environment, all these factors have been against that deep +brooding over things, that close and long scrutiny into the deeper +springs of life, out of which the sincerest and most lasting forms of +art emerge; nearly all the conditions of American existence during the +last fifty years have been against the settled life and atmosphere which +influence men to the re-creation in art form of that which has sunk +deep into their souls. Those who have seen the paintings of the Italian +artist Segantini will understand what I mean. There have been many +painters of mountains, but none whom I know of save he who has +reproduced the very spirit of those great snowy spaces. He spent his +life among them till they soaked into his nerves, into the very blood of +him. All else he gave up, to see and feel them so that he might +reproduce them in his art. Or let me take an instance from America. That +enchanting work of art "Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn," by the great +Mark Twain. What reproduction of atmosphere and life; what scent of the +river, and old-time country life, it gives off! How the author must have +been soaked in it to have produced those books! + +The whole tendency of our age has been away from hand-made goods, away +from the sort of life which produced the great art of the past. That is +too big a subject to treat of here. But certainly a sort of feverish +impatience has possessed us all, America not least. It may be said that +this will be increased by the war. I think the opposite. Hard spiritual +experience and contact with the old world will deepen the American +character and cool its fevers, and Americans will be more thorough, +less impatient, will give themselves to art and to the sort of life +which fosters art, more than they have ever yet given themselves. Great +artists, like Whistler and Henry James, will no longer seek their quiet +environments in Europe. I believe that this war will be for America the +beginning of a great art age; I hope so with all my heart. For art will +need a kind home and a new lease of life. + +A certain humble and yet patient and enduring belief in himself and his +own vision is necessary to the artist. I think that Americans have only +just begun to believe in themselves as artists, but that this belief is +now destined to grow quickly. America has a tremendous atmosphere of her +own, a wonderful life, a wonderful country, but so far she has been +skating over its surface. The time has come when she will strike down, +think less in terms of material success and machine-made perfections. +The time has come when she will brood, and interpret more and more the +underlying truths, and body forth an art which shall be a spiritual +guide, shed light, and show the meaning of her multiple existence. It +will reveal dark things, but also those quiet heights to which man's +spirit turns for rest and faith in this bewildering maze of a world. And +to this art about to come--art inevitably moves slowly--into its own, +to American drama, poetry, fiction, music, painting, sculpture--sincerity, +an unswerving fidelity to self, alone will bring the dignity worthy of +a great and free people. + +1913-1917. + +[C] The first part of this paper was published in the _Hibbert Journal_ +in 1910. + + + + +SPECULATIONS[D] + + +"When we survey the world around, the wondrous things which there +abound"--especially the developments of these last years--there must +come to some of us a doubt whether this civilisation of ours is to have +a future. Mr. Lowes Dickenson, in an able book, "The Choice Before Us," +has outlined the alternate paths which the world may tread after the +war--"National Militarism" or "International Pacifism." He has pointed +out with force the terrible dangers on the first of these two paths, the +ruinous strain and ultimate destruction which a journey down it will +inflict on every nation. But, holding a brief for International +Pacifism, he was not, in that book, at all events, concerned to point +out the dangers which beset Peace. When, in the words of President +Wilson, we have made the world safe for democracy, it will be high time +to set about making it safe against civilisation itself. + +The first thing, naturally, is to ensure a good long spell of peace. If +we do not, we need not trouble ourselves for a moment over the future of +civilisation--there will be none. But a long spell of peace is +probable; for, though human nature is never uniform, and never as one +man shall we get salvation; sheer exhaustion, and disgust with its +present bed-fellows--suffering, sacrifice, and sudden death--will almost +surely force the world into international quietude. For the first time +in history organised justice, such as for many centuries has ruled the +relations between individuals, may begin to rule those between States, +and free us from menace of war for a period which may be almost +indefinitely prolonged. To perpetuate this great change in the life of +nations is very much an affair of getting men used to that change; of +setting up a Tribunal which they can see and pin their faith to, which +works, and proves its utility, which they would miss if it were +dissolved. States are proverbially cynical, but if an International +Court of Justice, backed by international force, made good in the +settlement of two or three serious disputes, allayed two or three +crises, it would with each success gain prestige, be firmer and more +difficult to uproot, till it might at last become as much a matter of +course in the eyes of the cynical States as our Law Courts are in the +eyes of our enlightened selves. + +Making, then, the large but by no means hopeless assumption that such a +change may come, how is our present civilisation going to "pan out"? + +In Samuel Butler's imagined country, "Erewhon," the inhabitants had +broken up all machinery, abandoned the use of money, and lived in a +strange elysium of health and beauty. I often wonder how, without +something of the sort, modern man is to be prevented from falling into +the trombone he blows so loudly, from being destroyed by the very +machines he has devised for his benefit. The problem before modern man +is clearly that of becoming master, instead of slave, of his own +civilisation. The history of the last hundred and fifty years, +especially in England, is surely one long story of ceaseless banquet and +acute indigestion. Certain Roman Emperors are popularly supposed to have +taken drastic measures during their feasts to regain their appetites; we +have not their "slim" wisdom; we do not mind going on eating when we +have had too much. + +I do not question the intentions of civilisation--they are most +honourable. To be clean, warm, well nourished, healthy, decently +leisured, and free to move quickly about the world, are certainly pure +benefits. And these are presumably the prime objects of our toil and +ingenuity, the ideals to be served, by the discovery of steam, +electricity, modern industrial machinery, telephony, flying. If we +attained those ideals, and stopped there--well and good. Alas! the +amazing mechanical conquests of the age have crowded one on another so +fast that we have never had time to digest their effects. Each as it +came we hailed as an incalculable benefit to mankind, and so it was, or +would have been, if we had not the appetites of cormorants and the +digestive powers of elderly gentlemen. Our civilisation reminds one of +the corpse in the Mark Twain story which, at its own funeral, got up and +rode with the driver. It is watching itself being buried. We discover, +and scatter discovery broadcast among a society uninstructed in the +proper use of it. Consider the town-ridden, parasitic condition of Great +Britain--_the country which cannot feed itself_. If we are beaten in +this war, it will be because we have let our industrial system run away +with us; because we became so sunk in machines and money-getting that we +forgot our self-respect. No self-respecting nation would have let its +food-growing capacity and its country life down to the extent that we +have. If we are beaten--which God forbid--we shall deserve our fate. And +why did our industrial system get such a mad grip on us? Because we did +not master the riot of our inventions and discoveries. Remember the +spinning jenny--whence came the whole system of Lancashire cotton +factories which drained a countryside of peasants and caused a +deterioration of physique from which as yet there has been no recovery. +Here was an invention which was to effect a tremendous saving of labour +and be of sweeping benefit to mankind. Exploited without knowledge, +scruple, or humanity, it also caused untold misery and grievous national +harm. Read, mark, and learn Mr. and Mrs. Hammond's book, "The Town +Labourer." The spinning jenny and similar inventions have been the +forces which have dotted beautiful counties of England with the blackest +and most ill-looking towns in the world, have changed the proportion of +country- to town-dwellers from about 3 as against 2 in 1761 to 2 as +against 7 in 1911; have strangled our powers to feed ourselves, and so +made us a temptation to our enemies and a danger to the whole world. We +have made money by it; our standard of wealth has gone up. I remember +having a long talk with a very old shepherd on the South Downs, whose +youth and early married life were lived on eight shillings a week; and +he was no exception. Nowadays our agricultural wage averages over thirty +shillings, though it buys but little more than the eight. Still, the +standard of wealth has superficially advanced, if that be any +satisfaction. But have health, beauty, happiness among the great bulk of +the population? + +Consider the mastery of the air. To what use has it been put, so far? To +practically none, save the destruction of life. About five years before +the war some of us in England tried to initiate an international +movement to ban the use of flying for military purposes. The effort was +entirely abortive. The fact is, man never goes in front of events, +always insists on disastrously buying his experience. And I am inclined +to think we shall continue to advance backwards unless we intern our +inventors till we have learned to run the inventions of the last century +instead of letting them run us. Counsels of perfection, however, are +never pursued. But what _can_ we do? We can try to ban certain outside +dangers internationally, such as submarines and air-craft, in war; and, +inside, we might establish a Board of Scientific Control to ensure that +no inventions are exploited under conditions obviously harmful. + +Suppose, for instance, that the spinning jenny had come before such a +Board, one imagines they might have said: "If you want to use this +peculiar novelty, you must first satisfy us that your employees are +going to work under conditions favourable to health"--in other words, +the Factory Acts, Town Planning, and no Child Labour, from the start. +Or, when rubber was first introduced: "You are bringing in this new and, +we dare say, quite useful article. We shall, however, first send out and +see the conditions under which you obtain it." Having seen, they would +have added: "You will alter those conditions, and treat your native +labour humanely, or we will ban your use of this article," to the grief +and anger of those periwig-pated persons who write to the papers about +grandmotherly legislation and sickly sentimentalism. + +Seriously, the history of modern civilisation shows that, while we can +only trust individualism to make discoveries, we cannot at all trust it +to apply discovery without some sort of State check in the interests of +health, beauty, and happiness. Officialdom is on all our nerves. But +this is a very vital matter, and the suggestion of a Board of Scientific +Control is not so fantastic as it seems. Certain results of inventions +and discoveries cannot, of course, be foreseen, but able and impartial +brains could foresee a good many and save mankind from the most rampant +results of raw and unconsidered exploitation. The public is a child; and +the child who suddenly discovers that there is such a thing as candy, if +left alone, can only be relied on to make itself sick. + +Let us stray for a frivolous moment into the realms of art, since the +word art is claimed for what we know as the "film." This discovery went +as it pleased for a few years in the hands of inventors and commercial +agents. In these few years such a raging taste for cowboy, crime, and +Chaplin films has been developed, that a Commission which has just been +sitting on the matter finds that the public will not put up with more +than a ten per cent. proportion of educational film in the course of an +evening's entertainment. Now, the film as a means of transcribing actual +life is admittedly of absorbing interest and great educational value; +but, owing to this false start, we cannot get it swallowed in more than +extremely small doses as a food and stimulant, while it is being gulped +down to the dregs as a drug or irritant. Of the film's claim to the word +art I am frankly sceptical. My mind is open--and when one says that, one +generally means it is shut. But art is long: the Cro-Magnon men of +Europe decorated the walls of their caves quite beautifully, some say +twenty-five, some say seventy, thousand years ago; so it may well +require a generation to tell us what is art and what is not among the +new experiments continually being made. Still, the film is a restless +thing, and I cannot think of any form of art, as hitherto we have +understood the word, to which that description could be applied, unless +it be those Wagner operas which I have disliked not merely since the war +began, but from childhood up. During the filming of the play "Justice" I +attended at rehearsal to see Mr. Gerald du Maurier play the cell scene. +Since in that scene there is not a word spoken in the play itself, there +is no difference in _kind_ between the appeal of play or film. But the +live rehearsal for the filming was at least twice as affecting as the +dead result of that rehearsal on the screen. The film, of course, is in +its first youth, but I see no signs as yet that it will ever overcome +the handicap of its physical conditions, and attain the real +emotionalising powers of art. The film sweeps up into itself, of course, +a far wider surface of life in a far shorter space of time; but the +medium is flat, has no blood in it; and experience tells one that no +amount of surface and quantity in art ever make up for lack of depth and +quality. Who would not cheerfully give the Albert Memorial for a little +figure by Donatello! Since, however, the film takes the line of least +resistance, and makes a rapid, lazy, superficial appeal, it may very +well oust the drama. And, to my thinking, of course, that will be all to +the bad, and intensely characteristic of machine-made civilisation, +whose motto seems to be: "Down with Shakespeare and Euripides--up with +the Movies!" The film is a very good illustration of the whole tendency +of modern life under the too-rapid development of machines; roughly +speaking, we seem to be turning up yearly more and more ground to less +and less depth. We are getting to know life as superficially as the +Egyptian interpreter knew language, who, [as we read in the _Manchester +Guardian_,] when the authorities complained that he was overstaying his +leave, wrote back: "My absence is impossible. Some one has removed my +wife. My God, I am annoyed." + +There is an expression--"high-brow"--maybe complimentary in origin, but +become in some sort a term of contempt. A doubter of our general +divinity is labelled "high-brow" at once, and his doubts drop like water +off the public's back. Any one who questions our triumphant progress is +tabooed for a pedant. That will not alter the fact, I fear, that we are +growing feverish, rushed, and complicated, and have multiplied +conveniences to such an extent that we do nothing with them but scrape +the surface of life. We were rattling into a new species of barbarism +when the war came, and unless we take a pull, shall continue to rattle +after it is over. The underlying cause in every country is the increase +of herd-life, based on machines, money-getting, and the dread of being +dull. Every one knows how fearfully strong that dread is. But to be +capable of being dull is in itself a disease. + +And most of modern life seems to be a process of creating disease, then +finding a remedy which in its turn creates another disease, demanding +fresh remedy, and so on. We pride ourselves, for example, on scientific +sanitation; well, what is scientific sanitation if not one huge +palliative of evils, which have arisen from herd-life, enabling +herd-life to be intensified, so that we shall presently need even more +scientific sanitation? The old shepherd on the South Downs had never +come in contact with it, yet he was very old, very healthy, hardy, and +contented. He had a sort of simple dignity, too, that we have most of us +lost. The true elixirs _vitæ_--for there be two, I think--are open-air +life and a proud pleasure in one's work; we have evolved a mode of +existence in which it is comparatively rare to find these two conjoined. +In old countries, such as Britain, the evils of herd-life are at present +vastly more acute than in a new country such as America. On the other +hand, the further one is from hell the faster one drives towards it, and +machines are beginning to run along with America even more violently +than with Europe. + +When our Tanks first appeared they were described as snouting monsters +creeping at their own sweet will. I confess that this is how my inflamed +eye sees all our modern machines--monsters running on their own, +dragging us along, and very often squashing us. + +We are, I believe, awakening to the dangers of this "Gadarening," this +rushing down the high cliff into the sea, possessed and pursued by the +devils of--machinery. But if any man would see how little alarmed he +really is--let him ask himself how much of his present mode of existence +he is prepared to alter. Altering the modes of other people is +delightful; one would have great hope of the future if we had nothing +before us but that. The medieval Irishman, in Froude, indicted for +burning down the cathedral at Armagh, together with the Archbishop, +defended himself thus: "As for the cathedral, 'tis true I burned it; but +indeed an' I wouldn't have, only they told me himself was inside." We +are all ready to alter our opponents, if not to burn them. But even if +we were as ardent reformers as that Irishman we could hardly force men +to live in the open, or take a proud pleasure in their work, or enjoy +beauty, or not concentrate themselves on making money. No amount of +legislation will make us "lilies of the field" or "birds of the air," +or prevent us from worshipping false gods, or neglecting to reform +ourselves. + +I once wrote the unpopular sentence, "Democracy at present offers the +spectacle of a man running down a road followed at a more and more +respectful distance by his own soul." I am a democrat, or I should never +have dared. For democracy, substitute "Modern Civilisation," which +prides itself on redress after the event, agility in getting out of the +holes into which it has snouted, and eagerness to snout into fresh ones. +It foresees nothing, and avoids less. It is purely empirical, if one may +use such a "high-brow" word. + +Politics are popularly supposed to govern the direction, and statesmen +to be the guardian angels, of Civilisation. It seems to me that they +have little or no power over its growth. They are of it, and move with +it. Their concern is rather with the body than with the mind or soul of +a nation. One needs not to be an engineer to know that to pull a man up +a wall one must be higher than he; that to raise general taste one must +have better taste than that of those whose taste he is raising. + +Now, to my indifferent mind, education in the large sense--not politics +at all--is the only agent really capable of improving the trend of +civilisation, the only lever we can use. Believing this, I think it a +thousand pities that neither Britain nor America, nor, so far as I know, +any other country, has as yet evolved machinery through which there +might be elected a supreme Director, or, say, a little Board of three +Directors, of the nation's spirit, an Educational President, as it were, +with power over the nation's spirit analogous to that which America's +elected political President has over America's body. Our Minister of +Education is as a rule an ordinary Member of the Government, an ordinary +man of affairs--though at the moment an angel happens to have strayed +in. Why cannot education be regarded, like religion in the past, as +something sacred, not merely a department of political administration? +Ought we not for this most vital business of education to be ever on the +watch for the highest mind and the finest spirit of the day to guide us? +To secure the appointment of such a man, or triumvirate, by democratic +means, would need a special sifting process of election, which could +never be too close and careful. One might use for the purpose the actual +body of teachers in the country to elect delegates to select a jury to +choose finally the flower of the national flock. It would be worth any +amount of trouble to ensure that we always had the best man or men. And +when we had them we should give them a mandate as real and substantial +as America now gives to her political President. We should intend them +not for mere lay administrators and continuers of custom, but for true +fountain-heads and initiators of higher ideals of conduct, learning, +manners, and taste; nor stint them of the means necessary to carry those +ideals into effect. Hitherto, the supposed direction of ideals--in +practice almost none--has been left to religion. But religion as a +motive force is at once too personal, too lacking in unanimity, and too +specialised to control the educational needs of a modern State; +religion, as I understand it, is essentially emotional and individual; +when it becomes practical and worldly it strays outside its true +province and loses beneficence. Education as I want to see it would take +over the control of social ethics, and learning, but make no attempt to +usurp the emotional functions of religion. Let me give you an example: +Those elixirs _vitæ_--open-air life and a proud pleasure in one's +work--imagine those two principles drummed into the heads and hearts of +all the little scholars of the age, by men and women who had been taught +to believe them the truth. Would this not gradually have an incalculable +effect on the trend of our civilisation? Would it not tend to create a +demand for a simple and sane life; help to get us back to the land; +produce reluctance to work at jobs in which no one can feel pride and +pleasure, and so diminish the power of machines and of commercial +exploitation? But teachers could only be inspired with such ideals by +master spirits. And my plea is that we should give ourselves the chance +of electing and making use of such master spirits. We all know from +everyday life and business that the real, the only problem is to get the +best men to run the show; when we get them the show runs well, when we +don't there is nothing left but to pay the devil. The chief defect of +modern civilisation based on democracy is the difficulty of getting best +men quickly enough. Unless Democracy--government by the people--makes of +itself Aristocracy--government by the best people--it is running +steadily to seed. Democracy to be sound must utilise not only the ablest +men of affairs, but the aristocracy of spirit. The really vital concern +of such an elected Head of Education, himself the best man of all, would +be the discovery and employment of other best men, best Heads of Schools +and Colleges, whose chief concern in turn would be the discovery and +employment of best subordinates. The better the teacher the better the +ideals; quite obviously, the only hope of raising ideals is to raise the +standard of those who teach, from top to toe of the educational +machine. What we want, in short, is a sort of endless band--throwing up +the finest spirit of the day till he forms a head or apex whence virtue +runs swiftly down again into the people who elected him. This is the +principle, as it seems to me, of the universe itself, whose symbol is +neither circle nor spire, but circle and spire mysteriously combined. + +America has given us an example of this in her political system; perhaps +she will now oblige in her educational. I confess that I look very +eagerly and watchfully towards America in many ways. After the war she +will be more emphatically than ever, in material things, the most +important and powerful nation of the earth. We British have a legitimate +and somewhat breathless interest in the use she will make of her +strength, and in the course of her national life, for this will greatly +influence the course of our own. But power for real light and leading in +America will depend, not so much on her material wealth, or her armed +force, as on what the attitude towards life and the ideals of her +citizens are going to be. Americans have a certain eagerness for +knowledge; they have also, for all their absorption in success, the +aspiring eye. They do want the good thing. They don't always know it +when they see it, but they want it. These qualities, in combination +with material strength, give America her chance. Yet, if she does not +set her face against "Gadarening," we are all bound for downhill. If she +goes in for spreadeagleism, if her aspirations are towards quantity not +quality, we shall all go on being commonised. If she should get that +purse-and-power-proud fever which comes from national success, we are +all bound for another world flare-up. The burden of proving that +democracy can be real and yet live up to an ideal of health and beauty +will be on America's shoulders, and on ours. What are we and Americans +going to make of our inner life, of our individual habits of thought? +What are we going to reverence, and what despise? Do we mean to lead in +spirit and in truth, not in mere money and guns? Britain is an old +country, still in her prime, I hope; but America is as yet on the +threshold. Is she to step out into the sight of the world as a great +leader? That is for America the long decision, to be worked out, not so +much in her Senate and her Congress, as in her homes and schools. On +America, after the war, the destiny of civilisation may hang for the +next century. If she mislays, indeed, if she does not improve the power +of self-criticism--that special dry American humour which the great +Lincoln had--she might soon develop the intolerant provincialism which +has so often been the bane of the earth and the undoing of nations. If +she gets swelled-head the world will get cold-feet. Above all, if she +does not solve the problems of town life, of Capital and Labour, of the +distribution of wealth, of national health, and attain to a mastery over +inventions and machinery--she is in for a cycle of mere anarchy, +disruption, and dictatorships, into which we shall all follow. The motto +"_noblesse oblige_" applies as much to democracy as ever it did to the +old-time aristocrat. It applies with terrific vividness to America. +Ancestry and Nature have bestowed on her great gifts. Behind her stand +Conscience, Enterprise, Independence, and Ability--such were the +companions of the first Americans, and are the comrades of American +citizens to this day. She has abounding energy, an unequalled spirit of +discovery; a vast territory not half developed, and great natural +beauty. I remember sitting on a bench overlooking the Grand Canyon of +Arizona; the sun was shining into it, and a snow-storm was whirling down +there. All that most marvellous work of Nature was flooded to the brim +with rose and tawny-gold, with white, and wine-dark shadows; the +colossal carvings as of huge rock-gods and sacrificial altars, and great +beasts, along its sides, were made living by the very mystery of light +and darkness, on that violent day of spring--I remember sitting there, +and an old gentleman passing close behind, leaning towards me and saying +in a sly, gentle voice: "How are you going to tell it to the folks at +home?" America has so much that one despairs of telling to the folks at +home, so much grand beauty to be to her an inspiration and uplift +towards high and free thought and vision. Great poems of Nature she has, +wrought in the large, to make of her and keep her a noble people. In our +beloved Britain--all told, not half the size of Texas--there is a quiet +beauty of a sort which America has not. I walked not long ago from +Worthing to the little village of Steyning, in the South Downs. It was +such a day as one too seldom gets in England; when the sun was dipping +and there came on the cool chalky hills the smile of late afternoon, and +across a smooth valley on the rim of the Down one saw a tiny group of +trees, one little building, and a stack, against the clear-blue, pale +sky--it was like a glimpse of Heaven, so utterly pure in line and +colour, so removed, and touching. The tale of loveliness in our land is +varied and unending, but it is not in the grand manner. America has the +grand manner in her scenery and in her blood, for over there all are the +children of adventure and daring, every single white man an emigrant +himself or a descendant of one who had the pluck to emigrate. She has +already had past-masters in dignity, but she has still to reach as a +nation the grand manner in achievement. She knows her own dangers and +failings, her qualities and powers; but she cannot realise the intense +concern and interest, deep down behind our provoking stolidities, with +which we of the old country watch her, feeling that what she does reacts +on us above all nations, and will ever react more and more. Underneath +surface differences and irritations we English-speaking peoples are fast +bound together. May it not be in misery and iron! If America walks +upright, so shall we; if she goes bowed under the weight of machines, +money, and materialism, we, too, shall creep our ways. We run a long +race, we nations; a generation is but a day. But in a day a man may +leave the track, and never again recover it! + +Democracies must not be content to leave the ideals of health and beauty +to artists and a leisured class; that is the way into a treeless, +waterless desert. It has struck me forcibly that we English-speaking +democracies are all right underneath, and all wrong on the surface; our +hearts are sound, but our skin is in a deplorable condition. Our taste, +take it all round, is dreadful. For a petty illustration: Ragtime +music. Judging by its popularity, one would think it must be a splendid +discovery; yet it suggests little or nothing but the comic love-making +of two darkies. We ride it to death; but its jigging, jogging, jumpy +jingle refuses to die on us, and America's young and ours grow up in the +tradition of its soul-forsaken sounds. Take another tiny illustration: +The new dancing. Developed from cake-walk, to fox-trot, by way of tango. +Precisely the same spiritual origin! And not exactly in the grand manner +to one who, like myself, loves and believes in dancing. Take the +"snappy" side of journalism. In San Francisco a few years ago the Press +snapped a certain writer and his wife, in their hotel, and next day +there appeared a photograph of two intensely wretched-looking beings +stricken by limelight, under the headline: "Blank and wife enjoy freedom +and gaiety in the air." Another writer told me that as he set foot on a +car leaving a great city a young lady grabbed him by the coat-tail and +cried: "Say, Mr. Asterisk, what are your views on a future life?" Not in +the grand manner, all this; but, if you like, a sign of vitality and +interest; a mere excrescence. But are not these excrescences symptoms of +a fever lying within our modern civilisation, a febrility which is going +to make achievement of great ends and great work more difficult? We +Britons, as a breed, are admittedly stolid; we err as much on that score +as Americans on the score of restlessness; yet we are both subject to +these excrescences. There is something terribly infectious about +vulgarity; and taste is on the down-grade following the tendencies of +herd-life. It is not a process to be proud of. + +Enough of Jeremiads, there is a bright side to our civilisation. + +This modern febrility does not seem able to attack the real inner man. +If there is a lamentable increase of vulgarity, superficiality, and +restlessness in our epoch, there is also an inspiring development of +certain qualities. Those who were watching human nature before the war +were pretty well aware of how, under the surface, unselfishness, ironic +stoicism, and a warm humanity were growing. These are the great Town +Virtues; the fine flowers of herd-life. A big price is being paid for +them, but they are almost beyond price. The war has revealed them in +full bloom. _Revealed them, not produced them!_ Who, in the future, with +this amazing show before him, will dare to talk about the need for war +to preserve courage and unselfishness? From the first shot these wonders +of endurance, bravery, and sacrifice were shown by the untrained +citizens of countries nearly fifty years deep in peace! Never, I +suppose, in the world's history, has there been so marvellous a display, +in war, of the bedrock virtues. The soundness at core of the modern man +has had one long triumphant demonstration. Out of a million instances, +take that little story of a Mr. Lindsay, superintendent of a pumping +station at some oil-wells in Mesopotamia. A valve in the oil-pipe had +split, and a fountain of oil was being thrown up on all sides, while, +thirty yards off, and nothing between, the furnaces were in full blast. +To prevent a terrible conflagration and great loss of life, and to save +the wells, it was necessary to shut off those furnaces. That meant +dashing through the oil-stream and arriving saturated at the flames. The +superintendent did not hesitate a moment, and was burnt to death. Such +deeds as this men and women have been doing all through the war. + +When you come to think, this modern man is a very new and marvellous +creature. Without quite realising it, we have evolved a fresh species of +stoic, even more stoical, I suspect, than were the old Stoics. Modern +man has cut loose from leading-strings; he stands on his own feet. His +religion is to take what comes without flinching or complaint, as part +of the day's work, which an unknowable God, Providence, Creative +Principle, or whatever it shall be called, has appointed. Observation +tells me that modern man at large, far from inclining towards the new, +personal, elder-brotherly God of Mr. Wells, has turned his face the +other way. He confronts life and death alone. By courage and kindness +modern man exists, warmed by the glow of the great human fellowship. He +has re-discovered the old Greek saying: "God is the helping of man by +man"; has found out in his unselfconscious way that if he does not help +himself, and help his fellows, he cannot reach that inner peace which +satisfies. To do his bit, and to be kind! It is by that creed, rather +than by any mysticism, that he finds the salvation of his soul. His +religion is to be a common-or-garden hero, without thinking anything of +it; for, of a truth, this is the age of conduct. + +After all, does not the only real spiritual warmth, not tinged by +Pharisaism, egotism, or cowardice, come from the feeling of doing your +work well and helping others; is not all the rest embroidery, luxury, +pastime, pleasant sound and incense? Modern man, take him in the large, +does not believe in salvation to beat of drum; or that, by leaning up +against another person, however idolised and mystical, he can gain +support. He is a realist with too romantic a sense, perhaps, of the +mystery which surrounds existence to pry into it. And, like modern +civilisation itself, he is the creature of West and North, of +atmospheres, climates, manners of life which foster neither inertia, +reverence, nor mystic meditation. Essentially man of action, in ideal +action he finds his only true comfort; and no attempts to discover for +him new gods and symbols will divert him from the path made for him by +the whole trend of his existence. I am sure that padres at the front see +that the men whose souls they have gone out to tend are living the +highest form of religion; that in their comic courage, unselfish +humanity, their endurance without whimper of things worse than death, +they have gone beyond all pulpit-and-death-bed teaching. And who are +these men? Just the early manhood of the race, just modern man as he was +before the war began and will be when the war is over. + +This modern world, of which we English and Americans are perhaps the +truest types, stands revealed, from beneath its froth, frippery, and +vulgar excrescences, sound at core--a world whose implicit motto is: +"The good of all humanity." But the herd-life, which is its +characteristic, brings many evils, has many dangers; and to preserve a +sane mind in a healthy body is the riddle before us. Somehow we must +free ourselves from the driving domination of machines and +money-getting, not only for our own sakes but for that of all mankind. + +And there is another thing of the most solemn importance: We +English-speaking nations are by chance as it were the ballast of the +future. It is _absolutely necessary_ that we should remain united. The +comradeship we now feel must and surely shall abide. For unless we work +together, and in no selfish or exclusive spirit--good-bye to +Civilisation! It will vanish like the dew off grass. The betterment not +only of the British nations and America, but of all mankind, is and must +be our object. + +When from all our hearts this great weight is lifted; when no longer in +those fields death sweeps his scythe, and our ears at last are free from +the rustling thereof--then will come the test of magnanimity in all +countries. Will modern man rise to the ordering of a sane, a free, a +generous life? Each of us loves his own country best, be it a little +land or the greatest on earth; but jealousy is the dark thing, the +creeping poison. Where there is true greatness, let us acclaim it; where +there is true worth, let us prize it--as if it were our own. + +This earth is made too subtly, of too multiple warp and woof, for +prophecy. When he surveys the world around, the wondrous things which +there abound, the prophet closes foolish lips. Besides, as the historian +tells us: "Writers have that undeterminateness of spirit which commonly +makes literary men of no use in the world." So I, for one, prophesy not. +Still, we do know this: All English-speaking peoples will go to the +adventure of peace with something of big purpose and spirit in their +hearts, with something of free outlook. The world is wide and Nature +bountiful enough for all, if we keep sane minds. The earth is fair and +meant to be enjoyed, if we keep sane bodies. Who dare affront this world +of beauty with mean views? There is no darkness but what the ape in us +still makes, and in spite of all his monkey-tricks modern man is at +heart further from the ape than man has yet been. + +To do our jobs really well and to be brotherly! To seek health, and +ensue beauty! If, in Britain and America, in all the English-speaking +nations, we can put that simple faith into real and thorough practice, +what may not this century yet bring forth? Shall man, the highest +product of creation, be content to pass his little day in a house, like +unto Bedlam? + +When the present great task in which we have joined hands is ended; when +once more from the shuttered mad-house the figure of Peace steps forth +and stands in the sun, and we may go our ways again in the beauty and +wonder of a new morning--let it be with this vow in our hearts: "No more +of Madness--in War, in _Peace_!" + +1917-18. + +[D] A paper read on March 21st, 1918. + + + + +THE LAND, 1917 + + +I + +If once more through ingenuity, courage, and good luck we find the +submarine menace "well in hand," and go to sleep again--if we reach the +end of the war without having experienced any sharp starvation, and go +our ways to trade, to eat, and forget--What then? It is about twenty +years since the first submarine could navigate--and about seventeen +since flying became practicable. There are a good many years yet before +the world, and numberless developments in front of these new +accomplishments. Hundreds of miles are going to be what tens are now; +thousands of machines will take the place of hundreds. + +We have ceased to live on an island in any save a technically +geographical sense, and the sooner we make up our minds to the fact, the +better. If in the future we act as we have in the past--rather the habit +of this country--I can imagine that in fifteen years' time or so we +shall be well enough prepared against war of the same magnitude and +nature as this war, and that the country which attacks us will launch an +assault against defences as many years out of date. + +I can imagine a war starting and well-nigh ending at once, by a quiet +and simultaneous sinking, from under water and from the air, of most +British ships, in port or at sea. I can imagine little standardised +submarines surreptitiously prepared by the thousand, and tens of +thousands of the enemy population equipped with flying machines, +instructed in flying as part of their ordinary civil life, and ready to +serve their country at a moment's notice, by taking a little flight and +dropping a little charge of an explosive many times more destructive +than any in use now. The agility of submarines and flying machines will +grow almost indefinitely. And even if we carry our commerce under the +sea instead of on the surface, we shall not be guaranteed against attack +by air. The air menace is, in fact, infinitely greater than that from +under water. I can imagine all shipping in port, the Houses of +Parliament, the Bank of England, most commercial buildings of +importance, and every national granary wrecked or fired in a single +night, on a declaration of war springing out of the blue. The only +things I cannot imagine wrecked or fired are the British character and +the good soil of Britain. + +These are sinister suggestions, but there is really no end to what might +now be done to us by any country which deliberately set its own +interests and safety above all considerations of international right, +especially if such country were moved to the soul by longing for +revenge, and believed success certain. After this world-tragedy let us +hope nations may have a little sense, less of that ghastly provincialism +whence this war sprang; that no nation may teach in its schools that it +is God's own people, entitled to hack through, without consideration of +others; that professors may be no longer blind to all sense of +proportion; Emperors things of the past; diplomacy open and responsible; +a real Court of Nations at work; Military Chiefs unable to stampede a +situation; journalists obliged to sign their names and held accountable +for inflammatory writings. Let us hope, and let us by every means +endeavour to bring about this better state of the world. But there is +many a slip between cup and lip; there is also such a thing as hatred. +And to rely blindly on a peace which, at the best, must take a long time +to prove its reality, is to put our heads again under our wings. Once +bit, twice shy. We shall make a better world the quicker if we try +realism for a little. + +Britain's situation is now absurdly weak, without and within. And its +weakness is due to one main cause--_the fact that we do not grow our own +food_. To get the better of submarines in this war will make no +difference to our future situation. A little peaceful study and +development of submarines and aircraft will antiquate our present +antidotes. You cannot chain air and the deeps to war uses and think you +have done with their devilish possibilities a score of years afterwards +because for the moment the submarine menace or the air menace is "well +in hand." + +At the end of the war I suppose the Channel Tunnel will be made. And +quite time too! But even that will not help us. We get no food from +Europe, and never shall again. Not even by linking ourselves to Europe +can we place ourselves in security from Europe. Faith may remove +mountains, but it will not remove Britain to the centre of the Atlantic. +Here we shall remain, every year nearer and more accessible to secret +and deadly attack. + +The next war, if there be one--which Man forbid--may be fought without +the use of a single big ship or a single infantryman. It may begin, +instead of ending, by being a war of starvation; it may start, as it +were, where it leaves off this time. And the only way of making even +reasonably safe is to grow our own food. If for years to come we have to +supplement by State granaries, they must be placed underground; not even +there will they be too secure. Unless we grow our own food after this +war we shall be the only great country which does not, and a constant +temptation to any foe. To be self-sufficing will be the first precaution +taken by our present enemies, in order that blockade may no longer be a +weapon in our hands, so far as _their_ necessary food is concerned. + +Whatever arrangements the world makes after the war to control the +conduct of nations in the future, the internal activities of those +nations will remain unfettered, capable of deadly shaping and plausible +disguise in the hands of able and damnable schemers. + +The submarine menace of the present is merely awkward, and no doubt +surmountable--it is nothing to the submarine-_cum_-air menace of peace +time a few years hence. _It will be impossible to guard against surprise +under the new conditions._ If we do not grow our own food, we could be +knocked out of time in the first round. + +But besides the danger from overseas, we have an inland danger to our +future just as formidable--the desertion of our countryside and the +town-blight which is its corollary. + +Despair seizes on one reading that we should cope with the danger of the +future by new cottages, better instruction to farmers, better kinds of +manure and seed, encouragement to co-operative societies, a cheerful +spirit, and the storage of two to three years' supply of grain. +Excellent and necessary, in their small ways--they are a mere stone to +the bread we need. + +In that programme and the speech which put it forward I see insufficient +grasp of the outer peril and hardly any of the gradual destruction with +which our overwhelming town life threatens us; not one allusion to the +physical and moral welfare of our race, except this: "That boys should +be in touch with country life and country tastes is of first importance, +and that their elementary education should be given in terms of country +things is also of enormous importance." That is all, and it shows how +far we have got from reality, and how difficult it will be to get +back; for the speaker was once Minister for Agriculture. + +Our justifications for not continuing to feed ourselves were: Pursuit of +wealth, command of the sea, island position. Whatever happens in this +war, we have lost the last two in all but a superficial sense. Let us +see whether the first is sufficient justification for perseverance in a +mode of life which has brought us to an ugly pass. + +Our wonderful industrialism began about 1766, and changed us from +exporting between the years 1732 and 1766 11,250,000 quarters of wheat +to importing 7,500,000 quarters between the years 1767 and 1801. In one +hundred and fifty years it has brought us to the state of importing more +than three-quarters of our wheat, and more than half our total food. +Whereas in 1688 (figures of Gregory and Davenant) about four-fifths of +the population of England was rural, in 1911 only about two-ninths was +rural. This transformation has given us great wealth, extremely +ill-distributed; plastered our country with scores of busy, populous, +and hideous towns; given us a merchant fleet which before the war had a +gross tonnage of over 20,000,000, or not far short of half the world's +shipping. It has, or had, fixed in us the genteel habit of eating very +doubtfully nutritious white bread made of the huskless flour of wheat; +reduced the acreage of arable land in the United Kingdom from its +already insufficient maximum of 23,000,000 acres to its 1914 figure of +19,000,000 acres; made England, all but its towns, look very like a +pleasure garden; and driven two shibboleths deep into our minds, "All +for wealth" and "Hands off the food of the people." + +All these "good" results have had certain complementary disadvantages, +some of which we have just seen, some of which have long been seen. + +Of these last, let me first take a small sentimental disadvantage. We +have become more parasitic by far than any other nation. To eat we have +to buy with our manufactures an overwhelming proportion of our vital +foods. The blood in our veins is sucked from foreign bodies, in return +for the clothing we give them--not a very self-respecting thought. We +have a green and fertile country, and round it a prolific sea. Our +country, if we will, can produce, with its seas, all the food we need to +eat. We know that quite well, but we elect to be nourished on foreign +stuff, because we are a practical people and prefer shekels to +sentiment. We do not mind being parasitic. Taking no interest nationally +in the growth of food, we take no interest nationally in the cooking of +it; the two accomplishments subtly hang together. Pride in the food +capacity, the corn and wine and oil, of their country has made the +cooking of the French the most appetising and nourishing in the world. +The French do cook: we open tins. The French preserve the juices of +their home-grown food: we have no juices to preserve. The life of our +poorer classes is miserably stunted of essential salts and savours. They +throw away skins, refuse husks, make no soups, prefer pickle to genuine +flavour. But home-grown produce really is more nourishing than tinned +and pickled and frozen foods. If we honestly feed ourselves we shall not +again demand the old genteel flavourless white bread without husk or +body in it; we shall eat wholemeal bread, and take to that salutary +substance, oatmeal, which, if I mistake not, has much to say in making +the Scots the tallest and boniest race in Europe. + +Now for a far more poignant disadvantage. We have become tied up in +teeming congeries, to which we have grown so used that we are no longer +able to see the blight they have brought on us. Our great industrial +towns, sixty odd in England alone, with a population of 15,000,000 to +16,000,000, are our glory, our pride, and the main source of our wealth. +They are the growth, roughly speaking, of five generations. They began +at a time when social science was unknown, spread and grew in unchecked +riot of individual moneymaking, till they are the nightmare of social +reformers, and the despair of all lovers of beauty. They have mastered +us so utterly, morally and physically, that we regard them and their +results as matter of course. They _are_ public opinion, so that for the +battle against town-blight there is no driving force. They paralyse the +imaginations of our politicians because their voting power is so +enormous, their commercial interests are so huge, and the food +necessities of their populations seem so paramount. + +I once bewailed the physique of our towns to one of our most cultivated +and prominent Conservative statesmen. He did not agree. He thought that +probably physique was on the up-grade. This commonly held belief is based +on statistics of longevity and sanitation. But the same superior +sanitation and science applied to a rural population would have +lengthened the lives of a much finer and better-looking stock. Here are +some figures: Out of 1,650 passers-by, women and men, observed in +perhaps the "best" district of London--St. James's Park, Trafalgar +Square, Westminster Bridge, and Piccadilly--in May of this year, only +310 had any pretensions to not being very plain or definitely ugly-not +one in five. And out of that 310 only eleven had what might be called +real beauty. Out of 120 British soldiers observed round Charing Cross, +sixty--just one-half--passed the same standard. But out of seventy-two +Australian soldiers, fifty-four, or three-quarters, passed, and several +had real beauty. Out of 120 men, women, and children taken at random in +a remote country village (five miles from any town, and eleven miles +from any town of 10,000 inhabitants) ninety--or just three-quarters +also--pass this same standard of looks. It is significant that the +average here is the same as the average among Australian soldiers, who, +though of British stock, come from a country as yet unaffected by town +life. You ask, of course, what standard is this? A standard which covers +just the very rudiments of proportion and comeliness. People in small +country towns, I admit, have little or no more beauty than people in +large towns. This is curious, but may be due to too much inbreeding. + +The first counter to conclusions drawn from such figures is obviously: +"The English are an ugly people." I said that to a learned and æsthetic +friend when I came back from France last spring. He started, and then +remarked: "Oh, well; not as ugly as the French, anyway." A great error; +much plainer if you take _the bulk, and not the pick_, of the population +in both countries. It may not be fair to attribute French superiority in +looks entirely to the facts that they grow nearly all their own food +(and cook it well), and had in 1906 four-sevenths of their population in +the country as against our own two-ninths in 1911, because there is the +considerable matter of climate. But when you get so high a proportion of +comeliness in _remote_ country districts in England, it _is_ fair to +assume that climate does not account for anything like all the +difference. I do not believe that the English are naturally an ugly +people. The best English type is perhaps the handsomest in the world. +The physique and looks of the richer classes are as notoriously better +than those of the poorer classes as the physique and looks of the remote +country are superior to those of crowded towns. Where conditions are +free from cramp, poor air, poor food, and _herd-life_, English physique +quite holds its own with that of other nations. + +We do not realise the great deterioration of our stock, the squashed-in, +stunted, disproportionate, commonised look of the bulk of our people, +because, as we take our walks abroad, we note only faces and figures +which strike us as good-looking; the rest pass unremarked. Ugliness has +become a matter of course. There is no reason, save town life, why this +should be so. But what does it matter if we _have_ become ugly? We work +well, make money, and have lots of moral qualities. A fair inside is +better than a fair outside. I do think that we are in many ways a very +wonderful people; and our townsfolk not the least wonderful. But that is +all the more reason for trying to preserve our physique. + +Granted that an expressive face, with interest in life stamped on it, is +better than "chocolate box" or "barber's block" good looks, that agility +and strength are better than symmetry without agility and strength; the +trouble is that there is no interest stamped on so many of our faces, +no agility or strength in so many of our limbs. If there were, those +faces and limbs would pass my standard. The old Greek cult of the body +was not to be despised. I defy even the most rigid Puritans to prove +that a satisfactory moral condition can go on within an exterior which +exhibits no signs of a live, able, and serene existence. By living on +its nerves, overworking its body, starving its normal aspirations for +fresh air, good food, sunlight, and a modicum of solitude, a country can +get a great deal out of itself, a terrific lot of wealth, in three or +four generations; but it is living on its capital, physically speaking. +This is precisely what we show every sign of doing; and partly what I +mean by "town-blight." + + +II + +The impression I get, in our big towns, is most peculiar--considering +that we are a free people. The faces and forms have a look of being +possessed. To express my meaning exactly is difficult. There is a dulled +and driven look, and yet a general expression of "Keep smiling--Are we +down-hearted? No." It is as if people were all being forced along by a +huge invisible hand at the back of their necks, whose pressure they +resent yet are trying to make the best of, because they cannot tell +whence it comes. To understand, you must watch the grip from its very +beginnings. The small children who swarm in the little grey playground +streets of our big towns pass their years in utter abandonment. They +roll and play and chatter in conditions of amazing unrestraint and +devil-may-care-dom in the midst of amazing dirt and ugliness. The +younger they are, as a rule, the chubbier and prettier they are. +Gradually you can see herd-life getting hold of them, the impact of ugly +sights and sounds commonising the essential grace and individuality of +their little features. On the lack of any standard or restraint, any +real glimpse of Nature, any knowledge of a future worth striving for, or +indeed of any future at all, they thrive forward into that hand-to-mouth +mood from which they are mostly destined never to emerge. Quick and +scattery as monkeys, and never alone, they become, at a rake's progress, +little fragments of the herd. On poor food, poor air, and habits of +least resistance, they wilt and grow distorted, acquiring withal the +sort of pathetic hardihood which a Dartmoor pony will draw out of moor +life in a frozen winter. All round them, by day, by night, stretches the +huge, grey, grimy waste of streets, factory walls, chimneys, murky +canals, chapels, public-houses, hoardings, posters, butchers' shops--a +waste where nothing beautiful exists save a pretty cat or pigeon, a blue +sky, perhaps, and a few trees and open spaces. The children of the class +above, too, of the small shop-people, the artisans--do they escape? Not +really. The same herd-life and the same sights and sounds pursue them +from birth; they also are soon divested of the grace and free look which +you see in country children walking to and from school or roaming the +hedges. Whether true slum children, or from streets a little better off, +quickly they all pass out of youth into the iron drive of commerce and +manufacture, into the clang and clatter, the swish and whirr of wheels, +the strange, dragging, saw-like hubbub of industry, or the clicking and +pigeon-holes of commerce; perch on a devil's see-saw from monotonous +work to cheap sensation and back. Considering the conditions it is +wonderful that they stand it as well as they do; and I should be the +last to deny that they possess remarkable qualities. But the modern +industrial English town is a sort of inferno where people dwell with a +marvellous philosophy. What would you have? They have never seen any way +out of it. And this, perhaps, would not be so pitiful if for each +bond-servant of our town-tyranny there was in store a prize--some +portion of that national wealth in pursuit of which the tyrant drives +us; if each worker had before him the chance of emergence at, say, +fifty. But, Lord God! for five that emerge, ninety-and-five stay bound, +less free and wealthy at the end of the chapter than they were at the +beginning. And the quaint thing is--they know it; know that they will +spend their lives in smoky, noisy, crowded drudgery, and in crowded +drudgery die. Wealth goes to wealth, and all they can hope for is a few +extra shillings a week, with a corresponding rise in prices. They know +it, but it does not disturb them, for they were born of the towns, have +never glimpsed at other possibilities. Imprisoned in town life from +birth, they contentedly perpetuate the species of a folk with an ebbing +future. Yes, ebbing! For if it be not, why is there now so much +conscious effort to arrest the decay of town workers' nerves and sinews? +Why do we bother to impede a process which is denied? If there be no +town-blight on us, why a million indications of uneasiness and a +thousand little fights against the march of a degeneration so natural, +vast, and methodical, that it brings them all to naught? Our physique is +slowly rotting, and that is the plain truth of it. + +But it does not stop with deteriorated physique. Students of faces in +the remoter country are struck by the absence of what, for want of a +better word, we may call vulgarity. That insidious defacement is seen to +be a thing of towns, and not at all a matter of "class." The simplest +country cottager, shepherd, fisherman, has as much, often a deal more, +dignity than numbers of our upper classes, who, in spite of the desire +to keep themselves unspotted, are still, from the nature of their +existence, touched by the herd-life of modern times. For vulgarity is +the natural product of herd-life; an amalgam of second-hand thought, +cheap and rapid sensation, defensive and offensive self-consciousness, +gradually plastered over the faces, manners, voices, whole beings, of +those whose elbows are too tightly squeezed to their sides by the +pressure of their fellows, whose natures are cut off from Nature, whose +senses are rendered imitative by the too insistent impact of certain +sights and sounds. Without doubt the rapid increase of town-life is +responsible for our acknowledged vulgarity. The same process is going on +in America and in Northern Germany; but we unfortunately had the lead, +and seem to be doing our best to keep it. Cheap newspapers, on the +sensational tip-and-run system, perpetual shows of some kind or other, +work in association, every kind of thing in association, at a speed too +great for individual digestion, and in the presence of every device for +removing the need for individual thought; the thronged streets, the +football match with its crowd emotions; beyond all, the cinema--a +compendium of all these other influences--make town-life a veritable +forcing-pit of vulgarity. We are all so deeply in it that we do not see +the process going on; or, if we admit it, hasten to add: "But what does +it matter?--there's no harm in vulgarity; besides, it's inevitable, you +can't set the tide back." Obviously, the vulgarity of town-life cannot +be exorcised by Act of Parliament; there is not indeed the faintest +chance that Parliament will recognise such a side to the question at +all, since there is naturally no public opinion on this matter. + +Everybody must recognise and admire certain qualities specially fostered +by town-life; the extraordinary patience, cheerful courage, philosophic +irony, and unselfishness of our towns-people--qualities which in this +war, both at the front and at home, have been of the greatest value. +They are worth much of the price paid. But in this life all is a +question of balance; and my contention is, not so much that town-life in +itself is bad, as that we have pushed it to a point of excess terribly +dangerous to our physique, to our dignity, and to our sense of beauty. +Must our future have no serene and simple quality, not even a spice of +the influence of Nature, with her air, her trees, her fields, and wide +skies? Say what you like, it is elbow-room for limbs and mind and lungs +which keeps the countryman free from that dulled and driven look, and +gives him individuality. I know all about the "dullness" and "monotony" +of rural life, bad housing and the rest of it. All true enough, but the +cure is not exodus, it is improvement in rural-life conditions, more +co-operation, better cottages, a fuller, freer social life. What we in +England now want more than anything is air--for lungs and mind. We have +overdone herd-life. We _are_ dimly conscious of this, feel vaguely that +there is something "rattling" and wrong about our progress, for we have +had many little spasmodic "movements" back to the land these last few +years. But what do they amount to? Whereas in 1901 the proportion of +town to country population in England and Wales was 3 10/37--1, in 1911 +it was 3 17/20--1; very distinctly greater! At this crab's march we +shall be some time getting "back to the land." Our effort, so far, has +been something like our revival of Morris dancing, very pleasant and +æsthetic, but without real economic basis or strength to stand up +against the lure of the towns. And how queer, ironical, and pitiful is +that lure, when you consider that in towns one-third of the population +are just on or a little below the line of bare subsistence; that the +great majority of town workers have hopelessly monotonous work, stuffy +housing, poor air, and little leisure. But there it is--the charm of the +lighted-up unknown, of company, and the streets at night! The countryman +goes to the town in search of adventure. Honestly--does he really find +it? He thinks he is going to improve his prospects and his mind. His +prospects seldom brighten. He sharpens his mind, only to lose it and +acquire instead that of the herd. + +To compete with this lure of the towns, there must first be _national_ +consciousness of its danger; then coherent _national_ effort to fight +it. We must destroy the shibboleth: "All for wealth!" and re-write it: +"All for health!"--the only wealth worth having. Wealth is not an end, +surely. Then, to what is it the means, if not to health? Once we admit +that in spite of our wealth our national health is going downhill +through town-blight, we assert the failure of our country's ideals and +life. And if, having got into a vicious state of congested town +existence, we refuse to make an effort to get out again, because it is +necessary to "hold our own commercially," and feed "the people" cheaply, +we are in effect saying: "We certainly are going to hell, but look--how +successfully!" I suggest rather that we try to pull ourselves up again +out of the pit of destruction, even if to do so involves us in a certain +amount of monetary loss and inconvenience. Yielding to no one in desire +that "the people" should be well, nay better, fed, I decline utterly to +accept the doctrine that there is no way of doing this compatible with +an increased country population and the growth of our own food. In +national matters, where there is a general and not a mere Party will, +there is a way, and the way is not to be recoiled from because the first +years of the change may necessitate Governmental regulation. Many people +hold that our salvation will come through education. Education on right +lines underlies everything, of course; but unless education includes the +growth of our own food and return to the land in substantial measure, +education cannot save us. + +It may be natural to want to go to hell; it is certainly easy; we have +gone so far in that direction that we cannot hope to be haloed in our +time. For good or evil, the great towns are here, and we can but +mitigate. The indicated policy of mitigation is fivefold:-- + +(1) Such solid economic basis to the growth of our food as will give us +again national security, more arable land than we have ever had, and on +it a full complement of well-paid workers, with better cottages, and a +livened village life. + +(2) A vast number of small holdings, State-created, with co-operative +working. + +(3) A wide belt-system of garden allotments round every town, industrial +or not. + +(4) Drastic improvements in housing, feeding, and sanitation in the +towns themselves. + +(5) Education that shall raise not only the standard of knowledge but +the standard of taste in town and country. + +All these ideals are already well in the public eye--on paper. But they +are incoherently viewed and urged; they do not as yet form a national +creed. Until welded and supported by all parties in the State, they will +not have driving power enough to counteract the terrific momentum with +which towns are drawing us down into the pit. One section pins its faith +to town improvement; another to the development of small holdings; a +third to cottage building; a fourth to education; a fifth to support of +the price of wheat; a sixth to the destruction of landlords. +Comprehensive vision of the danger is still lacking, and comprehensive +grasp of the means to fight against it. + +We are by a long way the most town-ridden country in the world; our +towns by a long way the smokiest and worst built, with the most inbred +town populations. We have practically come to an end of our +country-stock reserves. Unless we are prepared to say: "This is a +desirable state of things; let the inbreeding of town stocks go on--we +shall evolve in time a new type immune to town life; a little ratty +fellow all nerves and assurance, much better than any country +clod!"--which, by the way, is exactly what some of us do say! Unless we +mean as a nation to adopt this view and rattle on, light-heartedly, +careless of menace from without and within, assuring ourselves that +health and beauty, freedom and independence, as hitherto understood, +have always been misnomers, and that nothing whatever matters so long as +we are rich--unless all this, we must give check to the present state of +things, restore a decent balance between town and country stock, grow +our own food, and establish a permanent tendency away from towns. + +All this fearfully unorthodox and provocative of sneers, and--goodness +knows--I do not enjoy saying it. But needs must when the devil drives. +It may be foolish to rave against the past and those factors and +conditions which have put us so utterly in bond to towns--especially +since this past and these towns have brought us such great wealth and so +dominating a position in the world. It cannot be foolish, now that we +have the wealth and the position, to resolve with all our might to free +ourselves from bondage, to be masters, not servants, of our fate, to get +back to firm ground, and make Health and Safety what they ever should +be--the true keystones of our policy. + + +III + +In the midst of a war like this the first efforts of any Government have +to be directed to immediate ends. But under the pressure of the war the +Government has a unique chance to initiate the comprehensive, +far-reaching policy which alone can save us. Foundations to safety will +only be laid if our representatives can be induced now to see this +question of the land as _the_ question of the future, no matter what +happens in the war; to see that, whatever success we attain, we cannot +remove the two real dangers of the future, sudden strangulation through +swift attack by air and under sea--unless we grow our own food; and slow +strangulation by town-life--unless we restore the land. Our imaginations +are stirred, the driving force is here, swift action possible, and +certain extraordinary opportunities are open which presently must close +again. + +On demobilisation we have the chance of our lives to put men on the +land. Because this is still a Party question, to be sagaciously debated +up hill and down dale three or four years hence, we shall very likely +grasp the mere shadow and miss the substance of that opportunity. If the +Government had a mandate "Full steam ahead" we could add at the end of +the war perhaps a million men (potentially four million people) to our +food-growing country population; as it is, we may add thereto a few +thousands, lose half a million to the Colonies, and discourage the +rest--patting our own backs the while. To put men on the land we must +have the land ready in terms of earth, not of paper; and have it in the +right places, within easy reach of town or village. Things can be done +just now. We know, for instance, that in a few months half a million +allotment-gardens have been created in urban areas and more progress +made with small holdings than in previous years. I repeat, we have a +chance which will not recur to scotch the food danger, and to restore a +healthier balance between town and country stocks. Shall we be +penny-wise and lose this chance for the luxury of "free and full +discussion of a controversial matter at a time when men's minds are not +full of the country's danger"? This _is_ the country's danger--there is no +other. And this is the moment for full and free discussion of it, for +full and free action too. Who doubts that a Government which brought +this question of the land in its widest aspects to the touch-stone of +full debate at once, would get its mandate, would get the power it +wanted--not to gerrymander, but to build? + +Consider the Corn Production Bill. I will quote Mr. Prothero: "National +security is not an impracticable dream. It is within our reach, within +the course of a few years, and it involves no great dislocation of other +industries." (Note that.) "For all practical purposes, if we could grow +at home here 82 per cent, of all the food that we require for five +years, we should be safe, and that amount of independence of sea-borne +supplies we can secure, and secure within a few years.... We could +obtain that result if we could add 8,000,000 acres of arable land to our +existing area--that is to say, if we increased it from 19,000,000 acres +to 27,000,000 acres. If you once got that extension of your arable area, +the nation would be safe from the nightmare of a submarine menace, and +the number of additional men who would be required on the land would be +something about a quarter of a million." (Note that.) "The present Bill +is much less ambitious." It is. And it is introduced by one who knows +and dreads, as much as any of us, the dangerous and unballasted +condition into which we have drifted; introduced with, as it were, +apology, as if he feared that, unambitious though, it be, it will +startle the nerves of Parliament. On a question so vast and vital you +are bound to startle by any little measure. Nothing but an heroic +measure would arouse debate on a scale adequate to reach and stir the +depths of our national condition, and wake us all, politicians and +public, to appreciate the fact that our whole future is in this matter, +and that it must be tackled. + +If we are not capable now of grasping the vital nature of this issue we +assuredly never shall be. Only five generations have brought us to the +parasitic, town-ridden condition we are in. The rate of progress in +deterioration will increase rapidly with each coming generation. We +have, as it were, turned seven-ninths of our population out into poor +paddocks, to breed promiscuously among themselves. We have the chance to +make our English and Welsh figures read: Twenty-four millions of +town-dwellers to twelve of country, instead of, as now, twenty-eight +millions to eight. Consider what that would mean to the breeding of the +next generation. In such extra millions of country stock our national +hope lies. What we should never dream of permitting with our domestic +animals, we are not only permitting but encouraging among ourselves; we +are doing all we can to perpetuate and increase poor stock; stock +without either quality or bone, run-down, and ill-shaped. And, just as +the progress in the "stock" danger is accelerated with each generation, +so does the danger from outside increase with every year which sees +flying and submarining improve, and our food capacity standing still. + +The great argument against a united effort to regain our ballast is: We +must not take away too many from our vital industries. Why, even the +Minister of Agriculture, who really knows and dreads the danger, almost +apologises for taking two hundred and fifty thousand from those vital +industries, to carry out, not his immediate, but his ideal, programme. +Vital industries! Ah! vital to Britain's destruction within the next few +generations unless we mend our ways! The great impediment is the force +of things as they are, the huge vested interests, the iron network of +vast enterprises frightened of losing profit. If we pass this moment, +when men of every class and occupation, even those who most thrive on +our town-ridden state, are a little frightened; if we let slip this +chance for a real reversal--can we hope that anything considerable will +be done, with the dice loaded as they are, the scales weighted so +hopelessly in favour of the towns? Representatives of seven-ninths will +always see that representatives of two-ninths do not outvote them. This +is a crude way of putting it, but it serves; because, after all, an +elector is only a little bundle of the immediate needs of his locality +and mode of life, outside of which he cannot see, and which he does not +want prejudiced. He is not a fool, like me, looking into the future. And +his representatives have got to serve him. The only chance, in a +question so huge, vital, and _long_ as this, is that greatly distrusted +agent--Panic Legislation. When panic makes men, for a brief space, open +their eyes and see truth, then it is valuable. Before our eyes close +again and see nothing but the darkness of the daily struggle for +existence, let us take advantage, and lay foundations which will be +difficult, at least, to overturn. + +What has been done so far, and what more can be done? A bounty on corn +has been introduced. I suppose nobody, certainly not its promoter, is +enamoured of this. But it does not seem to have occurred to every one +that you cannot eat nuts without breaking their shells, or get out of +evil courses without a transition period of extreme annoyance to +yourself. "Bounty" is, in many quarters, looked on as a piece of petting +to an interest already pampered. Well--while we look on the land as an +"interest" in competition with other "interests" and not as _the_ vital +interest of the country, underlying every other, so long shall we +continue to be "in the soup." The land needs fostering, and again +fostering, because the whole vicious tendency of the country's life has +brought farming to its present pass and farmers to their attitude of +mistrust. Doctrinaire objections are now ridiculous. An economic basis +must be re-established, or we may as well cry "Kamerad" at once and hold +up our hands to Fate. The greater the arable acreage in this country, +the less will be the necessity for a bounty on corn. Unlike most +stimulants, it is one which gradually stimulates away the need for it. +With every year and every million acres broken up, not only will the +need for bounty diminish, but the present mistrustful breed of farmer +will be a step nearer to extinction. Shrewd, naturally conservative, and +somewhat intolerant of anything so dreamy as a national point of view, +they will not live for ever. The up-growing farmer will not be like +them, and about the time the need for bounty is vanishing the new farmer +will be in possession. But in the meantime land must be broken up until +8,000,000 acres at least are conquered; and bounty is the only lever. It +will not be lever enough without constant urging. In Mr. Prothero's +history of English farming occur these words: "A Norfolk farmer migrated +to Devonshire in 1780, where he drilled and hoed his roots; though his +crops were far superior to those of other farmers in the district, yet +at the close of the century no neighbour had followed his example." + +But even the break-up of 8,000,000 acres, though it may make us safe for +food, will only increase our country population by 250,000 labourers and +their families (a million souls)--a mere beginning towards the +satisfaction of our need. We want in operation, before demobilisation +begins, a great national plan for the creation of good small holdings +run on co-operative lines. And to this end, why should not the +suggestion of tithe redemption, thrown out by Mr. Prothero, on pages 399 +and 400 of "English Farming: Past and Present," be adopted? The annual +value of tithes is about £5,000,000. Their extinction should provide the +Government with about 2,500,000 acres, enough at one stroke to put +three or four hundred thousand soldiers on the land. The tithe-holders +would get their money, landlords would not be prejudiced; the +Government, by virtue of judicious choice and discretionary compulsion, +would obtain the sort of land it wanted, and the land would be for ever +free of a teasing and vexatious charge. The cost to the Government +would be £100,000,000 (perhaps more) on the best security it could have. +"Present conditions," I quote from the book, "are favourable to such a +transaction. The price of land enables owners to extinguish the rent +charge by the surrender of a reasonable acreage, and the low price of +Consols enables investors to obtain a larger interest for their money." +For those not familiar with this notion, the process, in brief, is this: +The Government pays the tithe-holder the capitalised value of his tithe, +and takes over from the landlord as much land as produces in net annual +rent the amount of the tithe-rent charge, leaving the rest of his land +tithe-free for ever. There are doubtless difficulties and objections, +but so there must be to any comprehensive plan for obtaining an amount +of land at all adequate. Time is of desperate importance in this matter. +It is already dangerously late, but if the Government would turn-to now +with a will, the situation could still be saved, and this unique chance +for re-stocking our countryside would not be thrown away. + +I alluded to the formation within a few months of half a million +garden-allotments--plots of ground averaging about ten poles each, taken +under the Defence of the Realm Act from building and other land in +urban areas, and given to cultivators, under a guarantee, for the growth +of vegetables. This most valuable effort, for which the Board of +Agriculture deserves the thanks of all, is surely capable of very great +extension. Every town, no matter how quickly it may be developing, is +always surrounded by a belt of dubious land--not quite town and not +quite country. When town development mops up plots in cultivation, a +hole can be let out in an elastic belt which is capable of almost +indefinite expansion. But this most useful and health-giving work has +only been possible under powers which will cease when the immediate +danger to the State has passed. If a movement, which greatly augments +our home-grown food supply and can give quiet, healthy, open-air, +interesting work for several hours a week to perhaps a million out of +our congested town populations--if such a movement be allowed to +collapse at the coming of peace, it will be nothing less than criminal. +I plead here that the real danger to the State will not pass but rather +begin, with the signing of peace, that the powers to acquire and grant +these garden-allotments should be continued, and every effort made to +foster and _extend_ the movement. Considering that, whatever we do to +re-colonise our land, we must still have in this country a dangerously +huge town population, this kitchen-garden movement can be of +incalculable value in combating town-blight, in securing just that air +to lungs and mind, and just that spice of earth reality which all +town-dwellers need so much. + +Extension of arable land by at least 8,000,000 acres; creation of +hundreds of thousands of small holdings by tithe redemption, or +another scheme still in the blue; increase and perpetuation of +garden-allotments--besides all these we want, of course, agricultural +schools and facilities for training; _co-operatively organised finance, +transport, and marketing of produce_; for without schooling, and +co-operation, no system of small holding on a large scale can possibly +succeed. We now have the labourer's minimum wage, which, I think, will +want increasing; but we want good rural housing on an economically sound +basis, an enlivened village life, and all that can be done to give the +worker on the land a feeling that he can rise, the sense that he is not +a mere herd, at the beck and call of what has been dubbed the "tyranny +of the countryside." The land gives work which is varied, alive, and +interesting beyond all town industries, save those, perhaps, of art and +the highly-skilled crafts and professions. If we can once get land-life +back on to a wide and solid basis, it should hold its own. + +Dare any say that this whole vast question of the land, with its +throbbing importance, yea--seeing that demobilisations do not come every +year--its desperately immediate importance, is not fit matter for +instant debate and action; dare any say that we ought to relegate it to +that limbo "After the war"? In grim reality it takes precedence of every +other question. It is infinitely more vital to our safety and our health +than consideration of our future commercial arrangements. In our present +Parliament--practically, if not sentimentally speaking--all shades of +opinion are as well represented as they are likely to be in future +Parliaments--even the interests of our women and our soldiers; to put +off the good day when this question is threshed out, is to crane at an +imagined hedge. + +Let us know now at what we are aiming, let us admit and record in the +black and white of legislation that we intend to trim our course once +more for the port of health and safety. If this Britain of ours is going +to pin her whole future to a blind pursuit of wealth, without +considering whether that wealth is making us all healthier and happier, +many of us, like Sancho, would rather retire at once, and be made +"governors of islands." For who can want part or lot on a ship which +goes yawing with every sail set into the dark, without rudder, compass, +or lighted star? + +I, for one, want a Britain who refuses to take the mere immediate line +of least resistance, who knows and sets her course, and that a worthy +one. So do we all, I believe, at heart--only, the current is so mighty +and strong, and we are so used to it! + +By the parasitic and town-ridden condition we are in now, and in which +without great and immediate effort we are likely to remain, we degrade +our patriotism. That we should have to tremble lest we be starved is a +miserable, a humiliating thought. To have had so little pride and +independence of spirit as to have come to this, to have been such +gobblers at wealth--who dare defend it? We have made our bed; let us, +now, refuse to lie thereon. Better the floor than this dingy feather +couch of suffocation. + +Our country is dear to us, and many are dying for her. There can be no +consecration of their memory so deep or so true as this regeneration of +The Land. + +1917 + + + + +THE LAND, 1918 + + +I + +INTRODUCTORY + +Can one assume that the pinch of this war is really bringing home to us +the vital need of growing our own food henceforth? I do not think so. Is +there any serious shame felt at our parasitic condition? None. Are we in +earnest about the resettlement of the land? Not yet. + +All our history shows us to be a practical people with short views. +"_Tiens! Une montagne!_" Never was a better summing up of British +character than those words of the French cartoonist during the Boer War, +beneath his picture of a certain British General of those days, riding +at a hand gallop till his head was butting a cliff. Without seeing a +hand's breadth before our noses we have built our Empire, our towns, our +law. We are born empiricists, and must have our faces ground by hard +facts, before we attempt to wriggle past them. We have thriven so far, +but the ruin of England is likely to be the work of practical men who +burn the house down to roast the pig, because they cannot see beyond the +next meal. Visions are airy; but I propose to see visions for a moment, +and Britain as she _might_ be in 1948. + +I see our towns, not indeed diminished from their present size, but no +larger; much cleaner, and surrounded by wide belts of garden allotments, +wherein town workers spend many of their leisure hours. I see in Great +Britain fifty millions instead of forty-one; but the town population +only thirty-two millions as now, and the rural population eighteen +millions instead of the present nine. I see the land farmed in three +ways: very large farms growing corn and milk, meat and wool, or sugar +beet; small farms _co-operatively run_ growing everything; and large +groups of co-operative small holdings, growing vegetables, fruit, pigs, +poultry, and dairy produce to some extent. There are no game laws to +speak of, and certainly no large areas of ground cut to waste for +private whims. I see very decent cottages everywhere, with large plots +of ground at economic rents, and decently waged people paying them; no +tithes, but a band of extinguished tithe-holders, happy with their +compensation. The main waterways of the country seem joined by wide +canals, and along these canals factories are spread out on the garden +city plan, with allotments for the factory workers. Along better roads +run long chains of small holdings, so that the co-operated holders have +no difficulty in marketing their produce. I see motor transport; tractor +ploughs; improved farm machinery; forestry properly looked after, and +foreshores reclaimed; each village owning its recreation hall, with +stage and cinema attached; and public-houses run only on the principle +of no commission on the drink sold; every school teaching the truth that +happiness and health, not mere money and learning, are the prizes of +life and the objects of education, and for ever impressing on the +scholars that life in the open air and pleasure in their work are the +two chief secrets of health and happiness. In every district a model +farm radiates scientific knowledge of the art of husbandry, bringing +instruction to each individual farmer, and leaving him no excuse for +ignorance. The land produces what it ought; not, as now, feeding with +each hundred acres only fifty persons, while a German hundred acres, not +nearly so favoured by Nature, feeds seventy-five. Every little girl has +been taught to cook. Farmers are no longer fearful of bankruptcy, as in +the years from 1875 to 1897, but hold their own with all comers, proud +of their industry, the spine and marrow of a country which respects +itself once more. There seems no longer jealousy or division between +town and country; and statesmen by tacit consent leave the land free +from Party politics. I see taller and stronger men and women, rosier and +happier children; a race no longer narrow, squashed, and +disproportionate; no longer smoke-dried and nerve-racked, with the +driven, don't-care look of a town-ridden land. And surely the words "Old +England" are spoken by all voices with a new affection, as of a land no +longer sucking its sustenance from other lands, but sound and sweet, the +worthy heart once more of a great commonwealth of countries. + +All this I seem to see, if certain things are done now and persevered in +hereafter. But let none think that we can restore self-respect and the +land-spirit to this country under the mere momentary pressure of our +present-day need. Such a transformation cannot come unless we are +genuinely ashamed that Britain should be a sponge; unless we truly wish +to make her again sound metal, ringing true, instead of a splay-footed +creature, dependent for vital nourishment on oversea supplies--a cockshy +for every foe. + +We are practically secured by Nature, yet have thrown security to the +winds because we cannot feed ourselves! We have as good a climate and +soil as any in the world, not indeed for pleasure, but for health and +food, and yet, I am sure, we are rotting physically faster than any +other people! + +Let the nation put that reflection in its pipe and smoke it day by day; +for only so shall we emerge from a bad dream and seize again on our +birthright. + +Let us dream a little of what we might become. Let us not crawl on with +our stomachs to the ground, and not an ounce of vision in our heads for +fear lest we be called visionaries. And let us rid our minds of one or +two noxious superstitions. It is not true that country life need mean +dull and cloddish life; it has in the past, because agriculture as been +neglected for the false glamour of the towns, and village life left to +seed down. There is no real reason why the villager should not have all +he needs of social life and sane amusement; village life only wants +organising. It is not true that country folk must be worse fed and worse +plenished than town folk. This has only been so sometimes because a +starved industry which was losing hope has paid starvation wages. It is +not true that our soil and climate are of indifferent value for the +growth of wheat. The contrary is the case. "The fact which has been lost +sight of in the past twenty years must be insisted on nowadays, that +England is naturally one of the best, if not the very best wheat-growing +country in the world. Its climate and soil are almost ideal for the +production of the heaviest crops": Professor R. H. Biffen. "The view of +leading German agriculturists is that their soils and climate are +distinctly inferior to those of Britain": Mr. T. H. Middleton, Assistant +Secretary to the Board of Agriculture. + +We have many mouths in this country, but no real excuse for not growing +the wherewithal to feed them. + +To break the chains of our lethargy and superstitions, let us keep +before us a thought and a vision--the thought that, since the air is +mastered and there are pathways under the sea, we, the proudest people +in the world, will exist henceforth by mere merciful accident, _until we +grow our own food_; and the vision of ourselves as a finer race in body +and mind than we have ever yet been. And then let us be practical by all +means; for in the practical measures of the present, spurred on by that +thought, inspired by that vision, alone lies the hope and safety of the +future. + +What are those measures? + + +II + +WHEAT + +The measure which underlies all else is the ploughing up of permanent +grass--the reconversion of land which was once arable, the addition to +arable of land which has never been arable, so as to secure the only +possible basis of success--the wheat basis. + +I have before me a Report on the Breaking up of Grass Land in fifty-five +counties for the winter of 1916-1917, which shows four successes for +every failure. The Report says: "It has been argued during the past few +months that it is hopeless to attempt to plough out old grass land in +the expectation of adding to the nation's food. The experience of 1917 +does not support this contention. It shows not only that the successes +far outnumber the failures, but that the latter are to some extent +preventable." + +The Government's 1918 tillage programme for England and Wales was to +increase (as compared with 1916), (1) the area under corn by 2,600,000 +acres, (2) the area under potatoes and mangolds by 400,000 acres, (3) +the arable land by 2,000,000 acres. I have it on the best authority that +the Government hopes to better this in the forth-coming harvest. That +shows what our farmers can do with their backs to the wall. It sometimes +happens in this world that we act virtuously without in any way +believing that virtue is its own reward. Most of our farmers are hoeing +their rows in this crisis in the full belief that they are serving the +country to the hurt of their own interests; they will not, I imagine, +realise that they are laying the foundations of a future prosperity +beyond their happiest dreams until the crisis is long past. All the more +credit to them for a great effort. They by no means grasp at present the +fact that with every acre they add to arable, with each additional acre +of wheat, they increase their own importance and stability, and set the +snowball of permanent prosperity in their industry rolling anew. Pasture +was a policy adopted by men who felt defeat in their bones, saw +bankruptcy round every corner. Those who best know seem agreed that +after the war the price of wheat will not come down with a run. The +world shortage of food and shipping will be very great, and the "new +world's" surplus will be small. Let our farmers take their courage in +their hands, play a bold game, and back their own horse for the next +four or five seasons, and they will, _if supported by the country_, be +in a position once more to defy competition. Let them have faith and go +for the gloves and they will end by living without fear of the new +worlds. "There is a tide in the affairs of men." This is the British +farmer's tide, which, taken at the flood, leads on to fortune. But only +if the British farmer intends that Britain shall feed herself; only if +he farms the land of Britain so that acre by acre it yields the maximum +of food. A hundred acres under potatoes feeds 420 persons; a hundred +acres under wheat feeds 200 persons; a hundred acres of grass feeds +fifteen persons. It requires no expert to see that the last is the +losing horse; for increase of arable means also increase of winter food, +and in the long run increase, not decrease, of live stock. In Denmark +(1912) arable was to permanent grass as about 4 to 5; in the United +Kingdom it was only as about 5 to 7. Yet in Denmark there were five +cattle to every eight acres of grass, and in the United Kingdom only +four cattle to every nine acres. + +Let me quote Professor Biffen on the prospects of wheat: "In the United +States the amount exported tends to fall. The results are so marked that +we find American agricultural experts seriously considering the +possibility of the United States having to become a wheat importing +country in order to feed the rapidly growing population." When she does, +that wheat will come from Canada; and "there are several other facts +which lead one to question the statement so frequently made that Canada +will shortly be the Empire's granary...." He thinks that the Argentine +(which trebles her population every forty years) is an uncertain source; +that Russia, where the population also increases with extreme rapidity, +is still more uncertain; that neither India nor Australia are dependable +fields of supply. "The world's crop continues to increase slowly, and +concurrently the number of wheat consumers increases.... Prices have +tended to rise of late years, a fact which may indicate that the world's +consumption is increasing faster than its rate of production. There are +now no vast areas of land comparable with those of North and South +America awaiting the pioneer wheat growers, and consequently _there is +no likelihood of any repetition of the over-production characteristic of +the period of 1874-1894_.... + +"If as there is every reason to hope the problem of breeding +satisfactory strong wheats" (for this country) "has been solved, then +their cultivation should add about £1 to the value of the produce of +every acre of wheat in the country.... + +"At a rough estimate the careful use of artificials might increase the +average yield of the acre from four quarters up to five.... + +"England is one of the best, if not the very best wheat-growing country +in the world." + +That, shortly, is the wheat position for this country in the view of our +most brilliant practical expert. I commend it to the notice of those who +are faint-hearted about the future of wheat in Britain. + +With these prospects and possibilities before him, _and a fair price for +wheat guaranteed him_, is the British farmer going to let down the land +to grass again when the war is over? The fair price for wheat will be +the point on which his decision will turn. When things have settled down +after the war, the fair price will be that at which the _average_ farmer +can profitably grow wheat, and such a price must be maintained--by +bounty, if necessary. It never can be too often urged on politicians and +electorate that they, who thwart a policy which makes wheat-growing firm +and profitable, are knocking nails in the coffin of their country. We +are no longer, and never shall again be, an island. The air is +henceforth as simple an avenue of approach as Piccadilly is to Leicester +Square. If we are ever attacked there will be no time to get our second +wind, unless we can feed ourselves. And since we are constitutionally +liable to be caught napping, we shall infallibly be brought to the +German heel next time, if we are not self-supporting. But if we are, +there will be no next time. An attempt on us will not be worth the cost. +Further, we are running to seed physically from too much town-life and +the failure of country stocks; we shall never stem that rot unless we +re-establish agriculture on a large scale. To do that, in the view of +nearly all who have thought this matter out, we must found our farming +on wheat; grow four-fifths instead of one-fifth of our supply, and all +else will follow. + +In England and Wales 11,246,106 acres were arable land in 1917, and +15,835,375 permanent grass land. To reverse these figures, at least, is +the condition of security, perhaps even of existence in the present and +the only guarantee of a decent and safe future. + + +III + +HOLDINGS + +One expert pins faith to large farms; another to small holdings. How +agreeable to think that both are right. We cannot afford to neglect any +type of holding; all must be developed and supported, for all serve +vital purposes. For instance, the great development of small holdings in +Germany is mainly responsible for the plentiful supply of labour on the +land there; "until measures can be devised for greatly increasing the +area under holdings of less than 100 acres in Britain we are not likely +to breed and maintain in the country a sufficient number of that class +of worker which will be required if we are greatly to extend our arable +land": Mr. T. H. Middleton, Assistant Secretary to the Board of +Agriculture. But I am not going into the _pros_ and _cons_ of the +holdings question. I desire rather to point out here that a moment is +approaching, which will never come again, for the resettling of the +land. + +A rough census taken in 1916 among our soldiers gave the astounding +figure of 750,000 desirous of going on the land. That figure will shrink +to a mere skeleton unless on demobilisation the Government is ready with +a comprehensive plan. The men fall roughly into two classes: those who +were already on the land; those who were not. The first will want to go +back to their own districts, but not to the cottages and wages they had +before the war. For them, it is essential to provide new cottages with +larger gardens, otherwise they will go to the Dominions, to America, or +to the towns. A fresh census should be taken and kept up to date, the +wants of each man noted, and a definite attempt made now to earmark +sites and material for building, to provide the garden plots, and plan +the best and prettiest type of cottage. For lack of labour and material +no substantial progress can be made with housing while the war is on, +but if a man can see his cottage and his ground ready, in the air, he +will wait; if he cannot, he will be off, and we shall have lost him. +Wages are not to fall again below twenty-five shillings, and will +probably stay at a considerably higher level. The cottage and the garden +ground for these men will be the determining factor, and that garden +ground should be at least an acre. A larger class by far will be men who +were not on the land, but having tasted open-air life, think they wish +to continue it. A fresh census of this class and their wants should be +taken also. It will subdivide them into men who want the life of +independent medium and small holders, with from 100 to 20 acres of land, +and men who with 5 or 10 acres of their own are willing to supplement +their living by seasonal work on the large farms. For all a +cut-and-dried scheme providing land and homes is absolutely essential. +If they cannot be assured of having these within a few months of their +return to civil life, they will go either to the Dominions or back to +the towns. One of them, I am told, thus forecasts their future wants: +"When we're free we shall have a big spree in the town; we shall then +take the first job that comes along; if it's an indoor job we shan't be +able to stick it and shall want to get on the land." I am pretty sure +he's wrong. He will want his spree, of course; but _if he is allowed to +go back to a town job_ he is not at all likely to leave it again. Men so +soon get used to things, and the towns have a fierce grip. For this +second class, no less than the first, it is vital to have the land +ready, and the cottages estimated for. I think men of both these +classes, when free, should be set at once to the building of their own +homes and the preparation of their land. I think huts ought to be ready +for them and their wives till their homes are habitable. A man who takes +a hand in the building of his house, and the first work on his new +holding, is far less likely to abandon his idea of settling on the land +than a man who is simply dumped into a ready-made concern. That is human +nature. Let him begin at the beginning, and while his house is going up +be assisted and instructed. Frankly, I am afraid that in the difficulty +of fixing on an ideal scheme and ideal ways of working it, we shall +forget that the moment of demobilisation is unique. Any scheme, however +rough and ready, which will fix men or their intention of settling on +the land in Britain at the moment of demobilisation will be worth a +hundred better-laid plans which have waited for perfection till that one +precious moment is overpast. While doctors quarrel, or lay their heads +together, the patient dies. + +The Government, I understand, have adopted a scheme by which they can +secure land. If they have not ascertained from these men what land they +will want, and secured that land by the time the men are ready, that +scheme will be of little use to them. + +The Government, I gather, have decided on a huge scheme for urban and +rural housing. About that I have this to say. The rural housing ought to +take precedence of the urban, not because it is more intrinsically +necessary, but because if the moment of demobilisation is let slip for +want of rural cottages, we shall lose our very life blood, our future +safety, perhaps our existence as a nation. We must seize on this one +precious chance of restoring the land and guaranteeing our future. The +towns can wait a little for their housing, the country cannot. It is a +sort of test question for our leaders in every Party. Surely they will +rise to the vital necessity of grasping this chance! If, when the danger +of starvation has been staring us hourly in the face for years on end, +and we have for once men in hundreds of thousands waiting and hoping to +be settled on the land, to give us the safety of the future--if, in such +circumstances, we cannot agree to make the most of that chance, it will +show such lack of vision that I really feel we may as well throw up the +sponge. If jealousy by towns of country can so blind public opinion to +our danger and our chance, so that no precedence can be given to rural +needs, well, then, frankly we are not fit to live as a nation. + +I am told that Germany has seen to this matter. She does not mean to be +starved in the future; she intends to keep the backbone of her country +sound. She, who already grew 80 per cent. of her food, will grow it all. +She, who already appreciated the dangers of a rampant industrialism, +will take no further risks with the physique of her population. We who +did not grow one-half of our food, and whose riotous industrialism has +made far greater inroads on our physique; we who, though we have not yet +suffered the privations of Germany, have been in far more real +danger--we shall talk about it, say how grave the situation is, how +"profoundly" we are impressed by the need to feed ourselves--and we +shall act, I am very much afraid, too late. + +There are times when the proverb: "Act in haste and repent at leisure" +should be written "Unless you act in haste you will repent at leisure." +This is such a time. We can take, of course, the right steps or the +wrong steps to settle our soldiers on the land; but no wrong step we can +take will be so utterly wrong as to let the moment of demobilisation +slip. We have a good and zealous Minister of Agriculture, we have good +men alive to the necessity, working on this job. If we miss the chance +it will be because "interests" purblind, selfish and perverse, and a +lethargic public opinion, do not back them; because we want to talk it +out; because trade and industry think themselves of superior importance +to the land. Henceforth trade and industry are of secondary importance +in this country. There is only one thing of absolutely vital importance, +and that is agriculture. + + +IV + +INSTRUCTION + +I who have lived most of my time on a farm for many years, in daily +contact with farmer and labourer, do really appreciate what variety and +depth of knowledge is wanted for good farming. It is a lesson to the +armchair reformer to watch a farmer walking across the "home meadow" +whence he can see a good way over his land. One can feel the slow wisdom +working in his head. A halt, a look this way and that, a whistle, the +call of some instruction so vernacular that only a native could +understand; the contemplation of sheep, beasts, sky, crops; always +something being noted, and shrewd deductions made therefrom. It is a +great art, and, like all art, to be learned only with the sweat of the +brow and a long, minute attention to innumerable details. You cannot +play at farming, and you cannot "mug it up." One understands the +contempt of the farmer born and bred for the book-skilled gentleman who +tries to instruct his grandmother in the sucking of eggs. The farmer's +knowledge, acquired through years of dumb wrestling with Nature, in his +own particular corner, is his strength and--his weakness. Vision of the +land at large, of its potentialities, and its needs is almost of +necessity excluded. The practical farmers of our generation might well +be likened unto sailing-ship seamen in an age when it has suddenly +become needful to carry commerce by steam. They are pupils of the stern +taskmaster bankruptcy; the children of the years from 1874-1897, when +the nation had turned its thumb down on British farmers, and left them +to fight, unaided, against extinction. They have been brought up to +carry on against contrary winds and save themselves as best they could. +Well, they have done it; and now they are being asked to reverse their +processes in the interests of a country which left them in the lurch. +Naturally they are not yet persuaded that the country will not leave +them in the lurch again. + +Instruction of the British farmer begins with the fortification of his +will by confidence. When you ask him to plough up grass land, to revise +the rotation of his crops, to grow wheat, to use new brands of corn, to +plough with tractors, and to co-operate, you are asking a man deeply and +deservedly cynical about your intentions and your knowledge. He has seen +wheat fail all his life, he has seen grass succeed. Grass has saved him, +and now he is asked to turn his back on it. Little wonder that he curses +you for a meddling fool. "Prove it!" he says--and you cannot. You could +if you had it in your power to show him that your guarantee of a fair +price for wheat was "good as the Bank." Thus, the first item of +instruction to the farmer consists in the definite alteration of public +opinion towards the land by adoption of the _sine quâ non_ that in +future we will feed ourselves. The majority of our farmers do not think +their interests are being served by the present revolution of farming. +Patriotic fear for the country, and dread of D.O.R.A.--not quite the +same thing--are driving them on. Besides, it is the townsmen of Britain, +_not the farmers_, who are in danger of starvation, not merely now, but +henceforth for evermore until we feed ourselves. If starvation really +knocked at our doors, the only houses it would not enter would be the +houses of those who grow food. The farmers in Germany are all right; +they would be all right here. The townsmen of this country were +entirely responsible for our present condition, and the very least they +can do is to support their own salvation. But while with one corner of +their mouths the towns are now shouting: "Grow food! Feed us, please!" +with the other they are still inclined to add: "You pampered industry!" +Alas! we cannot have it both ways. + +The second point I want to make about instruction is the importance of +youth. In America, where they contemplate a labour shortage of 2,000,000 +men on their farms, they are using boys from sixteen to twenty-one, when +their military age begins. Can we not do the same here? Most of our boys +from fifteen to eighteen are now on other work. But the work they are +doing could surely be done by girls or women. If we could put even a +couple of hundred thousand boys of that age on the land it would be the +solution of our present agricultural labour shortage, and the very best +thing that could happen for the future of farming. The boys would learn +at first hand; they would learn slowly and thoroughly; and many of them +would stay on the land. They might be given specialised schooling in +agriculture, the most important schooling we can give our rising +generation, while all of them would gain physically. By employing women +on the land, where we can employ boys of from fifteen to eighteen, we +are blind-alleying. Women will not stay on the land in any numbers; few +will wish that they should. Boys will, and every one would wish that +they may. + +The third point I want to make concerns the model farm. If we are to +have resettlement on any large scale and base our farming on crops in +future, the accessibility of the best practical advice is an absolute +essential. + +Till reformed education begins to take effect, the advice and aid of +"model" farmers should be available in every district. Some recognised +diploma might with advantage be given to farmers for outstanding merit +and enterprise. No instruction provided from our advisory agricultural +councils or colleges can have as much prestige and use in any district +as the advice of the leading farmer who had been crowned as a successful +expert. It is ever well in this country to take advantage of the +competitive spirit which lies deep in the bones of our race. To give the +best farmers a position and prestige to which other farmers can aspire +would speed up effort everywhere. We want more competition in actual +husbandry and less competition in matters of purchase and sale. And that +brings us to the vital question of co-operation. + + +V + +CO-OPERATION (SMALL HOLDINGS) + +"The most important economic question for all nations in the past has +been, and in the future will be, the question of a sufficient food +supply, independent of imports. + +"It is doubtful whether the replacement of German agriculture on a sound +basis in the last ten years is to be ascribed in a greater measure to +technical advance in agricultural methods, or to the development of the +co-operative system. Perhaps it would be right to say that for the large +farms it is due to the first, and for the smaller farms (three quarters +of the arable land in Germany) to the second. _For it is only through +co-operation that the advantages of farming on a large scale are made +possible for smaller farmers._ The more important of those advantages +are the regulated purchase of all raw materials and half-finished +products (artificial manures, feeding stuffs, seeds, etc.), better +prices for products, facilities for making use, in moderation, of +personal credit at a cheap rate of interest, together with the +possibility of saving and putting aside small sums of interest; all +these advantages of the large farmer have been placed within the reach +of the small farmers by local co-operative societies for buying, +selling, and farming co-operatively, as well as by saving and other +banks, all connected to central associations and central co-operative +societies. + +"_Over two million small farmers are organised in Germany on +co-operative lines._"[E] + +Nearly two million small farmers co-operated in Germany; and here-how +many? The Registrar returns the numbers for 1916 at 1,427 small holders. + +In the view of all authorities co-operation is essential for the success +of small farmers and small holders; but it needs no brilliant intellect, +nor any sweep of the imagination to see a truth plainer than the nose on +a man's face. + +"There is some reason to hope," says Mr. Middleton, "that after the war +agriculturalists will show a greater disposition to co-operate; but we +cannot expect co-operation to do as much for British agriculture as it +has done for the Germans, who so readily join societies and support +co-operative efforts." + +So much the worse for us! + +The Agricultural Organisation Society, the officially recognised agency +for fostering the co-operative principle, has recently formed an +Agricultural Wholesale Society with a large subscribed capital, for the +purchase of all farming requirements, and the marketing of produce, to +be at the disposal of all co-operated farmers, small holders, and +allotment holders, whose societies are affiliated to the Agricultural +Organisation. Society. This is a step of infinite promise. The drawing +together of these three classes of workers on the land is in itself a +matter of great importance. One of the chief complaints of small holders +in the past has been that large holders regard them askance. The same, +perhaps, applies to the attitude of the small holder to the allotment +holder. That is all bad. Men and women on the land should be one big +family, with interests, and sympathies in common and a neighbourly +feeling. + +A leaflet of the Agricultural Organisation Society thus describes a +certain co-operative small holdings' society with seventeen members +renting ninety acres. "It owns a team of horses, cart, horse-hoe, +plough, ridger, harrow, Cambridge roller, marker; and hires other +implements as required; it insures, buys, and sells co-operatively. This +year (for patriotic reasons) wheat and potatoes form the chief crop, +with sufficient oats, barley, beans and mangolds to feed the horses and +the pigs, of which there are many. The society last year marketed more +fat pigs than the rest of the village and adjoining farms put together. + +"The land, on the whole, is undoubtedly better cultivated and cropped, +and _supports a far larger head of population per acre than the +neighbouring large farms_." Even allowing that the first statement may +be disputed, the last is beyond dispute, and is _the_ important thing to +bear in mind about small holdings from the national point of view; for +every extra man and woman on the land is a credit item in the bank book +of the nation's future. + +"In addition," says the leaflet, "there is a friendly spirit prevalent +among the members, who are always willing to help each other, and at +harvest time combine to gather in the crops." + +With more land, not only some, but all the members of this little +society could support themselves entirely on their holdings. "The +members value their independence and freedom, but recognise the value of +combined action and new ideas." + +Now this is exactly what we want. For instance, these members have found +out that the profit on potatoes when home-grown farmyard manure alone +was used was only 14_s._ 6_d._ per acre; and that a suitable combination +of artificial manures gave a profit of £14 12_s._ 6_d._ an acre, with +double the yield. Mutual help and the spread of knowledge; more men and +women on the land--this is the value of the agricultural co-operative +movement, whose importance to this country it is impossible to +over-estimate. + +From letters of small holders I take the following remarks:-- + +"Of course it's absolutely necessary that the prospective small holder +should have a thorough knowledge of farming." + +"In regard to implements, you need as many of some sorts on a small +holding as you do on a large farm. A small man can't afford to buy all, +so he has to work at a disadvantage.... Then as to seeds, why not buy +them wholesale, and sell them to the small holder, also manures, and +many other things which the small holder has to pay through the nose +for." + +"Men with no actual knowledge of land work would rarely succeed whatever +financial backing they might receive." + +"About here small holdings are usually let to men who have been +tradesmen or pitmen, and they of course cannot be expected to make the +most of them." + +"When you restrict a farmer to 50 acres he ought to be provided with +ample and proper buildings for every kind of stock he wishes to keep." + +These few remarks, which might be supplemented _ad libitum_, illustrate +the difficulties and dangers which beset any large scheme of land +settlement by our returning soldiers and others. Such a scheme is bound +to fail unless it is based most firmly on co-operation, for, without +that, the two absolute essentials--knowledge, with the benefit of +practical advice and help; and assistance by way of co-operative +finance, and co-operatively-owned implements, will be lacking. + +Set the returning soldier down on the land to work it on his own and, +whatever his good-will, you present the countryside with failure. Place +at his back pooled labour, monetary help and knowledge, and, above all, +the spirit of mutual aid, and you may, and I believe will, triumph over +difficulties, which are admittedly very great. + + +VI + +CO-OPERATION (ALLOTMENTS) + +The growth of allotment gardens is a striking feature of our +agricultural development under stimulus of the war. They say a million +and a half allotment gardens are now being worked on. That is, no doubt, +a papery figure; nor is it so much the number, as what is being done on +them, that matters. Romance may have "brought up the nine-fifteen," but +it will not bring up potatoes. Still, these new allotments without doubt +add very greatly to our food supply, give hosts of our town population +healthy work in the open air, and revive in them that "earth instinct" +which was in danger of being utterly lost. The spade is a grand +corrective of nerve strain, and the more town and factory workers take +up allotment gardens, the better for each individual, and for us all as +a race. + +They say nearly all the ground available round our towns has already +been utilised. But DORA, in her wild career, may yet wring out another +hundred thousand acres. I wish her well in this particular activity. And +the Government she serves with such devotion will betray her if, when +DORA is in her grave--consummation devoutly to be wished--her work on +allotment gardens is not continued. There is always a ring of land round +a town, like a halo round the moon. As the town's girth increases, so +should that halo; and even in time of peace, larger and larger, not less +and less, should grow the number of town dwellers raising vegetables, +fruit and flowers, resting their nerves and expanding lungs and muscles +with healthy outdoor work. + +"In no direction is the co-operative principle more adaptable or more +useful than in the matter of Allotment Associations." + +There are now allotment associations in many parts of the country. One +at Winchester has over 1,000 tenant members. And round the great +manufacturing towns many others have been formed. + +To illustrate the advantages of such co-operation, let me quote a little +from the Hon. Secretary of the Urmston Allotments Association, near +Manchester: "Though the Urmston men had foremost in their mind the aim +of producing payable crops ... they determined that their allotments +should be convenient and comfortable to work, and pleasing to look +upon.... It is a delusion often found among novices that ordinary ground +takes a long time to get into decent order; and is an expensive +business. But enlightened and energetic men _working together_ can do +wonderful things. They did them at Urmston. The ground was only broken +up in March, 1916, but in the same season splendid crops of peas, +potatoes and other vegetables were raised by the holders, _the majority +of whom had little or no previous experience of gardening_.... So as to +deal with the main needs of the members co-operatively in the most +effective manner a Trading Committee was appointed to advise and make +contracts.... Manure, lime, salt, and artificial manures have been +ordered collectively; and seeds and other gardening requisites arranged +for at liberal discounts." + +Besides all this the association has fought the potato wart disease; had +its soil analyzed; educated its members through literature and lectures; +made roads and fences; looked after the appearance of its plots, and +encouraged flower-growing. Finally, a neighbourly feeling of friendly +emulation has grown up among its members. And this is their conclusion: +"The advantages of co-operation are not confined to economy in time and +money, for the common interest that binds all members to seek the +success of the Association, also provides the means of developing and +utilising the individual talents of the members for communal and +national purposes." + +They speak, indeed, like a book, and every word is true--which is not +always the same thing. + +The Agricultural Organization Society gives every assistance in forming +these associations; and the more there are of them the greater will be +the output of food, the strength and knowledge of the individual +plot-holder, the stability of his tenure, and the advantage of the +nation. + +Mistrust and reserve between workers on the land, be they large +farmers, small farmers, or plotholders is the result of combining +husbandry with the habits and qualities of the salesman. If a man's +business is to get the better of his neighbours on market days, it will +be his pleasure to doubt them on all other days. + +The co-operative system, by conducting purchase and sale impersonally, +removes half the reason and excuse for curmudgeonery, besides securing +better prices both at sale and purchase. To the disgust of the cynic, +moral and material advantage here go hand in hand. Throughout +agriculture co-operation will do more than anything else to restore +spirit and economy to an industry which had long become dejected, +suspicious and wasteful; and it will help to remove jealousy and +distrust between townsmen and countrymen. The allotment holder, if +encouraged and given fixity of tenure, or at all events the power of +getting fresh ground if he must give up what he has--a vital +matter--will become the necessary link between town and country, with +mind open to the influence of both. The more he is brought into working +contact with the small holder and the large farmer the better he will +appreciate his own importance to the country and ensure theirs. But this +contact can only be established through some central body, and by use of +a wholesale society for trading and other purposes, such as has just +been set up for all classes of co-operated agriculturalists. + +Addressing a recent meeting of its members, the Chairman of the +Agricultural Organisation Society, Mr. Leslie Scott, spoke thus:--"We +have to cover the country" (with co-operative societies), "and we have +got to get all the farmers in! If we can carry out any such scheme as +this, which will rope in all the farmers of the country, what a +magnificent position we shall be in! You will have your great trading +organisation with its central wholesale society! You will have your +organisation side with the Agricultural Organisation Society at the +centre.... You will be able to use that side for all the ancillary +purposes connected with farming; and do a great deal in the way of +expert assistance. And through your electing the Board of Governors of +the Agricultural Organisation Society, with the provincial branch +Committees, you will have what is in effect a central Parliament in +London.... You will be able to put before the country, both locally and +here in London, the views of the farming community, and, those views +will get from Government Departments an attention which the farming +industry in the past has failed to get. You will command a power in the +country." + +And in a letter to Mr. Scott, read at the same meeting, the present +Minister of Agriculture had this to say about co-operation: + +"Farming is a business in which as in every other industry union is +strength.... Every farmer should belong to a co-operative society.... +Small societies like small farmers, must" (in their turn) +"co-operate.... The word 'farmers' is intended to include all those who +cultivate the land. In this sense allotment holders are farmers, and I +trust that the union of all cultivators of the land in this sense will +help to bridge the gap between town and country." + +That townsman and countryman should feel their interests to be at bottom +the same goes to the root of any land revival. + + +VII + +VALEDICTORY + +"There are many who contend that the nation will never again allow its +rural industry to be neglected and discouraged as it was in the past; +that the war has taught a lesson which will not soon be forgotten. This +view of the national temperament is considered by others to be too +confident. It is the firm conviction of this school that the consumer +will speedily return to his old habit of indifference to national +stability in the matter of food, and that Parliament acting at his +bidding, will manifest equal apathy." + +These words, taken from a leader in _The Times_ of February 11th, 1918, +bring me back to the starting point of these ragged reflections. There +will be no permanent stablishing of our agriculture, no lasting advance +towards safety and health, if we have not vision and a fixed ideal. The +ruts of the past were deep, and our habit is to walk along without +looking to left or right. A Liberalism worthy of the word should lift +its head and see new paths. The Liberalism of the past, bent on the +improvement of the people and the growth of good-will between nations, +forgot in that absorption to take in the whole truth. Fixing its eyes on +measures which should redeem the evils of the day, it did not see that +those evils were growing faster than all possible remedy, because we had +forgotten that a great community bountifully blessed by Nature has no +business to exist parasitically on the earth produce of other +communities; and because our position under pure free trade, and pure +industrialism, was making us a tempting bait for aggression, and +retarding the very good-will between nations which it desired so +earnestly. + +The human animal perishes if not fed. We have gone so far with our +happy-go-lucky scheme of existence that it has become necessary to +remind ourselves of that. So long as we had money we thought we could +continue to exist. Not so. Henceforth till we feed ourselves again, we +live on sufferance, and dangle before all eyes the apple of discord. A +self-supporting Britain, free from this carking fear, would become once +more a liberalising power. A Britain fed from overseas can only be an +Imperialistic Junker, armed to the teeth, jealous and doubtful of each +move by any foreigner; prizing quantity not quality; indifferent about +the condition of his heart. Such a Britain dare not be liberal if it +will. + +The greatest obstacle to a true League of Nations, with the exception of +the condition of Russia, will be the condition of Britain, till she can +feed herself. + +I believe in the principle of free trade, because it forces man to put +his best leg foremost. But all is a question of degree in this world. It +is no use starting a donkey, in the Derby, and bawling in its ear: "A +fair field and no favour!" especially if all your money is on the +donkey. All our money is henceforth on our agriculture till we have +brought it into its own. And that can only be done at present with the +help of bounty. + +The other day a Canadian free trader said: "It all depends on what sort +of peace we secure; if we have a crushing victory, I see no reason why +Britain should not go on importing her food." + +Fallacy--politically and biologically! The worst thing that could happen +to us after the war would be a sense of perfect security, in which to +continue to neglect our agriculture and increase our towns. Does any man +think that a momentary exhaustion of our enemy is going to prevent that +huge and vigorous nation from becoming strong again? Does he believe +that we can trust a League of Nations--a noble project, for which we +must all work--to prevent war till we have seen it successful for at +least a generation? Does he consider that our national physique will +stand another fifty years of rampant industrialism without fresh country +stocks to breed from? Does he suppose that the use of the air and the +underparts of the sea is more than just beginning? + +Politically, our independence in the matter of food is essential to good +will between the nations. Biologically, more country life is essential +to British health. The improvement of town and factory conditions may do +something to arrest degeneration, but in my firm conviction it cannot +hope to do enough in a land where towns have been allowed to absorb +seven-ninths of the population, and--such crowded, grimy towns! + +Even from the economic point of view it will be far cheaper to restore +the countryside and re-establish agriculture on a paying basis than to +demolish and rebuild our towns till they become health resorts. And +behind it all there is this: Are we satisfied with the trend of our +modern civilisation? Are we easy in our consciences? Have not machines, +and the demands of industry run away with our sense of proportion? Grant +for a moment that this age marks the highest water so far of British +advance. Are we content with that high-water mark? In health, happiness, +taste, beauty, we are surely far from the ideal. I do not say that +restoration of the land will work a miracle; but I do say that nothing +we can do will benefit us so potently as the redress of balance between +town and country life. + +We are at the parting of the ways. The war has brought us realisation +and opportunity. We can close our eyes again and drift, or we can move +forward under the star of a new ideal. The principle which alone +preserves the sanity of nations is the principle of balance. Not even +the most enraged defender of our present condition will dare maintain +that we have followed out that principle. The scales are loaded in +favour of the towns, till they almost touch earth; unless our eyes are +cleared to see that, unless our will is moved to set it right, we shall +bump the ground before another two decades have slipped away, and in the +mud shall stay, an invitation to any trampling heel. + +I have tried to indicate general measures and considerations vital to +the resettlement of the land, conscious that some of my readers will +have forgotten more than I know, and that what could be said would fill +volumes. But the thought which, of all others, I have wished to convey +is this: Without vision we perish. Without apprehension of danger and +ardour for salvation in the great body of this people there is no hope +of anything save a momentary spurt, which will die away, and leave us +plodding down the hill. There are two essentials. The farmer--and that +means every cultivator of the land--must have faith in the vital +importance of his work and in the possibility of success; the townsman +must see and believe that the future of the country, and with it his own +prosperity, is involved in the revival of our agriculture and bound up +with our independence of oversea supply. Without that vision and belief +in the townsman the farmer will never regain faith, and without that +faith of the farmer agriculture will not revive. + +Statesmen may contrive, reformers plan, farmers struggle on, but if +there be not conviction in the body politic, it will be no use. + +Resettlement of the land, and independence of outside food supply, is +the only hope of welfare and safety for this country. Fervently +believing that, I have set down these poor words. + +1918. + +[E] From an essay by the President of the German Agricultural Council, +quoted by Mr. T. H. Middleton, of the Board of Agriculture, in his +report on the recent development of German agriculture. + + + + +GROTESQUES + +[Greek: Kunêdon] + + +I + +The Angel Æthereal, on his official visit to the Earth in 1947, paused +between the Bank and the Stock Exchange to smoke a cigarette and +scrutinise the passers-by. + +"How they swarm," he said, "and with what seeming energy--in such an +atmosphere! Of what can they be made?" + +"Of money, sir," replied his dragoman; "in the past, the present, or the +future. Stocks are booming. The barometer of joy stands very high. +Nothing like it has been known for thirty years; not, indeed, since the +days of the Great Skirmish." + +"There is, then, a connection between joy and money?" remarked the +Angel, letting smoke dribble through his chiselled nostrils. + +"Such is the common belief; though to prove it might take time. I will, +however, endeavour to do this if you desire it, sir." + +"I certainly do," said the Angel; "for a less joyous-looking crowd I +have seldom seen. Between every pair of brows there is a furrow, and no +one whistles." + +"You do not understand," returned his dragoman; "nor indeed is it +surprising, for it is not so much the money as the thought that some day +you need no longer make it which causes joy." + +"If that day is coming to all," asked the Angel, "why do they not look +joyful?" + +"It is not so simple as that, sir. To the majority of these persons that +day will never come, and many of them know it--these are called clerks; +to some amongst the others, even, it will not come--these will be called +bankrupts; to the rest it will come, and they will live at Wimblehurst +and other islands of the blessed, when they have become so accustomed to +making money that to cease making it will be equivalent to boredom, if +not torture, or when they are so old that they can but spend it in +trying to modify the disabilities of age." + +"What price joy, then?" said the Angel, raising his eyebrows. "For that, +I fancy, is the expression you use?" + +"I perceive, sir," answered his dragoman, "that you have not yet +regained your understanding of the human being, and especially of the +breed which inhabits this country. Illusion is what we are after. +Without our illusions we might just as well be angels or Frenchmen, who +pursue at all events to some extent the sordid reality known as '_le +plaisir_,' or enjoyment of life. In pursuit of illusion we go on making +money and furrows in our brows, for the process is wearing. I speak, of +course, of the bourgeoisie or Patriotic classes; for the practice of the +Laborious is different, though their illusions are the same." + +"How?" asked the Angel briefly. + +"Why, sir, both hold the illusion that they will one day be joyful +through the possession of money; but whereas the Patriotic expect to +make it through the labour of the Laborious, the Laborious expect to +make it through the labour of the Patriotic." + +"Ha, ha!" said the Angel. + +"Angels may laugh," replied his dragoman, "but it is a matter to make +men weep." + +"You know your own business best," said the Angel, "I suppose." + +"Ah! sir, if we did, how pleasant it would be. It is frequently my fate +to study the countenances and figures of the population, and I find the +joy which the pursuit of illusion brings them is insufficient to +counteract the confined, monotonous and worried character of their +lives." + +"They are certainly very plain," said the Angel. + +"They are," sighed his dragoman, "and getting plainer every day. Take +for instance that one," and he pointed to a gentleman going up the +steps. "Mark how he is built. The top of his grizzled head is narrow, +the bottom of it broad. His body is short and thick and square; his legs +even thicker, and his feet turn out too much; the general effect is +almost pyramidal. Again, take this one," and he indicated a gentleman +coming down the steps, "you could thread his legs and body through a +needle's eye, but his head would defy you. Mark his boiled eyes, his +flashing spectacles, and the absence of all hair. Disproportion, sir, +has become endemic." + +"Can this not be corrected?" asked the Angel. + +"To correct a thing," answered his dragoman, "you must first be aware of +it, and these are not; no more than they are aware that it is +disproportionate to spend six days out of every seven in a +counting-house or factory. Man, sir, is the creature of habit, and when +his habits are bad, man is worse." + +"I have a headache," said the Angel; "the noise is more deafening than +it was when I was here in 1910." + +"Yes, sir; since then we have had the Great Skirmish, an event which +furiously intensified money-making. We, like every other people, have +ever since been obliged to cultivate the art of getting five out of +two-and-two. The progress of civilisation has been considerably speeded +up thereby, and everything but man has benefited; even horses, for they +are no longer overloaded and overdriven up Tower Hill or any other." + +"How is that," asked the Angel, "if the pressure of work is greater?" + +"Because they are extinct," said his dragoman; "entirely superseded by +electric and air traction, as you see." + +"You appear to be inimical to money," the Angel interjected, with a +penetrating look. "Tell me, would you really rather own one shilling +than five and sixpence?" + +"Sir," replied his dragoman, "you are putting the candidate before the +caucus, as the saying is. For money is nothing but the power to purchase +what one wants. You should rather be inquiring what I want." + +"Well, what do you?" said the Angel. + +"To my thinking," answered his dragoman, "instead of endeavouring to +increase money when we found ourselves so very bankrupt, we should have +endeavoured to decrease our wants. The path of real progress, sir, is +the simplification of life and desire till we have dispensed even with +trousers and wear a single clean garment reaching to the knees; till we +are content with exercising our own limbs on the solid earth; the +eating of simple food we have grown ourselves; the hearing of our own +voices, and tunes on oaten straws; the feel on our faces of the sun and +rain and wind; the scent of the fields and woods; the homely roof, and +the comely wife unspoiled by heels, pearls, and powder; the domestic +animals at play, wild birds singing, and children brought up to colder +water than their fathers. It should have been our business to pursue +health till we no longer needed the interior of the chemist's shop, the +optician's store, the hairdresser's, the corset-maker's, the thousand +and one emporiums which patch and prink us, promoting our fancies and +disguising the ravages which modern life makes in our figures. Our +ambition should have been to need so little that, with our present +scientific knowledge, we should have been able to produce it very easily +and quickly, and have had abundant leisure and sound nerves and bodies +wherewith to enjoy nature, art, and the domestic affections. The tragedy +of man, sir, is his senseless and insatiate curiosity and greed, +together with his incurable habit of neglecting the present for the sake +of a future which will never come." + +"You speak like a book," said the Angel. + +"I wish I did," retorted his dragoman, "for no book I am able to procure +enjoins us to stop this riot, and betake ourselves to the pleasurable +simplicity which alone can save us." + +"You would be bored stiff in a week," said the Angel. + +"We should, sir," replied his dragoman, "because from our schooldays we +are brought up to be acquisitive, competitive, and restless. Consider +the baby in the perambulator, absorbed in contemplating the heavens and +sucking its own thumb. Existence, sir, should be like that." + +"A beautiful metaphor," said the Angel. + +"As it is, we do but skip upon the hearse of life." + +"You would appear to be of those whose motto is: 'Try never to leave +things as you find them,'" observed the Angel. + +"Ah, sir!" responded his dragoman, with a sad smile, "the part of a +dragoman is rather ever to try and find things where he leaves them." + +"Talking of that," said the Angel dreamily, "when I was here in 1910, I +bought some Marconi's for the rise. What are they at now?" + +"I cannot tell you," replied his dragoman in a deprecating voice, "but +this I will say: Inventors are not only the benefactors but the curses +of mankind, and will be so long as we do not find a way of adapting +their discoveries to our very limited digestive powers. The chronic +dyspepsia of our civilisation, due to the attempt to swallow every +pabulum which ingenuity puts before it, is so violent that I sometimes +wonder whether we shall survive until your visit in 1984." + +"Ah!" said the Angel, pricking his ears; "you really think there is a +chance?" + +"I do indeed," his dragoman answered gloomily. "Life is now one long +telephone call--and what's it all about? A tour in darkness! A rattling +of wheels under a sky of smoke! A never-ending game of poker!" + +"Confess," said the Angel, "that you have eaten something which has not +agreed with you?" + +"It is so," answered his dragoman; "I have eaten of modernity, the +damndest dish that was ever set to lips. Look at those fellows," he went +on, "busy as ants from nine o'clock in the morning to seven in the +evening. And look at their wives!" + +"Ah! yes," said the Angel cheerily; "let us look at their wives," and +with three strokes of his wings he passed to Oxford Street. + +"Look at them!" repeated his dragoman, "busy as ants from ten o'clock in +the morning to five in the evening." + +"Plain is not the word for _them_," said the Angel sadly. "What are they +after, running in and out of these shop-holes?" + +"Illusion, sir. The romance of business there, the romance of commerce +here. They have got into these habits and, as you know, it is so much +easier to get in than to get out. Would you like to see one of their +homes?" + +"No, no," said the Angel, starting back and coming into contact with a +lady's hat. "Why do they have them so large?" he asked, with a certain +irritation. + +"In order that they may have them small next season," replied his +dragoman. "The future, sir; the future! The cycle of beauty and eternal +hope, and, incidentally, _the good of trade_. Grasp that phrase and you +will have no need for further inquiry, and probably no inclination." + +"One could get American sweets in here, I guess," said the Angel, +entering. + + +II + +"And where would you wish to go to-day, sir?" asked his dragoman of the +Angel who was moving his head from side to side like a dromedary in the +Haymarket. + +"I should like," the Angel answered, "to go into the country." + +"The country!" returned his dragoman, doubtfully. "You will find very +little to see there." + +"Natheless," said the Angel, spreading his wings. + +"These," gasped his dragoman, after a few breathless minutes, "are the +Chilterns--they will serve; any part of the country is now the same. +Shall we descend?" + +Alighting on what seemed to be a common, he removed the cloud moisture +from his brow, and shading his eyes with his hand, stood peering into +the distance on every side. "As I thought," he said; "there has been no +movement since I brought the Prime here in 1944; we shall have some +difficulty in getting lunch." + +"A wonderfully peaceful spot," said the Angel. + +"True," said his dragoman. "We might fly sixty miles in any direction +and not see a house in repair." + +"Let us!" said the Angel. They flew a hundred, and alighted again. + +"Same here!" said his dragoman. "This is Leicestershire. Note the +rolling landscape of wild pastures." + +"I am getting hungry," said the Angel. "Let us fly again." + +"I have told you, sir," remarked his dragoman, while they were flying, +"that we shall have the greatest difficulty in finding any inhabited +dwelling in the country. Had we not better alight at Blackton or +Bradleeds?" + +"No," said the Angel. "I have come for a day in the fresh air." + +"Would bilberries serve?" asked his dragoman; "for I see a man gathering +them." + +The Angel closed his wings, and they dropped on to a moor close to an +aged man. + +"My worthy wight," said the Angel, "we are hungry. Would you give us +some of your bilberries?" + +"Wot oh!" ejaculated the ancient party; "never 'eard yer comin'. Been +flyin' by wireless, 'ave yer? Got an observer, I see," he added, jerking +his grizzled chin at the dragoman. "Strike me, it's the good old dyes o' +the Gryte Skirmish over agyne." + +"Is this," asked the Angel, whose mouth was already black with +bilberries, "the dialect of rural England?" + +"I will interrogate him, sir," said his dragoman, "for in truth I am at +a loss to account for the presence of a man in the country." He took the +old person by his last button and led him a little apart. Returning to +the Angel, who had finished the bilberries, he whispered: + +"It is as I thought. This is the sole survivor of the soldiers settled +on the land at the conclusion of the Great Skirmish. He lives on +berries and birds who have died a natural death." + +"I fail to understand," answered the Angel. "Where is all the rural +population, where the mansions of the great, the thriving farmer, the +contented peasant, the labourer about to have his minimum wage, the Old, +the Merrie England of 1910?" + +"That," responded his dragoman somewhat dramatically, extending his hand +towards the old man, "_that_ is the rural population, and he a cockney +hardened in the Great Skirmish, or he could never have stayed the +course." + +"What!" said the Angel; "is no food grown in all this land!" + +"Not a cabbage," replied his dragoman; "not a mustard and cress--outside +the towns, that is." + +"I perceive," said the Angel, "that I have lost touch with much that is +of interest. Give me, I pray, a brief sketch of the agricultural +movement." + +"Why, sir," replied his dragoman, "the agricultural movement in this +country since the days of the Great Skirmish, when all were talking of +resettling the land, may be summed up in two words: 'Town Expansion.' In +order to make this clear to you, however, I must remind you of the +political currents of the past thirty years. You will not recollect +that during the Great Skirmish, beneath the seeming absence of politics, +there were germinating the Parties of the future. A secret but resolute +intention was forming in all minds to immolate those who had played any +part in politics before and during the important world-tragedy which was +then being enacted, especially such as continued to hold portfolios, or +persisted in asking questions in the House of Commons, as it was then +called. It was not that people held them to be responsible, but nerves +required soothing, and there is no anodyne, as you know, sir, equal to +human sacrifice. The politician was, as one may say--'off.' No sooner, +of course, was peace declared than the first real General Election was +held, and it was with a certain chagrin that the old Parties found +themselves in the soup. The Parties which had been forming beneath the +surface swept the country; one called itself the Patriotic, and was +called by its opponents the Prussian Party; the other called itself the +Laborious, and was called by its opponents the Loafing Party. Their +representatives were nearly all new men. In the first flush of peace, +with which the human mind ever associates plenty, they came out on such +an even keel that no Government could pass anything at all. Since, +however, it was imperative to find the interest on a National Debt of +£8,000,000,000, a further election was needed. This time, though the +word Peace remained, the word Plenty had already vanished; and the +Laborious Party, which, having much less to tax, felt that it could tax +more freely, found itself in an overwhelming majority. You will be +curious to hear, sir, of what elements this Party was composed. Its +solid bulk were the returned soldiers, and the other manual workers of +the country; but to this main body there was added a rump, of pundits, +men of excellent intentions, brains, and principles, such as in old days +had been known as Radicals and advanced Liberals. These had joined out +of despair, feeling that otherwise their very existence was jeopardised. +To this collocation--and to one or two other circumstances, as you will +presently see, sir--the doom of the land must be traced. Now, the +Laborious Party, apart from its rump, on which it would or could not +sit--we shall never know now--had views about the resettlement of the +land not far divergent from those held by the Patriotic Party, and they +proceeded to put a scheme into operation, which, for perhaps a year, +seemed to have a prospect of success. Many returned soldiers were +established in favourable localities, and there was even a disposition +to place the country on a self-sufficing basis in regard to food. But +they had not been in power eighteen months when their rump--which, as I +have told you, contained nearly all their principles--had a severe +attack of these. 'Free Trade,'--which, say what you will, follows the +line of least resistance and is based on the 'good of trade'--was, they +perceived, endangered, and they began to agitate against bonuses on corn +and preferential treatment of a pampered industry. The bonus on corn was +in consequence rescinded in 1924, and in lieu thereof the system of +small holdings was extended--on paper. At the same time the somewhat +stunning taxation which had been placed upon the wealthy began to cause +the break-up of landed estates. As the general bankruptcy and exhaustion +of Europe became more and more apparent the notion of danger from future +war began to seem increasingly remote, and the 'good of trade' became +again the one object before every British eye. Food from overseas was +cheapening once more. The inevitable occurred. Country mansions became a +drug in the market, farmers farmed at a loss; small holders went bust +daily, and emigrated; agricultural labourers sought the towns. In 1926 +the Laborious Party, who had carried the taxation of their opponents to +a pitch beyond the power of human endurance, got what the racy call +'the knock,' and the four years which followed witnessed the bitterest +internecine struggle within the memory of every journalist. In the +course of this strife emigration increased and the land emptied rapidly. +The final victory of the Laborious Party, in 1930, saw them, still +propelled by their rump, committed, among other things, to a pure town +policy. They have never been out of power since; the result you see. +Food is now entirely brought from overseas, largely by submarine and air +service, in tabloid form, and expanded to its original proportions on +arrival by an ingenious process discovered by a German. The country is +now used only as a subject for sentimental poets, and to fly over, or by +lovers on bicycles at week-ends." + +"_Mon Dieu!_" said the Angel thoughtfully. "To me, indeed, it seems that +this must have been a case of: 'Oh! What a surprise!'" + +"You are not mistaken, sir," replied his dragoman; "people still open +their mouths over this consummation. It is pre-eminently an instance of +what will happen sometimes when you are not looking, even to the +English, who have been most fortunate in this respect. For you must +remember that all Parties, even the Pundits, have always declared that +rural life and all that, don't you know, is most necessary, and have +ever asserted that they were fostering it to the utmost. But they +forgot to remember that our circumstances, traditions, education, and +vested interests so favoured town life and the 'good of trade' that it +required a real and unparliamentary effort not to take that line of +least resistance. In fact, we have here a very good example of what I +told you the other day was our most striking characteristic--never +knowing where we are till after the event. But what with fog and +principles, how can you expect we should? Better be a little town +blighter with no constitution and high political principles, than your +mere healthy country product of a pampered industry. But you have not +yet seen the other side of the moon." + +"To what do you refer?" asked the Angel. + +"Why, sir, to the glorious expansion of the towns. To this I shall +introduce you to-morrow, if such is your pleasure." + +"Is London, then, not a town?" asked the Angel playfully. + +"London?" cried his dragoman; "a mere pleasure village. To which real +town shall I take you? Liverchester?" + +"Anywhere," said the Angel, "where I can get a good dinner." So-saying, +he paid the rural population with a smile and spread his wings. + + +III + +"The night is yet young," said the Angel Æthereal on leaving the White +Heart Hostel at Liverchester, "and I have had perhaps too much to eat. +Let us walk and see the town." + +"As you will, sir," replied his dragoman; "there is no difference +between night and day, now that they are using the tides for the +provision of electric power." + +The Angel took a note of the fact. "What do they manufacture here?" he +asked. + +"The entire town," returned his dragoman, "which now extends from the +old Liverpool to the old Manchester (as indeed its name implies), is +occupied with expanding the tabloids of food which are landed in its +port from the new worlds. This and the town of Brister, reaching from +the old Bristol to the old Gloucester, have had the monopoly of food +expansion for the United Kingdom since 1940." + +"By what means precisely?" asked the Angel. + +"Congenial environment and bacteriology," responded his dragoman. They +walked for some time in silence, flying a little now and then in the +dirtier streets, before the Angel spoke again: + +"It is curious," he said, "but I perceive no difference between this +town and those I remember on my visit in 1910, save that the streets +are better lighted, which is not an unmixed joy, for they are dirty and +full of people whose faces do not please me." + +"Ah! sir," replied his dragoman, "it is too much to expect that the +wonderful darkness which prevailed at the time of the Great Skirmish +could endure; then, indeed, one could indulge the hope that the houses +were all built by Wren, and the people all clean and beautiful. There is +no poetry now." + +"No!" said the Angel, sniffing, "but there is atmosphere, and it is not +agreeable." + +"Mankind, when herded together, _will_ smell," answered his dragoman. +"You cannot avoid it. What with old clothes, patchouli, petrol, fried +fish and the fag, those five essentials of human life, the atmosphere of +Turner and Corot are as nothing." + +"But do you not run your towns to please yourselves?" said the Angel. + +"Oh, no, sir! The resistance would be dreadful. They run us. You see, +they are so very big, and have such prestige. Besides," he added, "even +if we dared, we should not know how. For, though some great and good man +once brought us plane-trees, we English are above getting the best out +of life and its conditions, and despise light Frenchified taste. Notice +the principle which governs this twenty-mile residential stretch. It was +intended to be light, but how earnest it has all turned out! You can +tell at a glance that these dwellings belong to the species 'house' and +yet are individual houses, just as a man belongs to the species 'man,' +and yet, as they say, has a soul of his own. This principle was +introduced off the Avenue Road a few years before the Great Skirmish, +and is now universal. Any person who lives in a house identical with +another house is not known. Has anything heavier and more conscientious +ever been seen?" + +"Does this principle also apply to the houses of the working-man?" +inquired the Angel. + +"Hush, sir!" returned his dragoman, looking round him nervously; "a +dangerous word. The LABORIOUS dwell in palaces built after the design of +an architect called Jerry, with communal kitchens and baths." + +"Do they use them?" asked the Angel with some interest. + +"Not as yet, indeed," replied his dragoman; "but I believe they are +thinking of it. As you know, sir, it takes time to introduce a custom. +Thirty years is but as yesterday." + +"The Japanese wash daily," mused the Angel. + +"Not a Christian nation," replied his dragoman; "nor have they the dirt +to contend with which is conspicuous here. Let us do justice to the +discouragement which dogs the ablutions of such as know they will soon +be dirty again. It was confidently supposed, at the time of the Great +Skirmish, which introduced military discipline and so entirely abolished +caste, that the habit of washing would at last become endemic throughout +the whole population. Judge how surprised were we of that day when the +facts turned out otherwise. Instead of the Laborious washing more, the +Patriotic washed less. It may have been the higher price of soap, or +merely that human life was not very highly regarded at the time. We +cannot tell. But not until military discipline disappeared, and caste +was restored, which happened the moment peace returned, did the +survivors of the Patriotic begin to wash immoderately again, leaving the +Laborious to preserve a level more suited to democracy." + +"Talking of levels," said the Angel; "is the populace increasing in +stature?" + +"Oh, no, indeed!" responded his dragoman; "the latest statistics give a +diminution of one inch and a half during the past generation." + +"And in longevity?" asked the Angel. + +"As to that, babies and old people are now communally treated, and all +those diseases which are curable by lymph are well in hand." + +"Do people, then, not die?" + +"Oh, yes, sir! About as often as before. There are new complaints which +redress the balance." + +"And what are those?" + +"A group of diseases called for convenience Scienticitis. Some think +they come from the present food system; others from the accumulation of +lymphs in the body; others, again, regard them as the result of dwelling +on the subject--a kind of hypnotisation by death; a fourth school hold +them traceable to town air; while a fifth consider them a mere +manifestation of jealousy on the part of Nature. They date, one may say, +with confidence, from the time of the Great Skirmish, when men's minds +were turned with some anxiety to the question of statistics, and babies +were at a premium." + +"Is the population, then, much larger?" + +"You mean smaller, sir, do you not? Not perhaps so much smaller as you +might expect; but it is still nicely down. You see, the Patriotic Party, +including even those Pontificals whose private practice most discouraged +all that sort of thing, began at once to urge propagation. But their +propaganda was, as one may say, brain-spun; and at once bumped +up--pardon the colloquialism--against the economic situation. The +existing babies, it is true, were saved; the trouble was rather that the +babies began not to exist. The same, of course, obtained in every +European country, with the exception of what was still, in a manner of +speaking, Russia; and if that country had but retained its homogeneity, +it would soon by sheer numbers have swamped the rest of Europe. +Fortunately, perhaps, it did not remain homogeneous. An incurable +reluctance to make food for cannon and impose further burdens on selves +already weighted to the ground by taxes, developed in the peoples of +each Central and Western land; and in the years from 1920 to 1930 the +downward curve was so alarming in Great Britain that if the Patriotic +Party could only have kept office long enough at a time they would, no +doubt, have enforced conception at the point of the bayonet. Luckily or +unluckily, according to taste, they did not; and it was left for more +natural causes to produce the inevitable reaction which began to set in +after 1930, when the population of the United Kingdom had been reduced +to some twenty-five millions. About that time commerce revived. The +question of the land had been settled by its unconscious abandonment, +and people began to see before them again the possibility of supporting +families. The ingrained disposition of men and women to own pets, +together with 'the good of trade,' began once more to have its way; and +the population rose rapidly. A renewed joy in life, and the assurance of +not having to pay the piper, caused the slums, as they used to be +called, to swarm once more, and filled the communal crèches. And had it +not been for the fact that any one with physical strength, or love of +fresh air, promptly emigrated to the Sister Nations on attaining the age +of eighteen we might now, sir, be witnessing an overcrowding equal to +that of the times before the Great Skirmish. The movement is receiving +an added impetus with the approach of the Greater Skirmish between the +Teutons and Mongolians, for it is expected that trade will boom and much +wealth accrue to those countries which are privileged to look on with +equanimity at this great new drama, as the editors are already calling +it." + +"In all this," said the Angel Æthereal, "I perceive something rather +sordid." + +"Sir," replied his dragoman earnestly, "your remark is characteristic of +the sky, where people are not made of flesh and blood; pay, I believe, +no taxes; and have no experience of the devastating consequences of war. +I recollect so well when I was a young man, before the Great Skirmish +began, and even when it had been going on several years, how glibly the +leaders of opinion talked of human progress, and how blind they were to +the fact that it has a certain connection with environment. You must +remember that ever since that large and, as some still think, rather +tragic occurrence environment has been very dicky and Utopia not +unrelated to thin air. It has been perceived time and again that the +leaders of public opinion are not always confirmed by events. The new +world, which was so sapiently prophesied by rhetoricians, is now nigh +thirty years old, and, for my part, I confess to surprise that it is not +worse than it actually is. I am moralising, I fear, however, for these +suburban buildings grievously encourage the philosophic habit. Rather +let us barge along and see the Laborious at their labours, which are +never interrupted now by the mere accident of night." + +The Angel increased his speed till they alighted amid a forest of tall +chimneys, whose sirens were singing like a watch of nightingales. + +"There is a shift on," said the dragoman. "Stand here, sir; we shall see +them passing in and out." + +The Laborious were not hurrying, and went by uttering the words: "Cheer +oh!" "So long!" and "Wot abaht it!" + +The Angel contemplated them for a time before he said: "It comes back to +me now how they used to talk when they were doing up my flat on my visit +in 1910." + +"Give me, I pray, an imitation," said his dragoman. + +The Angel struck the attitude of one painting a door. "William," he +said, rendering those voices of the past, "what money are you +obtaining?" + +"Not half, Alfred." + +"If that is so, indeed, William, should you not rather leave your tools +and obtain better money? I myself am doing this." + +"Not half, Alfred." + +"Round the corner I can obtain more money by working for fewer hours. In +my opinion there is no use in working for less money when you can obtain +more. How much does Henry obtain?" + +"Not half, Alfred." + +"What I am now obtaining is, in my opinion, no use at all." + +"Not half, Alfred." + +Here the Angel paused, and let his hand move for one second in a +masterly exhibition of activity. + +"It is doubtful, sir," said his dragoman, "whether you would be +permitted to dilute your conversation with so much labour in these days; +the rules are very strict." + +"Are there, then, still Trades Unions?" asked the Angel. + +"No, indeed," replied his dragoman; "but there are Committees. That +habit which grew up at the time of the Great Skirmish has flourished +ever since. Statistics reveal the fact that there are practically no +adults in the country between the ages of nineteen and fifty who are not +sitting on Committees. At the time of the Great Skirmish all Committees +were nominally active; they are now both active and passive. In every +industry, enterprise, or walk of life a small active Committee directs; +and a large passive Committee, formed of everybody else, resists that +direction. And it is safe to say that the Passive Committees are active +and the Active Committees passive; in this way no inordinate amount of +work is done. Indeed, if the tongue and the electric button had not +usurped practically all the functions of the human hand, the State would +have some difficulty in getting its boots blacked. But a ha'poth of +visualisation is worth three lectures at ten shillings the stall, so +enter, sir, and see for yourself." + +Saying this, he pushed open the door. + +In a shed, which extended beyond the illimitable range of the Angel's +eye, machinery and tongues were engaged in a contest which filled the +ozone with an incomparable hum. Men and women in profusion were leaning +against walls or the pillars on which the great roof was supported, +assiduously pressing buttons. The scent of expanding food revived the +Angel's appetite. + +"I shall require supper," he said dreamily. + +"By all means, sir," replied his dragoman; "after work--play. It will +afford you an opportunity to witness modern pleasures in our great +industrial centres. But what a blessing is electric power!" he added. +"Consider these lilies of the town, they toil not, neither do they +spin----" + +"Yet Solomon in all his glory," chipped in the Angel eagerly, "had not +their appearance, you bet." + +"Indeed they are an insouciant crowd," mused his dragoman. "How tinkling +is their laughter! The habit dates from the days of the Great Skirmish, +when nothing but laughter would meet the case." + +"Tell me," said the Angel, "are the English satisfied at last with their +industrial conditions, and generally with their mode of life in these +expanded towns?" + +"Satisfied? Oh dear, no, sir! But you know what it is: They are obliged +to wait for each fresh development before they can see what they have to +counteract; and, since that great creative force, 'the good of trade,' +is always a little stronger than the forces of criticism and reform, +each development carries them a little further on the road to----" + +"Hell! How hungry I am again!" exclaimed the Angel. "Let us sup!" + + +IV + +"Laughter," said the Angel Æthereal, applying his wineglass to his nose, +"has ever distinguished mankind from all other animals with the +exception of the dog. And the power of laughing at nothing distinguishes +man even from that quadruped." + +"I would go further, sir," returned his dragoman, "and say that the +power of laughing at that which should make him sick distinguishes the +Englishman from all other varieties of man except the negro. Kindly +observe!" He rose, and taking the Angel by the waist, fox-trotted him +among the little tables. + +"See!" he said, indicating the other supper-takers with a circular +movement of his beard, "they are consumed with laughter. The habit of +fox-trotting in the intervals of eating has been known ever since it +was introduced by Americans a generation ago, at the beginning of the +Great Skirmish, when that important people had as yet nothing else to +do; but it still causes laughter in this country. A distressing custom," +he wheezed, as they resumed their seats, "for not only does it disturb +the oyster, but it compels one to think lightly of the human species. +Not that one requires much compulsion," he added, "now that music-hall, +cinema, and restaurant are conjoined. What a happy idea that was of +Berlin's, and how excellent for business! Kindly glance for a +moment--but not more--at the left-hand stage." + +The Angel turned his eyes towards a cinematograph film which was being +displayed. He contemplated it for the moment without speaking. + +"I do not comprehend," he said at last, "why the person with the +arrested moustaches is hitting so many people with that sack of flour." + +"To cause amusement, sir," replied his dragoman. "Look at the laughing +faces around you." + +"But it is not funny," said the Angel. + +"No, indeed," returned his dragoman. "Be so good as to carry your eyes +now to the stage on the right, but not for long. What do you see?" + +"I see a very red-nosed man beating a very white-nosed man about the +body." + +"It is a real scream, is it not?" + +"No," said the Angel drily. "Does nothing else ever happen on these +stages?" + +"Nothing. Stay! _Revues_ happen!" + +"What are _revues_?" asked the Angel. + +"Criticisms of life, sir, as it would be seen by persons inebriated on +various intoxicants." + +"They should be joyous." + +"They are accounted so," his dragoman replied; "but for my part, I +prefer to criticise life for myself, especially when I am drunk." + +"Are there no plays, no operas?" asked the Angel from behind his glass. + +"Not in the old and proper sense of these words. They disappeared +towards the end of the Great Skirmish." + +"What food for the mind is there, then?" asked the Angel, adding an +oyster to his collection. + +"None in public, sir, for it is well recognised, and has been ever since +those days, that laughter alone promotes business and removes the +thought of death. You cannot recall, as I can, sir, the continual stream +which used to issue from theatres, music-halls, and picture-palaces in +the days of the Great Skirmish, nor the joviality of the Strand and the +more expensive restaurants. I have often thought," he added with a touch +of philosophy, "what a height of civilisation we must have reached to +go jesting, as we did, to the Great Unknown." + +"Is that really what the English did at the time of the Great Skirmish?" +asked the Angel. + +"It is," replied his dragoman solemnly. + +"Then they are a very fine people, and I can put up with much about them +which seems to me distressing." + +"Ah! sir, though, being an Englishman, I am sometimes inclined to +disparage the English, I am yet convinced that you could not fly a +week's journey and come across another race with such a peculiar +nobility, or such an unconquerable soul, if you will forgive my using a +word whose meaning is much disputed. May I tempt you with a clam?" he +added, more lightly. "We now have them from America--in fair +preservation, and very nasty they are, in my opinion." + +The Angel took a clam. + +"My Lord!" he said, after a moment of deglutition. + +"Quite so!" replied his dragoman. "But kindly glance at the right-hand +stage again. There is a _revue_ on now. What do you see?" + +The Angel made two holes with his forefingers and thumbs and, putting +them to his eyes, bent a little forward. + +"Tut, tut!" he said; "I see some attractive young females with very few +clothes on, walking up and down in front of what seem to me, indeed, to +be two grown-up men in collars and jackets as of little boys. What +precise criticism of life is this conveying?" + +His dragoman answered in reproachful accents: + +"Do you not feel, sir, from your own sensations, how marvellously this +informs one of the secret passions of mankind? Is there not in it a +striking revelation of the natural tendencies of the male population? +Remark how the whole audience, including your august self, is leaning +forward and looking through their thumb-holes?" + +The Angel sat back hurriedly. + +"True," he said, "I was carried away. But that is not the criticism of +life which art demands. If it had been, the audience, myself included, +would have been sitting back with their lips curled dry, instead of +watering." + +"For all that," replied his dragoman, "it is the best we can give you; +anything which induces the detached mood of which you spoke, has been +banned from the stage since the days of the Great Skirmish; it is so +very bad for business." + +"Pity!" said the Angel, imperceptibly edging forward; "the mission of +art is to elevate." + +"It is plain, sir," said his dragoman, "that you have lost touch with +the world as it is. The mission of art--now truly democratic--is to +level--in principle up, in practice down. Do not forget, sir, that the +English have ever regarded æstheticism as unmanly, and grace as immoral; +when to that basic principle you add the principle of serving the taste +of the majority, you have perfect conditions for a sure and gradual +decrescendo." + +"Does taste, then, no longer exist?" asked the Angel. + +"It is not wholly, as yet, extinct, but lingers in the communal kitchens +and canteens, as introduced by the Young Men's Christian Association in +the days of the Great Skirmish. While there is appetite there is hope, +nor is it wholly discouraging that taste should now centre in the +stomach; for is not that the real centre of man's activity? Who dare +affirm that from so universal a foundation the fair structure of +æstheticism shall not be rebuilt? The eye, accustomed to the look of +dainty dishes and pleasant cookery, may once more demand the +architecture of Wren, the sculpture of Rodin, the paintings of--dear +me--whom? Why, sir, even before the days of the Great Skirmish, when you +were last on earth, we had already begun to put the future of +æstheticism on a more real basis, and were converting the concert-halls +of London into hotels. Few at the time saw the far-reaching +significance of that movement, or realised that æstheticism was to be +levelled down to the stomach, in order that it might be levelled up +again to the head, on true democratic principles." + +"But what," said the Angel, with one of his preternatural flashes of +acumen, "what if, on the other hand, taste should continue to sink and +lose even its present hold on the stomach? If all else has gone, why +should not the beauty of the kitchen go?" + +"That indeed," sighed his dragoman, placing his hand on his heart, "is a +thought which often gives me a sinking sensation. Two liqueur brandies," +he murmured to the waiter. "But the stout heart refuses to despair. +Besides, advertisements show decided traces of æsthetic advance. All the +great painters, poets, and fiction writers are working on them; the +movement had its origin in the propaganda demanded by the Great +Skirmish. You will not recollect the war poetry of that period, the +patriotic films, the death cartoons, and other remarkable achievements. +We have just as great talents now, though their object has not perhaps +the religious singleness of those stirring times. Not a food, corset, or +collar which has not its artist working for it! Toothbrushes, +nutcrackers, babies' baths--the whole caboodle of manufacture--are now +set to music. Such themes are considered subliminal if not sublime. No, +sir, I will not despair; it is only at moments when I have dined poorly +that the horizon seems dark. Listen--they have turned on the +'Kalophone,' for you must know that all music now is beautifully made by +machine--so much easier for every one." + +The Angel raised his head, and into his eyes came the glow associated +with celestial strains. + +"The tune," he said, "is familiar to me." + +"Yes, sir," answered his dragoman, "for it is 'The Messiah' in ragtime. +No time is wasted, you notice; all, even pleasure, is intensively +cultivated, on the lines of least resistance, thanks to the feverishness +engendered in us by the Great Skirmish, when no one knew if he would +have another chance, and to the subsequent need for fostering industry. +But whether we really enjoy ourselves is perhaps a question to answer +which you must examine the English character." + +"That I refuse to do," said the Angel. + +"And you are wise, sir, for it is a puzzler, and many have cracked their +heads over it. But have we not been here long enough? We can pursue our +researches into the higher realms of art to-morrow." + +A beam from the Angel's lustrous eyes fell on a lady at the next table. +"Yes, perhaps we had better go," he sighed. + + +V + +"And so it is through the fields of true art that we shall walk this +morning?" said the Angel Æthereal. + +"Such as they are in this year of Peace 1947," responded his dragoman, +arresting him before a statue; "for the development of this hobby has +been peculiar since you were here in 1910, when the childlike and +contortionist movement was just beginning to take hold of the British." + +"Whom does this represent?" asked the Angel. + +"A celebrated publicist, recently deceased at a great age. You see him +unfolded by this work of multiform genius, in every aspect known to art, +religion, nature, and the population. From his knees downwards he is +clearly devoted to nature, and is portrayed as about to enter his bath. +From his waist to his knees he is devoted to religion--mark the complete +disappearance of the human aspect. From his neck to his waist he is +devoted to public affairs; observe the tweed coat, the watch chain, and +other signs of practical sobriety. But the head is, after all, the crown +of the human being, and is devoted to art. This is why you cannot make +out that it is a head. Note its pyramidal severity, its cunning little +ears, its box-built, water-tightal structure. The hair you note to be in +flames. Here we have the touch of beauty--the burning shrub. In the +whole you will observe that aversion from natural form and the single +point of view, characteristic of all twentieth-century æsthetics. The +whole thing is a very great masterpiece of childlike contortionism. To +do things as irresponsibly as children and contortionists--what a happy +discovery of the line of least resistance in art that was! Mark, by the +way, this exquisite touch about the left hand." + +"It appears to be deformed," said the Angel, going a step nearer. + +"Look closer still," returned his dragoman, "and you will see that it is +holding a novel of the great Russian, upside down. Ever since that +simple master who so happily blended the childlike with the +contortionist became known in this country they have been trying to go +him one better, in letters, in painting, in sculpture, and in music, +refusing to admit that he was the last cry; and until they have beaten +him this movement simply cannot cease; it may therefore go on for ever, +for he was the limit. That hand symbolises the whole movement." + +"How?" said the Angel. + +"Why, sir, somersault is its mainspring. Did you never observe the great +Russian's method? Prepare your characters to do one thing, and make them +very swiftly do the opposite. Thus did that terrific novelist +demonstrate his overmastering range of vision and knowledge of the +depths of human nature. Since his characters never varied this routine +in the course of some eight thousand pages, people have lightly said +that he repeated himself. But what of that? Consider what perfect +dissociation he thereby attained between character and action; what +nebulosity of fact; what a truly childlike and mystic mix-up of all +human values hitherto known! And here, sir, at the risk of tickling you, +I must whisper." The dragoman made a trumpet of his hand: "Fiction can +only be written by those who have exceptionally little knowledge of +ordinary human nature, and great fiction only by such as have none at +all." + +"How is that?" said the Angel, somewhat disconcerted. + +"Surprise, sir, is the very kernel of all effects in art, and in real +life people _will_ act as their characters and temperaments determine +that they shall. This dreadful and unmalleable trait would have upset +all the great mystic masters from generation to generation if they had +only noticed it. But did they? Fortunately not. These greater men +naturally put into their books the greater confusion and flux in which +their extraordinary selves exist! The nature they portray is not human, +but super- or subter-human, which you will. Who would have it otherwise?" + +"Not I," said the Angel. "For I confess to a liking for what is called +the 'tuppence coloured.' But Russians are not as other men, are they?" + +"They are not," said his dragoman, "but the trouble is, sir, that since +the British discovered him, every character in our greater fiction has a +Russian soul, though living in Cornwall or the Midlands, in a British +body under a Scottish or English name." + +"Very piquant," said the Angel, turning from the masterpiece before him. +"Are there no undraped statues to be seen?" + +"In no recognisable form. For, not being educated to the detached +contemplation which still prevailed to a limited extent even as late as +the days of the Great Skirmish, the populace can no longer be trusted +with such works of art; they are liable to rush at them, for embrace, or +demolition, as their temperaments may dictate." + +"The Greeks are dead, then," said the Angel. + +"As door-nails, sir. They regarded life as a thing to be enjoyed--a +vice you will not have noticed in the British. The Greeks were an +outdoor people, who lived in the sun and the fresh air, and had none of +the niceness bred by the life of our towns. We have long been renowned +for our delicacy about the body; nor has the tendency been decreased by +constituting Watch Committees of young persons in every borough. These +are now the arbiters of art, and nothing unsuitable to the child of +seven passes their censorship." + +"How careful!" said the Angel. + +"The result has been wonderful," remarked his dragoman. "Wonderful!" he +repeated, dreamily. "I suppose there is more smouldering sexual desire +and disease in this country than in any other." + +"Was that the intention?" asked the Angel. + +"Oh! no, sir! That is but the natural effect of so remarkably pure a +surface. All is within instead of without. Nature has now wholly +disappeared. The process was sped up by the Great Skirmish. For, since +then, we have had little leisure and income to spare on the +gratification of anything but laughter; this and the 'unco-guid' have +made our art-surface glare in the eyes of the nations, thin and spotless +as if made of tin." + +The Angel raised his eyebrows. "I had hoped for better things," he +said. + +"You must not suppose, sir," pursued his dragoman, "that there is not +plenty of the undraped, so long as it is vulgar, as you saw just now +upon the stage, for that is good business; the line is only drawn at the +danger-point of art, which is always very bad business in this country. +Yet even in real life the undraped has to be grotesque to be admitted; +the one fatal quality is natural beauty. The laugh, sir, the laugh--even +the most hideous and vulgar laugh--is such a disinfectant. I should, +however, say in justice to our literary men, that they have not +altogether succumbed to the demand for cachinnations. A school, which +first drew breath before the Great Skirmish began, has perfected itself, +till now we have whole tomes where hardly a sentence would be +intelligible to any save the initiate; this enables them to defy the +Watch Committees, with other Philistines. We have writers who +mysteriously preach the realisation of self by never considering anybody +else; of purity through experience of exotic vice; of courage through +habitual cowardice; and of kindness through Prussian behaviour. They are +generally young. We have others whose fiction consists of autobiography +interspersed with philosophic and political fluencies. These may be of +any age from eighty odd to the bitter thirties. We have also the copious +and chatty novelist; and transcribers of the life of the Laborious, +whom the Laborious never read. Above all, we have the great Patriotic +school, who put the national motto first, and write purely what is good +for trade. In fact, we have every sort, as in the old days." + +"It would appear," said the Angel, "that the arts have stood somewhat +still." + +"Except for a more external purity, and a higher internal corruption," +replied his dragoman. + +"Are artists still noted for their jealousies?" asked the Angel. + +"They are, sir; for that is inherent in the artistic temperament, which +is extremely touchy about fame." + +"And do they still get angry when those gentlemen--the----" + +"Critics," his dragoman suggested. "They get angry, sir; but critics are +usually anonymous, and from excellent reasons; for not only are the +passions of an angry artist very high, but the knowledge of an angry +critic is not infrequently very low, especially of art. It is kinder to +save life, where possible." + +"For my part," said the Angel, "I have little regard for human life, and +consider that many persons would be better buried." + +"That may be," his dragoman retorted with some irritation; "'_errare +est humanum_.' But I, for one, would rather be a dead human being any +day than a live angel, for I think they are more charitable." + +"Well," said the Angel genially, "you have the prejudice of your kind. +Have you an artist about the place, to show me? I do not recollect any +at Madame Tussaud's." + +"They have taken to declining that honour. We could see one in real life +if we went to Cornwall." + +"Why Cornwall?" + +"I cannot tell you, sir. There is something in the air which affects +their passions." + +"I am hungry, and would rather go to the Savoy," said the Angel, walking +on. + +"You are in luck," whispered his dragoman, when they had seated +themselves at a table covered with prawns; "for at the next on your left +is our most famous exponent of the mosaic school of novelism." + +"Then here goes!" replied the Angel. And, turning to his neighbour, he +asked pleasantly: "How do you do, sir? What is your income?" + +The gentleman addressed looked up from his prawn, and replied wearily: +"Ask my agent. He may conceivably possess the knowledge you require." + +"Answer me this, at all events," said the Angel, with more dignity, if +possible: "How do you write your books? For it must be wonderful to +summon around you every day the creatures of your imagination. Do you +wait for afflatus?" + +"No," said the author; "er--no! I--er--" he added weightily, "sit down +every morning." + +The Angel rolled his eyes and, turning to his dragoman, said in a +well-bred whisper: "He sits down every morning! My Lord, how good for +trade!" + + +VI + +"A glass of sherry, dry, and ham sandwich, stale, can be obtained here, +sir," said the dragoman; "and for dessert, the scent of parchment and +bananas. We will then attend Court 45, where I shall show you how +fundamentally our legal procedure has changed in the generation that has +elapsed since the days of the Great Skirmish." + +"Can it really be that the Law has changed? I had thought it immutable," +said the Angel, causing his teeth to meet with difficulty: "What will be +the nature of the suit to which we shall listen?" + +"I have thought it best, sir, to select a divorce case, lest you should +sleep, overcome by the ozone and eloquence in these places." + +"Ah!" said the Angel: "I am ready." + +The Court was crowded, and they took their seats with difficulty, and a +lady sitting on the Angel's left wing. + +"The public _will_ frequent this class of case," whispered his dragoman. +"How different when you were here in 1910!" + +The Angel collected himself: "Tell me," he murmured, "which of the +grey-haired ones is the judge?" + +"He in the bag-wig, sir," returned his dragoman; "and that little lot is +the jury," he added, indicating twelve gentlemen seated in two rows. + +"What is their private life?" asked the Angel. + +"No better than it should be, perhaps," responded his dragoman +facetiously; "but no one can tell that from their words and manner, as +you will presently see. These are special ones," he added, "and pay +income tax, so that their judgment in matters of morality is of +considerable value." + +"They have wise faces," said the Angel. "Which is the prosecutor?" + +"No, no!" his dragoman answered, vividly: "This is a civil case. That is +the plaintiff with a little mourning about her eyes and a touch of red +about her lips, in the black hat with the aigrette, the pearls, and the +fashionably sober clothes." + +"I see her," said the Angel: "an attractive woman. Will she win?" + +"We do not call it winning, sir; for this, as you must know, is a sad +matter, and implies the breaking-up of a home. She will most unwillingly +receive a decree, at least, I think so," he added; "though whether it +will stand the scrutiny of the King's Proctor we may wonder a little, +from her appearance." + +"King's Proctor?" said the Angel. "What is that?" + +"A celestial Die-hard, sir, paid to join together again those whom man +have put asunder." + +"I do not follow," said the Angel fretfully. + +"I perceive," whispered his dragoman, "that I must make clear to you the +spirit which animates our justice in these matters. You know, of course, +that the intention of our law is ever to penalise the wrong-doer. It +therefore requires the innocent party, like that lady there, to be +exceptionally innocent, not only before she secures her divorce, but for +six months afterwards." + +"Oh!" said the Angel. "And where is the guilty party?" + +"Probably in the south of France," returned his dragoman, "with the new +partner of his affections. They have a place in the sun; this one a +place in the Law Courts." + +"Dear me!" said the Angel. "Does she prefer that?" + +"There are ladies," his dragoman replied, "who find it a pleasure to +appear, no matter where, so long as people can see them in a pretty hat. +But the great majority would rather sink into the earth than do this +thing." + +"The face of this one is most agreeable to me; I should not wish her to +sink," said the Angel warmly. + +"Agreeable or not," resumed his dragoman, "they have to bring their +hearts for inspection by the public if they wish to become free from the +party who has done them wrong. This is necessary, for the penalisation +of the wrong-doer." + +"And how will he be penalised?" asked the Angel naïvely. + +"By receiving his freedom," returned his dragoman, "together with the +power to enjoy himself with his new partner, in the sun, until, in due +course, he is able to marry her." + +"This is mysterious to me," murmured the Angel. "Is not the boot on the +wrong leg?" + +"Oh! sir, the law would not make a mistake like that. You are bringing +a single mind to the consideration of this matter, but that will never +do. This lady is a true and much-wronged wife; that is--let us hope +so!--to whom our law has given its protection and remedy; but she is +also, in its eyes, somewhat reprehensible for desiring to avail herself +of that protection and remedy. For, though the law is now purely the +affair of the State and has nothing to do with the Appointed, it still +secretly believes in the religious maxim: 'Once married, always +married,' and feels that however much a married person is neglected or +ill-treated, she should not desire to be free." + +"She?" said the Angel. "Does a man never desire to be free?" + +"Oh, yes! sir, and not infrequently." + +"Does your law, then, not consider him reprehensible in that desire?" + +"In theory, perhaps; but there is a subtle distinction. For, sir, as you +observe from the countenances before you, the law is administered +entirely by males, and males cannot but believe in the divine right of +males to have a better time than females; and, though they do not say +so, they naturally feel that a husband wronged by a wife is more injured +than a wife wronged by a husband." + +"There is much in that," said the Angel. "But tell me how the oracle is +worked--for it may come in handy!" + +"You allude, sir, to the necessary procedure? I will make this clear. +There are two kinds of cases: what I may call the 'O.K.' and what I may +call the 'rig.' Now in the 'O.K.' it is only necessary for the +plaintiff, if it be a woman, to receive a black eye from her husband and +to pay detectives to find out that he has been too closely in the +company of another; if it be a man, he need not receive a black eye from +his wife, and has merely to pay the detectives to obtain the same +necessary information." + +"Why this difference between the sexes?" asked the Angel. + +"Because," answered his dragoman, "woman is the weaker sex, things are +therefore harder for her." + +"But," said the Angel, "the English have a reputation for chivalry." + +"They have, sir." + +"Well----" began the Angel. + +"When these conditions are complied with," interrupted his dragoman, "a +suit for divorce may be brought, which may or may not be defended. Now, +the 'rig,' which is always brought by the wife, is not so simple, for it +must be subdivided into two sections: 'Ye straight rig' and 'Ye crooked +rig.' 'Ye straight rig' is where the wife cannot induce her husband to +remain with her, and discovering from him that he has been in the close +company of another, wishes to be free of him. She therefore tells the +Court that she wishes him to come back to her, and the Court will tell +him to go back. Whereon, if he obey, the fat is sometimes in the fire. +If, however, he obeys not, which is the more probable, she may, after a +short delay, bring a suit, adducing the evidence she has obtained, and +receive a decree. This may be the case before you, or, on the other +hand, it may not, and will then be what is called 'Ye crooked rig.' If +that is so, these two persons, having found that they cannot live in +conjugal friendliness, have laid their heads together for the last time, +and arranged to part; the procedure will now be the same as in 'Ye +straight rig.' But the wife must take the greatest care to lead the +Court to suppose that she really wishes her husband to come back; for, +if she does not, it is collusion. The more ardent her desire to part +from him, the more care she must take to pretend the opposite! But this +sort of case is, after all, the simplest, for both parties are in +complete accord in desiring to be free of each other, so neither does +anything to retard that end, which is soon obtained." + +"About that evidence?" said the Angel. "What must the man do?" + +"He will require to go to an hotel with a lady friend," replied his +dragoman; "once will be enough. And, provided they are called in the +morning, there is no real necessity for anything else." + +"H'm!" said the Angel. "This, indeed, seems to me to be all around about +the bush. Could there not be some simple method which would not +necessitate the perversion of the truth?" + +"Ah, no!" responded his dragoman. "You forget what I told you, sir. +However unhappy people may be together, our law grudges their +separation; it requires them therefore to be immoral, or to lie, or +both, before they can part." + +"Curious!" said the Angel. + +"You must understand, sir, that when a man says he will take a woman, +and a woman says she will take a man, for the rest of their natural +existence, they are assumed to know all about each other, though not +permitted, of course, by the laws of morality to know anything of real +importance. Since it is almost impossible from a modest acquaintanceship +to make sure whether they will continue to desire each other's company +after a completed knowledge, they are naturally disposed to go it +'blind,' if I may be pardoned the expression, and will take each other +for ever on the smallest provocations. For the human being, sir, makes +nothing of the words 'for ever,' when it sees immediate happiness before +it. You can well understand, therefore, how necessary it is to make it +very hard for them to get untied again." + +"I should dislike living with a wife if I were tired of her," said the +Angel. + +"Sir," returned his dragoman confidentially, "in that sentiment you +would have with you the whole male population. And, I believe, the whole +of the female population would feel the same if they were tired of you, +as the husband." + +"That!" said the Angel, with a quiet smile. + +"Ah! yes, sir; but does not this convince you of the necessity to force +people who are tired of each other to go on living together?" + +"No," said the Angel, with appalling frankness. + +"Well," his dragoman replied soberly, "I must admit that some have +thought our marriage laws should be in a museum, for they are unique; +and, though a source of amusement to the public, and emolument to the +profession, they pass the comprehension of men and angels who have not +the key of the mystery." + +"What key?" asked the Angel. + +"I will give it you, sir," said his dragoman: "The English have a genius +for taking the shadow of a thing for its substance. 'So long,' they say, +'as our marriages, our virtue, our honesty, and happiness _seem_ to be, +they _are_.' So long, therefore, as we do not dissolve a marriage it +remains virtuous, honest and happy though the parties to it may be +unfaithful, untruthful, and in misery. It would be regarded as awful, +sir, for marriage to depend on mutual liking. We English cannot bear +the thought of defeat. To dissolve an unhappy marriage is to recognise +defeat by life, and we would rather that other people lived in +wretchedness all their days than admit that members of our race had come +up against something too hard to overcome. The English do not care about +making the best out of this life in reality so long as they can do it in +appearance." + +"Then they believe in a future life?" + +"They did to some considerable extent up to the 'eighties of the last +century, and their laws and customs were no doubt settled in accordance +therewith, and have not yet had time to adapt themselves. We are a +somewhat slow-moving people, always a generation or two behind our real +beliefs." + +"They have lost their belief, then?" + +"It is difficult to arrive at figures, sir, on such a question. But it +has been estimated that perhaps one in ten adults now has some +semblance of what may be called active belief in a future existence." + +"And the rest are prepared to let their lives be arranged in accordance +with the belief of that tenth?" asked the Angel, surprised. "Tell me, do +they think their matrimonial differences will be adjusted over there, or +what?" + +"As to that, all is cloudy; and certain matters would be difficult to +adjust without bigamy; for general opinion and the law permit the +remarriage of persons whose first has gone before." + +"How about children?" said the Angel; "for that is no inconsiderable +item, I imagine." + +"Yes, sir, they are a difficulty. But here, again, my key will fit. So +long as the marriage _seems_ real, it does not matter that the children +know it isn't and suffer from the disharmony of their parents." + +"I think," said the Angel acutely, "there must be some more earthly +reason for the condition of your marriage laws than those you give me. +It's all a matter of property at bottom, I suspect." + +"Sir," said his dragoman, seemingly much struck, "I should not be +surprised if you were right. There is little interest in divorce where +no money is involved, and our poor are considered able to do without it. +But I will never admit that this is the reason for the state of our +divorce laws. No, no; I am an Englishman." + +"Well," said the Angel, "we are wandering. Does this judge believe what +they are now saying to him?" + +"It is impossible to inform you, for judges are very deep and know all +that is to be known on these matters. But of this you may be certain: if +anything is fishy to the average apprehension, he will not suffer it to +pass his nose." + +"Where is the average apprehension?" asked the Angel. + +"There, sir," said his dragoman, pointing to the jury with his chin, +"noted for their common sense." + +"And these others with grey heads who are calling each other friend, +though they appear to be inimical?" + +"Little can be hid from them," returned his dragoman; "but this case, +though defended as to certain matters of money, is not disputed in +regard to the divorce itself. Moreover, they are bound by professional +etiquette to serve their clients through thin and thick." + +"Cease!" said the Angel; "I wish to hear this evidence, and so does the +lady on my left wing." + +His dragoman smiled in his beard, and made no answer. + +"Tell me," remarked the Angel, when he had listened, "does this woman +get anything for saying she called them in the morning?" + +"Fie, sir!" responded his dragoman; "only her expenses to the Court and +back. Though indeed, it is possible that after she had called them, she +got half a sovereign from the defendant to impress the matter on her +mind, seeing that she calls many people every day." + +"The whole matter," said the Angel with a frown, "appears to be in the +nature of a game; nor are the details as savoury as I expected." + +"It would be otherwise if the case were defended, sir," returned his +dragoman; "then, too, you would have had an opportunity of understanding +the capacity of the human mind for seeing the same incident to be both +black and white; but it would take much of your valuable time, and the +Court would be so crowded that you would have a lady sitting on your +right wing also, and possibly on your knee. For, as you observe, ladies +are particularly attached to these dramas of real life." + +"If my wife were a wrong one," said the Angel, "I suppose that, +according to your law, I could not sew her up in a sack and place it in +the water?" + +"We are not now in the days of the Great Skirmish," replied his dragoman +somewhat coldly. "At that time any soldier who found his wife unfaithful, as we call it, +could shoot her with impunity and receive the plaudits and possibly a +presentation from the populace, though he himself may not have been +impeccable while away--a masterly method of securing a divorce. But, as +I told you, our procedure has changed since then; and even soldiers now +have to go to work in this roundabout fashion." + +"Can he not shoot the paramour?" asked the Angel. + +"Not even that," answered his dragoman. "So soft and degenerate are the +days. Though, if he can invent for the paramour a German name, he will +still receive but a nominal sentence. Our law is renowned for never +being swayed by sentimental reasons. I well recollect a case in the days +of the Great Skirmish, when a jury found contrary to the plainest facts +sooner than allow that reputation for impartiality to be tarnished." + +"Ah!" said the Angel absently; "what is happening now?" + +"The jury are considering their verdict. The conclusion is, however, +foregone, for they are not retiring. The plaintiff is now using her +smelling salts." + +"She is a fine woman," said the Angel emphatically. + +"Hush, sir! The judge might hear you." + +"What if he does?" asked the Angel in surprise. + +"He would then eject you for contempt of Court." + +"Does he not think her a fine woman, too?" + +"For the love of justice, sir, be silent," entreated his dragoman. "This +concerns the happiness of three, if not of five lives. Look! She is +lifting her veil; she is going to use her handkerchief." + +"I cannot bear to see a woman cry," said the Angel, trying to rise; +"please take this lady off my left wing." + +"Kindly sit tight!" murmured his dragoman to the lady, leaning across +behind the Angel's back. "Listen, sir!" he added to the Angel: "The jury +are satisfied that what is necessary has taken place. All is well; she +will get her decree." + +"Hurrah!" said the Angel in a loud voice. + +"If that noise is repeated, I will have the Court cleared." + +"I am going to repeat it," said the Angel firmly; "she is beautiful!" + +His dragoman placed a hand respectfully over the Angel's mouth. "Oh, +sir!" he said soothingly, "do not spoil this charming moment. Hark! He +is giving her a decree _nisi_, with costs. To-morrow it will be in all +the papers, for it helps to sell them. See! She is withdrawing; we can +now go." And he disengaged the Angel's wing. + +The Angel rose quickly and made his way towards the door. "I am going to +walk out with her," he announced joyously. + +"I beseech you," said his dragoman, hurrying beside him, "remember the +King's Proctor! Where is your chivalry? For _he_ has none, sir--not a +little bit!" + +"Bring him to me; I will give it him!" said the Angel, kissing the tips +of his fingers to the plaintiff, who was vanishing in the gloom of the +fresh air. + + +VII + +In the Strangers' room of the Strangers' Club the usual solitude was +reigning when the Angel Æthereal entered. + +"You will be quiet here," said his dragoman, drawing up two leather +chairs to the hearth, "and comfortable," he added, as the Angel crossed +his legs. "After our recent experience, I thought it better to bring you +where your mind would be composed, since we have to consider so +important a subject as morality. There is no place, indeed, where we +could be so completely sheltered from life, or so free to evolve from +our inner consciousness the momentous conclusions of the armchair +moralist. When you have had your sneeze," he added, glancing at the +Angel, who was taking snuff, "I shall make known to you the conclusions +I have formed in the course of a chequered career." + +"Before you do that," said the Angel, "it would perhaps be as well to +limit the sphere of our inquiry." + +"As to that," remarked his dragoman, "I shall confine my information to +the morals of the English since the opening of the Great Skirmish, in +1914, just a short generation of three and thirty years ago; and you +will find my theme readily falls, sir, into the two main compartments of +public and private morality. When I have finished you can ask me any +questions." + +"Proceed!" said the Angel, letting his eyelids droop. + +"Public morality," his dragoman began, "is either superlative, +comparative, positive, or negative. And superlative morality is found, +of course, only in the newspapers. It is the special prerogative of +leader-writers. Its note, remote and unchallengeable, was well struck by +almost every organ at the commencement of the Great Skirmish, and may be +summed up in a single solemn phrase: 'We will sacrifice on the altar of +duty the last life and the last dollar--except the last life and dollar +of the last leader-writer.' For, as all must see, that one had to be +preserved, to ensure and comment on the consummation of the sacrifice. +What loftier morality can be conceived? And it has ever been a grief to +the multitude that the lives of those patriots and benefactors of their +species should, through modesty, have been unrevealed to such as pant to +copy them. Here and there the lineaments of a tip-topper were +discernible beneath the disguise of custom; but what fair existences +were screened! I may tell you at once, sir, that the State was so much +struck at the time of the Great Skirmish by this doctrine of the utter +sacrifice of others that it almost immediately adopted the idea, and has +struggled to retain it ever since. Indeed, only the unaccountable +reluctance of 'others' to be utterly sacrificed has ensured their +perpetuity." + +"In 1910," said the Angel, "I happened to notice that the Prussians had +already perfected that system. Yet it was against the Prussians that +this country fought?" + +"That is so," returned his dragoman; "there were many who drew attention +to the fact. And at the conclusion of the Great Skirmish the reaction +was such that for a long moment even the leader-writers wavered in their +selfless doctrines; nor could continuity be secured till the Laborious +Party came solidly to the saddle in 1930. Since then the principle has +been firm but the practice has been firmer, and public morality has +never been altogether superlative. Let us pass to comparative public +morality. In the days of the Great Skirmish this was practised by those +with names, who told others what to do. This large and capable body +included all the preachers, publicists, and politicians of the day, and +in many cases there is even evidence that they would have been willing +to practise what they preached if their age had not been so venerable or +their directive power so invaluable." + +"_In_-valuable," murmured the Angel; "has that word a negative +signification?" + +"Not in all cases," said his dragoman with a smile; "there were men whom +it would have been difficult to replace, though not many, and those +perhaps the least comparatively moral. In this category, too, were +undoubtedly the persons known as conchies." + +"From conch, a shell?" asked the Angel. + +"Not precisely," returned his dragoman; "and yet you have hit it, sir, +for into their shells they certainly withdrew, refusing to have anything +to do with this wicked world. Sufficient unto them was the voice within. +They were not well treated by an unfeeling populace." + +"This is interesting to me," said the Angel. "To what did they object?" + +"To war," replied his dragoman. "'What is it to us,' they said, 'that +there should be barbarians like these Prussians, who override the laws +of justice and humanity?'--words, sir, very much in vogue in those days. +'How can it affect our principles if these rude foreigners have not our +views, and are prepared, by cutting off the food supplies of this +island, to starve us into submission to their rule? Rather than turn a +deaf ear to the voice within we are prepared for general starvation; +whether we are prepared for the starvation of our individual selves we +cannot, of course, say until we experience it. But we hope for the best, +and believe that we shall go through with it to death, in the undesired +company of all who do not agree with us.' And it is certain, sir, that +some of them were capable of this; for there is, as you know, a type of +man who will die rather than admit that his views are too extreme to +keep himself and his fellow-men alive." + +"How entertaining!" said the Angel. "Do such persons still exist?" + +"Oh! yes," replied the dragoman; "and always will. Nor is it, in my +opinion, altogether to the disadvantage of mankind, for they afford a +salutary warning to the human species not to isolate itself in fancy +from the realities of existence and extinguish human life before its +time has come. We shall now consider the positively moral. At the time +of the Great Skirmish these were such as took no sugar in their tea and +invested all they had in War Stock at five per cent. without waiting for +what were called Premium Bonds to be issued. They were a large and +healthy group, more immediately concerned with commerce than the war. +But the largest body of all were the negatively moral. These were they +who did what they crudely called 'their bit,' which I may tell you, sir, +was often very bitter. I myself was a ship's steward at the time, and +frequently swallowed much salt water, owing to the submarines. But I was +not to be deterred, and would sign on again when it had been pumped out +of me. Our morality was purely negative, if not actually low. We acted, +as it were, from instinct, and often wondered at the sublime sacrifices +which were being made by our betters. Most of us were killed or injured +in one way or another; but a blind and obstinate mania for not giving in +possessed us. We were a simple lot." The dragoman paused and fixed his +eyes on the empty hearth. "I will not disguise from you," he added, +"that we were fed-up nearly all the time; and yet--we couldn't stop. +Odd, was it not?" + +"I wish I had been with you," said the Angel, "for--to use that word +without which you English seem unable to express anything--you were +heroes." + +"Sir," said his dragoman, "you flatter us by such encomium. We were, I +fear, dismally lacking in commercial spirit, just men and women in the +street having neither time nor inclination to examine our conduct and +motives, nor to question or direct the conduct of others. Purely +negative beings, with perhaps a touch of human courage and human +kindliness in us. All this, however, is a tale of long ago. You can now +ask me any questions, sir, before I pass to private morality." + +"You alluded to courage and kindliness," said the Angel: "How do these +qualities now stand?" + +"The quality of courage," responded his dragoman, "received a set-back +in men's estimation at the time of the Great Skirmish, from which it has +never properly recovered. For physical courage was then, for the first +time, perceived to be most excessively common; it is, indeed, probably a +mere attribute of the bony chin, especially prevalent in the +English-speaking races. As to moral courage, it was so hunted down that +it is still somewhat in hiding. Of kindliness there are, as you know, +two sorts: that which people manifest towards their own belongings; and +that which they do not as a rule manifest towards every one else." + +"Since we attended the Divorce Court," remarked the Angel with +deliberation, "I have been thinking. And I fancy no one can be really +kind unless they have had matrimonial trouble, preferably in conflict +with the law." + +"A new thought to me," observed his dragoman attentively; "and yet you +may be right, for there is nothing like being morally outcast to make +you feel the intolerance of others. But that brings us to private +morality." + +"Quite!" said the Angel, with relief. "I forgot to ask you this morning +how the ancient custom of marriage was now regarded in the large?" + +"Not indeed as a sacrament," replied his dragoman; "such a view was +becoming rare already at the time of the Great Skirmish. Yet the notion +might have been preserved but for the opposition of the Pontifical of +those days to the reform of the Divorce Laws. When principle opposes +common sense too long, a landslide follows." + +"Of what nature, then, is marriage now?" + +"Purely a civil, or uncivil, contract, as the case may be. The holy +state of judicial separation, too, has long been unknown." + +"Ah!" said the Angel, "that was the custom by which the man became a +monk and the lady a nun, was it not?" + +"In theory, sir," replied his dragoman, "but in practice not a little +bit, as you may well suppose. The Pontifical, however, and the women, +old and otherwise, who supported them, had but small experience of life +to go on, and honestly believed that they were punishing those +still-married but erring persons who were thus separated. These, on the +contrary, almost invariably assumed that they were justified in free +companionships, nor were they particular to avoid promiscuity! So it +ever is, sir, when the great laws of Nature are violated in deference to +the Higher Doctrine." + +"Are children still born out of wedlock?" asked the Angel. + +"Yes," said his dragoman, "but no longer considered responsible for the +past conduct of their parents." + +"Society, then, is more humane?" + +"Well, sir, we shall not see the Millennium in that respect for some +years to come. Zoos are still permitted, and I read only yesterday a +letter from a Scottish gentleman pouring scorn on the humane proposal +that prisoners should be allowed to see their wives once a month without +bars or the presence of a third party; precisely as if we still lived in +the days of the Great Skirmish. Can you tell me why it is that such +letters are always written by Scotsmen?" + +"Is it a riddle?" asked the Angel. + +"It is indeed, sir." + +"Then it bores me. Speaking generally, are you satisfied with current +virtue now that it is a State matter, as you informed me yesterday?" + +"To tell you the truth, sir, I do not judge my neighbours; sufficient +unto myself is the vice thereof. But one thing I observe, the less +virtuous people assume themselves to be, the more virtuous they commonly +are. Where the limelight is not, the flower blooms. Have you not +frequently noticed that they who day by day cheerfully endure most +unpleasant things, while helping their neighbours at the expense of +their own time and goods, are often rendered lyrical by receiving a +sovereign from some one who would never miss it, and are ready to +enthrone him in their hearts as a king of men? The truest virtue, sir, +must be sought among the lowly. Sugar and snow may be seen on the top, +but for the salt of the earth one must look to the bottom." + +"I believe you," said the Angel. "It is probably harder for a man in the +limelight to enter virtue than for the virtuous to enter the limelight. +Ha, ha! Is the good old custom of buying honour still preserved?" + +"No, sir; honour is now only given to such as make themselves too noisy +to be endured, and saddles the recipient with an obligation to preserve +public silence for a period not exceeding three years. That maximum +sentence is given for a dukedom. It is reckoned that few can survive so +fearful a term." + +"Concerning the morality of this new custom," said the Angel, "I feel +doubtful. It savours of surrender to the bully and the braggart, does it +not?" + +"Rather to the bore, sir; not necessarily the same thing. But whether +men be decorated for making themselves useful, or troublesome, the +result in either case is to secure a comparative inertia, which has ever +been the desideratum; for you must surely be aware, sir, how a man's +dignity weighs him down." + +"Are women also rewarded in this way?" + +"Yes, and very often; for although their dignity is already ample, their +tongues are long, and they have little shame and no nerves in the matter +of public speaking." + +"And what price their virtue?" asked the Angel. + +"There is some change since the days of the Great Skirmish," responded +his dragoman. "They do not now so readily sell it, except for a wedding +ring; and many marry for love. Women, indeed, are often deplorably +lacking in commercial spirit; and though they now mix in commerce, have +not yet been able to adapt themselves. Some men even go so far as to +think that their participation in active life is not good for trade and +keeps the country back." + +"They are a curious sex," said the Angel; "I like them, but they make +too much fuss about babies." + +"Ah! sir, there is the great flaw. The mother instinct--so heedless and +uncommercial! They seem to love the things just for their own sakes." + +"Yes," said the Angel, "there's no future in it. Give me a cigar." + + +VIII + +"What, then, is the present position of 'the good'?" asked the Angel +Æthereal, taking wing from Watchester Cathedrome towards the City +Tabernacle. + +"There are a number of discordant views, sir," his dragoman whiffled +through his nose in the rushing air; "which is no more novel in this +year of Peace 1947 than it was when you were here in 1910. On the far +right are certain extremists, who believe it to be what it +was--omnipotent, but suffering the presence of 'the bad' for no reason +which has yet been ascertained; omnipresent, though presumably absent +where 'the bad' is present; mysterious, though perfectly revealed; +terrible, though loving; eternal, though limited by a beginning and an +end. They are not numerous, but all stall-holders, and chiefly +characterised by an almost perfect intolerance of those whose views do +not coincide with their own; nor will they suffer for a moment any +examination into the nature of 'the good,' which they hold to be +established for all time, in the form I have stated, by persons who have +long been dead. They are, as you may imagine, somewhat out of touch with +science, such as it is, and are regarded by the community at large +rather with curiosity than anything else." + +"The type is well known in the sky," said the Angel. "Tell me: Do they +torture those who do not agree with them?" + +"Not materially," responded his dragoman. "Such a custom was extinct +even before the days of the Great Skirmish, though what would have +happened if the Patriotic or Prussian Party had been able to keep power +for any length of time we cannot tell. As it is, the torture they apply +is purely spiritual, and consists in looking down their noses at all who +have not their belief and calling them erratics. But it would be a +mistake to underrate their power, for human nature loves the Pontifical, +and there are those who will follow to the death any one who looks down +his nose, and says: 'I know!' Moreover, sir, consider how unsettling a +question 'the good' is, when you come to think about it and how +unfatiguing the faith which precludes all such speculation." + +"That is so," said the Angel thoughtfully. + +"The right centre," continued his dragoman, "is occupied by the small +yet noisy Fifth Party. These are they who play the cornet and +tambourine, big drum and concertina, descendants of the Old Prophet, and +survivors of those who, following a younger prophet, joined them at the +time of the Great Skirmish. In a form ever modifying with scientific +discovery they hold that 'the good' is a superman, bodiless yet bodily, +with a beginning but without an end. It is an attractive faith, enabling +them to say to Nature: '_Je m'en fiche de tout cela._ My big brother +will look after me Pom!' One may call it anthropomorphia, for it seems +especially soothing to strong personalities. Every man to his creed, as +they say; and I would never wish to throw cold water on such as seek to +find 'the good' by closing one eye instead of two, as is done by the +extremists on the right." + +"You are tolerant," said the Angel. + +"Sir," said his dragoman, "as one gets older, one perceives more and +more how impossible it is for man not to regard himself as the cause of +the universe, and for certain individual men not to believe themselves +the centre of the cause. For such to start a new belief is a biological +necessity, and should by no means be discouraged. It is a +safety-valve--the form of passion which the fires of youth take in men +after the age of fifty, as one may judge by the case of the prophet +Tolstoy and other great ones. But to resume: In the centre, of course, +are situated the enormous majority of the community, whose view is that +they have no view of what 'the good' is." + +"None?" repeated the Angel Æthereal, somewhat struck. + +"Not the faintest," answered his dragoman. "These are the only true +mystics; for what is a mystic if not one with an impenetrable belief in +the mystery of his own existence? This group embraces the great bulk of +the Laborious. It is true that many of them will repeat what is told +them of 'the good' as if it were their own view, without compunction, +but this is no more than the majority of persons have done from the +beginning of time." + +"Quite," admitted the Angel; "I have observed that phenomenon in the +course of my travels. We will not waste words on them." + +"Ah, sir!" retorted his dragoman, "there is more wisdom in these persons +than you imagine. For, consider what would be the fate of their brains +if they attempted to think for themselves. Moreover, as you know, all +definite views about 'the good' are very wearing, and it is better, so +this great majority thinks, to let sleeping dogs lie than to have them +barking in its head. But I will tell you something," the dragoman added: +"These innumerable persons have a secret belief of their own, old as the +Greeks, that good fellowship is all that matters. And, in my opinion, +taking 'the good' in its limited sense, it is an admirable creed." + +"Oh! cut on!" said the Angel. + +"My mistake, sir!" said his dragoman. "On the left centre are grouped +that increasing section whose view is that since everything is very bad, +'the good' is ultimate extinction--'Peace, perfect peace,' as the poet +says. You will recollect the old tag: 'To be or not to be.' These are +they who have answered that question in the negative; pessimists +masquerading to an unsuspecting public as optimists. They are no doubt +descendants of such as used to be called 'Theosophians,' a sect which +presupposed everything and then desired to be annihilated; or, again, +of the Christian Scientites, who simply could not bear things as they +were, so set themselves to think they were not, with some limited amount +of success, if I remember rightly. I recall to mind the case of a lady +who lost her virtue, and recovered it by dint of remembering that she +had no body." + +"Curious!" said the Angel. "I should like to question her; let me have +her address after the lecture. Does the theory of reincarnation still +obtain?" + +"I do not wonder, sir, that you are interested in the point, for +believers in that doctrine are compelled, by the old and awkward rule +that 'Two and two make four,' to draw on other spheres for the +reincarnation of their spirits." + +"I do not follow," said the Angel. + +"It is simple, however," answered his dragoman, "for at one time on +earth, as is admitted, there was no life. The first incarnation, +therefore--an amoeba, we used to be told--enclosed a spirit, possibly +from above. It may, indeed, have been yours, sir. Again, at some time on +this earth, as is admitted, there will again be no life; the last spirit +will therefore flit to an incarnation, possibly below; and again, sir, +who knows, it may be yours." + +"I cannot jest on such a subject," said the Angel, with a sneeze. + +"No offence," murmured his dragoman. "The last group, on the far left, +to which indeed I myself am not altogether unaffiliated, is composed of +a small number of extremists, who hold that 'the good' is things as they +are--pardon the inevitable flaw in grammar. They consider that what is +now has always been, and will always be; that things do but swell and +contract and swell again, and so on for ever and ever; and that, since +they could not swell if they did not contract, since without the black +there could not be the white, nor pleasure without pain, nor virtue +without vice, nor criminals without judges; even contraction, or the +black, or pain, or vice, or judges, are not 'the bad,' but only +negatives; and that all is for the best in the best of all possible +worlds. They are Voltairean optimists masquerading to an unsuspecting +population as pessimists. 'Eternal Variation' is their motto." + +"I gather," said the Angel, "that these think there is no purpose in +existence?" + +"Rather, sir, that existence _is_ the purpose. For, if you consider, any +other conception of purpose implies fulfilment, or an _end_, which they +do not admit, just as they do not admit a beginning." + +"How logical!" said the Angel. "It makes me dizzy! You have renounced +the idea of climbing, then?" + +"Not so," responded his dragoman. "We climb to the top of the pole, +slide imperceptibly down, and begin over again; but since we never +really know whether we are climbing or sliding, this does not depress +us." + +"To believe that this goes on for ever is futile," said the Angel. + +"So we are told," replied his dragoman, without emotion. "_We_ think, +however, that the truth is with us, in spite of jesting Pilate." + +"It is not for me," said the Angel, with dignity, "to argue with my +dragoman." + +"No, sir, for it is always necessary to beware of the open mind. I +myself find it very difficult to believe the same thing every day. And +the fact is that whatever you believe will probably not alter the truth, +which may be said to have a certain mysterious immutability, considering +the number of efforts men have made to change it from time to time. We +are now, however, just above the City Tabernacle, and if you will close +your wings we shall penetrate it through the clap-trap-door which +enables its preachers now and then to ascend to higher spheres." + +"Stay!" said the Angel; "let me float a minute while I suck a +peppermint, for the audiences in these places often have colds." And +with that delicious aroma clinging to them they made their entry through +a strait gate in the roof and took their seats in the front row, below a +tall prophet in eyeglasses, who was discoursing on the stars. The Angel +slept heavily. + +"You have lost a good thing, sir," said his dragoman reproachfully, when +they left the Tabernacle. + +"In my opinion," the Angel playfully responded, "I won a better, for I +went nap. What can a mortal know about the stars?" + +"Believe me," answered his dragoman, "the subject is not more abstruse +than is generally chosen." + +"If he had taken religion I should have listened with pleasure," said +the Angel. + +"Oh! sir, but in these days such a subject is unknown in a place of +worship. Religion is now exclusively a State affair. The change began +with discipline and the Education Bill in 1918, and has gradually +crystallised ever since. It is true that individual extremists on the +right make continual endeavours to encroach on the functions of the +State, but they preach to empty houses." + +"And the Deity?" said the Angel: "You have not once mentioned Him. It +has struck me as curious." + +"Belief in the Deity," responded his dragoman, "perished shortly after +the Great Skirmish, during which there was too active and varied an +effort to revive it. Action, as you know, sir, always brings reaction, +and it must be said that the spiritual propaganda of those days was so +grossly tinged with the commercial spirit that it came under the head of +profiteering and earned for itself a certain abhorrence. For no sooner +had the fears and griefs brought by the Great Skirmish faded from men's +spirits than they perceived that their new impetus towards the Deity had +been directed purely by the longing for protection, solace, comfort, and +reward, and not by any real desire for 'the good' in itself. It was this +truth, together with the appropriation of the word by Emperors, and the +expansion of our towns, a process ever destructive of traditions, which +brought about extinction of belief in His existence." + +"It was a large order," said the Angel. + +"It was more a change of nomenclature," replied his dragoman. "The +ruling motive for belief in 'the good' is still the hope of getting +something out of it--the commercial spirit is innate." + +"Ah!" said the Angel, absently. "Can we have another lunch now? I could +do with a slice of beef." + +"An admirable idea, sir," replied his dragoman; "we will have it in the +White City." + + +IX + +"What in your opinion is the nature of happiness?" asked the Angel +Æthereal, as he finished his second bottle of Bass, in the grounds of +the White City. The dragoman regarded his angel with one eye. + +"The question is not simple, sir, though often made the subject of +symposiums in the more intellectual journals. Even now, in the middle of +the twentieth century, some still hold that it is a by-product of fresh +air and good liquor. The Old and Merrie England indubitably procured it +from those elements. Some, again, imagine it to follow from high +thinking and low living, while no mean number believe that it depends on +women." + +"Their absence or their presence?" asked the Angel, with interest. + +"Some this and others that. But for my part, it is not altogether the +outcome of these causes." + +"Is this now a happy land?" + +"Sir," returned his dragoman, "all things earthly are comparative." + +"Get on with it," said the Angel. + +"I will comply," responded his dragoman reproachfully, "if you will +permit me first to draw your third cork. And let me say in passing that +even your present happiness is comparative, or possibly superlative, as +you will know when you have finished this last bottle. It may or may not +be greater; we shall see." + +"We shall," said the Angel, resolutely. + +"You ask me whether this land is happy; but must we not first decide +what happiness is? And how difficult this will be you shall soon +discover. For example, in the early days of the Great Skirmish, +happiness was reputed non-existent; every family was plunged into +anxiety or mourning; and, though this to my own knowledge was not the +case, such as were not pretended to be. Yet, strange as it may appear, +the shrewd observer of those days was unable to remark any indication of +added gloom. Certain creature comforts, no doubt, were scarce, but there +was no lack of spiritual comfort, which high minds have ever associated +with happiness; nor do I here allude to liquor. What, then, was the +nature of this spiritual comfort, you will certainly be asking. I will +tell you, and in seven words: People forgot themselves and remembered +other people. Until those days it had never been realised what a lot of +medical men could be spared from the civil population; what a number of +clergymen, lawyers, stockbrokers, artists, writers, politicians, and +other persons, whose work in life is to cause people to think about +themselves, never would be missed. Invalids knitted socks and forgot to +be unwell; old gentlemen read the papers and forgot to talk about their +food; people travelled in trains and forgot not to fall into +conversation with each other; merchants became special constables and +forgot to differ about property; the House of Lords remembered its +dignity and forgot its impudence; the House of Commons almost forgot to +chatter. The case of the working man was the most striking of all--he +forgot he was the working man. The very dogs forgot themselves, though +that, to be sure, was no novelty, as the Irish writer demonstrated in +his terrific outburst: 'On my doorstep.' But time went on, and hens in +their turn forgot to lay, ships to return to port, cows to give enough +milk, and Governments to look ahead, till the first flush of +self-forgetfulness which had dyed peoples' cheeks----" + +"Died on them," put in the Angel, with a quiet smile. + +"You take my meaning, sir," said his dragoman, "though I should not have +worded it so happily. But certainly the return to self began, and +people used to think: 'This war is not so bloody as I thought, for I am +getting better money than I ever did, and the longer it lasts the more I +shall get, and for the sake of this I am prepared to endure much.' The +saying "Beef and beer, for soon you must put up the shutters," became +the motto of all classes. 'If I am to be shot, drowned, bombed, ruined, +or starved to-morrow,' they said, 'I had better eat, drink, marry, and +buy jewelry to-day.' And so they did, in spite of the dreadful efforts +of one bishop and two gentlemen who presided over the important question +of food. They did not, it is true, relax their manual efforts to +accomplish the defeat of their enemies, or 'win the war,' as it was +somewhat loosely called; but they no longer worked with their spirits, +which, with a few exceptions, went to sleep. For, sir, the spirit, like +the body, demands regular repose, and in my opinion is usually the first +of the two to snore. Before the Great Skirmish came at last to its +appointed end the snoring from spirits in this country might have been +heard in the moon. People thought of little but money, revenge, and what +they could get to eat, though the word 'sacrifice' was so accustomed to +their lips that they could no more get it off them than the other forms +of lip-salve, increasingly in vogue. They became very merry. And the +question I would raise is this: By which of these two standards shall we +assess the word 'happiness'? Were these people happy when they mourned +and thought not of self; or when they merried and thought of self all +the time?" + +"By the first standard," replied the Angel, with kindling eyes. +"Happiness is undoubtedly nobility." + +"Not so fast, sir," replied his dragoman; "for I have frequently met +with nobility in distress; and, indeed, the more exalted and refined the +mind, the unhappier is frequently the owner thereof, for to him are +visible a thousand cruelties and mean injustices which lower natures do +not perceive." + +"Hold!" exclaimed the Angel: "This is blasphemy against Olympus, 'The +Spectator,' and other High-Brows." + +"Sir," replied his dragoman gravely, "I am not one of those who accept +gilded doctrines without examination; I read in the Book of Life rather +than in the million tomes written by men to get away from their own +unhappiness." + +"I perceive," said the Angel, with a shrewd glance, "that you have +something up your sleeve. Shake it out!" + +"My conclusion is this, sir," returned his dragoman, well pleased: "Man +is only happy when he is living at a certain pressure of life to the +square inch; in other words, when he is so absorbed in what he is doing, +making, saying, thinking, or dreaming, that he has lost +self-consciousness. If there be upon him any ill--such as toothache or +moody meditation--so poignant as to prevent him losing himself in the +interest of the moment, then he is not happy. Nor must he merely think +himself absorbed, but actually be so, as are two lovers sitting under +one umbrella, or he who is just making a couplet rhyme." + +"Would you say, then," insinuated the Angel, "that a man is happy when +he meets a mad bull in a narrow lane? For there will surely be much +pressure of life to the square inch." + +"It does not follow," responded his dragoman; "for at such moments one +is prone to stand apart, pitying himself and reflecting on the +unevenness of fortune. But if he collects himself and meets the occasion +with spirit he will enjoy it until, while sailing over the hedge, he has +leisure to reflect once more. It is clear to me," he proceeded, "that +the fruit of the tree of knowledge in the old fable was not, as has +hitherto been supposed by a puritanical people, the mere knowledge of +sex, but symbolised rather general self-consciousness; for I have little +doubt that Adam and Eve sat together under one umbrella long before +they discovered they had no clothes on. Not until they became +self-conscious about things at large did they become unhappy." + +"Love is commonly reputed by some, and power by others, to be the keys +of happiness," said the Angel, regardless of his grammar. + +"Duds," broke in his dragoman. "For love and power are only two of the +various paths to absorption, or unconsciousness of self; mere methods by +which men of differing natures succeed in losing their self-consciousness, +for he who, like Saint Francis, loves all creation, has +no time to be conscious of loving himself, and he who rattles the +sword and rules like Bill Kaser, has no time to be conscious that he is +not ruling himself. I do not deny that such men may be happy, but not +because of the love or the power. No, it is because they are loving or +ruling with such intensity that they forget themselves in doing it." + +"There is much in what you say," said the Angel thoughtfully. "How do +you apply it to the times and land in which you live?" + +"Sir," his dragoman responded, "the Englishman never has been, and is +not now, by any means so unhappy as he looks, for, where you see a +furrow in the brow, or a mouth a little open, it portends absorption +rather than thoughtfulness--unless, indeed, it means adenoids--and is +the mark of a naturally self-forgetful nature; nor should you suppose +that poverty and dirt which abound, as you see, even under the sway of +the Laborious, is necessarily deterrent to the power of living in the +moment; it may even be a symptom of that habit. The unhappy are more +frequently the clean and leisured, especially in times of peace, when +they have little to do save sit under mulberry trees, invest money, pay +their taxes, wash, fly, and think about themselves. Nevertheless, many +of the Laborious also live at half-cock, and cannot be said to have lost +consciousness of self." + +"Then democracy is not synonymous with happiness?" asked the Angel. + +"Dear sir," replied his dragoman, "I know they said so at the time of +the Great Skirmish. But they said so much that one little one like that +hardly counted. I will let you into a secret. We have not yet achieved +democracy, either here or anywhere else. The old American saying about +it is all very well, but since not one man in ten has any real opinion +of his own on any subject on which he votes, he cannot, with the best +will in the world, put it on record. Not until he learns to have and +record his own real opinion will he truly govern himself for himself, +which is, as you know, the test of true democracy." + +"I am getting fuddled," said the Angel. "What is it you want to make you +happy?" + +His dragoman sat up: "If I am right," he purred, "in my view that +happiness is absorption, our problem is to direct men's minds to +absorption in right and pleasant things. An American making a corner in +wheat is absorbed and no doubt happy, yet he is an enemy of mankind, for +his activity is destructive. We should seek to give our minds to +creation, to activities good for others as well as for ourselves, to +simplicity, pride in work, and forgetfulness of self in every walk of +life. We should do things for the sheer pleasure of doing them, and not +for what they may or may not be going to bring us in, and be taught +always to give our whole minds to it; in this way only will the edge of +our appetite for existence remain as keen as a razor which is stropped +every morning by one who knows how. On the negative side we should be +brought up to be kind, to be clean, to be moderate, and to love good +music, exercise, and fresh air." + +"That sounds a bit of all right," said the Angel. "What measures are +being taken in these directions?" + +"It has been my habit, sir, to study the Education Acts of my country +ever since that which was passed at the time of the Great Skirmish; but, +with the exception of exercise, I have not as yet been able to find any +direct allusion to these matters. Nor is this surprising when you +consider that education is popularly supposed to be, not for the +acquisition of happiness, but for the good of trade or the promotion of +acute self-consciousness through what we know as culture. If by any +chance there should arise a President of Education so enlightened as to +share my views, it would be impossible for him to mention the fact for +fear of being sent to Colney Hatch." + +"In that case," asked the Angel, "you do not believe in the progress of +your country?" + +"Sir," his dragoman replied earnestly, "you have seen this land for +yourself and have heard from me some account of its growth from the days +when you were last on earth, shortly before the Great Skirmish; it will +not have escaped your eagle eye that this considerable event has had +some influence in accelerating the course of its progression; and you +will have noticed how, notwithstanding the most strenuous intentions at +the close of that tragedy, we have yielded to circumstance and in every +direction followed the line of least resistance." + +"I have a certain sympathy with that," said the Angel, with a yawn; "it +is so much easier." + +"So we have found; and our country has got along, perhaps, as well as +one could have expected, considering what it has had to contend with: +pressure of debt; primrose paths; pelf; party; patrio-Prussianism; the +people; pundits; Puritans; proctors; property; philosophers; the +Pontifical; and progress. I will not disguise from you, however, that we +are far from perfection; and it may be that on your next visit, +thirty-seven years hence, we shall be further. For, however it may be +with angels, sir, with men things do not stand still; and, as I have +tried to make clear to you, in order to advance in body and spirit, it +is necessary to be masters of your environment and discoveries instead +of letting them be masters of you. Wealthy again we may be; healthy and +happy we are not, as yet." + +"I have finished my beer," said the Angel Æthereal, with finality, "and +am ready to rise. You have nothing to drink! Let me give you a +testimonial instead!" Pulling a quill from his wing, he dipped it in the +mustard and wrote: "A Dry Dog--No Good For Trade" on his dragoman's +white hat. "I shall now leave the earth," he added. + +"I am pleased to hear it," said his dragoman, "for I fancy that the +longer you stay the more vulgar you will become. I have noticed it +growing on you, sir, just as it does on us." + +The Angel smiled. "Meet me by sunlight alone," he said, "under the +left-hand lion in Trafalgar Square at this hour of this day, in 1984. +Remember me to the waiter, will you? So long!" And, without pausing for +a reply, he spread his wings, and soared away. + +"_L'homme moyen sensuel! Sic itur ad astra!_" murmured his dragoman +enigmatically, and, lifting his eyes, he followed the Angel's flight +into the empyrean. + +1917-18. + + + + +_BY THE SAME AUTHOR_ + + + VILLA RUBEIN, and Other Stories + THE ISLAND PHARISEES + THE MAN OF PROPERTY + THE COUNTRY HOUSE + FRATERNITY + THE PATRICIAN + THE DARK FLOWER + THE FREELANDS + BEYOND + FIVE TALES + + A COMMENTARY + A MOTLEY + THE INN OF TRANQUILLITY + THE LITTLE MAN, and Other Satires + A SHEAF + ANOTHER SHEAF + + PLAYS: FIRST SERIES + _and Separately_ + + THE SILVER BOX + JOY + STRIFE + + PLAYS: SECOND SERIES + _and Separately_ + + THE ELDEST SON + THE LITTLE DREAM + JUSTICE + + PLAYS: THIRD SERIES + _and Separately_ + + THE FUGITIVE + THE PIGEON + THE MOB + + A BIT O' LOVE + + MOODS, SONGS, AND DOGGERELS + MEMORIES. Illustrated + + + + +[Transcriber's Note: + +* Inconsistent hyphenation retained as printed in the original. + +* The footnotes have been moved to the end of the relevant chapter. + +* p. 56: Corrected spelling of word "lacheront" to "lâcheront" located +in the phrase "Les Anglais ne lacheront pas". + +* p. 149: Corrected spelling of word "gound" to "ground" +located in line "up yearly more and more gound to less and less". + +* p. 174: Removed extraneous "the" located in the phrase +"for the the speaker was once Minister for Agriculture". + +* p. 205: "hand" in the phrase "riding at a hand gallop" (a speed +between a canter and a full out gallop) retained as printed. + +* p. 207: Corrected spelling of word "knowlledge" to "knowledge" located +in line "district a model farm radiates scientific knowlledge". + +* p. 273: Replaced the period after "no." with a comma located in line +"Oh dear, no. sir!". + +* p. 322: Added missing comma after the word "dignity" located +in the phrase "said the Angel, with dignity".] + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Another Sheaf, by John Galsworthy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANOTHER SHEAF *** + +***** This file should be named 29711-8.txt or 29711-8.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/1/29711/ + +Produced by D Alexander, Larry B. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Another Sheaf + +Author: John Galsworthy + +Release Date: August 17, 2009 [EBook #29711] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANOTHER SHEAF *** + + + + +Produced by D Alexander, Larry B. Harrison and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<h1> +<br /> +ANOTHER SHEAF</h1> + +<h4> +<br /> +<br /> +BY</h4> +<h2>JOHN GALSWORTHY</h2> + +<h2> +<br /> +<br /> +NEW YORK</h2> +<h2>CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS</h2> +<h2>1919</h2> + +<h4> +<br /> +<br /> +<span class="smcap">Copyright, 1919, by</span></h4> +<h4><span class="smcap">Charles Scribner's Sons</span></h4> +<hr style="width: 4em;" /> +<h4>Published January, 1919</h4> +<hr style="width: 4em;" /> + +<h5><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1917, by THE CROWELL PUBLISHING CO.</span></h5> +<h5><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1918, by HARPER & BROTHERS</span></h5> +<h5><span class="smcap">Copyright, 1918, by THE YALE PUBLISHING ASSN., Inc.</span></h5> + +<h2> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +TO<br /></h2> +<h2>MORLEY ROBERTS</h2> + +<h2> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +CONTENTS</h2> + +<div class='center'> +<table border="0" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" summary=""> +<tr><td colspan="2" align='right'><small>PAGE</small></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Road</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Sacred Work</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_4">4</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Balance Sheet of the Soldier-Workman</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Children's Jewel Fund</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_46">46</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">France, 1916–1917—An Impression</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_53">53</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Englishman and Russian</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_82">82</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">American and Briton</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_88">88</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Anglo-American Drama and Its Future</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_112">112</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Speculations</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_140">140</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Land, 1917</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">The Land, 1918</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_205">205</a></td></tr> +<tr><td align='left'><span class="smcap">Grotesques</span></td><td align='right'><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td></tr> +</table></div> + + +<h1> +<br /> +<br /> +<br /> +<br />ANOTHER SHEAF</h1> +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p> +<h2> +<br /> +THE ROAD</h2> + +<p>The road stretched in a pale, straight streak, +narrowing to a mere thread at the limit of vision—the +only living thing in the wild darkness. All +was very still. It had been raining; the wet +heather and the pines gave forth scent, and little +gusty shivers shook the dripping birch trees. In +the pools of sky, between broken clouds, a few +stars shone, and half of a thin moon was seen +from time to time, like the fragment of a silver +horn held up there in an invisible hand, waiting +to be blown.</p> + +<p>Hard to say when I first became aware that +there was movement on the road, little specks of +darkness on it far away, till its end was blackened +out of sight, and it seemed to shorten towards +me. Whatever was coming darkened it as an +invading army of ants will darken a streak of sunlight +on sand strewn with pine needles. Slowly +this shadow crept along till it had covered all but +the last dip and rise; and still it crept forward in +that eerie way, as yet too far off for sound.</p> + +<p>Then began the voice of it in the dripping stillness, +a tramping of weary feet, and I could tell +that this advancing shadow was formed of men,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> +millions of them moving all at one speed, very +slowly, as if regulated by the march of the most +tired among them. They had blotted out the +road, now, from a few yards away to the horizon; +and suddenly, in the dusk, a face showed.</p> + +<p>Its eyes were eager, its lips parted, as if each +step was the first the marcher had ever taken; +and yet he was stumbling, almost asleep from +tiredness. A young man he was, with skin drawn +tight over his heavy cheek-bones and jaw, under +the platter of his helmet, and burdened with all +his soldier's load. At first I saw his face alone +in the darkness, startlingly clear; and then a very +sea of helmeted faces, with their sunken eyes +shining, and their lips parted. Watching them +pass—heavy and dim and spectre-like in the +darkness, those eager dead-beat men—I knew as +never before how they had longed for this last +march, and in fancy seen the road, and dreamed +of the day when they would be trudging home. +Their hearts seemed laid bare to me, the sickening +hours they had waited, dreaming and longing, +in boots rusty with blood. And the night was +full of the loneliness and waste they had been +through....</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>Morning! At the edge of the town the road +came arrow-straight to the first houses and their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> +gardens, past them, and away to the streets. In +every window and at each gate children, women, +men, were looking down the road. Face after +face was painted, various, by the sunlight, homely +with line and wrinkle, curve and dimple, pallid +or ruddy, but the look in the eyes of all these +faces seemed the same. "I have waited so long," +it said, "I cannot wait any more—I cannot!" +Their hands were clasped, and by the writhing of +those hands I knew how they had yearned, and +the madness of delight waiting to leap from them—wives, +mothers, fathers, children, the patient +hopers against hope.</p> + +<p>Far out on the road something darkened the +sunlight. <i>They were coming!</i></p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE SACRED WORK</h2> + +<p>The Angel of Peace, watching the slow folding +back of this darkness, will look on an earth of +cripples. The field of the world is strewn with +half-living men. That loveliness which is the +creation of the æsthetic human spirit; that flowering +of directed energy which we know as civilisation; +that manifold and mutual service which we +call progress—all stand mutilated and faltering. +As though, on a pilgrimage to the dreamed-of +Mecca, water had failed, and by the wayside +countless muffled forms sat waiting for rain; so +will the long road of mankind look to-morrow.</p> + +<p>In every township and village of our countries +men stricken by the war will dwell for the next +half-century. The figure of Youth must go one-footed, +one-armed, blind of an eye, lesioned and +stunned, in the home where it once danced. The +half of a generation can never again step into +the sunlight of full health and the priceless +freedom of unharmed limbs.</p> + +<p><i>So comes the sacred work.</i></p> + +<p>Can there be limit to the effort of gratitude? +Niggardliness and delay in restoring all of life<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span> +that can be given back is sin against the human +spirit, a smear on the face of honour.</p> + +<p>Love of country, which, like some little secret +lamp, glows in every heart, hardly to be seen of +our eyes when the world is at peace—love of the +old, close things, the sights, sounds, scents we +have known from birth; loyalty to our fathers' +deeds and our fathers' hopes; the clutch of Motherland—this +love sent our soldiers and sailors +forth to the long endurance, to the doing of such +deeds, and the bearing of so great and evil pain +as can never be told. The countries for which +they have dared and suffered have now to play +their part.</p> + +<p>The conscience of to-day is burdened with a +load well-nigh unbearable. Each hour of the +sacred work unloads a little of this burden.</p> + +<p>To lift up the man who has been stricken on +the battlefield, restore him to the utmost of +health and agility, give him an adequate pension, +and re-equip him with an occupation suited to +the forces left him—that is a process which does +not cease till the sufferer fronts the future keen, +hopeful, and secure. And such restoration is at +least as much a matter of spirit as of body. Consider +what it means to fall suddenly out of full +vigour into the dark certainty that you can never +have full strength again, though you live on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> +twenty, forty, sixty years. The flag of your +courage may well be down half-mast! Apathy—that +creeping nerve disease—is soon your bed-fellow +and the companion of your walks. A curtain +has fallen before your vision; your eyes +no longer range. The Russian "Nichevo"—the +"what-does-it-matter?" mood—besets you. Fate +seems to say to you: "Take the line of least resistance, +friend—you are done for!" But the +sacred work says to Fate: "<i>Retro, Satanas!</i> This +our comrade is not your puppet. He shall yet +live as happy and as useful—if not as active—a +life as he ever lived before. You shall not crush +him! We shall tend him from clearing station +till his discharge better than wounded soldier has +ever yet been tended. In special hospitals, orthopædic, +paraplegic, phthisic, neurasthenic, we shall +give him back functional ability, solidity of nerve +or lung. The flesh torn away, the lost sight, the +broken ear-drum, the destroyed nerve, it is true, +we cannot give back; but we shall so re-create +and fortify the rest of him that he shall leave +hospital ready for a new career. Then we shall +teach him how to tread the road of it, so that he +fits again into the national life, becomes once +more a workman with pride in his work, a stake +in the country, and the consciousness that, handicapped +though he be, he runs the race level with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> +his fellows, and is by that so much the better man +than they. And beneath the feet of this new +workman we shall put the firm plank of a pension."</p> + +<p>The sacred work fights the creeping dejections +which lie in wait for each soul and body, for the +moment stricken and thrown. It says to Fate: +"You shall not pass!"</p> + +<p>And the greatest obstacle with which it meets +is the very stoicism and nonchalance of the sufferer! +To the Anglo-Saxon, especially, those precious +qualities are dangerous. That horse, taken +to the water, will too seldom drink. Indifference +to the future has a certain loveability, but is +hardly a virtue when it makes of its owner a +weary drone, eking out a pension with odd jobs. +The sacred work is vitally concerned to defeat +this hand-to-mouth philosophy. Side by side in +man, and especially in Anglo-Saxon, there live +two creatures. One of them lies on his back and +smokes; the other runs a race; now one, now the +other, seems to be the whole man. The sacred +work has for its end to keep the runner on his +feet; to proclaim the nobility of running. A man +will do for mankind or for his country what he +will not do for himself; but mankind marches on, +and countries live and grow, and need our services +in peace no less than in war. Drums do<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> +not beat, the flags hang furled, in time of peace; +but a quiet music is ever raising its call to service. +He who in war has flung himself, without thought +of self, on the bayonet and braved a hail of bullets +often does not hear that quiet music. It is the +business of the sacred work to quicken his ear to +it. Of little use to man or nation would be the +mere patching-up of bodies, so that, like a row of +old gossips against a sunlit wall, our disabled +might sit and weary out their days. If that were +all we could do for them, gratitude is proven +fraudulent, device bankrupt; and the future of +our countries must drag with a lame foot.</p> + +<p>To one who has watched, rather from outside, +it seems that restoration worthy of that word will +only come if the minds of all engaged in the sacred +work are always fixed on this central truth: "Body +and spirit are inextricably conjoined; to heal the +one without the other is impossible." If a man's +mind, courage and interest be enlisted in the +cause of his own salvation, healing goes on apace, +the sufferer is remade. If not, no mere surgical +wonders, no careful nursing, will avail to make a +man of him again. Therefore I would say: +"From the moment he enters hospital, look after +his mind and his will; give them food; nourish +them in subtle ways, increase that nourishment +as his strength increases. Give him interest in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> +his future; light a star for him to fix his eyes on. +So that, when he steps out of hospital, you shall +not have to begin to train one who for months, +perhaps years, has been living, mindless and will-less, +the life of a half-dead creature."</p> + +<p>That this is a hard task none who knows hospital +life can doubt.</p> + +<p>That it needs special qualities and special effort +quite other than the average range of hospital devotion +is obvious. But it saves time in the end, +and without it success is more than doubtful. +The crucial period is the time spent in hospital; +use that period to re-create not only body, but +mind and will-power, and all shall come out right; +neglect to use it thus, and the heart of many a +sufferer, and of many a would-be healer, will +break from sheer discouragement.</p> + +<p>The sacred work is not departmental; it is one +long organic process from the moment when a +man is picked up from the field of battle to the +moment when he is restored to the ranks of full +civil life. Our eyes must not be fixed merely on +this stressful present, but on the world as it will +be ten years hence. I see that world gazing back, +like a repentant drunkard at his own debauch, +with a sort of horrified amazement and disgust. +I see it impatient of any reminiscence of this hurricane; +hastening desperately to recover what it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> +enjoyed before life was wrecked and pillaged by +these blasts of death. Hearts, which now swell +with pity and gratitude when our maimed soldiers +pass the streets, will, from sheer familiarity, and +through natural shrinking from reminder, be dried +to a stony indifference. "Let the dead past bury +its dead" is a saying terribly true, and perhaps +essential to the preservation of mankind. The +world of ten years hence will shrug its shoulders +if it sees maimed and <i>useless</i> men crawling the +streets of its day, like winter flies on a windowpane.</p> + +<p>It is for the sacred work to see that there shall +be no winter flies. A niche of usefulness and self-respect +exists for every man, however handicapped; +but that niche must be found for him. +To carry the process of restoration to a point +short of this is to leave the cathedral without +spire.</p> + +<p>Of the men and women who have this work in +hand I have seen enough—in France and in my +own country, at least—to know their worth, and +the selfless idealism which animates them. Their +devotion, courage, tenacity, and technical ability +are beyond question or praise. I would only fear +that in the hard struggle they experience to carry +each day's work to its end, to perfect their own +particular jobs, all so important and so difficult,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> +vision of the whole fabric they are helping to raise +must often be obscured. And I would venture to +say: "Only by looking upon each separate disabled +soldier as the complete fabric can you possibly +keep that vision before your eyes. Only by +revivifying in each separate disabled soldier the +<i>will to live</i> can you save him from the fate of +merely continuing to exist."</p> + +<p>There are wounded men, many, whose spirit is +such that they will march in front of any effort +made for their recovery. I well remember one of +these—a Frenchman—nearly paralysed in both +legs. All day long he would work at his "macramé," +and each morning, after treatment, would +demand to try and stand. I can see his straining +efforts now, his eyes like the eyes of a spirit; I can +hear his daily words: "<i>Il me semble que j'ai un +peu plus de force dans mes jambes ce matin, Monsieur!</i>" +though, I fear, he never had. Men of +such indomitable initiative, though not rare, are +but a fraction. The great majority have rather +the happy-go-lucky soul. For them it is only +too easy to postpone self-help till sheer necessity +drives, or till some one in whom they believe inspires +them. The work of re-equipping these +with initiative, with a new interest in life, with +work which they can do, is one of infinite difficulty +and complexity. Nevertheless, it must be done.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> +The great publics of our countries do not yet, I +think, see that they too have their part in the +sacred work. So far they only seem to feel: +"Here's a wounded hero; let's take him to the +movies, and give him tea!" Instead of choking +him with cheap kindness each member of the +public should seek to reinspire the disabled man +with the feeling that he is no more out of the +main stream of life than they are themselves; and +each, according to his or her private chances, +should help him to find that special niche which +he can best, most cheerfully, and most usefully +fill in the long future.</p> + +<p>The more we drown the disabled in tea and lip +gratitude the more we unsteel his soul, and the +harder we make it for him to win through, when, +in the years to come, the wells of our tea and +gratitude have dried up. We can do a much +more real and helpful thing. I fear that there +will soon be no one of us who has not some personal +friend disabled. Let us regard that man +as if he were ourselves; let us treat him as one +who demands a full place in the ranks of working +life, and try to find it for him.</p> + +<p>In such ways alone will come a new freemasonry +to rebuild this ruined temple of our day. The +ground is rubbled with stones—fallen, and still +falling. Each must be replaced; freshly shaped,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> +cemented, and mortised in, that the whole may +once more stand firm and fair. In good time, to a +clearer sky than we are fortunate enough to look +on, our temple shall rise again. The birds shall +not long build in its broken walls, nor lichens +moss it. The winds shall not long play through +these now jagged windows, nor the rain drift in, +nor moonlight fill it with ghosts and shadows. +To the glory of man we will stanchion, and raise +and roof it anew.</p> + +<p>Each comrade who for his Motherland has, for +the moment, lost his future is a miniature of that +shattered temple.</p> + +<p>To restore him, and with him the future of our +countries, that is the sacred work.</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE BALANCE SHEET OF THE<br /> +SOLDIER-WORKMAN</h2> + +<p>Let the reader take what follows with more +than a grain of salt. No one can foretell—surely +not this writer—with anything approaching certainty +what will be the final effect of this war on +the soldier-workman. One can but marshal some +of the more obvious and general liabilities and +assets, and try to strike a balance. The whole +thing is in flux. Millions are going into the crucible +at every temperature; and who shall say at +all precisely what will come out or what conditions +the product issuing will meet with, though +they obviously cannot be the same as before the +war? For in considering this question, one must +run into the account on either side not only the +various effects of the war on the soldier-workman, +but the altered influences his life will encounter +in the future, so far as one can foresee; and this +is all navigation in uncharted waters.</p> + +<p>Talking with and observing French soldiers during +the winter of 1916–1917, and often putting +to them this very question: How is the war going +to affect the soldier-workman? I noticed that +their answers followed very much the trend of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> +class and politics. An adjutant, sergeant, or devout +Catholic considered that men would be improved, +gain self-command, and respect for law +and order, under prolonged discipline and daily +sacrifice. A freethinker of the educated class, or +a private of Socialistic tendencies, on the other +hand, would insist that the strain must make men +restless, irritable, more eager for their rights, less +tolerant of control. Each imagined that the war +would further the chances of the future as they +dreamed of it. If I had talked with capitalists—there +are none among French soldiers—they +would doubtless have insisted that after-war conditions +were going to be easier, just as the "<i>sans-sous</i>" +maintained that they were going to be +harder and provocative of revolution. In a word, +the wish was father to the thought.</p> + +<p>Having observed this so strongly, the writer of +these speculations says to himself: "Let me, at +all events, try to eliminate any bias, and see the +whole thing as should an umpire—one of those +pure beings in white coats, purged of all the prejudices, +passions, and predilections of mankind. +Let me have no temperament for the time being, +for I have to set down—not what would be the +effect on me if I were in their place, or what +would happen to the future if I could have my +way, but what would happen all the same if I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> +were not alive. Only from an impersonal point +of view, if there be such a thing, am I going to +get even approximately at the truth."</p> + +<p>Impersonally, then, one notes the credit facts +and probabilities towards the future's greater +well-being; and those on the debit side, of retrogression +from the state of well-being, such as it +was, which prevailed when war was declared.</p> + +<p>First, what will be the physical effect of the +war on the soldier-workman? Military training, +open-air life, and plentiful food are of such obvious +physical advantage in the vast majority of cases +as to need no pointing out. And how much improvement +was wanted is patent to any one who +has a remnant left of the old Greek worship of +the body. It has made one almost despair of +industrialised England to see the great Australians +pass in the streets of London. We English cannot +afford to neglect the body any longer; we are +becoming, I am much afraid, a warped, stunted, +intensely plain people. On that point I refuse to +speak with diffidence, for it is my business to +know something about beauty, and in our masters +and pastors I see no sign of knowledge and little +inkling of concern, since there is no public opinion +to drive them forward to respect beauty. One-half +of us regard good looks as dangerous and savouring +of immorality; the other half look upon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> +them as "swank," or at least superfluous. Any +interest manifested in such a subject is confined +to a few women and a handful of artists. Let +any one who has an eye for looks take the trouble +to observe the people who pass in the streets of +any of our big towns, he will count perhaps one +in five—not beautiful—but with some pretensions +to being not absolutely plain; and one can say +this without fear of hurting any feelings, for all +will think themselves exceptions. Frivolity apart, +there is a dismal lack of good looks and good physique +in our population; and it will be all to the +good to have had this physical training. If that +training had stopped short of the fighting line it +would be physically entirely beneficial; as it is, +one has unfortunately to set against its advantages—leaving +out wounds and mutilation altogether—a +considerable number of overstrained +hearts and nerves, not amounting to actual disablement; +and a great deal of developed rheumatism.</p> + +<p>Peace will send back to their work very many +men better set up and hardier; but many also obviously +or secretly weakened. Hardly any can +go back as they were. Yet, while training will +but have brought out strength which was always +latent, and which, unless relapse be guarded +against, must rapidly decline, cases of strain and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> +rheumatism will for the most part be permanent, +and such as would not have taken place under +peace conditions. Then there is the matter of +venereal disease, which the conditions of military +life are carefully fostering—no negligible factor +on the debit side; the health of many hundreds +must be written off on that score. To credit, +again, must be placed increased personal cleanliness, +much greater handiness and resource in the +small ways of life, and an even more complete +endurance and contempt of illness than already +characterised the British workman, if that be +possible. On the whole I think that, physically, +the scales will balance pretty evenly.</p> + +<p>Next, what will be the effect of the war on the +mental powers of the soldier-workman? Unlike +the French (sixty per cent. of whose army are +men working on the land), our army must contain +at least ninety per cent. of town workers, +whose minds in time of peace are kept rather +more active than those of workers on the land by +the ceaseless friction and small decisions of town +life. To gauge the result of two to five years' +military life on the minds of these town workers +is a complicated and stubborn problem. Here we +have the exact converse of the physical case. If +the army life of the soldier-workman stopped +short of service at the front one might say at<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> +once that the effect on his mind would be far +more disastrous than it is. The opportunity for +initiative and decision, the mental stir of camp +and depôt life is <i>nil</i> compared with that of service +in the fighting line. And for one month at +the front a man spends perhaps five at the rear. +Military life, on its negative side, is more or less +a suspension of the usual channels of mental +activity. By barrack and camp life the normal +civilian intellect is, as it were, marooned. On +that desert island it finds, no doubt, certain new +and very definite forms of activity, but any one +who has watched old soldiers must have been +struck by the "arrested" look which is stamped +on most of them—by a kind of remoteness, of +concentrated emptiness, as of men who by the +conditions of their lives have long been prevented +from thinking of anything outside a ring fence. +Two to five years' service will not be long enough +to set the old soldier's stamp on a mind, but one +can see the process beginning; and it will be quite +long enough to encourage laziness in minds already +disposed to lying fallow. Far be it from this pen +to libel the English, but a feverish mental activity +has never been their vice; intellect, especially in +what is known as the working-class, is leisurely; +it does not require to be encouraged to take its +ease. Some one has asked me: "<i>Can</i> the ordinary<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> +worker think less in the army than when he wasn't +in the army?" In other words: "Did he ever +think at all?" The British worker is, of course, +deceptive; he does not look as if he were thinking. +Whence exactly does he get his stolidity—from +climate, self-consciousness, or his competitive +spirit? All the same, thought does go on in him, +shrewd and "near-the-bone"; life-made rather +than book-made thought. Its range is limited by +its vocabulary; it starts from different premises, +reaches different conclusions from those of the +"pundit," and so is liable to seem to the latter +non-existent. But let a worker and an educated +man sit opposite each other in a railway carriage +without exchanging a word, as is the fashion with +the English, and which of their two silent judgments +on the other will be superior? I am not +sure, but I rather think the worker's. It will +have a kind of deadly realism. In camp and +depôt life the mind standing-at-ease from many +civilian frictions and needs for decision, however +petty, and shaken away from civilian ruts, will do +a good deal of thinking of a sort, be widened, and +probably re-value many things—especially when +its owner goes abroad and sees fresh types, fresh +manners, and the world. But actual physical exertion, +and the inertia which follows it, bulk large +in military service, and many who "never thought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> +at all" before they became soldiers will think +still less after! I may be cynical, but it seems to +me that the chief stimulus to thought in the ordinary +mind is money, the getting and the spending +thereof; that what we call "politics," those social +interests which form at least half the staple of the +ordinary worker's thought, are made up of concern +as to the wherewithal to live. In the army +money is a fixed quantity which demands no +thought, neither in the getting nor the spending; +and the constant mental activity which in normal +life circles round money of necessity dries up.</p> + +<p>But against this indefinite general rusting of +mind machinery in the soldier-workman's life +away from the fighting line certain definite considerations +must be set. Many soldiers will form +a habit of reading—in the new armies the demand +for books is great; some in sheer boredom will +have begun an all-round cultivation of their +minds; others again will be chafing continually +against this prolonged holding-up of their habitual +mental traffic—and when a man chafes he does +not exactly rust; so that, while the naturally lazy +will have been made more lazy, the naturally +eager may be made very eager.</p> + +<p>The matter of age, too, is not unimportant. A +soldier of twenty, twenty-five, even up to thirty, +probably seldom feels that the mode of life from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span> +which he has been taken is set and permanent. +He may be destined to do that work all his days, +but the knowledge of this has not so far bitten +him; he is not yet in the swing and current of his +career, and feels no great sense of dislocation. +But a man of thirty-five or forty, taken from an +occupation which has got grip on him, feels that +his life has had a slice carved out of it. He may +realise the necessity better than the younger man, +take his duty more seriously, but must have a +sensation as if his springs were let down flat. +The knowledge that he has to resume his occupation +again in real middle age, with all the steam +escaped, must be profoundly discouraging; therefore +I think his mental activity will suffer more +than that of the younger man. The recuperative +powers of youth are so great that very many of +our younger soldiers will unrust quickly and at a +bound regain all the activity lost. Besides, a +very great many of the younger men will not go +back to the old job. But older men, though they +will go back to what they were doing before more +readily than their juniors, will go back with diminished +hope and energy, and a sort of fatalism. +At forty, even at thirty-five, every year begins to +seem important, and several years will have been +wrenched out of their working lives just, perhaps, +when they were beginning to make good.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> +Turning to the spells of service at the front—there +will be no rusting there—the novelty of +sensation, the demand for initiative and adaptability +are too great. A soldier said to me: "My +two years in depôt and camp were absolutely +deadening; that eight weeks at the front before I +was knocked over were the best eight weeks I +ever had." Spells at the front must wipe out all +or nearly all the rust; but against them must be +set the deadening spells of hospital, which too +often follow, the deadening spells of training +which have gone before; and the more considerable +though not very permanent factor—that +laziness and dislocation left on the minds of many +who have been much in the firing line. As the +same young soldier put it: "I can't concentrate +now as I could on a bit of work—it takes me +longer; all the same, where I used to chuck it +when I found it hard, I set my teeth now." In +other words, less mental but more moral grip.</p> + +<p>On the whole, then, so far as mental effect goes, +I believe the balance must come out on the debit +side.</p> + +<p>And, now, what will be the spiritual effect of +the war on the soldier-workman? And by "spiritual" +I mean the effect of his new life and emotional +experience, neither on his intellect, nor +exactly on his "soul"—for very few men have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span> +anything so rarefied—but on his disposition and +character.</p> + +<p>Has any one the right to discuss this who has +not fought? It is with the greatest diffidence +that I hazard any view. On the other hand, the +effects are so various, and so intensely individual, +that perhaps only such a one has a chance of +forming a general judgment unbiassed by personal +experience and his own temperament. What +thousands of strange and poignant feelings must +pass through even the least impressionable soldier +who runs the gamut of this war's "experience"! +And there will not be too many of our soldier-workmen +returning to civil life without having +had at least a taste of everything. The embryo +Guardsman who sticks his bayonet into a sack, +be he never so unimaginative, with each jab of +that bayonet pictures dimly the body of a "Hun," +and gets used to the sensation of spitting it. On +every long march there comes a time that may +last hours when the recruit feels done up, and yet +has to go on "sticking it." Never a day passes, +all through his service, without some moment +when he would give his soul to be out of it all +and back in some little elysium of the past; but +he has to grit his teeth and try to forget. Hardly +a man who, when he first comes under fire, has +not a struggle with himself which amounts to a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span> +spiritual victory. Not many who do not arrive +at a "Don't care" state of mind that is almost +equal to a spiritual defeat. No soldier who does +not rub shoulders during his service with countless +comrades strange to him, and get a wider +understanding and a fuller tolerance. Not a soul +in the trenches, one would think, who is not +caught up into a mood of comradeship and self-suppression +which amounts almost to exaltation. +Not one but has to fight through moods almost +reaching extinction of the very love of life. And +shall all this—and the many hard disappointments, +and the long yearning for home and those +he loves, and the chafing against continual restraints, +and the welling-up of secret satisfaction +in the "bit done," the knowledge that Fate is +not beating, cannot beat him; and the sight of +death all round, and the looking into Death's eyes—staring +those eyes down; and the long bearing +of pain; and the pity for his comrades bearing +pain—shall all this pass his nature by without +marking it for life? When all is over, and the +soldier-workman back in civil life, will his character +be enlarged or shrunken? The nature of a +man is never really changed, no more than a +leopard's skin, it is but developed or dwarfed. +The influences of the war will have as many little +forms as there are soldiers, and to attempt precision<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span> +of summary is clearly vain. It is something +of a truism to suggest that the war will ennoble +and make more serious those who before the war +took a noble and serious view of life; and that on +those who took life callously it will have a callousing +effect. The problem is rather to discover +what effect, if any, will be made on that medium +material which was neither definitely serious nor +obviously callous. And for this we must go to +consideration of main national characteristics. It +is—for one thing—very much the nature of the +Briton to look on life as a game with victory or +defeat at the end of it, and to feel it impossible +that he can be defeated. He is not so much concerned +to "live" as to win this life match. He +is combative from one minute to the next, reacts +instantly against any attempt to down him. The +war for him is a round in this great personal match +of his with Fate, and he is completely caught up +in the idea of winning it. He is spared that +double consciousness of the French soldier who +wants to "live," who goes on indeed superbly +fighting "<i>pour la France</i>" out of love for his +country, but all the time cannot help saying to +himself: "What a fool I am—what sort of life is +this?" I have heard it said by one who ought +to know, if any one can, that the British soldier +hardly seems to have a sense of patriotism, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span> +goes through it all as a sort of private "scrap" in +which he does not mean to be beaten, and out of +loyalty to his regiment, his "team," so to speak. +This is partly true, but the Briton is very deep, +and there are feelings at the bottom of his well +which never see the light. If the British soldier +were fighting on a line which ran from Lowestoft +through York to Sunderland, he might show very +different symptoms. Still, at bottom he would +always, I think, feel the business to be first in the +nature of a contest with a force which was trying +to down him personally. In this contest he is +being stretched, and steeled—that is, hardened +and confirmed—in the very quality of stubborn +combativeness which was already his first characteristic.</p> + +<p>Take another main feature of the national +character—the Briton is ironic. Well, the war +is deepening his irony. It must, for it is a monstrously +ironic business.</p> + +<p>Some—especially those who wish to—believe in +a religious revival among the soldiers. There's +an authentic story of two convalescent soldiers +describing a battle. The first finished thus: "I +tell you it makes you think of God." The second—a +thoughtful type—ended with a pause, and +then these words: "Who could believe in God +after that?" Like all else in human life, it depends<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> +on temperament. The war will speed up +"belief" in some and "disbelief" in others. But, +on the whole, comic courage shakes no hands with +orthodoxy.</p> + +<p>The religious movement which I think <i>is</i> going +on is of a subtler and a deeper sort altogether. +Men are discovering that human beings are finer +than they had supposed. A young man said to +me: "Well, I don't know about religion, but I +know that my opinion of human nature is about +fifty per cent. better than it was." That conclusion +has been arrived at by countless thousands. +It is a great factor—seeing that the belief of the +future will be belief in the God within; and a +frank agnosticism concerning the great "Why" +of things. Religion will become the exaltation of +self-respect, of what we call the divine in man. +"The Kingdom of God" is within you. That +belief, old as the hills, and reincarnated by Tolstoi +years ago, has come into its own in the war; +for it has been clearly proved to be the real faith +of modern man, underneath all verbal attempts +to assert the contrary. This—the white side of +war—is an extraordinarily heartening phenomenon; +and if it sent every formal creed in the +world packing there would still be a gain to +religion.</p> + +<p>Another main characteristic of the Briton,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span> +especially of the "working" Briton, is improvidence—he +likes, unconsciously, to live from +hand to mouth, careless of the morrow. The war +is deepening that characteristic too—it must, for +who could endure if he fretted over what was +going to happen to him, with death so in the +wind?</p> + +<p>Thus the average soldier-workman will return +from the war confirmed and deepened in at least +three main national characteristics: His combative +hardihood, his ironic humour, and his improvidence. +I think he will have more of what is +called "character"; whether for good or evil depends, +I take it, on what we connote by those +terms, and in what context we use them. I may +look on "character" as an asset, but I can well +imagine politicians and trades union leaders regarding +it with profound suspicion. Anyway, he +will not be the lamb that he was not even before +the war. He will be a restive fellow, knowing +his own mind better, and possibly his real interest +less well; he will play less for safety, since +safety will have become to him a civilian sort of +thing, rather contemptible. He will have at once +a more interesting and a less reliable character +from the social and political point of view.</p> + +<p>And what about his humanity? Can he go +through all this hell of slaughter and violence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span> +untouched in his gentler instincts? There will be—there +must be—some brutalisation. But old +soldiers are not usually inhumane—on the contrary, +they are often very gentle beings. I distrust +the influence of the war on those who merely +write and read about it. I think editors, journalists, +old gentlemen, and women will be brutalised +in larger numbers than our soldiers. An intelligent +French soldier said to me of his own countrymen: +"After six months of civil life, you won't +know they ever had to 'clean up' trenches and +that sort of thing." If this is true of the Frenchman, +it will be more true of the less impressionable +Briton. If I must sum up at all on what, for +want of a better word, I have called the "spiritual" +count, I can only say that there will be a +distinct increase of "character," and leave it to +the reader to decide whether that falls on the +debit or the credit side.</p> + +<p>On the whole then, an increase of "character," +a slight loss of mental activity, and neither physical +gain nor loss to speak of.</p> + +<p>We have now to consider the rather deadly +matter of demobilisation. One hears the suggestion +that not more than 30,000 men shall be disbanded +per week; this means two years at least. +Conceive millions of men whose sense of sacrifice +has been stretched to the full for a definite object<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> +which has been gained—conceive them held in a +weary, and, as it seems to them, unnecessary +state of suspense. Kept back from all they long +for, years after the reality of their service has +departed! If this does not undermine them, I +do not know what will. Demobilisation—they +say—must be cautious. "No man should be released +till a place in the industrial machine is +ready waiting for him!" So, in a counsel of perfection, +speak the wise who have not been deprived +of home life, civil liberty, and what not +for a dismal length of two, three, and perhaps +four years. No! Demobilisation should be as +swift as possible, and risks be run to make it swift. +The soldier-workman who goes back to civil life +within two or three months after peace is signed +goes back with a glow still in his heart. But he +who returns with a rankling sense of unmerited, +unintelligible delay—most prudently, of course, +ordained—goes back with "cold feet" and a +sullen or revolting spirit. What men will stand +under the shadow of a great danger from a sense +of imminent duty, they will furiously chafe at +when that danger and sense of duty are no more. +The duty will then be to their families and to +themselves. There is no getting away from this, +and the country will be well advised not to be too +coldly cautious. Every one, of course, must wish<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> +to ease to the utmost the unprecedented economic +and industrial confusion which the signing of +peace will bring, but it will be better to risk a +good deal of momentary unemployment and discontent +rather than neglect the human factor and +keep men back long months in a service of which +they will be deadly sick. How sick they will be +may perhaps be guessed at from the words of a +certain soldier: "After the war you'll <i>have</i> to have +conscription. You won't get a man to go into the +army without!" What is there to prevent the +Government from beginning now to take stock +of the demands of industry, from having a great +land settlement scheme cut and dried, and devising +means for the swiftest possible demobilisation? +The moment peace is signed the process +of re-absorption into civil life should begin at +once and go on without interruption as swiftly as +the actual difficulties of transport permit. They, +of themselves, will hold up demobilisation quite +long enough. The soldier-workman will recognise +and bear with the necessary physical delays, +but he will not tolerate for a moment any others +for his so-called benefit.<a name="FNanchor_A_1" id="FNanchor_A_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_A_1" class="fnanchor">[A]</a></p> + +<p>And what sort of civil life will it be which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> +awaits the soldier-workman? I suppose, if anything +is certain, a plenitude, nay a plethora, of +work is assured for some time after the war. +Capital has piled up in hands which will control +a vast amount of improved and convertible machinery. +Purchasing power has piled up in the +shape of savings out of the increased national +income. Granted that income will at once begin +to drop all round, shrinking perhaps fast to below +the pre-war figures, still at first there must be a +rolling river of demand and the wherewithal to +satisfy it. For years no one has built houses, or +had their houses done up; no one has bought furniture, +clothes, or a thousand other articles which +they propose buying the moment the war stops. +Railways and rolling stock, roads, housing, public +works of all sorts, private motor cars, and +pleasure requirements of every kind have been +let down and starved. Huge quantities of shipping +must be replaced; vast renovations of destroyed +country must be undertaken; numberless +repairs to damaged property; the tremendous +process of converting or re-converting machinery +to civil uses must be put through; State schemes +to deal with the land, housing, and other problems +will be in full blast; a fierce industrial competition +will commence; and, above all, we must +positively grow our own food in the future. Besides<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> +all this we shall have lost at least a million +workers through death, disablement, and emigration; +indeed, unless we have some really attractive +land scheme ready we may lose a million by +emigration alone. In a word, the demand for +labour, at the moment, will be overwhelming, and +the vital question only one of readjustment. In +numberless directions women, boys, and older +men have replaced the soldier-workman. Hundreds +of thousands of soldiers, especially among +the first three million, have been guaranteed reinstatement. +Hundreds of thousands of substitutes +will, therefore, be thrown out of work. With the +exception of the skilled men who have had to be +retained in their places all through, and the men +who step back into places kept for them, the +whole working population will have to be refitted +with jobs. The question of women's labour will +not be grave at first because there will be work +for all and more than all, but the jigsaw puzzle +which industry will have to put together will try +the nerves and temper of the whole community. +In the French army the peasant soldier is jealous +and sore because he has had to bear the chief burden +of the fighting, while the mechanic has to a +great extent been kept for munition making, +transport, and essential civil industry. With us +it is if anything the other way. In the French<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span> +army, too, the feeling runs high against the "<i>embusqué</i>," +the man who—often unjustly—is supposed +to have avoided service. I do not know +to what extent the same feeling prevails in our +army, but there is certainly an element of it, +which will not make for content or quietude.</p> + +<p>Another burning question after the war will be +wages. We are assured they are going to keep +up. Well, we shall see. Certain special rates +will, of course, come down at once. And if, in +general, wages keep up, it will not, I think, be for +very long. Still, times will be good at first for +employers and employed. At first—and then!</p> + +<p>Some thinkers insist that the war has to an +appreciable extent been financed out of savings +which would otherwise have been spent on luxury. +But the amount thus saved can easily be exaggerated—the +luxurious class is not really large, +and against their saving must be set the spending +by the working classes, out of increased wages, +on what in peace years were not necessities of +their existence. In other words, the luxurious or +investing class has cut off its peace-time fripperies, +saved and lent to the Government; the Government +has paid the bulk of this money to the working +class, who have spent most of it in what to +them would be fripperies in time of peace. It +may be, it <i>is</i>, all to the good that luxurious tastes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span> +should be clipped from the wealthy, and a higher +standard of living secured to the workers, but this +is rather a matter of distribution and social health +than of economics in relation to the financing of +the war.</p> + +<p>There are those who argue that because the +general productive effort of the country during +the war has been speeded up to half as much +again as that of normal times, by tapping women's +labour, by longer hours and general improvement +in machinery and industrial ideas, the war will +not result in any great economic loss, and that we +may with care and effort avoid the coming of bad +times after the first boom. The fact remains, +and anybody can test it for himself, that there is +a growing shortage of practically everything except—they +say—cheap jewellery and pianos. I +am no economist, but that does seem to indicate +that this extra production has not greatly compensated +for the enormous application of labour +and material resources to the quick-wasting ends +of war instead of to the slow-wasting ends of +civil life. In other words, a vast amount of productive +energy and material is being shot away. +Now this, I suppose, would not matter, in fact +might be beneficial to trade by increasing demand, +if the purchasing power of the public +remained what it was before the war. But in all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span> +the great countries of the world, even America, +the peoples will be faced with taxation which +will soak up anything from one-fifth to one-third +of their incomes, and, even allowing for a large +swelling of those incomes from war savings, so +that a great deal of what the State takes with one +hand she will return to the investing public with +the other, the diminution of purchasing power is +bound to make itself increasingly felt. When +the reconversion of machinery to civil ends has +been completed, the immediate arrears of demand +supplied, shipping and rolling-stock replaced, +houses built, repairs made good, and so forth, this +slow shrinkage of purchasing power in every +country will go hand in hand with shrinkage of +demand, decline of trade and wages, and unemployment, +in a slow process, till they culminate +in what one fears may be the worst "times" we +have ever known. Whether those "times" will +set in one, two, or even six years after the war, +is, of course, the question. A certain school of +thought insists that this tremendous taxation +after the war, and the consequent impoverishment +of enterprise and industry, can be avoided, +or at all events greatly relieved, by national +schemes for the development of the Empire's +latent resources; in other words, that the State +should even borrow more money to avoid high<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span> +taxation and pay the interests on existing loans, +should acquire native lands, and swiftly develop +mineral rights and other potentialities. I hope +there may be something in this, but I am a little +afraid that the wish is father to the thought, and +that the proposition contains an element akin to +the attempt to lift oneself up by the hair of one's +own head; for I notice that many of its disciples +are recruited from those who in old days were +opposed to the State development of anything, +on the ground that individual energy in free competition +was a still greater driving power.</p> + +<p>However we may wriggle in our skins and juggle +with the chances of the future, I suspect that +we shall have to pay the piper. We have without +doubt, during the war, been living to a great +extent on our capital. Our national income has +gone up, <i>out of capital</i>, from twenty-two hundred +to about three thousand six hundred millions, +and will rapidly shrink to an appropriate figure. +Wealth may, I admit, recover much more quickly +than deductions from the past would lead us to +expect. Under the war's pressure secrets have +been discovered, machinery improved, men's +energies and knowledge brightened and toned up. +The Prime Minister not long ago said: "If you +insist on going back to pre-war conditions, then +God help this country!" A wise warning. If the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> +country could be got to pull together in an effort +to cope with peace as strenuous as our effort to +cope with the war has been one would not view +the economic future with disquietude. But one +is bound to point out that if the war has proved +anything it has proved that the British people +require a maximum of danger dangled in front of +their very noses before they can be roused to any +serious effort, and that danger in time of peace +has not the poster-like quality of danger in time +of war; it does not hit men in the eye, it does not +still differences of opinion, and party struggles, +by its scarlet insistence. I hope for, but frankly +do not see, the coming of an united national +effort demanding extra energy, extra organising +skill, extra patience, and extra self-sacrifice at a +time when the whole nation will feel that it has +earned a rest, and when the lid has once more +been taken off the political cauldron. I fancy, +dismally, that a people and a Press who have +become so used to combat and excitement will +demand and seek further combat and excitement, +and will take out this itch amongst themselves in +a fashion even more strenuous than before the +war. I am not here concerned to try to cheer or +depress for some immediate and excellent result, +as we have all got into the habit of doing during +the war, but to try to conjure truth out of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> +darkness of the future. The vast reconstructive +process which ought to be, and perhaps is, beginning +now will, I think, go ahead with vigour while +the war is on, and for some little time after; but +I fear it will then split into <i>pro</i> and <i>con</i>, see-saw, +and come to something of a standstill.</p> + +<p>These, so sketchily set down, are a few of the +probable items—credit and debit—in the industrial +situation which will await the soldier-workman +emerging from the war. A situation agitated, +cross-currented, bewildering, but busy, and +by no means economically tight at first, slowly +becoming less bewildering, gradually growing less +and less busy, till it reaches ultimately a bad era +of unemployment and social struggle. The soldier-workman +will go back, I believe, to two or +three years at least of good wages and plentiful +work. But when, after that, the pinch begins to +come, it will encounter the quicker, more resentful +blood of men who in the constant facing of +great danger have left behind them all fear of +consequences; of men who in the survival of one +great dislocation to their lives, have lost the +dread of other dislocations. The war will have +implanted a curious deep restlessness in the great +majority of soldier souls. Can the workmen of +the future possibly be as patient and law-abiding +as they were before the war, in the face of what<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> +seems to them injustice? I don't think so. The +enemy will again be Fate—this time in the form +of capital, trying to down them; and the victory +they were conscious of gaining over Fate in the +war will have strengthened and quickened their +fibre to another fight, and another conquest. +The seeds of revolution are supposed to lie in +war. They lie there because war generally brings +in the long run economic stress, but also because +of the recklessness or "character"—call it what +you will—which the habitual facing of danger +develops. The self-control and self-respect which +military service under war conditions will have +brought to the soldier-workman will be an added +force in civil life; but it is a fallacy, I think, to +suppose, as some do, that it will be a force on the +side of established order. It is all a question of +allegiance, and the allegiance of the workman in +time of peace is not rendered to the State, but to +himself and his own class. To the service of that +class and the defence of its "rights" this new +force will be given. In measuring the possibilities +of revolution, the question of class rides paramount. +Many hold that the war is breaking +down social barriers and establishing comradeship, +through hardship and danger shared. For +the moment this is true. But whether that new +comradeship will stand any great pressure of economic<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> +stress after direct regimental relationship +between officer and man has ceased and the war +is becoming just a painful memory, is to me very +doubtful. But suppose that to some extent it +does stand, we have still the fact that the control +of industry and capital, even as long as ten years +after the war, will be mainly in the hands of men +who have not fought, of business men spared +from service either by age or by their too precious +commercial skill. Towards these the soldier-workman +will have no tender feelings, no +sense of comradeship. On the contrary—for +somewhere back of the mind of every workman +there is, even during his country's danger, a certain +doubt whether all war is not somehow +hatched by the aristocrats and plutocrats of one +side, or both. Other feelings obscure this instinct +during the struggle, but it is never quite +lost, and will spring up again the more confirmed +for its repression. That we can avoid a straitened +and serious time a few years hence I believe +impossible. Straitened times dismally divide the +classes. The war-investments of the working +class may ease things a little, but war-savings will +not affect the outlook of the soldier-workman, for +he will have no war-savings, except his life, and +it is from him that revolution or disorder will +come, if it come at all.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> +Must it come? I think most certainly, unless +between now and then means be found of persuading +capital and labour that their interests +and their troubles are identical, and of overcoming +secrecy and suspicion between them. There +are many signs already that capital and labour +are becoming alive to this necessity. But to talk +of unity is an amiable distraction in which we all +indulge these days. To find a method by which +that talk may be translated into fact within a few +years is perhaps more difficult. One does not +change human nature; and unless the interests of +capital and labour are <i>in reality</i> made one, true +co-operation established, and factory conditions +transformed on the lines of the welfare system—no +talk of unity will prevent capitalist and working +man from claiming what seem to them their +rights. The labour world is now, and for some +time to come will be, at sixes and sevens in matters +of leadership and responsibility; and this just +when sagacious leadership and loyal following +will be most needed. The soldier-workman was +already restive under leadership before the war; +returned to civil life, he will be far more restive. +Yet, without leadership, what hope is there of +co-operation with capital; what chance of finding +a golden mean of agreement? But even if the +problems of leadership are solved, and councils<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span> +of capitalists and labour leaders established, whose +decisions will be followed—one thing is still certain: +no half-measures will do; no seeming cordialities +with mental reservations; no simulated +generosity which spills out on the first test; nothing +but genuine friendliness and desire to pull +together. Those hard business heads which distrust +all sentiment as if it were a poison are the +most short-sighted heads in the world. There is +a human factor in this affair, as both sides will +find to their cost if they neglect it. Extremists +must be sent to Coventry, "caste" feeling dropped +on the one hand, and suspicion dropped on the +other; managers, directors, and labour leaders, all +must learn that they are not simply trustees for +their shareholders or for labour, but trustees of a +national interest which embraces them all—or +worse will come of it.</p> + +<p>But I am not presumptuous enough to try to +teach these cooks how to make their broth, neither +would it come within the scope of these speculations, +which conclude thus: The soldier-workman, +physically unchanged, mentally a little weakened, +but more "characterful" and restive, will step +out through a demobilisation—heaven send it be +swift, even at some risk!—into an industrial +world, confused and busy as a beehive, which +will hum and throb and flourish for two or three<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span> +years, and then slowly chill and thin away into, +may be, the winter ghost of itself, or at best an +autumn hive. There, unless he be convinced, +not by words but facts, that his employer is +standing side by side with him in true comradeship, +facing the deluge, he will be quick to rise, +and with his newly-found self-confidence take +things into his own hands. Whether, if he does, +he will make those things better for himself would +be another inquiry altogether.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">1917.</span> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE CHILDREN'S JEWEL FUND</h2> + +<p>The mere male novelist who takes pen to write +on infants awaits the polished comment: "He +knows nothing of the subject—rubbish; pure rubbish!" +One must run that risk.</p> + +<p>In the report of the National Baby Week it is +written:—"Is it worth while to destroy our best +manhood now unless we can ensure that there +will be happy, healthy citizens to carry on the +Empire in the future?" I confess to approaching +this subject from the point of view of the infant +citizen rather than of the Empire. And I have +wondered sometimes if it is worth while to save +the babies, seeing the conditions they often have +to face as grown men and women. But that, +after all, would be to throw up the sponge, which +is not the part of a Briton. It is written also:—"After +the war a very large increase in the birth-rate +may be looked for." For a year or two, perhaps; +but the real after-effect of the war will be +to decrease the birth-rate in every European +country, or I am much mistaken. "No food for +cannon, and no extra burdens," will be the cry. +And little wonder! This, however, does not +affect the question of children actually born or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span> +on their way. If not quantity, we can at all +events have quality.</p> + +<p>I also read an account of the things to be done +to keep "baby" alive, which filled me with wonder +how any of us old babies managed to survive, +and I am afraid that unless we grow up healthy +we are not worth the trouble. The fact is: The +whole business of babies is an activity to be +engaged in with some regard to the baby, or we +commit a monstrous injustice, and drag the hands +of the world's clock backwards.</p> + +<p>How do things stand? Each year in this country +about 100,000 babies die before they have +come into the world; and out of the 800,000 born, +about 90,000 die. Many mothers become permanently +damaged in health by evil birth conditions. +Many children grow up mentally or physically +defective. One in four of the children in +our elementary schools are not in a condition to +benefit properly by their schooling. What sublime +waste! Ten in a hundred of them suffer +from malnutrition; thirty in the hundred have +defective eyes; eighty in the hundred need dental +treatment; twenty odd in the hundred have enlarged +tonsils or adenoids. Many, perhaps most, +of these deaths and defects are due to the avoidable +ignorance, ill-health, mitigable poverty, and +other handicaps which dog poor mothers before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> +and after a baby's birth. One doesn't know +which to pity most—the mothers or the babies. +Fortunately, to help the one is to help the other. +In passing I would like to record two sentiments: +my strong impression that we ought to follow the +example of America and establish Mothers' Pensions; +and my strong hope that those who visit +the sins of the fathers upon illegitimate children +will receive increasingly the contempt they deserve +from every decent-minded citizen.</p> + +<p>On the general question of improving the health +of mothers and babies I would remind readers +that there is no great country where effort is half +so much needed as here; we are nearly twice as +town and slum ridden as any other people; have +grown to be further from nature and more feckless +about food; we have damper air to breathe, +and less sun to disinfect us. In New Zealand, +with a climate somewhat similar to ours, the infant +mortality rate has, as a result of a widespread +educational campaign, been reduced within +the last few years to 50 per 1,000 from 110 per +1,000 a few years ago. It is perhaps too sanguine +to expect that we, so much more town-ridden, +can do as well here, but we ought to be able to +make a vast improvement. We have begun to. +Since 1904, when this matter was first seriously +taken in hand, our infant mortality rate has declined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span> +from 145 per 1,000 to 91 per 1,000 in 1916. +This reduction has been mainly due to the institution +of infant welfare centres and whole-time +health visitors. Of centres there are now nearly +1,200. We want 5,000 more. Of visitors there +are now hardly 1,500. We want, I am told, 2,000 +more. It is estimated that the yearly crop of +babies, 700,000, if those of the well-to-do be +excepted, can be provided with infant welfare +centres and whole-time health visitors by expenditure +at the rate of £1 a head per year. The +Government, which is benevolently disposed +towards the movement, gives half of the annual +expenditure; the other half falls on the municipalities. +But these 5,000 new infant welfare centres +and these extra 2,000 health visitors must be +started by voluntary effort and subscription. +Once started, the Government and the municipalities +will have to keep them up; but unless we +start them, the babies will go on dying or growing +up diseased. The object of the Jewel Fund, +therefore, is to secure the necessary money to get +the work into train.</p> + +<p>What are these Infant Welfare Centres, and +have they really all this magic? They are places +where mothers to be, or in being, can come for +instruction and help in all that concerns birth +and the care of their babies and children up to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span> +school age. "Prevention is better than cure," is +the motto of these Centres. I went to one of +the largest in London. It has about 600 entries +in the year. There were perhaps 40 babies and +children and perhaps 30 mothers there. About 20 +of these mothers were learning sewing or knitting. +Five of them were sitting round a nurse who was +bathing a three-weeks-old baby. The young +mother who can wash a baby to the taste and +benefit of the baby by the light of nature must +clearly be something of a phenomenon. In a +room downstairs were certain little stoics whose +health was poor; they were brought there daily +to be watched. One was an air-raid baby, the +thinnest little critter ever seen; an ashen bit of a +thing through which the wind could blow; very +silent, and asking "Why?" with its eyes. They +showed me a mother who had just lost her first +baby. The Centre was rescuing it from a pauper's +funeral. I can see her now, coming in and +sitting on the edge of a chair; the sudden puckering +of her dried-up little face, the tears rolling +down. I shall always remember the tone of her +voice—"It's my <i>baby</i>." Her husband is "doing +time"; and want of food and knowledge while she +was "carrying it" caused the baby's death. Several +mothers from her street come to the Centre; +but, "keeping herself to herself," she never heard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> +of it till too late. In a hundred little ways these +Centres give help and instruction. They, and +the Health Visitors who go along with them, are +doing a great work; but there are many districts +all over the country where there are no Centres +to come to; no help and instruction to be got, +however desperately wanted. Verily this land of +ours still goes like Rachel mourning for her children. +Disease, hunger, deformity, and death still +hound our babes, and most of that hounding is +avoidable. We must and shall revolt against the +evil lot, which preventible ignorance, ill health, +and poverty bring on hundreds of thousands of +children.</p> + +<p>It is time we had more pride. What right have +we to the word "civilised" till we give mothers +and children a proper chance? This is but the +Alpha of decency, the first step of progress. We +are beginning to realise that; but, even now, to +make a full effort and make it at once—we have +to beg for jewels.</p> + +<p>What's a jewel beside a baby's life? What's a +toy to the health and happy future of these helpless +little folk?</p> + +<p>You who wear jewels, with few exceptions, are +or will be mothers—you ought to know. To help +your own children you would strip yourselves. +But the test is the giving for children not one's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> +own. Beneath all flaws, fatuities, and failings, +this, I solemnly believe, is the country of the +great-hearted. I believe that the women of our +race, before all women, have a sense of others. +They will not fail the test.</p> + +<p>Into the twilight of the world are launched +each year these myriads of tiny ships. Under a +sky of cloud and stars they grope out to the great +waters and the great winds—little sloops of life, +on whose voyaging the future hangs. They go +forth blind, feeling their way. Mothers, and you +who will be mothers, and you who have missed +motherhood, give them their chance, bless them +with a gem—light their lanterns with your jewels!</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">1917.</span> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span></p> +<h2>FRANCE, 1916–1917</h2> + +<h3>AN IMPRESSION</h3> + +<p>It was past eleven, and the packet had been +steady some time when we went on deck and +found her moving slowly in bright moonlight up +the haven towards the houses of Le Havre. A +night approach to a city by water has the quality +of other-worldness. I remember the same +sensation twice before: coming in to San Francisco +from the East by the steam-ferry, and stealing +into Abingdon-on-Thames in a rowing-boat. +Le Havre lay, reaching up towards the heights, +still and fair, a little mysterious, with many +lights which no one seemed using. It was cold, +but the air already had a different texture, drier, +lighter than the air we had left, and one's heart +felt light and a little excited. In the moonlight +the piled-up, shuttered houses had colouring like +that of flowers at night—pale, subtle, mother-o'-pearl. +We moved slowly up beside the quay, +heard the first French voices, saw the first French +faces, and went down again to sleep.</p> + +<p>In the Military Bureau at the station, with +what friendly politeness they exchanged our hospital +passes for the necessary forms; but it took<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> +two officials ten minutes of hard writing! And +one thought: Is victory possible with all these +forms? It is so throughout France—too many +forms, too many people to fill them up. As if +France could not trust herself without recording +in spidery handwriting exactly where she is, for +nobody to look at afterwards. But France <i>could</i> +trust herself. A pity!</p> + +<p>Our only fellow-traveller was not a soldier, but +had that indefinable look of connection with the +war wrapped round almost everyone in France. +A wide land we passed, fallow under the November +sky; houses hidden among the square Normandy +court-yards of tall trees; not many people +in the fields.</p> + +<p>Paris is Paris, was, and ever shall be! Paris is +not France. If the Germans had taken Paris they +would have occupied the bodily heart, the centre +of her circulatory system; but the spirit of France +their heavy hands would not have clutched, for +it never dwelt there. Paris is hard and hurried; +France is not. Paris loves pleasure; France loves +life. Paris is a brilliant stranger in her own land. +And yet a lot of true Frenchmen and Frenchwomen +live there, and many little plots of real +French life are cultivated.</p> + +<p>At the Gare de Lyon <i>poilus</i> are taking trains +for the South. This is our first real sight of them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> +in their tired glory. They look weary and dusty +and strong; every face has character, no face +looks empty or as if its thought were being done +by others. Their laughter is not vulgar or thick. +Alongside their faces the English face looks stupid, +the English body angular and—neat. They are +loaded with queer burdens, bread and bottles +bulge their pockets; their blue-grey is prettier +than khaki, their round helmets are becoming. +Our Tommies, even to our own eyes, seem uniformed, +but hardly two out of all this crowd are +dressed alike. The French soldier luxuriates in +extremes; he can go to his death in white gloves +and dandyism—he can glory in unshavenness and +patches. The words <i>in extremis</i> seem dear to the +French soldier; and, <i>con amore</i>, he passes from +one extreme to the other. One of them stands +gazing up at the board which gives the hours of +starting and the destinations of the trains. His +tired face is charming, and has a look that I cannot +describe—lost, as it were, to all surroundings; +a Welshman or a Highlander, but no pure Englishman, +could look like that.</p> + +<p>Our carriage has four French officers; they talk +neither to us nor to each other; they sleep, sitting +well back, hardly moving all night; one of them +snores a little, but with a certain politeness. We +leave them in the early morning and get down<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> +into the windy station at Valence. In pre-war +days romance began there when one journeyed. +A lovely word, and the gate of the South. Soon +after Valence one used to wake and draw aside a +corner of the curtain and look at the land in the +first level sunlight; a strange land of plains, and +far, yellowish hills, a land with a dry, shivering +wind over it, and puffs of pink almond blossom. +But now Valence was dark, for it was November, +and raining. In the waiting-room were three +tired soldiers trying to sleep, and one sitting up +awake, shyly glad to share our cakes and journals. +Then on through the wet morning by the little +branch line into Dauphiné. Two officers again +and a civilian, in our carriage, are talking in low +voices of the war, or in higher voices of lodgings +at Valence. One is a commandant, with a handsome +paternal old face, broader than the English +face, a little more in love with life, and a little +more cynical about it, with more depth of colouring +in eyes and cheeks and hair. The tone of +their voices, talking of the war, is grave and +secret. "<i>Les Anglais ne lâcheront pas</i>" are the +only words I plainly hear. The younger officer +says: "And how would you punish?" The commandant's +answer is inaudible, but by the twinkling +of his eyes one knows it to be human and +sagacious. The train winds on in the windy wet,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span> +through foothills and then young mountains, following +up a swift-flowing river. The chief trees +are bare Lombardy poplars. The chief little town +is gathered round a sharp spur, with bare towers +on its top. The colour everywhere is a brownish-grey.</p> + +<p>We have arrived. A tall, strong young soldier, +all white teeth and smiles, hurries our luggage +out, a car hurries us up in the rainy wind through +the little town, down again across the river, up a +long avenue of pines, and we are at our hospital.</p> + +<p>Round the long table, at their dinner-hour, +what a variety of type among the men! And yet +a likeness, a sort of quickness and sensibility, +common to them all. A few are a little <i>méfiant</i> of +these newcomers, with the <i>méfiance</i> of individual +character, not of class distrustfulness, nor of that +defensive expressionless we cultivate in England. +The French soldier has a touch of the child in +him—if we leave out the Parisians; a child who +knows more than you do perhaps; a child who +has lived many lives before this life; a wise child, +who jumps to your moods and shows you his +"sore fingers" readily when he feels that you +want to see them. He has none of the perverse +and grudging attitude towards his own ailments +that we English foster. He is perhaps a little +inclined to pet them, treating them with an odd<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span> +mixture of stoic gaiety and gloomy indulgence. +It is like all the rest of him; he feels everything so +much quicker than we do—he is so much more +impressionable. The variety of type is more +marked physically than in our country. Here is +a tall Savoyard cavalryman, with a maimed hand +and a fair moustache brushed up at the ends, +big and strong, with grey eyes, and a sort of sage +self-reliance; only twenty-six, but might be forty. +Here is a real Latin, who was buried by an explosion +at Verdun; handsome, with dark hair and +a round head, and colour in his cheeks; an ironical +critic of everything, a Socialist, a mocker, a fine, +strong fellow with a clear brain, who attracts +women. Here are two peasants from the Central +South, both with bad sciatica, slower in look, +with a mournful, rather monkeyish expression in +their eyes, as if puzzled by their sufferings. Here +is a true Frenchman, a Territorial, from Roanne, +riddled with rheumatism, quick and gay, and suffering, +touchy and affectionate, not tall, brown-faced, +brown-eyed, rather fair, with clean jaw +and features, and eyes with a soul in them, looking +a little up; forty-eight—the oldest of them all—they +call him <i>Grandpère</i>. And here is a printer +from Lyon with shell-shock; medium-coloured, +short and roundish and neat, full of humanity +and high standards and domestic affection, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> +so polite, with eyes a little like a dog's. And here +another with shell-shock and brown-green eyes, +from the "invaded countries"; <i>méfiant</i>, truly, this +one, but with a heart when you get at it; neat, +and brooding, quick as a cat, nervous, and wanting +his own way. But they are all so varied. If +there are qualities common to all they are impressionability +and capacity for affection. This +is not the impression left on one by a crowd of +Englishmen. Behind the politeness and civilised +bearing of the French I used to think there was +a little of the tiger. In a sense perhaps there is, +but that is not the foundation of their character—far +from it! Underneath the tiger, again, there +is a man civilised for centuries. Most certainly +the politeness of the French is no surface quality, +it is a polish welling up from a naturally affectionate +heart, a naturally quick apprehension of +the moods and feelings of others; it is the outcome +of a culture so old that, underneath all differences, +it binds together all those types and strains of +blood—the Savoyard, and the Southerner, the +Latin of the Centre, the man from the North, the +Breton, the Gascon, the Basque, the Auvergnat, +even to some extent the Norman, and the Parisian—in +a sort of warm and bone-deep kinship. +They have all, as it were, sat for centuries under +a wall with the afternoon sun warming them<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span> +through and through, as I so often saw the old +town gossips sitting of an afternoon. The sun +of France has made them alike; a light and +happy sun, not too southern, but just southern +enough.</p> + +<p>And the women of France! If the men are +bound in that mysterious kinship, how much +more so are the women! What is it in the +Frenchwoman which makes her so utterly unique? +A daughter in one of Anatole France's books says +to her mother: "<i>Tu es pour les bijoux, je suis pour +les dessous</i>." The Frenchwoman spiritually is +<i>pour les dessous</i>. There is in her a kind of inherited, +conservative, clever, dainty capability; +no matter where you go in France, or in what +class—country or town—you find it. She cannot +waste, she cannot spoil, she makes and shows—the +best of everything. If I were asked for a +concrete illustration of self-respect I should say—the +Frenchwoman. It is a particular kind of +self-respect, no doubt, very much limited to this +world; and perhaps beginning to be a little frayed. +We have some Frenchwomen at the hospital, the +servants who keep us in running order—the dear +cook whom we love not only for her baked meats, +proud of her soldier son once a professor, now a +sergeant, and she a woman of property, with +two houses in the little town; patient, kind, very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span> +stubborn about her dishes, which have in them +the essential juices and savours which characterise +all things really French. She has great sweetness +and self-containment in her small, wrinkled, +yellowish face; always quietly polite and grave, +she bubbles deliciously at any joke, and gives +affection sagaciously to those who merit. A +jewel, who must be doing something <i>pour la +France</i>. And we have Madame Jeanne Camille, +mother of two daughters and one son, too young +to be a soldier. It was her eldest daughter who +wanted to come and scrub in the hospital, but +was refused because she was too pretty. And +her mother came instead. A woman who did +not need to come, and nearly fifty, but strong, +as the French are strong, with good red blood, +deep colouring, hair still black, and handsome +straight features. What a worker! A lover of +talk, too, and of a joke when she has time. And +Claire, of a <i>languissante</i> temperament, as she +says; but who would know it? Eighteen, with a +figure abundant as that of a woman of forty, but +just beginning to fine down; holding herself as +French girls learn to hold themselves so young; +and with the pretty eyes of a Southern nymph, +clear-brown and understanding, and a little bit +wood-wild. Not self-conscious—like the English +girl at that age—fond of work and play; with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> +what is called "a good head" on her, and a warm +heart. A real woman of France.</p> + +<p>Then there is the "farmeress" at the home +farm which gives the hospital its milk; a splendid, +grey-eyed creature, doing the work of her husband +who is at the front, with a little girl and +boy rounder and rosier than anything you ever +saw; and a small, one-eyed brother-in-law who +drinks. My God, he drinks! Any day you go +into the town to do hospital commissions you +may see the hospital donkey-cart with the charming +grey donkey outside the Café de l'Univers or +what not, and know that Charles is within. He +beguiles our <i>poilus</i>, and they take little beguiling. +Wine is too plentiful in France. The sun in the +wines of France quickens and cheers the blood in +the veins of France. But the gift of wine is +abused. One may see a poster which says—with +what truth I know not—that drink has cost +France more than the Franco-Prussian War. +French drunkenness is not so sottish as our beer-and-whiskey-fuddled +variety, but it is not pleasant +to see, and mars a fair land.</p> + +<p>What a fair land! I never before grasped the +charm of French colouring; the pinkish-yellow of +the pan-tiled roofs, the lavender-grey or dim +green of the shutters, the self-respecting shapes +and flatness of the houses, unworried by wriggling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> +ornamentation or lines coming up in order that +they may go down again; the universal plane +trees with their variegated trunks and dancing +lightness—nothing more charming than plane trees +in winter, their delicate twigs and little brown +balls shaking against the clear pale skies, and in +summer nothing more green and beautiful than +their sun-flecked shade. Each country has its +special genius of colouring—best displayed in +winter. To characterise such genius by a word +or two is hopeless; but one might say the genius +of Spain is brown; of Ireland green; of England +chalky blue-green; of Egypt shimmering sandstone. +For France amethystine feebly expresses +the sensation; the blend is subtle, stimulating, +rarefied—at all events in the centre and south. +Walk into an English village, however beautiful—and +many are very beautiful—you will not get +the peculiar sharp spiritual sensation which will +come on you entering some little French village +or town—the sensation one has looking at a picture +by Francesca. The blue wood-smoke, the +pinkish tiles, the grey shutters, the grey-brown +plane trees, the pale blue sky, the yellowish +houses, and above all the clean forms and the +clear air. I shall never forget one late afternoon +rushing home in the car from some commission. +The setting sun had just broken through after a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span> +misty day, the mountains were illumined with +purple and rose-madder, and snow-tipped against +the blue sky, a wonderful wistaria blue drifted +smoke-like about the valley; and the tall trees—poplars +and cypresses—stood like spires. No +wonder the French are <i>spirituel</i>, a word so different +from our "spiritual," for that they are not; +pre-eminently citizens of this world—even the +pious French. This is why on the whole they +make a better fist of social life than we do, we +misty islanders, only half-alive because we set +such store by our unrealised moralities. Not one +Englishman in ten now <i>really</i> believes that he is +going to live again, but his disbelief has not yet +reconciled him to making the best of this life, or +laid ghosts of the beliefs he has outworn. Clear +air and sun, but not so much as to paralyse action, +have made in France clearer eyes, clearer brains, +and touched souls with a sane cynicism. The +French do not despise and neglect the means to +ends. They face sexual realities. They know +that to live well they must eat well, to eat well +must cook well, to cook well must cleanly and +cleverly cultivate their soil. May France be +warned in time by our dismal fate! May she +never lose her love of the land; nor let industrialism +absorb her peasantry, and the lure of wealth +and the cheap glamour of the towns draw her<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> +into their uncharmed circles. We English have +rattled deep into a paradise of machines, chimneys, +cinemas, and halfpenny papers; have bartered +our heritage of health, dignity, and looks +for wealth, and badly distributed wealth at that. +France was trembling on the verge of the same +precipice when the war came; with its death and +wind of restlessness the war bids fair to tip her +over. Let her hold back with all her might! +Her two dangers are drink and the lure of the +big towns. No race can preserve sanity and refinement +which really gives way to these. She +will not fare even as well as we have if she yields; +our fibre is coarser and more resistant than hers, +nor had we ever so much grace to lose. It is by +grace and self-respect that France had her pre-eminence; +let these wither, as wither they must +in the grip of a sordid and drink-soothed industrialism, +and her star will burn out. The life of +the peasant is hard; peasants are soon wrinkled +and weathered; they are not angels; narrow and +over-provident, suspicious, and given to drink, +they still have their roots and being in the realities +of life, close to nature, and keep a sort of +simple dignity and health which great towns +destroy. Let France take care of her peasants +and her country will take care of itself.</p> + +<p>Talking to our <i>poilus</i> we remarked that they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span> +have not a good word to throw to their <i>députés</i>—no +faith in them. About French politicians I +know nothing; but their shoes are unenviable, and +will become too tight for them after the war. +The <i>poilu</i> has no faith at all now, if he ever had, +save faith in his country, so engrained that he +lets the life-loving blood of him be spilled out to +the last drop, cursing himself and everything for +his heroic folly.</p> + +<p>We had a young Spaniard of the Foreign Legion +in our hospital who had been to Cambridge, and +had the "outside" eyes on all things French. In +his view <i>je m'en foutism</i> has a hold of the French +army. Strange if it had not! Clear, quick +brains cannot stand Fate's making ninepins of +mankind year after year like this. Fortunately +for France, the love of her sons has never been +forced; it has grown like grass and simple wild +herbs in the heart, alongside the liberty to criticise +and blame. The <i>poilu</i> cares for nothing, no, +not he! But he is himself a little, unconscious +bit of France, and, for oneself, one always cares. +State-forced patriotism made this war—a fever-germ +which swells the head and causes blindness. +A State which teaches patriotism in its schools is +going mad! Let no such State be trusted! +They who, after the war, would have England +and France copy the example of the State-drilled<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> +country which opened these flood-gates of death, +and teach mad provincialism under the nickname +of patriotism to their children, are driving nails +into the coffins of their countries. <i>Je m'en foutism</i> +is a natural product of three years of war, and +better by far than the docile despair to which so +many German soldiers have been reduced. We +were in Lyon when the Russian Revolution and +the German retreat from Bapaume were reported. +The town and railway station were full of soldiers. +No enthusiasm, no stir of any kind, only the usual +tired stoicism. And one thought of what the +<i>poilu</i> can be like; of our Christmas dinner-table +at the hospital under the green hanging wreaths +and the rosy Chinese lanterns, the hum, the chatter, +the laughter of free and easy souls in their +red hospital jackets. The French are so easily, +so incorrigibly gay; the dreary grinding pressure +of this war seems horribly cruel applied to such a +people, and the heroism with which they have +borne its untold miseries is sublime. In our little +remote town out there—a town which had been +Roman in its time, and still had bits of Roman +walls and Roman arches—every family had its +fathers, brothers, sons, dead, fighting, in prison, or +in hospital. The mothers were wonderful. One +old couple, in a <i>ferblanterie</i> shop, who had lost +their eldest son and whose other son was at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span> +front, used to try hard not to talk about the war, +but sure enough they would come to it at last, each +time we saw them, and in a minute the mother +would be crying and a silent tear would roll down +the old father's face. Then he would point to the +map and say: "But look where they are, the +Boches! Can we stop? It's impossible. We +must go on till we've thrown them out. It is +dreadful, but what would you have? Ah! Our +son—he was so promising!" And the mother, +weeping over the tin-tacks, would make the neatest +little parcel of them, murmuring out of her +tears: "<i>Il faut que ça finisse; mais la France—il +ne faut pas que la France—Nos chers fils auraient +été tués pour rien!</i>" Poor souls! I remember +another couple up on the hillside. The old wife, +dignified as a duchess—if duchesses are dignified—wanting +us so badly to come in and sit down that +she might the better talk to us of her sons: one +dead, and one wounded, and two still at the front, +and the youngest not yet old enough. And while +we stood there up came the father, an old farmer, +with that youngest son. He had not quite the +spirit of the old lady, nor her serenity; he thought +that men in these days were no better than <i>des +bêtes féroces</i>. And in truth his philosophy—of an +old tiller of the soil—was as superior to that of +emperors and diplomats as his life is superior to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span> +theirs. Not very far from that little farm is the +spot of all others in that mountain country which +most stirs the æsthetic and the speculative strains +within one. Lovely and remote, all by itself at +the foot of a mountain, in a circle of the hills, +an old monastery stands, now used as a farm, +with one rose window, like a spider's web, spun +delicate in stone tracery. There the old monks +had gone to get away from the struggles of the +main valley and the surges of the fighting men. +There even now were traces of their peaceful +life; the fish-ponds and the tillage still kept in +cultivation. If they had lived in these days +they would have been at the war, fighting or +bearing stretchers, like the priests of France, of +whom eleven thousand, I am told—untruthfully, +I hope—are dead. So the world goes forward—the +Kingdom of Heaven comes!</p> + +<p>We were in the town the day that the 1918 +class received their preliminary summons. Sad +were the mothers watching their boys parading +the streets, rosetted and singing to show that +they had passed and were ready to be food for +cannon. Not one of those boys, I dare say, in his +heart wanted to go; they have seen too many of +their brethren return war-worn, missed too many +who will never come back. But they were no less +gay about it than those recruits we saw in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> +spring of 1913, at Argelès in the Pyrenees, singing +along and shouting on the day of their enrolment.</p> + +<p>There were other reminders to us, and to the +little town, of the blood-red line drawn across the +map of France. We had in our hospital men +from the invaded countries without news of wives +and families mured up behind that iron veil. +Once in a way a tiny word would get through to +them, and anxiety would lift a little from their +hearts; for a day or two they would smile. One +we had, paralysed in the legs, who would sit doing +macramé work and playing chess all day long; +every relative he had—wife, father, mother, sisters—all +were in the power of the German. As +brave a nature as one could see in a year's march, +touchingly grateful, touchingly cheerful, but with +the saddest eyes I ever saw. There was one little +reminder in the town whom we could never +help going in to look at whenever we passed the +shop whose people had given her refuge. A little +girl of eight with the most charming, grave, pale, +little, grey-eyed face; there she would sit, playing +with her doll, watching the customers. That little +refugee at all events was beloved and happy; +only I think she thought we would kidnap her +one day—we stared at her so hard. She had the +quality which gives to certain faces the fascination +belonging to rare works of art.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>With all this poignant bereavement and long-suffering +amongst them it would be odd indeed if +the gay and critical French nature did not rebel, +and seek some outlet in apathy or bitter criticism. +The miracle is that they go on and on holding +fast. Easily depressed, and as easily lifted up +again, grumble they must and will; but their +hearts are not really down to the pitch of their +voices; their love of country, which with them is +love of self—the deepest of all kinds of patriotism—is +too absolute. These two virtues or vices (as +you please)—critical faculty and <i>amour propre</i> +or vanity, if you prefer it—are in perpetual encounter. +The French are at once not at all +proud of themselves and very proud. They destroy +all things French, themselves included, with +their brains and tongues, and exalt the same with +their hearts and by their actions. To the reserved +English mind, always on the defensive, +they seem to give themselves away continually; +but he who understands sees it to be all part of +that perpetual interplay of opposites which makes +up the French character and secures for it in +effect a curious vibrating equilibrium. "Intensely +alive" is the chief impression one has of +the French. They balance between head and +heart at top speed in a sort of electric and eternal +see-saw. It is this perpetual quick change which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> +gives them, it seems to me, their special grip on +actuality; they never fly into the cloud-regions of +theories and dreams; their heads have not time +before their hearts have intervened, their hearts +not time before their heads cry: "Hold!" They +apprehend both worlds, but with such rapid +alternation that they surrender to neither. Consider +how clever and comparatively warm is that +cold thing "religion" in France. I remember so +well the old <i>curé</i> of our little town coming up to +lunch, his interest in the cooking, in the practical +matters of our life, and in wider affairs too; his +enjoyment of his coffee and cigarette; and the +curious suddenness with which something seemed +"to come over him"—one could hear his heart +saying: "O my people, here am I wasting my +time; I must run to you." I saw him in the +court-yard talking to one of our <i>poilus</i>, not about +his soul, but about his body; stroking his shoulder +softly and calling him <i>mon cher fils</i>. Dear old +man! Even religion here does not pretend to +more than it can achieve—help and consolation +to the bewildered and the suffering. It uses +forms, smiling a little at them.</p> + +<p>The secret of French culture lies in this vibrating +balance; from quick marriage of mind and +heart, reason and sense, in the French nature, all +the clear created forms of French life arise, forms<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span> +recognised as forms with definite utility attached. +Controlled expression is the result of action and +reaction. Controlled expression is the essence +of culture, because it alone makes a sufficiently +clear appeal in a world which is itself the result +of the innumerable interplay of complementary +or dual laws and forces. French culture is near +to the real heart of things, because it has a sort +of quick sanity which never loses its way; or, +when it does, very rapidly recovers the middle +of the road. It has the two capital defects of its +virtues. It is too fond of forms and too mistrustful. +The French nature is sane and cynical. +Well, it's natural! The French lie just halfway +between north and south; their blood is too +mingled for enthusiasm, and their culture too +old.</p> + +<p>I never realised how old France was till we +went to Arles. In our crowded train <i>poilus</i> were +packed, standing in the corridors. One very +weary, invited by a high and kindly colonel into +our carriage, chatted in his tired voice of how +wonderfully the women kept the work going on +the farms. "When we get a fortnight's leave," +he said, "all goes well, we can do the heavy things +the women cannot, and the land is made clean. +It wants that fortnight now and then, <i>mon colonel</i>; +there is work on farms that women cannot do."<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> +And the colonel vehemently nodded his thin face. +We alighted in the dark among southern forms +and voices, and the little hotel omnibus became +enmeshed at once in old, high, very narrow, +Italian-seeming streets. It was Sunday next day; +sunny, with a clear blue sky. In the square before +our hotel a simple crowd round the statue of +Mistral chattered or listened to a girl singing +excruciating songs; a crowd as old-looking as in +Italy or Spain, aged as things only are in the +South. We walked up to the Arena. Quite a +recent development in the life of Arles, they say, +that marvellous Roman building, here cut down, +there built up, by Saracen hands. For a thousand +years or more before the Romans came +Arles flourished and was civilised. What had we +mushroom islanders before the Romans came? +What had barbaric Prussia? Not even the Romans +to look forward to! The age-long life of +the South stands for much in modern France, +correcting the cruder blood which has poured in +these last fifteen hundred years. As one blends +wine of very old stock with newer brands, so has +France been blended and mellowed. A strange +cosmic feeling one had, on the top of the great +building in that town older than Rome itself, of +the continuity of human life and the futility of +human conceit. The provincial vanity of modern<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span> +States looked pitiful in the clear air above +that vast stony proof of age.</p> + +<p>In many ways the war has brought us up all +standing on the edge of an abyss. When it is +over shall we go galloping over the edge, or, reining +back, sit awhile in our saddles looking for a +better track? We were all on the highway to a +hell of material expansion and vulgarity, of cheap +immediate profit, and momentary sensation; +north and south in our different ways, all "rattling +into barbarity." Shall we find our way +again into a finer air, where self-respect, not profit, +rules, and rare things and durable are made once +more?</p> + +<p>From Arles we journeyed to Marseilles, to see +how the first cosmopolitan town in the world +fared in war-time. Here was an amazing spectacle +of swarming life. If France has reason to +feel the war most of all the great countries, Marseilles +must surely feel it less than any other +great town; she flourishes in a perfect riot of +movement and colour. Here all the tribes are +met, save those of Central Europe—Frenchman, +Serb, Spaniard, Algerian, Greek, Arab, Khabyle, +Russian, Indian, Italian, Englishman, Scotsman, +Jew, and Nubian rub shoulders in the thronged +streets. The miles of docks are crammed with +ships. Food of all sorts abounds. In the bright,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> +dry light all is gay and busy. The most æsthetic, +and perhaps most humiliating, sight that a Westerner +could see we came on there: two Arab Spahis +walking down the main street in their long robe +uniforms, white and red, and their white linen +bonnets bound with a dark fur and canting +slightly backwards. Over six feet high, they +moved unhurrying, smoking their cigarettes, +turning their necks slowly from side to side like +camels of the desert. Their brown, thin, bearded +faces wore neither scorn nor interest, only a +superb self-containment; but, beside them, every +other specimen of the human race seemed cheap +and negligible. God knows of what they were +thinking—as little probably as the smoke they +blew through their chiselled nostrils—but their +beauty and grace were unsurpassable. And, +visioning our western and northern towns and the +little, white, worried abortions they breed, one +felt downcast and abashed.</p> + +<p>Marseilles swarmed with soldiers; Lyon, Valence, +Arles, even the smallest cities swarmed with +soldiers, and this at the moment when the Allied +offensive was just beginning. If France be nearing +the end of her man-power, as some assert, she +conceals it so that one would think she was at +the beginning.</p> + +<p>From Marseilles we went to Lyon. I have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> +heard that town described as lamentably plain; +but compared with Manchester or Sheffield it is +as heaven to hell. Between its two wide rolling +rivers, under a line of heights, it has somewhat +the aspect of an enormous commercialised Florence. +Perhaps in foggy weather it may be +dreary, but the sky was blue and the sun shone, +a huge <i>Foire</i> was just opening, and every street +bustled in a dignified manner.</p> + +<p>The English have always had a vague idea that +France is an immoral country. To the eye of a +mere visitor France is the most moral of the four +Great Powers—France, Russia, England, Germany; +has the strongest family life and the most +seemly streets. Young men and maidens are +never seen walking or lying about, half-embraced, +as in puritanical England. Fire is not played +with—openly, at least. The slow-fly amorousness +of the British working classes evidently does +not suit the quicker blood of France. There is +just enough of the South in the French to keep +demonstration of affection away from daylight. +A certain school of French novelist, with high-coloured +tales of Parisian life, is responsible for +his country's reputation. Whatever the Frenchman +about town may be, he seems by no means +typical of the many millions of Frenchmen who +are not about town. And if Frenchwomen, as I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span> +have heard Frenchmen say, are <i>légères</i>, they are +the best mothers in the world, and their "lightness" +is not vulgarly obtruded. They say many +domestic tragedies will be played at the conclusion +of the war. If so, they will not be played +in France alone; and compared with the tragedies +of fidelity played all these dreadful years they +will be as black rabbits to brown for numbers. +For the truth on morality in France we must go +back, I suspect, to that general conclusion about +the French character—the swift passage from +head to heart and back again, which, prohibiting +extremes of puritanism and of licence, preserves +a sort of balance.</p> + +<p>From this war France will emerge changed, +though less changed very likely than any other +country. A certain self-sufficiency that was very +marked about French life will have sloughed +away. I expect an opening of the doors, a toleration +of other tastes and standards, a softening +of the too narrow definiteness of French +opinion.</p> + +<p>Even Paris has opened her heart a little since +the war; and the heart of Paris is close, hard, impatient +of strangers. We noticed in our hospital +that whenever we had a Parisian he introduced a +different atmosphere, and led us a quiet or noisy +dance. We had one whose name was Aimé,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span> +whose skin was like a baby's, who talked softly +and fast, with little grunts, and before he left was +quite the leading personality. We had another, +a red-haired young one; when he was away on +leave we hardly knew the hospital, it was so +orderly. The sons of Paris are a breed apart, +just as our Cockneys are. I do not pretend to +fathom them; they have the texture and resilience +of an indiarubber ball. And the women of Paris! +Heaven forfend that I should say I know them! +They are a sealed book. Still, even Parisians are +less intolerant than in pre-war days of us dull +English, perceiving in us, perhaps, a certain unexpected +usefulness. And, <i>à propos</i>! One hears +it said that in the regions of our British armies +certain natives believe we have come to stay. +What an intensely comic notion! And what a +lurid light it throws on history, on the mistrust +engendered between nations, on the cynicism +which human conduct has forced deep into human +hearts. No! If a British Government could be +imagined behaving in such a way, the British +population would leave England, become French +citizens, and help to turn out the damned intruders!</p> + +<p>But <i>we</i> did not encounter anywhere that comic +belief. In all this land of France, chockful of +those odd creatures, English men and women, we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> +found only a wonderful and touching welcome. +Not once during those long months of winter was +an unfriendly word spoken in our hearing; not +once were we treated with anything but true +politeness and cordiality. <i>Poilus</i> and peasants, +porters and officials, ladies, doctors, servants, +shop-folk, were always considerate, always +friendly, always desirous that we should feel at +home. The very dogs gave us welcome! A little +black half-Pomeranian came uninvited and +made his home with us in our hospital; we called +him Aristide. But on our walks with him we +were liable to meet a posse of children who would +exclaim, "<i>Pom-pom! Voilà, Pom-pom!</i>" and +lead him away. Before night fell he would be +with us again, with a bit of string or ribbon, bitten +through, dangling from his collar. His children +bored him terribly. We left him in trust to +our <i>poilus</i> on that sad afternoon when "Good-bye" +must be said, all those friendly hands shaken +for the last time, and the friendly faces left. +Through the little town the car bore us, away +along the valley between the poplar trees with +the first flush of spring on their twigs, and the +magpies flighting across the road to the river-bank.</p> + +<p>The heart of France is deep within her breast; +she wears it not upon her sleeve. But France<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> +opened her heart for once and let us see the +gold.</p> + +<p>And so we came forth from France of a rainy +day, leaving half our hearts behind us.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">1917.</span> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span></p> +<h2>ENGLISHMAN AND RUSSIAN</h2> + +<p>It has been my conviction for many years that +the Russian and the Englishman are as it were +the complementary halves of a man. What the +Russian lacks the Englishman has; what the Englishman +lacks, that has the Russian. The works +of Gogol, Turgenev, Dostoievsky, Tolstoi, Tchekov—the +amazing direct and truthful revelations +of these masters—has let me, I think, into some +secrets of the Russian soul, so that the Russians +I have met seem rather clearer to me than men +and women of other foreign countries. For their +construing I have been given what schoolboys +call a crib. Only a fool pretends to knowledge—the +heart of another is surely a dark forest; but +the heart of a Russian seems to me a forest less +dark than many, partly because the qualities and +defects of a Russian impact so sharply on the +perceptions of an Englishman, but partly because +those great Russian novelists in whom I have +delighted, possess, before all other gifts, so deep +a talent for the revelation of truth. In following +out this apposition of the Russian and the Englishman, +one may well start with that little matter +of "truth." The Englishman has what I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> +would call a passion for the forms of truth; his +word is his bond—nearly always; he will not tell +a lie—not often; honesty, in his idiom, is the best +policy. But he has little or no regard for the +spirit of truth. Quite unconsciously he revels in +self-deception and flies from knowledge of anything +which will injure his intention to "make +good," as Americans say. He is, before all things, +a competitive soul who seeks to win rather than +to understand or to "live." And to win, or, +shall we say, to maintain to oneself the illusion +of winning, one must carefully avoid seeing too +much. The Russian is light hearted about the +forms of truth, but revels in self-knowledge and +frank self-declaration, enjoys unbottoming the +abysses of his thoughts and feelings, however +gloomy. In Russia time and space have no exact +importance, living counts for more than dominating +life, emotion is not castrated, feelings are +openly indulged in; in Russia there are the extremes +of cynicism, and of faith; of intellectual +subtlety, and simplicity; truth has quite another +significance; manners are different; what we know +as "good form" is a meaningless shibboleth. +The Russian rushes at life, drinks the cup to the +dregs, then frankly admits that it has dregs, and +puts up with the disillusionment. The Englishman +holds the cup gingerly and sips, determined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span> +to make it last his time, not to disturb the dregs, +and to die without having reached the bottom.</p> + +<p>These are the two poles of that instinctive +intention to get out of life all there is in it—which +is ever the unconscious philosophy guiding mankind. +To the Russian it is vital to realise at all +costs the fulness of sensation and reach the limits +of comprehension; to the Englishman it is vital +to preserve illusion and go on defeating death +until death so unexpectedly defeats him.</p> + +<p>What this wide distinction comes from I know +not, unless from the difference of our climates and +geographical circumstances. Russians are the +children of vast plains and forests, dry air, and +extremes of heat and cold; the English, of the +sea, small, uneven hedge-rowed landscapes, mist, +and mean temperatures. By an ironical paradox, +we English have achieved a real liberty of speech +and action, even now denied to Russians, who +naturally far surpass us in desire to turn things +inside out and see of what they are made. The +political arrangements of a country are based on +temperament; and a political freedom which suits +us, an old people, predisposed to a practical and +cautious view of life, is proving difficult, if not +impossible, for Russians, a young people, who +spend themselves so freely. But what Russia will +become, politically speaking, he would be rash +who prophesied.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> +I suppose what Russians most notice and perhaps +envy in us is practical common sense, our +acquired instinct for what is attainable, and for +the best and least elaborate means of attaining it. +What we ought to envy in Russians is a sort of +unworldliness—not the feeling that this world is +the preliminary of another, nothing so commercial; +but the natural disposition to live each moment +without afterthought, emotionally. Lack of +emotional abandonment is our great deficiency. +Whether we can ever learn to have more is very +doubtful. But our imaginative writings, at all +events, have of late been profoundly modified by +the Russian novel, that current in literature far +more potent than any of those traced out in Georg +Brandes' monumental study. Russian writers +have brought to imaginative literature a directness +in the presentation of vision, a lack of self-consciousness, +strange to all Western countries, +and particularly strange to us English, who of all +people are the most self-conscious. This quality +of Russian writers is evidently racial, for even in +the most artful of them—Turgenev—it is as apparent +as in the least sophisticated. It is part, +no doubt, of their natural power of flinging themselves +deep into the sea of experience and sensation; +of their self-forgetfulness in a passionate +search for truth.</p> + +<p>In such living Russian writers as I have read,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span> +in Kuprin, Gorky, and others, I still see and welcome +this peculiar quality of rendering life through—but +not veiled by—the author's temperament; +so that the effect is almost as if no ink were used. +When one says that the Russian novel has already +profoundly modified our literature, one does not +mean that we have now nearly triumphed over +the need for ink, or that our temperaments have +become Russian; but that some of us have become +infected with the wish to see and record the truth +and obliterate that competitive moralising which +from time immemorial has been the characteristic +bane of English art. In other words, the Russian +passion for understanding has tempered a little +the English passion for winning. What we admire +and look for in Russian literature is its truth and +its profound and comprehending tolerance. I am +credibly informed that what Russians admire and +look for in our literature is its quality of "no +nonsense" and its assertive vigour. In a word, +they are attracted by that in it which is new to +them. I venture to hope that they will not become +infected by us in this matter; that nothing +will dim in their writers spiritual and intellectual +honesty of vision or tinge them with self-consciousness. +It is still for us to borrow from Russian +literary art, and learn, if we can, to sink ourselves +in life and reproduce it without obtrusion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> +of our points of view, except in that subtle way +which gives to each creative work its essential +individuality. Our boisterousness in art is too +self-conscious to be real, and our restraint is only +a superficial legacy from Puritanism.</p> + +<p>Restraint in life and conduct is another matter +altogether. There Russians can learn from us, +who are past-masters in control of our feelings. +In all matters of conduct, indeed, we are, as it +were, much older than the Russians; we were +more like them, one imagines, in the days of +Elizabeth.</p> + +<p>Either similarity, or great dissimilarity, is generally +needful for mutual liking. Our soldiers +appear to get on very well with Russians. But +only exceptional natures in either country could +expect to <i>understand</i> each other thoroughly. The +two peoples are as the halves of a whole; different +as chalk from cheese; can supplement, intermingle, +but never replace each other. Both in so different +ways are very vital types of mankind, very deep +sunk in their own atmospheres and natures, very +insulated against all that is not Russian, or is not +English; deeply unchangeable and impermeable. +It is almost impossible to de-Anglicise an Englishman; +as difficult to de-Russianise a Russian.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">1916.</span> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span></p> +<h2>AMERICAN AND BRITON</h2> + +<p>On the mutual understanding of each other by +Britons and Americans the future happiness of +nations depends more than on any other world +cause.</p> + +<p>I have never held a whole-hearted brief for the +British character. There is a lot of good in it, +but much which is repellent. It has a kind of deliberate +unattractiveness, setting out on its journey +with the words: "Take me or leave me." +One may respect a person of this sort, but it is +difficult either to know or to like him. I am told +that an American officer said recently to a British +staff officer in a friendly voice: "So we're going to +clean up Brother Boche together!" and the British +staff officer replied "Really!" No wonder +Americans sometimes say: "I've got no use for +those fellows."</p> + +<p>The world is consecrate to strangeness and discovery, +and the attitude of mind concreted in +that "Really!" seems unforgivable, till one remembers +that it is manner rather than matter +which divides the hearts of American and Briton.</p> + +<p>In a huge, still half-developed country, where +every kind of national type and habit comes to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span> +run a new thread into the rich tapestry of American +life and thought, people must find it almost +impossible to conceive the life of a little old island +where traditions persist generation after generation +without anything to break them up; where +blood remains undoctored by new strains; demeanour +becomes crystallised for lack of contrasts; +and manner gets set like a plaster mask. +The English manner of to-day, of what are called +the classes, is the growth of only a century or so. +There was probably nothing at all like it in the +days of Elizabeth or even of Charles II. The +English manner was still racy when the inhabitants +of Virginia, as we are told, sent over to ask +that there might be despatched to them some +hierarchical assistance for the good of their souls, +and were answered: "D——n your souls, grow +tobacco!" The English manner of to-day could +not even have come into its own when that epitaph +of a lady, quoted somewhere by Gilbert +Murray, was written: "Bland, passionate, and +deeply religious, she was second cousin to the Earl +of Leitrim; of such are the Kingdom of Heaven." +About that gravestone motto was a certain lack +of the self-consciousness which is now the foremost +characteristic of the English manner.</p> + +<p>But this British self-consciousness is no mere +fluffy <i>gaucherie</i>, it is our special form of what Germans<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> +would call "Kultur." Behind every manifestation +of thought or emotion the Briton retains +control of self, and is thinking: "That's all I'll let +them see"; even: "That's all I'll let myself feel." +This stoicism is good in its refusal to be foundered; +bad in that it fosters a narrow outlook; +starves emotion, spontaneity, and frank sympathy; +destroys grace and what one may describe +roughly as the lovable side of personality. The +English hardly ever say just what comes into +their heads. What we call "good form," the unwritten +law which governs certain classes of the +Briton, savours of the dull and glacial; but there +lurks within it a core of virtue. It has grown up +like callous shell round two fine ideals—suppression +of the ego lest it trample on the corns of other +people, and exaltation of the maxim: "Deeds before +words." Good form, like any other religion, +starts well with some ethical truth, but soon gets +commonised and petrified till we can hardly trace +its origin, and watch with surprise its denial and +contradiction of the root idea.</p> + +<p>Without doubt good form had become a kind +of disease in England. A French friend told me +how he witnessed in a Swiss Hotel the meeting +between an Englishwoman and her son, whom +she had not seen for two years; she was greatly +affected—by the fact that he had not brought a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> +dinner-jacket. The best manners are no "manners," +or at all events no mannerisms; but many +Britons who have even attained to this perfect +purity are yet not free from the paralytic effects +of "good form"; are still self-conscious in the +depths of their souls, and never do or say a thing +without trying not to show what they are feeling. +All this guarantees a certain decency in life; but +in intimate intercourse with people of other +nations who have not this particular cult of suppression, +we English disappoint, and jar, and +often irritate. Nations have their differing forms +of snobbery. At one time the English all wanted +to be second cousins to the Earl of Leitrim, like +that lady bland and passionate. Nowadays it is +not so simple. The Earl of Leitrim has become +etherealised. We no longer care how a fellow is +born so long as he behaves as the Earl of Leitrim +would have, never makes himself conspicuous or +ridiculous, never shows too much what he's really +feeling, never talks of what he's going to do, and +always "plays the game." The cult is centred in +our public schools and universities.</p> + +<p>At a very typical and honoured old public +school the writer of this essay passed on the whole +a happy time; but what a curious life, educationally +speaking! We lived rather like young Spartans; +and were not encouraged to think, imagine,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> +or see anything that we learned in relation to life +at large. It's very difficult to teach boys, because +their chief object in life is not to be taught +anything, but I should say we were crammed, +not taught at all. Living as we did the herd-life +of boys with little or no intrusion from our elders, +and they men who had been brought up in the +same way as ourselves, we were debarred from +any real interest in philosophy, history, art, literature +and music, or any advancing notions in +social life or politics. I speak of the generality, +not of the few black swans among us. We were +reactionaries almost to a boy. I remember one +summer term Gladstone came down to speak to +us, and we repaired to the Speech Room with +white collars and dark hearts, muttering what we +would do to that Grand Old Man if we could +have our way. But he contrived to charm us, +after all, till we cheered him vociferously. In +that queer life we had all sorts of unwritten rules +of suppression. You must turn up your trousers; +must not go out with your umbrella rolled. Your +hat must be worn tilted forward; you must not +walk more than two-a-breast till you reached a +certain form, nor be enthusiastic about anything, +except such a supreme matter as a drive over the +pavilion at cricket, or a run the whole length of +the ground at football. You must not talk about<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> +yourself or your home people, and for any punishment +you must assume complete indifference.</p> + +<p>I dwell on these trivialities because every year +thousands of British boys enter these mills which +grind exceeding small, and because these boys +constitute in after life the great majority of the +official, military, academic, professional, and a +considerable proportion of the business classes of +Great Britain. They become the Englishmen who +say: "Really!" and they are for the most part +the Englishmen who travel and reach America. +The great defence I have always heard put up for +our public schools is that they form character. +As oatmeal is supposed to form bone in the bodies +of Scotsmen, so our public schools are supposed +to form good, sound moral fibre in British boys. +And there is much in this plea. The life does +make boys enduring, self-reliant, good-tempered +and honourable, but it most carefully endeavours +to destroy all original sin of individuality, spontaneity, +and engaging freakishness. It implants, +moreover, in the great majority of those who +have lived it the mental attitude of that swell, +who when asked where he went for his hats, replied: +"Blank's, of course. Is there another fellow's?"</p> + +<p>To know all is to excuse all—to know all about +the bringing-up of English public school boys<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> +makes one excuse much. The atmosphere and +tradition of those places is extraordinarily strong, +and persists through all modern changes. Thirty-seven +years have gone since I was a new boy, but +cross-examining a young nephew who left not +long ago, I found almost precisely the same +features and conditions. The war, which has +changed so much of our social life, will have some, +but no very great, effect on this particular institution. +The boys still go there from the same +kind of homes and preparatory schools and come +under the same kind of masters. And the traditional +unemotionalism, the cult of a dry and +narrow stoicism, is rather fortified than diminished +by the times we live in.</p> + +<p>Our universities, on the other hand, are now +mere ghosts of their old selves. At a certain old +college in Oxford, last term, they had only two +English students. In the chapel under the +Joshua Reynolds window, through which the sun +was shining, hung a long "roll of honour," a hundred +names and more. In the college garden an +open-air hospital was ranged under the old city +wall, where we used to climb and go wandering +in the early summer mornings after some all-night +spree. Down on the river the empty college +barges lay void of life. From the top of one of +them an aged custodian broke into words: "Ah!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> +Oxford'll never be the same again in my time. +Why, who's to teach 'em rowin'? When we do +get undergrads again, who's to teach 'em? All +the old ones gone, killed, wounded and that. No! +Rowin'll never be the same again—not in my +time." That was <i>the</i> tragedy of the war for him. +Our universities will recover faster than he thinks, +and resume the care of our particular "Kultur," +and cap the products of our public schools with +the Oxford accent and the Oxford manner.</p> + +<p>An acute critic tells me that Americans reading +such deprecatory words as these by an Englishman +about his country's institutions would +say that this is precisely an instance of what an +American means by the Oxford manner. Americans +whose attitude towards their own country is +that of a lover to his lady or a child to its mother, +cannot—he says—understand how Englishmen +can be critical of their own country, and yet love +her. Well, the Englishman's attitude to his +country is that of a man to himself, and the way +he runs her down is but a part of that special +English bone-deep self-consciousness. Englishmen +(the writer amongst them) love their country +as much as the French love France and the +Americans America; but she is so much a part of +them that to speak well of her is like speaking +well of themselves, which they have been brought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> +up to regard as "bad form." When Americans +hear Englishmen speaking critically of their own +country, let them note it for a sign of complete +identification with that country rather than of +detachment from it. But on the whole it must +be admitted that English universities have a +broadening influence on the material which comes +to them so set and narrow. They do a little to +discover for their children that there are many +points of view, and much which needs an open +mind in this world. They have not precisely a +democratic influence, but taken by themselves +they would not be inimical to democracy. And +when the war is over they will surely be still +broader in philosophy and teaching. Heaven +forbid that we should see vanish all that is old, +and has, as it were, the virginia-creeper, the wistaria +bloom of age upon it; there is a beauty in +age and a health in tradition, ill dispensed with. +What is hateful in age is its lack of understanding +and of sympathy; in a word—its intolerance. +Let us hope this wind of change may sweep out +and sweeten the old places of our country, sweep +away the cobwebs and the dust, our narrow ways +of thought, our mannikinisms. But those who +hate intolerance dare not be intolerant with the +foibles of age; we should rather see them as comic, +and gently laugh them out. I pretend to no<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> +proper knowledge of the American people; but, +though amongst them there are doubtless pockets +of fierce prejudice, I have on the whole the impression +of a wide and tolerant spirit. To that +spirit one would appeal when it comes to passing +judgment on the educated Briton. He may be +self-sufficient, but he has grit; and at bottom grit +is what Americans appreciate more than anything. +If the motto of the old Oxford college, "Manners +makyth man," were true, one would often be +sorry for the Briton. But his manners do not +make him; they mar him. His goods are all +absent from the shop window; he is not a man of +the world in the wider meaning of that expression. +And there is, of course, a particularly noxious +type of travelling Briton, who does his best, unconsciously, +to deflower his country wherever he +goes. Selfish, coarse-fibred, loud-voiced—the sort +which thanks God he is a Briton—I suppose because +nobody else will do it for him.</p> + +<p>We live in times when patriotism is exalted +above all other virtues, because there happen to +lie before the patriotic tremendous chances for +the display of courage and self-sacrifice. Patriotism +ever has that advantage, as the world is +now constituted; but patriotism and provincialism +are sisters under the skin, and they who can +only see bloom on the plumage of their own kind,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span> +who prefer the bad points of their countrymen to +the good points of foreigners, merely write themselves +down blind of an eye, and panderers to +herd feeling. America is advantaged in this +matter. She lives so far away from other nations +that she might well be excused for thinking herself +the only people in the world; but in the many +strains of blood which go to make up America +there is as yet a natural corrective to the narrower +kind of patriotism. America has vast +spaces and many varieties of type and climate, +and life to her is still a great adventure. Americans +have their own form of self-absorption, but +seem free as yet from the special competitive +self-centrement which has been forced on Britons +through long centuries by countless continental +rivalries and wars. Insularity was driven into +the very bones of our people by the generation-long +wars of Napoleon. A distinguished French +writer, André Chevrillon, whose book<a name="FNanchor_B_2" id="FNanchor_B_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_B_2" class="fnanchor">[B]</a> may be +commended to any one who wishes to understand +British peculiarities, used these words in a recent +letter: "You English are so strange to us French, +you are so utterly different from any other people +in the world." Yes! We are a lonely race. +Deep in our hearts, I think, we feel that only the +American people could ever really understand us.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> +And being extraordinarily self-conscious, perverse, +and proud, we do our best to hide from +Americans that we have any such feeling. It +would distress the average Briton to confess that +he wanted to be understood, had anything so +natural as a craving for fellowship or for being +liked. We are a weird people, though we seem +so commonplace. In looking at photographs of +British types among photographs of other European +nationalities, one is struck by something +which is in no other of those races—exactly as if +we had an extra skin; as if the British animal +had been tamed longer than the rest. And so he +has. His political, social, legal life was fixed long +before that of any other Western country. He +was old, though not mouldering, before the <i>Mayflower</i> +touched American shores and brought there +avatars, grave and civilised as ever founded nation. +There is something touching and terrifying +about our character, about the depth at which +it keeps its real yearnings, about the perversity +with which it disguises them, and its inability to +show its feelings. We are, deep down, under all +our lazy mentality, the most combative and competitive +race in the world, with the exception, +perhaps, of the American. This is at once a +spiritual link with America, and yet one of the +great barriers to friendship between the two<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> +peoples. We are not sure whether we are better +men than Americans. Whether we are really better +than French, Germans, Russians, Italians, +Chinese, or any other race is, of course, more +than a question; but those peoples are all so different +from us that we are bound, I suppose, +secretly to consider ourselves superior. But between +Americans and ourselves, under all differences, +there is some mysterious deep kinship +which causes us to doubt and makes us irritable, +as if we were continually being tickled by that +question: Now am I really a better man than he? +Exactly what proportion of American blood at +this time of day is British, I know not; but enough +to make us definitely cousins—always an awkward +relationship. We see in Americans a sort +of image of ourselves; feel near enough, yet far +enough, to criticise and carp at the points of +difference. It is as though a man went out and +encountered, in the street, what he thought for +the moment was himself, and, wounded in his +<i>amour propre</i>, instantly began to disparage the +appearance of that fellow. Probably community +of language rather than of blood accounts for our +sense of kinship, for a common means of expression +cannot but mould thought and feeling into +some kind of unity. One can hardly overrate +the intimacy which a common literature brings.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> +The lives of great Americans, Washington and +Franklin, Lincoln and Lee and Grant, are unsealed +for us, just as to Americans are the lives of +Marlborough and Nelson, Pitt and Gladstone +and Gordon. Longfellow and Whittier and Whitman +can be read by the British child as simply +as Burns and Shelley and Keats. Emerson and +William James are no more difficult to us than +Darwin and Spencer to Americans. Without an +effort we rejoice in Hawthorne and Mark Twain, +Henry James and Howells, as Americans can in +Dickens and Thackeray, Meredith and Thomas +Hardy. And, more than all, Americans own with +ourselves all literature in the English tongue +before the <i>Mayflower</i> sailed; Chaucer and Spenser +and Shakespeare, Raleigh, Ben Jonson, and the +authors of the English Bible Version are their +spiritual ancestors as much as ever they are ours. +The tie of language is all-powerful—for language +is the food formative of minds. A volume could +be written on the formation of character by literary +humour alone. The American and Briton, +especially the British townsman, have a kind of +bone-deep defiance of Fate, a readiness for anything +which may turn up, a dry, wry smile under +the blackest sky, and an individual way of looking +at things which nothing can shake. Americans +and Britons both, we must and will think<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> +for ourselves, and know why we do a thing before +we do it. We have that ingrained respect for the +individual conscience which is at the bottom of +all free institutions. Some years before the war +an intelligent and cultivated Austrian, who had +lived long in England, was asked for his opinion +of the British. "In many ways," he said, "I +think you are inferior to us; but one great thing I +have noticed about you which we have not. +You think and act and speak for yourselves." If +he had passed those years in America instead of +in England he must needs have pronounced the +same judgment of Americans. Free speech, of +course, like every form of freedom, goes in danger +of its life in war-time. The other day, in +Russia, an Englishman came on a street meeting +shortly after the first revolution had begun. An +extremist was addressing the gathering and telling +them that they were fools to go on fighting, +that they ought to refuse and go home, and so +forth. The crowd grew angry, and some soldiers +were for making a rush at him; but the chairman, +a big, burly peasant, stopped them with these +words: "Brothers, you know that our country is +now a country of free speech. We must listen +to this man, we must let him say anything he +will. But, brothers, when he's finished, we'll +bash his head in!"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> +I cannot assert that either Britons or Americans +are incapable in times like these of a similar +interpretation of "free speech." Things have +been done in our country, and will be done in +America, which should make us blush. But so +strong is the free instinct in both countries that +some vestiges of it will survive even this war, for +democracy is a sham unless it means the preservation +and development of this instinct of thinking +for oneself throughout a people. "Government +of the people by the people for the people" +means nothing unless individuals keep their +consciences unfettered and think freely. Accustom +people to be nose-led and spoon-fed, and +democracy is a mere pretence. The measure of +democracy is the measure of the freedom and +sense of individual responsibility in its humblest +citizens. And democracy—I say it with solemnity—has +yet to prove itself.</p> + +<p>A scientist, Dr. Spurrell, in a recent book, +"Man and his Forerunners," diagnoses the growth +of civilisations somewhat as follows: A civilisation +begins with the enslavement by some hardy race +of a tame race living a tame life in more congenial +natural surroundings. It is built up on slavery, +and attains its maximum vitality in conditions +little removed therefrom. Then, as individual +freedom gradually grows, disorganisation sets in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> +and the civilisation slowly dissolves away in +anarchy. Dr. Spurrell does not dogmatise about +our present civilisation, but suggests that it will +probably follow the civilisations of the past into +dissolution. I am not convinced of that, because +of certain factors new to the history of man. +Recent discoveries are unifying the world; such +old isolated swoops of race on race are not now +possible. In our great industrial States, it is +true, a new form of slavery has arisen, but not +of man by man, rather of man by machines. +Moreover, all past civilisations have been more +or less Southern, and subject to the sapping influence +of the sun. Modern civilisation is essentially +Northern. The individualism, however, +which, according to Dr. Spurrell, dissolved the +Empires of the past, exists already, in a marked +degree, in every modern State; and the problem +before us is to discover how democracy and liberty +of the subject can be made into enduring props +rather than dissolvents. It is the problem of +making democracy genuine. And certainly, if +that cannot be achieved and perpetuated, there is +nothing to prevent democracy drifting into anarchism +and dissolving modern States, till they are +the prey of pouncing dictators, or of States not +so far gone in dissolution. What, for instance, +will happen to Russia if she does not succeed in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> +making her democracy genuine? A Russia which +remains anarchic must very quickly become the +prey of her neighbours on West and East.</p> + +<p>Ever since the substantial introduction of democracy +nearly a century and a half ago with +the American War of Independence, Western civilisation +has been living on two planes or levels—the +autocratic plane, with which is bound up the +idea of nationalism, and the democratic, to which +has become conjoined the idea of internationalism. +Not only little wars, but great wars such as this, +come because of inequality in growth, dissimilarity +of political institutions between States; because +this State or that is basing its life on different +principles from its neighbours. The decentralisation, +delays, critical temper, and importance of +home affairs prevalent in democratic countries +make them at once slower, weaker, less apt to +strike, and less prepared to strike than countries +where bureaucratic brains subject to no real +popular check devise world policies which can be +thrust, prepared to the last button, on the world +at a moment's notice. The free and critical +spirit in America, France, and Britain has kept +our democracies comparatively unprepared for +anything save their own affairs.</p> + +<p>We fall into glib usage of words like democracy +and make fetiches of them without due understanding.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> +Democracy is inferior to autocracy +from the aggressively national point of view; it +is not necessarily superior to autocracy as a guarantee +of general well-being; it may even turn out +to be inferior unless we can improve it. But +democracy is the rising tide; it may be dammed +or delayed, but cannot be stopped. It seems to +be a law in human nature that where, in any +corporate society, the idea of self-government sets +foot it refuses to take that foot up again. State +after State, copying the American example, has +adopted the democratic principle; the world's face +is that way set. And civilisation is now so of a +pattern that the Western world may be looked on +as one State and the process of change therein +from autocracy to democracy regarded as though +it were taking place in a single old-time country +such as Greece or Rome. If throughout Western +civilisation we can secure the single democratic +principle of government, its single level of State +morality in thought and action, we shall be well +on our way to unanimity throughout the world; +for even in China and Japan the democratic virus +is at work. It is my belief that only in a world +thus uniform, and freed from the danger of pounce +by autocracies, have States any chance to develop +the individual conscience to a point which shall +make democracy proof against anarchy and themselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> +proof against dissolution; and only in such +a world can a League of Nations to enforce peace +succeed.</p> + +<p>But even if we do secure a single plane for +Western civilisation and ultimately for the world, +there will be but slow and difficult progress in the +lot of mankind. And unless we secure it, there +will be only a march backwards.</p> + +<p>For this advance to a uniform civilisation the +solidarity of the English-speaking races is vital. +Without that there will be no bottom on which +to build.</p> + +<p>The ancestors of the American people sought a +new country because they had in them a reverence +for the individual conscience; they came +from Britain, the first large State in the Christian +era to build up the idea of political freedom. The +instincts and ideals of our two races have ever +been the same. That great and lovable people, +the French, with their clear thought and expression, +and their quick blood, have expressed those +ideals more vividly than either of us. But the +phlegmatic and the dry tenacity of our English +and American temperaments has ever made our +countries the most settled and safe homes of the +individual conscience, and of its children—Democracy, +Freedom and Internationalism. Whatever +their faults—and their offences cry aloud to such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> +poor heaven as remains of chivalry and mercy—the +Germans are in many ways a great race, but +they possess two qualities dangerous to the individual +conscience—unquestioning obedience and +exaltation. When they embrace the democratic +idea they may surpass us all in its logical development, +but the individual conscience will still not +be at ease with them. We must look to our two +countries to guarantee its strength and activity, +and if we English-speaking races quarrel and become +disunited, civilisation will split up again +and go its way to ruin. We are the ballast of +the new order.</p> + +<p>I do not believe in formal alliances or in grouping +nations to exclude and keep down other nations. +Friendships between countries should have +the only true reality of common sentiment, <i>and +be animated by desire for the general welfare of +mankind</i>. We need no formal bonds, but we +have a sacred charge in common, to let no petty +matters, differences of manner, or divergencies of +material interest, destroy our spiritual agreement. +Our pasts, our geographical positions, our temperaments +make us, beyond all other races, the +hope and trustees of mankind's advance along +the only line now open—democratic internationalism. +It is childish to claim for Americans or +Britons virtues beyond those of other nations, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> +to believe in the superiority of one national culture +to another; they are different, that is all. +It is by accident that we find ourselves in this +position of guardianship to the main line of human +development; no need to pat ourselves on the +back about it. But we are at a great and critical +moment in the world's history—how critical +none of us alive will ever realise. The civilisation +slowly built since the fall of Rome has either to +break up and dissolve into jagged and isolated +fragments through a century of wars; or, unified +and reanimated by a single idea, to move forward +on one plane and attain greater height and breadth.</p> + +<p>Under the pressure of this war there is, beneath +the lip-service we pay to democracy, a disposition +to lose faith in it because of its undoubted weakness +and inconvenience in a struggle with States +autocratically governed; there is even a sort of +secret reaction to autocracy. On those lines there +is no way out of a future of bitter rivalries, chicanery +and wars, and the probable total failure +of our civilisation. The only cure which I can +see lies in democratising the whole world and +removing the present weaknesses and shams of +democracy by education of the individual conscience +in every country. Good-bye to that +chance if Americans and Britons fall foul of each +other, refuse to pool their thoughts and hopes,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> +and to keep the general welfare of mankind in +view. They have got to stand together, not in +aggressive and jealous policies, but in defence and +championship of the self-helpful, self-governing, +"live and let live" philosophy of life.</p> + +<p>The house of the future is always dark. There +are few corner-stones to be discerned in the temple +of our fate. But of these few one is the +brotherhood and bond of the English-speaking +races, not for narrow purposes, but that mankind +may yet see faith and good-will enshrined, +yet breathe a sweeter air, and know a life where +Beauty passes, with the sun on her wings.</p> + +<p>We want in the lives of men a "Song of Honour," +as in Ralph Hodgson's poem:</p> + +<div class="poem"><div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">"The song of men all sorts and kinds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As many tempers, moods and minds<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As leaves are on a tree,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As many faiths and castes and creeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i0">As many human bloods and breeds,<br /></span> +<span class="i2">As in the world may be."<br /></span> +</div></div> + +<p>In the making of that song the English-speaking +races will assuredly unite. What made this +world we know not; the principle of life is inscrutable +and will for ever be; but we know that Earth +is yet on the up-grade of existence, the mountain-top +of man's life not reached, that many centuries<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> +of growth are yet in front of us before Nature +begins to chill this planet till it swims, at last, +another moon, in space. In the climb to that +mountain-top of a happy life for mankind our +two great nations are as guides who go before, +roped together in perilous ascent. On their +nerve, loyalty, and wisdom the adventure now +hangs. What American or British knife will +sever the rope?</p> + +<p>He who ever gives a thought to the life of man +at large, to his miseries and disappointments, to +the waste and cruelty of existence, will remember +that if American or Briton fail himself, or fail the +other, there can but be for us both, and for all +other peoples, a hideous slip, a swift and fearful +fall into an abyss, whence all shall be to begin +over again.</p> + +<p>We shall not fail—neither ourselves, nor each +other. Our comradeship will endure.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">1917.</span> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span></p> +<h2>ANGLO-AMERICAN DRAMA AND ITS<br /> +FUTURE<a name="FNanchor_C_3" id="FNanchor_C_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_C_3" class="fnanchor">[C]</a></h2> + +<p>There is a maxim particularly suitable to those +who follow any art: "Don't talk about what you +do!" And yet, once in a way, one must clear the +mind and put into words what lies at the back +of endeavour.</p> + +<p>What, then, is lying at the back of any growth +or development there may have been of late in +drama?</p> + +<p>In my belief, simply an outcrop of sincerity—of +fidelity to mood, to impression, to self. A +man here and there has turned up who has +imagined something true to what he has really +seen and felt, and has projected it across the foot-lights +in such a way as to make other people feel +it. This is all that has happened lately on our +stage. And if it be growth, it will not be growth +in quantity, since there is nothing like sincerity +for closing the doors of theatres. For, just consider +what sincerity excludes: All care for balance +at the author's bank—even when there is no balance; +all habit of consulting the expression on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> +the public's face; all confectioning of French +plays; all the convenient practice of adding up +your plots on the principle that two and two +make five. These it excludes. It includes: Nothing +because it pays; nothing because it will make +a sensation; no situations faked; no characters +falsified; no fireworks; only something imagined +and put down in a passion of sincerity. What +plays, you may say, are left? Well, that was +the development in our drama before this war +began. The war arrested it, as it arrested every +movement of the day in civil life. But whether +in war or peace, the principles which underlie art +remain the same and are always worth consideration.</p> + +<p>Sincerity in the theatre and commercial success +are not necessarily, but they are generally, opposed. +It is more or less a happy accident when, +they coincide. This grim truth cannot be blinked. +Not till the heavens fall will the majority of the +public demand sincerity. And all that they who +care for sincerity can hope for is that the supply +of sincere drama will gradually increase the demand +for it—gradually lessen the majority which +has no use for that disturbing quality. The burden +of this struggle is on the shoulders of the +dramatists. It is useless and unworthy for them +to complain that the public will not stand sincerity,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> +that they cannot get sincere plays acted, +and so forth. If they have not the backbone to +produce what they feel they ought to produce, +without regard to what the public wants, then +good-bye to progress of any kind. If they are of +the crew who cannot see any good in a fight unless +they know it is going to end in victory; if +they expect the millennium with every spring—they +will advance nothing. Their job is to set +their teeth, do their work in their own way, without +thinking much about result, and not at all +about reward, except from their own consciences. +Those who want sincerity will always be the few, +but they may well be more numerous than now; +and to increase their number is worth a struggle. +That struggle was the much-sneered-at, much-talked-of +so-called "new" movement in our British +drama.</p> + +<p>Now it was the fashion to dub this new drama +the "serious" drama; the label was unfortunate, +and not particularly true. If Rabelais or Robert +Burns appeared again in mortal form and took +to writing plays, they would be "new" dramatists +with a vengeance—as new as ever Ibsen was, and +assuredly they would be sincere. But could they +well be called "serious"? Can we call Synge, +or St. John Hankin, or Shaw, or Barrie serious? +Hardly! Yet they are all of this new movement<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span> +in their very different ways, because they are +sincere. The word "serious," in fact, has too +narrow a significance and admits a deal of pompous stuff +which is not sincere. While the word +"sincere" certainly does not characterise all that +is popularly included under the term "new +drama," it as certainly does characterise (if taken +in its true sense of fidelity to self) all that is really +new in it, and excludes no mood, no temperament, +no form of expression which can pass the test of +ringing true. Look, for example, at the work of +those two whom we could so ill spare—Synge +and St. John Hankin. They were as far apart as +dramatists well could be, except that each had +found a special medium—the one a kind of lyric +satire, the other a neat, individual sort of comedy—which +seemed exactly to express his spirit. +Both forms were in a sense artificial, but both +were quite sincere; for through them each of +these two dramatists, so utterly dissimilar, shaped +forth the essence of his broodings and visions of +life, with all their flavour and individual limitations. +And that is all one means by—all one +asks of—sincerity.</p> + +<p>Then why make such a fuss about it?</p> + +<p>Because it is rare, and an implicit quality of +any true work of art, realistic or romantic.</p> + +<p>Art is not art unless it is made out of an artist's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> +genuine feeling and vision, not out of what he has +been told he ought to feel and see. For art exists +not to confirm people in their tastes and prejudices, +not to show them what they have seen +before, but to present them with a new vision of +life. And if drama be an art (which the great +public denies daily, but a few of us still believe), +it must reasonably be expected to present life as +each dramatist sees it, and not to express things +because they pander to popular prejudice, or are +sensational, or because they pay.</p> + +<p>If you want further evidence that the new dramatic +movement is marked out by its struggle +for sincerity, and by that alone, examine a little +the various half-overt oppositions with which it +meets.</p> + +<p>Why is the commercial manager against it?</p> + +<p>Because it is quite naturally his business to +cater for the great public; and, as before said, the +majority of the public does not, never will, want +sincerity; it is too disturbing. The commercial +manager will answer: "The great public does not +dislike sincerity, it only dislikes dullness." Well! +Dullness is not an absolute, but a very relative +term—a term likely to have a different meaning +for a man who knows something about life and +art from that which it has for a man who knows +less. And one may remark that if the great public's<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span> +standard of what is really "amusing" is the +true one, it is queer that the plays which tickle +the great public hardly ever last a decade, while +the plays which do not tickle them occasionally +last for centuries. The "dullest" plays, one +might say roughly, are those which last the longest. +Witness Euripides!</p> + +<p>Why are so many actor-managers against the +new drama?</p> + +<p>Because their hearts are quite naturally set on +such insincere distortions of values as are necessary +to a constant succession of "big parts" for +themselves. Sincerity does not necessarily exclude +heroic characters, but it does exclude those +mock heroics which actor-managers have been +known to prefer—not to real heroics, perhaps, +but to simple and sound studies of character.</p> + +<p>Why is the Censorship against it?</p> + +<p>Because censorship is quite naturally the guardian +of the ordinary prejudices of sentiment and +taste, and quaintly innocent of knowledge that +in any art fidelity of treatment is essential to a +theme. Indeed, I am sure that this peculiar +office would regard it as fantastic for a poor devil +of an artist to want to be faithful or sincere. The +demand would appear pedantic and extravagant.</p> + +<p>Some say that the critics are against the new +drama. That is not in the main true. The inclination<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> +of most critics is to welcome anything +with a flavour of its own; it would be odd indeed +if it were not so—they get so much of the other +food! They are, in general, friends to sincerity. +But the trouble with the critic is rather the fixed +idea. He has to print his opinion of an author's +work, while other men have only to think it; and +when it comes to receiving a fresh impression of +the same author, his already recorded words are +liable to act on him rather as the eyes of a snake +act on a rabbit. Indeed, it must be very awkward, +when you have definitely labelled an +author this, or that, to find from his next piece of +work that he is the other as well! The critic who +can make blank his soul of all that he has said +before may indeed exist—in Paradise!</p> + +<p>Why is the greater public against the new +drama?</p> + +<p>By the greater public I in no sense mean the +public who don't keep motor cars—the greater +public comes from the West-end as much as ever +it comes from the East-end. Its opposition to +the "new drama" is neither covert, doubtful, nor +conscious of itself. The greater public is like an +aged friend of mine, who, if you put into his +hands anything but Sherlock Holmes, or The +Waverley Novels, says: "Oh! that dreadful +book!" His taste is excellent, only he does feel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> +that an operation should be performed on all +dramatists and novelists by which they should +be rendered incapable of producing anything but +what my aged friend is used to. The greater +public, in fact, is either a too well-dined organism +which wishes to digest its dinner, or a too hard-worked +organism longing for a pleasant dream. I +sympathise with the greater public!...</p> + +<p>A friend once said to me: "Champagne has +killed the drama." It was half a truth. Champagne +is an excellent thing, and must not be disturbed. +Plays should not have anything in them +which can excite the mind. They should be of a +quality to just remove the fumes by eleven o'clock +and make ready the organism for those suppers +which were eaten before the war. Another friend +once said to me: "It is the rush and hurry and +strenuousness of modern life which is scotching +the drama." Again, it was half a truth. Why +should not the hard-worked man have his pleasant +dream, his detective story, his good laugh? +The pity is that sincere drama would often provide +as agreeable dreams for the hard-worked +man as some of those reveries in which he now +indulges, if only he would try it once or twice. +That is the trouble—to get him to give it a chance.</p> + +<p>The greater public will by preference take the +lowest article in art offered to it. An awkward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> +remark, and unfortunately true. But if a better +article be substituted, the greater public very +soon enjoys it every bit as much as the article +replaced, and so on—up to a point which we need +not fear we shall ever reach. Not that sincere +dramatists are consciously trying to supply the +public with a better article. A man could not +write anything sincere with the elevation of the +public as incentive. If he tried, he would be as +lost as ever were the Pharisees making broad their +phylacteries. He can only express himself sincerely +<i>by not considering the public at all</i>. People +often say that this is "cant," but it really isn't. +There does exist a type of mind which cannot express +itself in accordance with what it imagines is +required; can only express itself for itself, and +take the usually unpleasant consequences. This +is, indeed, but an elementary truth, which since +the beginning of the world has lain at the bottom +of all real artistic achievement. It is not cant to +say that the only things vital in drama, as in +every art, are achieved when the maker has fixed +his soul on the making of a thing which shall seem +fine to himself. It is the only standard; all the +others—success, money, even the pleasure and +benefit of other people—lead to confusion in the +artist's spirit, and to the making of dust castles. +To please your best self is the only way of being<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> +sincere. Most weavers of drama, of course, are +perfectly sincere when they start out to ply their +shuttles; but how many persevere in that mood +to the end of their plays, in defiance of outside +consideration? Here—says one to himself—it +will be too strong meat; there it will not be sufficiently +convincing; this natural length will be too +short, that end too appalling; in such and such a +shape I shall never get my play taken; I must +write that part up and tone this character down. +And when it is all done, effectively, falsely—what +is there? A prodigious run, perhaps. But—the +grave of all which makes the life of an artist worth +the living. Well! well! We who believe this +will never get too many others to believe it! +Those heavens will not fall; theatre doors will +remain open; the heavy diners will digest, and the +over-driven man will dream. And yet, with each +sincere thing made—even if only fit for reposing +within a drawer—its maker is stronger, and will +some day, perhaps, make that which need not +lie covered away, but reach out from him to other +men.</p> + +<p>It is a wide word—sincerity. "A Midsummer +Night's Dream" is no less sincere than "Hamlet," +"The Mikado" as faithful to its mood of satiric +frolicking as Ibsen's "Ghosts" to its mood of +moral horror. Sincerity bars out no themes; it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span> +only demands that the dramatist's moods and +visions should be intense enough to keep him +absorbed; that he should have something to say +so engrossing to himself that he has no need to +stray here and there and gather purple plums to +eke out what was intended to be an apple tart. +Here is the heart of the matter: You cannot get +sincere drama out of those who do not see and +feel with sufficient fervour; and you cannot get +good sincere drama out of those who will not hoe +their rows to the very end. There is no faking +and no scamping to the good in art. You may +turn out the machine-made article very natty, +but for the real hand-made thing you must have +toiled in the sweat of your brow. In Britain it is +a little difficult to persuade people that the writing +of plays and novels is work. To many it +remains one of those inventions of a certain potentate +for idle hands to do. To some persons in +high life, and addicted to field sports, it is still a +species of licensed buffoonery, to be regulated by +a sort of circus-master with a whip in one hand +and a gingerbread nut in the other. By the truly +simple soul it is thus summed up: "Work! Why, +'e sits writin' all day." To some, both green and +young, it shines as a vocation entirely glorious +and exhilarating. If one may humbly believe the +evidence of his own senses, it is not any of these,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> +but a patient calling, glamorous now and then, +but with fifty minutes of hard labour and yearning +to every ten of satisfaction. Not a pursuit, +maybe, which one would change, but then, what +man with a profession flies to others that he knows +not of?</p> + +<p>Novelists, it is true, even if they have not been +taken too seriously by the people of these islands, +have for a long time past respected themselves, +but the calling of a dramatist till quite of late has +been but an invertebrate and spiritless concern. +Pruned and prismed by the censor, exploited by +the actor, dragooned and slashed by the manager, +ignored by the public, who never even bothered +to inquire the names of those who supplied it +with digestives—it was a slave's job. Thanks to +a little sincerity it is not now a slave's job, and +will not again, I think, become one.</p> + +<p>From time to time in that vehicle of improvisation, +that modern fairy tale—our daily paper—we +read words such as these: "What has become +of the boasted renascence of our stage?" or: "So +much for all the trumpeting about the new +drama!" When we come across such words, we +remember that it is only natural for journals to +say to-day the opposite of what they said yesterday. +For they have to suit all tastes and preserve +a decent equilibrium!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> +There is a new safeguard of the self-respecting +dramatist which no amount of improvising for or +against will explain away. Plays are now not +merely acted, they are published and read, and +will be read more and more. This does not mean, +as some say, that they are being written for the +study—they were never being written more deliberately, +more carefully, for the stage. It does +mean that they are tending more and more to +comply with fidelity to theme, fidelity to self; and +therefore are more and more able to bear the +scrutiny of cold daylight. And for the first time, +perhaps, since the days of Shakespeare there are +dramatists in this country, not a few, faithful to +themselves.</p> + +<p>Now, all this is not merely fortuitous. For, +however abhorrent such a notion may be to those +yet wedded to Victorian ideals, we were, even +before the war, undoubtedly passing through great +changes in our philosophy of life. Just as a plant +keeps on conforming to its environment, so our +beliefs and ideals are conforming to our new +social conditions and discoveries. There is in the +air a revolt against prejudice, and a feeling that +things must be re-tested. The spirit which, dwelling +in pleasant places, would never re-test anything +is now looked on askance. Even on our +stage we are not enamoured of it. It is not the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span> +artist's business (be he dramatist or other) to +preach. Admitted! His business is to portray; +but portray truly he cannot if he has any of that +glib doctrinaire spirit, devoid of the insight which +comes from instinctive sympathy. He must look +at <i>life</i>, not at a mirage of life compounded of +authority, tradition, comfort, habit. The sincere +artist, by the very nature of him, is bound to be +curious and perceptive, with an instinctive craving +to identify himself with the experience of +others. This is his value, whether he express it +in comedy, epic, satire, or tragedy. Sincerity +distrusts tradition, authority, comfort, habit; cannot +breathe the air of prejudice, and cannot stand +the cruelties which arise from it. So it comes +about that the new drama's spirit is essentially, +inevitably human and—humane, essentially distasteful +to many professing followers of the Great +Humanitarian, who, if they were but sincere, +would see that they secretly abhor His teachings +and in practice continually invert them.</p> + +<p>It is a fine age we live in—this age of a developing +social conscience, and worthy of a fine and +great art. But, though no art is fine unless it +has sincerity, no amount of sincere intention will +serve unless the expression of it be well-nigh perfect. +An author is judged, not by intention but +by achievement; and criticism is innately inclined<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> +to remark first on the peccadillo points of a person, +a poem, or a play. If there be a scar on the +forehead, a few false quantities, or weak endings, +if there is an absence in the third act of some one +who appeared in the first—it is always much simpler +to complain of this than to feel or describe +the essence of the whole. But this very pettiness +in our criticism is, fortunately, a sort of safeguard. +The French writer Buffon said: "<i>Bien +écrire, c'est tout; car bien écrire c'est bien sentir, +bien penser, et bien dire.</i>" ... Let the artist +then, by all means, make his work impeccable, +clothe his ideas, feelings, visions, in just such garments +as can withstand the winds of criticism. +He himself must be his cruellest critic. Before +cutting his cloth let him very carefully determine +the precise thickness, shape, and colour best suited +to the condition of his temperature. For there are +still playwrights who, working in the full blast of +an <i>affaire</i> between a poet and the wife of a stockbroker, +will murmur to themselves: "Now for +a little lyricism!" and drop into it. Or when +the strong, silent stockbroker has brought his wife +once more to heel: "Now for the moral!" and +gives it us. Or when things are getting a little +too intense: "Now for humour and variety!" and +bring in the curate. This kind of tartan kilt is +very pleasant on its native heath of London; but—hardly<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> +the garment of good writing. Good writing +is only the perfect clothing of mood—the just +right form. Shakespeare's form, you will say, was +extraordinarily loose, wide, plastic; but then his +spirit was ever changing its mood—a true chameleon. +And as to the form of Mr. Shaw—who was +once compared with Shakespeare—why! there is +none. And yet, what form could so perfectly express +Mr. Shaw's glorious crusade against stupidity, +his wonderfully sincere and lifelong mood of +sticking pins into a pig!</p> + +<p>We are told, <i>ad nauseam</i>, that the stage has +laws of its own, to which all dramatists must +bow. Quite true! The stage <i>has</i> the highly +technical laws of its physical conditions, which +cannot be neglected. But even when they are all +properly attended to, it is only behind the elbow +of one who feels strongly and tries to express sincerely +that right expression stands. The imaginative +mood, coming who knows when, staying +none too long, is a mistress who deserves, and +certainly expects, fidelity. True to her while she +is there, do not, when she is not there, insult her +by looking in every face and thinking it will serve! +These are laws of sincerity which not even a past-master +in the laws of the stage can afford to neglect. +Anything is better than resorting to moral +sentiments and solutions because they are current<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span> +coin, or to decoration because it is "the +thing." And—as to humour: though nothing is +more precious than the genuine topsy-turvy feeling, +nothing is more pitifully unhumorous than +the dragged-in epigram or dismal knockabout, +which has no connection with the persons or +philosophy of the play.</p> + +<p>I suppose it is easy to think oneself sincere; it +is certainly difficult to be that same. Imagine +the smile, and the blue pencil, of the Spirit of +Sincerity if we could appoint him Censor. I +would not lift my pen against that Censorship +though he excised—as perhaps he might—the +half of my work. Sometimes one has a glimpse +of his ironic face and his swift fingers, busy with +those darkening pages. Once I dreamed about +him. It was while a certain Commission was sitting +on the British Censorship, which still so admirably +guards Insincerity, and he was giving +evidence before them. This, I remember, was +what he said:</p> + +<p>"You wish to learn of me what is sincerity? +Look into yourselves, for what lies deepest within +you. Each living thing varies from every other +living thing, and never twice are there quite the +same set of premises from which to draw conclusion. +Give up asking of any but yourselves for +the whereabouts of truth; and if some one says<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span> +that he can tell you where it is, don't believe him; +he might as well lay a trail of sand and think it +will stay there for ever." He stopped, and I +could see him looking to judge what impression +he had made upon the Commission. But those +gentlemen behaved as if they had not heard him. +The Spirit of Sincerity coughed. "By Jove, gentlemen," +he said, "it's clear you don't care what +impression you make on me. Evidently it is for +me to learn sincerity from you!"</p> + +<p>There was once a gentleman, lately appointed +to assist in the control of the exuberance of plays, +who stated in public print that there had been +no plays of any value written since 1885, entirely +denying that this new drama was any better than +the old drama, cut to the pattern of Scribe and +Sardou. Certainly, novelty is not necessarily improvement. +Comparison must be left to history. +But it is just as well to remember that we +are not born connoisseurs of plays. Without +trying the new we shall not know if it is better +than the old. To appreciate even drama at its +true value, a man must be educated just a little. +When I first went to the National Gallery in London +I was struck dumb with love of Landseer's +stags and a Greuze damsel with her cheek glued +to her own shoulder, and became voluble from +admiration of the large Turner and the large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> +Claude hung together in that perpetual prize-fight! +At a second visit I discovered Sir Joshua's +"Countess of Albemarle" and old Crome's +"Mousehold Heath," and did not care quite so +much for Landseer's stags. And again and again +I went, and each time saw a little differently, a +little clearer, until at last my time was spent +before Titian's "Bacchus and Ariadne," Botticelli's +"Portrait of a Young Man," the Francescas, +Da Messina's little "Crucifixion," the Uccello +battle picture (that great test of education), the +Velasquez (?) "Admiral," Hogarth's "Five Servants," +and the immortal "Death of Procris." +Admiration for stags and maidens—where was +it?</p> + +<p>This analogy of pictures does not pretend that +our "new drama" is as far in front of the old as +the "Death of Procris" is in front of Landseer's +stags. Alas, no! It merely suggests that taste +is encouraged by an open mind, and is a matter +of gradual education.</p> + +<p>To every man his sincere opinion! But before +we form opinions, let us all walk a little through +our National Gallery of drama, with inquiring +eye and open mind, to see and know for ourselves. +For, <i>to know</i>, a man cannot begin too young, cannot +leave off too old. And always he must have +a mind which feels it will never know enough. In<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span> +this way alone he <i>will</i>, perhaps, know something +before he dies.</p> + +<p>And even if he require of the drama only buffoonery, +or a digestive for his dinner, why not be +able to discern good buffoonery from bad, and +the pure digestive from the drug?</p> + +<p>One is, I suppose, prejudiced in favour of this +"new drama" of sincerity, of these poor productions +of the last fifteen years, or so. It may be, +indeed, that many of them will perish and fade +away. But they are, at all events, the expression +of the sincere moods of men who ask no +more than to serve an art, which, heaven knows, +has need of a little serving.</p> + +<hr style="width: 45%;" /> + +<p>So much for the principles underlying the advance +of the drama. But what about the chances +of drama itself under the new conditions which +will obtain when the war ends?</p> + +<p>For the moment our world is still convulsed, +and art of every kind trails a lame foot before a +public whose eyes are fixed on the vast and bloody +stage of the war. When the last curtain falls, +and rises again on the scenery of Peace, shall we +have to revalue everything? Surely not the fundamental +truths; these reflections on the spirit +which underlie all true effort in dramatic art may +stand much as they were framed, now five years<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span> +ago. Fidelity to mood, to impression, to self will +remain what it was—the very kernel of good +dramatic art; whether that fidelity will find a +more or less favourable environment remains the +interesting speculation. When we come to after-war +conditions a sharp distinction will have to be +drawn between the chances of sincere drama in +America and Britain. It is my strong impression +that sincere dramatists in America are going to +have an easier time than they had before the war, +but that with us they are going to have a harder. +My reasons are threefold. The first and chief +reason is economic. However much America +may now have to spend, with her late arrival, +vaster resources, and incomparably greater recuperative +power, she will feel the economic +strain but little in comparison with Britain. +Britain, not at once, but certainly within five +years of the war's close, will find that she has +very much less money to spend on pleasure. +Now, under present conditions of education, +when the average man has little to spend on +pleasure, he spends it first in gratifying his coarser +tastes. And the average Briton is going to spend +his little on having his broad laughs and his crude +thrills. By the time he has gratified that side of +himself he will have no money left. Those artists +in Britain who respect æsthetic truths and practise<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> +sincerity will lose even the little support they +ever had from the great public there; they will +have to rely entirely on that small public which +always wanted truth and beauty, and will want +it even more passionately after the war. But +that little public will be poorer also, and, I think, +not more numerous than it was. The British +public is going to be split more definitely into two +camps—a very big and a very little camp. What +this will mean to the drama of sincerity only those +who have watched its struggle in the past will be +able to understand. The trouble in Britain—and +I daresay in every country—is that the percentage +of people who take art of any kind seriously +is ludicrously small. And our impoverishment +will surely make that percentage smaller +by cutting off the recruiting which was always +going on from the ranks of the great public. How +long it will take Britain to recover even pre-war +conditions I do not venture to suggest. But I +am pretty certain that there is no chance for a +drama of truth and beauty there for many years +to come, unless we can get it endowed in such a +substantial way as shall tide it over—say—the +next two decades. What we require is a London +theatre undeviatingly devoted to the production +of nothing but the real thing, which will go +its own way, year in, year out, quite without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> +regard to the great public; and we shall never get +it unless we can find some benevolent, public-spirited +person or persons who will place it in a +position of absolute security. If we could secure +this endowment, that theatre would become in a +very few years the most fashionable, if not the +most popular, in London, and even the great +public would go to it. Nor need such a theatre +be expensive—as theatres go—for it is to the +mind and not to the eye that it must appeal. +A sufficient audience is there ready; what is lacking +is the point of focus, a single-hearted and +coherent devotion to the best, and the means to +pursue that ideal without extravagance but without +halting. Alas! in England, though people +will endow or back almost anything else, they +will not endow or back an art theatre.</p> + +<p>So much for the economic difficulty in Britain; +what about America? The same cleavage obtains +in public taste, of course, but numbers are +so much larger, wealth will be so much greater, +the spirit is so much more inquiring, the divisions +so much less fast set, that I do not anticipate for +America any block on the line. There will still +be plenty of money to indulge every taste.</p> + +<p>Art, and especially, perhaps, dramatic art, +which of all is most dependent on a favourable +economic condition, will gravitate towards America,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> +which may well become in the next ten years +not only the mother, but the foster-mother, of +the best Anglo-Saxon drama.</p> + +<p>My next reason for thinking that sincerity in +art will have a better chance with Americans than +in Britain in the coming years is psychological. +They are so young a nation, we are so old; world-quakes +to them are such an adventure, to us a +nerve-racking, if not a health-shattering event. +They will take this war in their stride, we have +had to climb laboriously over it. They will be +left buoyant; we, with the rest of Europe, are +bound to lie for long years after in the trough of +disillusionment. The national mood with them +will be more than ever that of inquiry and exploit. +With us, unless I make a mistake, after a +spurt of hedonism—a going on the spree—there +will be lassitude. Every European country has +been overtried in this hideous struggle, and Nature, +with her principle of balance, is bound to +take redress. For Americans the war, nationally +speaking, will have been but a bracing of the +muscles and nerves, a clearing of the skin and +eyes. Such a mental and moral condition will +promote in them a deeper philosophy and a more +resolute facing of truth.</p> + +<p>And that brings me to my third reason. The +American outlook will be permanently enlarged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span> +by this tremendous experience. Materially and +spiritually she will have been forced to witness +and partake of the life, thought, culture, and +troubles of the old world. She will have, unconsciously, +assimilated much, been diverted from +the beer and skittles of her isolated development +in a great new country. Americans will find +themselves suddenly grown up. Not till a man +is grown up does he see and feel things deeply +enough to venture into the dark well of sincerity.</p> + +<p>America is an eager nation. She has always +been in a hurry. If I had to point out the capital +defect in the attractive temperament of the +American people, I should say it was a passion +for short cuts. That has been, in my indifferent +judgment, the very natural, the inevitable weakness +in America's spiritual development. The +material possibilities, the opportunities for growth +and change, the vast spaces, the climate, the +continual influxions of new blood and new habits, +the endless shifts of life and environment, all +these factors have been against that deep brooding +over things, that close and long scrutiny into +the deeper springs of life, out of which the sincerest +and most lasting forms of art emerge; nearly +all the conditions of American existence during +the last fifty years have been against the settled +life and atmosphere which influence men to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> +re-creation in art form of that which has sunk +deep into their souls. Those who have seen the +paintings of the Italian artist Segantini will understand +what I mean. There have been many +painters of mountains, but none whom I know of +save he who has reproduced the very spirit of +those great snowy spaces. He spent his life +among them till they soaked into his nerves, into +the very blood of him. All else he gave up, to +see and feel them so that he might reproduce +them in his art. Or let me take an instance from +America. That enchanting work of art "Tom +Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn," by the great +Mark Twain. What reproduction of atmosphere +and life; what scent of the river, and old-time +country life, it gives off! How the author must +have been soaked in it to have produced those +books!</p> + +<p>The whole tendency of our age has been away +from hand-made goods, away from the sort of +life which produced the great art of the past. +That is too big a subject to treat of here. But +certainly a sort of feverish impatience has possessed +us all, America not least. It may be said +that this will be increased by the war. I think +the opposite. Hard spiritual experience and contact +with the old world will deepen the American +character and cool its fevers, and Americans will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span> +be more thorough, less impatient, will give themselves +to art and to the sort of life which fosters +art, more than they have ever yet given themselves. +Great artists, like Whistler and Henry +James, will no longer seek their quiet environments +in Europe. I believe that this war will be +for America the beginning of a great art age; I +hope so with all my heart. For art will need a +kind home and a new lease of life.</p> + +<p>A certain humble and yet patient and enduring +belief in himself and his own vision is necessary +to the artist. I think that Americans have only +just begun to believe in themselves as artists, +but that this belief is now destined to grow +quickly. America has a tremendous atmosphere +of her own, a wonderful life, a wonderful country, +but so far she has been skating over its surface. +The time has come when she will strike down, +think less in terms of material success and machine-made +perfections. The time has come +when she will brood, and interpret more and +more the underlying truths, and body forth an +art which shall be a spiritual guide, shed light, +and show the meaning of her multiple existence. +It will reveal dark things, but also those quiet +heights to which man's spirit turns for rest and +faith in this bewildering maze of a world. And +to this art about to come—art inevitably moves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> +slowly—into its own, to American drama, poetry, +fiction, music, painting, sculpture—sincerity, an +unswerving fidelity to self, alone will bring the +dignity worthy of a great and free people.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">1913–1917.</span> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span></p> +<h2>SPECULATIONS<a name="FNanchor_D_4" id="FNanchor_D_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_D_4" class="fnanchor">[D]</a></h2> + +<p>"When we survey the world around, the wondrous +things which there abound"—especially +the developments of these last years—there must +come to some of us a doubt whether this civilisation +of ours is to have a future. Mr. Lowes Dickenson, +in an able book, "The Choice Before Us," +has outlined the alternate paths which the world +may tread after the war—"National Militarism" +or "International Pacifism." He has pointed out +with force the terrible dangers on the first of these +two paths, the ruinous strain and ultimate destruction +which a journey down it will inflict on +every nation. But, holding a brief for International +Pacifism, he was not, in that book, at all +events, concerned to point out the dangers which +beset Peace. When, in the words of President +Wilson, we have made the world safe for democracy, +it will be high time to set about making it +safe against civilisation itself.</p> + +<p>The first thing, naturally, is to ensure a good +long spell of peace. If we do not, we need not +trouble ourselves for a moment over the future +of civilisation—there will be none. But a long<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> +spell of peace is probable; for, though human +nature is never uniform, and never as one man +shall we get salvation; sheer exhaustion, and disgust +with its present bed-fellows—suffering, sacrifice, +and sudden death—will almost surely force +the world into international quietude. For the +first time in history organised justice, such as for +many centuries has ruled the relations between +individuals, may begin to rule those between +States, and free us from menace of war for a +period which may be almost indefinitely prolonged. +To perpetuate this great change in the +life of nations is very much an affair of getting +men used to that change; of setting up a Tribunal +which they can see and pin their faith to, which +works, and proves its utility, which they would +miss if it were dissolved. States are proverbially +cynical, but if an International Court of Justice, +backed by international force, made good in the +settlement of two or three serious disputes, allayed +two or three crises, it would with each success +gain prestige, be firmer and more difficult to +uproot, till it might at last become as much a +matter of course in the eyes of the cynical States +as our Law Courts are in the eyes of our enlightened +selves.</p> + +<p>Making, then, the large but by no means hopeless +assumption that such a change may come,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> +how is our present civilisation going to "pan +out"?</p> + +<p>In Samuel Butler's imagined country, "Erewhon," +the inhabitants had broken up all machinery, +abandoned the use of money, and lived +in a strange elysium of health and beauty. I +often wonder how, without something of the sort, +modern man is to be prevented from falling into +the trombone he blows so loudly, from being +destroyed by the very machines he has devised +for his benefit. The problem before modern man +is clearly that of becoming master, instead of +slave, of his own civilisation. The history of the +last hundred and fifty years, especially in England, +is surely one long story of ceaseless banquet +and acute indigestion. Certain Roman Emperors +are popularly supposed to have taken drastic +measures during their feasts to regain their appetites; +we have not their "slim" wisdom; we do +not mind going on eating when we have had too +much.</p> + +<p>I do not question the intentions of civilisation—they +are most honourable. To be clean, warm, +well nourished, healthy, decently leisured, and +free to move quickly about the world, are certainly +pure benefits. And these are presumably +the prime objects of our toil and ingenuity, the +ideals to be served, by the discovery of steam,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span> +electricity, modern industrial machinery, telephony, +flying. If we attained those ideals, and +stopped there—well and good. Alas! the amazing +mechanical conquests of the age have crowded +one on another so fast that we have never had +time to digest their effects. Each as it came we +hailed as an incalculable benefit to mankind, and +so it was, or would have been, if we had not the +appetites of cormorants and the digestive powers +of elderly gentlemen. Our civilisation reminds +one of the corpse in the Mark Twain story which, +at its own funeral, got up and rode with the +driver. It is watching itself being buried. We +discover, and scatter discovery broadcast among +a society uninstructed in the proper use of it. +Consider the town-ridden, parasitic condition of +Great Britain—<i>the country which cannot feed itself</i>. +If we are beaten in this war, it will be because we +have let our industrial system run away with us; +because we became so sunk in machines and +money-getting that we forgot our self-respect. +No self-respecting nation would have let its food-growing +capacity and its country life down to the +extent that we have. If we are beaten—which +God forbid—we shall deserve our fate. And why +did our industrial system get such a mad grip on +us? Because we did not master the riot of our +inventions and discoveries. Remember the spinning<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> +jenny—whence came the whole system of +Lancashire cotton factories which drained a +countryside of peasants and caused a deterioration +of physique from which as yet there has +been no recovery. Here was an invention which +was to effect a tremendous saving of labour and +be of sweeping benefit to mankind. Exploited +without knowledge, scruple, or humanity, it also +caused untold misery and grievous national harm. +Read, mark, and learn Mr. and Mrs. Hammond's +book, "The Town Labourer." The spinning +jenny and similar inventions have been the forces +which have dotted beautiful counties of England +with the blackest and most ill-looking towns in +the world, have changed the proportion of country- to +town-dwellers from about 3 as against 2 +in 1761 to 2 as against 7 in 1911; have strangled +our powers to feed ourselves, and so made us a +temptation to our enemies and a danger to the +whole world. We have made money by it; our +standard of wealth has gone up. I remember +having a long talk with a very old shepherd on +the South Downs, whose youth and early married +life were lived on eight shillings a week; and +he was no exception. Nowadays our agricultural +wage averages over thirty shillings, though it +buys but little more than the eight. Still, the +standard of wealth has superficially advanced, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> +that be any satisfaction. But have health, +beauty, happiness among the great bulk of the +population?</p> + +<p>Consider the mastery of the air. To what use +has it been put, so far? To practically none, +save the destruction of life. About five years +before the war some of us in England tried to +initiate an international movement to ban the +use of flying for military purposes. The effort +was entirely abortive. The fact is, man never +goes in front of events, always insists on disastrously +buying his experience. And I am inclined +to think we shall continue to advance backwards +unless we intern our inventors till we have learned +to run the inventions of the last century instead +of letting them run us. Counsels of perfection, +however, are never pursued. But what <i>can</i> we +do? We can try to ban certain outside dangers +internationally, such as submarines and air-craft, +in war; and, inside, we might establish a Board +of Scientific Control to ensure that no inventions +are exploited under conditions obviously harmful.</p> + +<p>Suppose, for instance, that the spinning jenny +had come before such a Board, one imagines they +might have said: "If you want to use this peculiar +novelty, you must first satisfy us that your +employees are going to work under conditions +favourable to health"—in other words, the Factory<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span> +Acts, Town Planning, and no Child Labour, +from the start. Or, when rubber was first introduced: +"You are bringing in this new and, we +dare say, quite useful article. We shall, however, +first send out and see the conditions under +which you obtain it." Having seen, they would +have added: "You will alter those conditions, and +treat your native labour humanely, or we will +ban your use of this article," to the grief and +anger of those periwig-pated persons who write +to the papers about grandmotherly legislation +and sickly sentimentalism.</p> + +<p>Seriously, the history of modern civilisation +shows that, while we can only trust individualism +to make discoveries, we cannot at all trust it to +apply discovery without some sort of State check +in the interests of health, beauty, and happiness. +Officialdom is on all our nerves. But this is a +very vital matter, and the suggestion of a Board +of Scientific Control is not so fantastic as it seems. +Certain results of inventions and discoveries cannot, +of course, be foreseen, but able and impartial +brains could foresee a good many and save +mankind from the most rampant results of raw +and unconsidered exploitation. The public is a +child; and the child who suddenly discovers that +there is such a thing as candy, if left alone, can +only be relied on to make itself sick.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> +Let us stray for a frivolous moment into the +realms of art, since the word art is claimed for +what we know as the "film." This discovery +went as it pleased for a few years in the hands of +inventors and commercial agents. In these few +years such a raging taste for cowboy, crime, and +Chaplin films has been developed, that a Commission +which has just been sitting on the matter +finds that the public will not put up with more +than a ten per cent. proportion of educational +film in the course of an evening's entertainment. +Now, the film as a means of transcribing actual +life is admittedly of absorbing interest and great +educational value; but, owing to this false start, +we cannot get it swallowed in more than extremely +small doses as a food and stimulant, +while it is being gulped down to the dregs as a +drug or irritant. Of the film's claim to the word +art I am frankly sceptical. My mind is open—and +when one says that, one generally means it +is shut. But art is long: the Cro-Magnon men +of Europe decorated the walls of their caves quite +beautifully, some say twenty-five, some say seventy, +thousand years ago; so it may well require a +generation to tell us what is art and what is not +among the new experiments continually being +made. Still, the film is a restless thing, and I +cannot think of any form of art, as hitherto we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> +have understood the word, to which that description +could be applied, unless it be those Wagner +operas which I have disliked not merely since the +war began, but from childhood up. During the +filming of the play "Justice" I attended at rehearsal +to see Mr. Gerald du Maurier play the +cell scene. Since in that scene there is not a +word spoken in the play itself, there is no difference +in <i>kind</i> between the appeal of play or film. +But the live rehearsal for the filming was at least +twice as affecting as the dead result of that +rehearsal on the screen. The film, of course, is +in its first youth, but I see no signs as yet that it +will ever overcome the handicap of its physical +conditions, and attain the real emotionalising +powers of art. The film sweeps up into itself, of +course, a far wider surface of life in a far shorter +space of time; but the medium is flat, has no +blood in it; and experience tells one that no +amount of surface and quantity in art ever make +up for lack of depth and quality. Who would +not cheerfully give the Albert Memorial for a +little figure by Donatello! Since, however, the +film takes the line of least resistance, and makes a +rapid, lazy, superficial appeal, it may very well +oust the drama. And, to my thinking, of course, +that will be all to the bad, and intensely characteristic +of machine-made civilisation, whose motto<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> +seems to be: "Down with Shakespeare and Euripides—up +with the Movies!" The film is a very +good illustration of the whole tendency of modern +life under the too-rapid development of machines; +roughly speaking, we seem to be turning +up yearly more and more ground to less and less +depth. We are getting to know life as superficially +as the Egyptian interpreter knew language, +who, [as we read in the <i>Manchester Guardian</i>,] +when the authorities complained that he was +overstaying his leave, wrote back: "My absence +is impossible. Some one has removed my wife. +My God, I am annoyed."</p> + +<p>There is an expression—"high-brow"—maybe +complimentary in origin, but become in some +sort a term of contempt. A doubter of our general +divinity is labelled "high-brow" at once, and +his doubts drop like water off the public's back. +Any one who questions our triumphant progress +is tabooed for a pedant. That will not alter the +fact, I fear, that we are growing feverish, rushed, +and complicated, and have multiplied conveniences +to such an extent that we do nothing with +them but scrape the surface of life. We were +rattling into a new species of barbarism when +the war came, and unless we take a pull, shall +continue to rattle after it is over. The underlying +cause in every country is the increase of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> +herd-life, based on machines, money-getting, and +the dread of being dull. Every one knows how +fearfully strong that dread is. But to be capable +of being dull is in itself a disease.</p> + +<p>And most of modern life seems to be a process +of creating disease, then finding a remedy which +in its turn creates another disease, demanding +fresh remedy, and so on. We pride ourselves, +for example, on scientific sanitation; well, what is +scientific sanitation if not one huge palliative of +evils, which have arisen from herd-life, enabling +herd-life to be intensified, so that we shall presently +need even more scientific sanitation? The +old shepherd on the South Downs had never come +in contact with it, yet he was very old, very +healthy, hardy, and contented. He had a sort +of simple dignity, too, that we have most of us +lost. The true elixirs <i>vitæ</i>—for there be two, I +think—are open-air life and a proud pleasure in +one's work; we have evolved a mode of existence +in which it is comparatively rare to find these two +conjoined. In old countries, such as Britain, the +evils of herd-life are at present vastly more acute +than in a new country such as America. On the +other hand, the further one is from hell the faster +one drives towards it, and machines are beginning +to run along with America even more violently +than with Europe.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> +When our Tanks first appeared they were described +as snouting monsters creeping at their +own sweet will. I confess that this is how my +inflamed eye sees all our modern machines—monsters +running on their own, dragging us along, +and very often squashing us.</p> + +<p>We are, I believe, awakening to the dangers of +this "Gadarening," this rushing down the high +cliff into the sea, possessed and pursued by the +devils of—machinery. But if any man would +see how little alarmed he really is—let him ask +himself how much of his present mode of existence +he is prepared to alter. Altering the modes +of other people is delightful; one would have +great hope of the future if we had nothing before +us but that. The medieval Irishman, in Froude, +indicted for burning down the cathedral at +Armagh, together with the Archbishop, defended +himself thus: "As for the cathedral, 'tis true I +burned it; but indeed an' I wouldn't have, only +they told me himself was inside." We are all +ready to alter our opponents, if not to burn them. +But even if we were as ardent reformers as that +Irishman we could hardly force men to live in +the open, or take a proud pleasure in their work, +or enjoy beauty, or not concentrate themselves +on making money. No amount of legislation +will make us "lilies of the field" or "birds of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span> +air," or prevent us from worshipping false gods, +or neglecting to reform ourselves.</p> + +<p>I once wrote the unpopular sentence, "Democracy +at present offers the spectacle of a man running +down a road followed at a more and more +respectful distance by his own soul." I am a +democrat, or I should never have dared. For +democracy, substitute "Modern Civilisation," +which prides itself on redress after the event, +agility in getting out of the holes into which it +has snouted, and eagerness to snout into fresh +ones. It foresees nothing, and avoids less. It is +purely empirical, if one may use such a "high-brow" +word.</p> + +<p>Politics are popularly supposed to govern the +direction, and statesmen to be the guardian +angels, of Civilisation. It seems to me that they +have little or no power over its growth. They +are of it, and move with it. Their concern is +rather with the body than with the mind or soul +of a nation. One needs not to be an engineer to +know that to pull a man up a wall one must be +higher than he; that to raise general taste one +must have better taste than that of those whose +taste he is raising.</p> + +<p>Now, to my indifferent mind, education in the +large sense—not politics at all—is the only agent +really capable of improving the trend of civilisation,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> +the only lever we can use. Believing this, +I think it a thousand pities that neither Britain +nor America, nor, so far as I know, any other +country, has as yet evolved machinery through +which there might be elected a supreme Director, +or, say, a little Board of three Directors, of the +nation's spirit, an Educational President, as it +were, with power over the nation's spirit analogous +to that which America's elected political President +has over America's body. Our Minister of +Education is as a rule an ordinary Member of the +Government, an ordinary man of affairs—though +at the moment an angel happens to have strayed +in. Why cannot education be regarded, like +religion in the past, as something sacred, not +merely a department of political administration? +Ought we not for this most vital business of education +to be ever on the watch for the highest +mind and the finest spirit of the day to guide us? +To secure the appointment of such a man, or +triumvirate, by democratic means, would need a +special sifting process of election, which could +never be too close and careful. One might use +for the purpose the actual body of teachers in +the country to elect delegates to select a jury to +choose finally the flower of the national flock. +It would be worth any amount of trouble to +ensure that we always had the best man or men.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> +And when we had them we should give them a +mandate as real and substantial as America now +gives to her political President. We should intend +them not for mere lay administrators and +continuers of custom, but for true fountain-heads +and initiators of higher ideals of conduct, learning, +manners, and taste; nor stint them of the +means necessary to carry those ideals into effect. +Hitherto, the supposed direction of ideals—in +practice almost none—has been left to religion. +But religion as a motive force is at once too personal, +too lacking in unanimity, and too specialised +to control the educational needs of a modern +State; religion, as I understand it, is essentially +emotional and individual; when it becomes practical +and worldly it strays outside its true province +and loses beneficence. Education as I want +to see it would take over the control of social +ethics, and learning, but make no attempt to +usurp the emotional functions of religion. Let +me give you an example: Those elixirs <i>vitæ</i>—open-air +life and a proud pleasure in one's work—imagine +those two principles drummed into the +heads and hearts of all the little scholars of the +age, by men and women who had been taught to +believe them the truth. Would this not gradually +have an incalculable effect on the trend of +our civilisation? Would it not tend to create a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> +demand for a simple and sane life; help to get us +back to the land; produce reluctance to work at +jobs in which no one can feel pride and pleasure, +and so diminish the power of machines and of +commercial exploitation? But teachers could +only be inspired with such ideals by master spirits. +And my plea is that we should give ourselves the +chance of electing and making use of such master +spirits. We all know from everyday life and +business that the real, the only problem is to get +the best men to run the show; when we get them +the show runs well, when we don't there is nothing +left but to pay the devil. The chief defect +of modern civilisation based on democracy is the +difficulty of getting best men quickly enough. +Unless Democracy—government by the people—makes +of itself Aristocracy—government by the +best people—it is running steadily to seed. Democracy +to be sound must utilise not only the +ablest men of affairs, but the aristocracy of spirit. +The really vital concern of such an elected Head +of Education, himself the best man of all, would +be the discovery and employment of other best +men, best Heads of Schools and Colleges, whose +chief concern in turn would be the discovery and +employment of best subordinates. The better +the teacher the better the ideals; quite obviously, +the only hope of raising ideals is to raise the standard<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> +of those who teach, from top to toe of the +educational machine. What we want, in short, is +a sort of endless band—throwing up the finest +spirit of the day till he forms a head or apex +whence virtue runs swiftly down again into the +people who elected him. This is the principle, as +it seems to me, of the universe itself, whose symbol +is neither circle nor spire, but circle and spire +mysteriously combined.</p> + +<p>America has given us an example of this in her +political system; perhaps she will now oblige in +her educational. I confess that I look very eagerly +and watchfully towards America in many ways. +After the war she will be more emphatically than +ever, in material things, the most important and +powerful nation of the earth. We British have a +legitimate and somewhat breathless interest in +the use she will make of her strength, and in the +course of her national life, for this will greatly +influence the course of our own. But power for +real light and leading in America will depend, +not so much on her material wealth, or her armed +force, as on what the attitude towards life and +the ideals of her citizens are going to be. Americans +have a certain eagerness for knowledge; +they have also, for all their absorption in success, +the aspiring eye. They do want the good thing. +They don't always know it when they see it, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> +they want it. These qualities, in combination +with material strength, give America her chance. +Yet, if she does not set her face against "Gadarening," +we are all bound for downhill. If she +goes in for spreadeagleism, if her aspirations are +towards quantity not quality, we shall all go on +being commonised. If she should get that purse-and-power-proud +fever which comes from national +success, we are all bound for another world +flare-up. The burden of proving that democracy +can be real and yet live up to an ideal of health +and beauty will be on America's shoulders, and +on ours. What are we and Americans going to +make of our inner life, of our individual habits of +thought? What are we going to reverence, and +what despise? Do we mean to lead in spirit and +in truth, not in mere money and guns? Britain +is an old country, still in her prime, I hope; but +America is as yet on the threshold. Is she to +step out into the sight of the world as a great +leader? That is for America the long decision, +to be worked out, not so much in her Senate and +her Congress, as in her homes and schools. On +America, after the war, the destiny of civilisation +may hang for the next century. If she mislays, +indeed, if she does not improve the power of self-criticism—that +special dry American humour +which the great Lincoln had—she might soon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span> +develop the intolerant provincialism which has +so often been the bane of the earth and the undoing +of nations. If she gets swelled-head the +world will get cold-feet. Above all, if she does +not solve the problems of town life, of Capital +and Labour, of the distribution of wealth, of +national health, and attain to a mastery over +inventions and machinery—she is in for a cycle +of mere anarchy, disruption, and dictatorships, +into which we shall all follow. The motto "<i>noblesse +oblige</i>" applies as much to democracy as +ever it did to the old-time aristocrat. It applies +with terrific vividness to America. Ancestry and +Nature have bestowed on her great gifts. Behind +her stand Conscience, Enterprise, Independence, +and Ability—such were the companions of the +first Americans, and are the comrades of American +citizens to this day. She has abounding +energy, an unequalled spirit of discovery; a vast +territory not half developed, and great natural +beauty. I remember sitting on a bench overlooking +the Grand Canyon of Arizona; the sun +was shining into it, and a snow-storm was whirling +down there. All that most marvellous work +of Nature was flooded to the brim with rose and +tawny-gold, with white, and wine-dark shadows; +the colossal carvings as of huge rock-gods and +sacrificial altars, and great beasts, along its sides,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> +were made living by the very mystery of light +and darkness, on that violent day of spring—I +remember sitting there, and an old gentleman +passing close behind, leaning towards me and +saying in a sly, gentle voice: "How are you going +to tell it to the folks at home?" America has so +much that one despairs of telling to the folks at +home, so much grand beauty to be to her an inspiration +and uplift towards high and free thought +and vision. Great poems of Nature she has, +wrought in the large, to make of her and keep +her a noble people. In our beloved Britain—all +told, not half the size of Texas—there is a quiet +beauty of a sort which America has not. I walked +not long ago from Worthing to the little village +of Steyning, in the South Downs. It was such a +day as one too seldom gets in England; when the +sun was dipping and there came on the cool +chalky hills the smile of late afternoon, and +across a smooth valley on the rim of the Down +one saw a tiny group of trees, one little building, +and a stack, against the clear-blue, pale sky—it +was like a glimpse of Heaven, so utterly pure in +line and colour, so removed, and touching. The +tale of loveliness in our land is varied and unending, +but it is not in the grand manner. America +has the grand manner in her scenery and in her +blood, for over there all are the children of adventure<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> +and daring, every single white man an emigrant +himself or a descendant of one who had the +pluck to emigrate. She has already had past-masters +in dignity, but she has still to reach as a +nation the grand manner in achievement. She +knows her own dangers and failings, her qualities +and powers; but she cannot realise the intense +concern and interest, deep down behind our provoking +stolidities, with which we of the old country +watch her, feeling that what she does reacts +on us above all nations, and will ever react more +and more. Underneath surface differences and +irritations we English-speaking peoples are fast +bound together. May it not be in misery and +iron! If America walks upright, so shall we; if +she goes bowed under the weight of machines, +money, and materialism, we, too, shall creep our +ways. We run a long race, we nations; a generation +is but a day. But in a day a man may leave +the track, and never again recover it!</p> + +<p>Democracies must not be content to leave the +ideals of health and beauty to artists and a leisured +class; that is the way into a treeless, waterless +desert. It has struck me forcibly that we +English-speaking democracies are all right underneath, +and all wrong on the surface; our hearts +are sound, but our skin is in a deplorable condition. +Our taste, take it all round, is dreadful.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> +For a petty illustration: Ragtime music. Judging +by its popularity, one would think it must be +a splendid discovery; yet it suggests little or +nothing but the comic love-making of two darkies. +We ride it to death; but its jigging, jogging, jumpy +jingle refuses to die on us, and America's young +and ours grow up in the tradition of its soul-forsaken +sounds. Take another tiny illustration: +The new dancing. Developed from cake-walk, to +fox-trot, by way of tango. Precisely the same +spiritual origin! And not exactly in the grand +manner to one who, like myself, loves and believes +in dancing. Take the "snappy" side of journalism. +In San Francisco a few years ago the Press +snapped a certain writer and his wife, in their +hotel, and next day there appeared a photograph +of two intensely wretched-looking beings stricken +by limelight, under the headline: "Blank and wife +enjoy freedom and gaiety in the air." Another +writer told me that as he set foot on a car leaving +a great city a young lady grabbed him by the +coat-tail and cried: "Say, Mr. Asterisk, what are +your views on a future life?" Not in the grand +manner, all this; but, if you like, a sign of vitality +and interest; a mere excrescence. But are not +these excrescences symptoms of a fever lying +within our modern civilisation, a febrility which +is going to make achievement of great ends and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span> +great work more difficult? We Britons, as a +breed, are admittedly stolid; we err as much on +that score as Americans on the score of restlessness; +yet we are both subject to these excrescences. +There is something terribly infectious about vulgarity; +and taste is on the down-grade following +the tendencies of herd-life. It is not a process to +be proud of.</p> + +<p>Enough of Jeremiads, there is a bright side to +our civilisation.</p> + +<p>This modern febrility does not seem able to +attack the real inner man. If there is a lamentable +increase of vulgarity, superficiality, and restlessness +in our epoch, there is also an inspiring +development of certain qualities. Those who +were watching human nature before the war were +pretty well aware of how, under the surface, unselfishness, +ironic stoicism, and a warm humanity +were growing. These are the great Town Virtues; +the fine flowers of herd-life. A big price is +being paid for them, but they are almost beyond +price. The war has revealed them in full bloom. +<i>Revealed them, not produced them!</i> Who, in the +future, with this amazing show before him, will +dare to talk about the need for war to preserve +courage and unselfishness? From the first shot +these wonders of endurance, bravery, and sacrifice +were shown by the untrained citizens of countries<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> +nearly fifty years deep in peace! Never, I suppose, +in the world's history, has there been so +marvellous a display, in war, of the bedrock virtues. +The soundness at core of the modern man +has had one long triumphant demonstration. +Out of a million instances, take that little story of +a Mr. Lindsay, superintendent of a pumping station +at some oil-wells in Mesopotamia. A valve +in the oil-pipe had split, and a fountain of oil was +being thrown up on all sides, while, thirty yards +off, and nothing between, the furnaces were in +full blast. To prevent a terrible conflagration +and great loss of life, and to save the wells, it was +necessary to shut off those furnaces. That meant +dashing through the oil-stream and arriving saturated +at the flames. The superintendent did not +hesitate a moment, and was burnt to death. +Such deeds as this men and women have been +doing all through the war.</p> + +<p>When you come to think, this modern man is +a very new and marvellous creature. Without +quite realising it, we have evolved a fresh species +of stoic, even more stoical, I suspect, than were +the old Stoics. Modern man has cut loose from +leading-strings; he stands on his own feet. His +religion is to take what comes without flinching +or complaint, as part of the day's work, which +an unknowable God, Providence, Creative Principle,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> +or whatever it shall be called, has appointed. +Observation tells me that modern man at large, +far from inclining towards the new, personal, +elder-brotherly God of Mr. Wells, has turned his +face the other way. He confronts life and death +alone. By courage and kindness modern man +exists, warmed by the glow of the great human +fellowship. He has re-discovered the old Greek +saying: "God is the helping of man by man"; has +found out in his unselfconscious way that if he +does not help himself, and help his fellows, he +cannot reach that inner peace which satisfies. +To do his bit, and to be kind! It is by that +creed, rather than by any mysticism, that he +finds the salvation of his soul. His religion is to +be a common-or-garden hero, without thinking +anything of it; for, of a truth, this is the age of +conduct.</p> + +<p>After all, does not the only real spiritual +warmth, not tinged by Pharisaism, egotism, or +cowardice, come from the feeling of doing your +work well and helping others; is not all the rest +embroidery, luxury, pastime, pleasant sound and +incense? Modern man, take him in the large, +does not believe in salvation to beat of drum; or +that, by leaning up against another person, however +idolised and mystical, he can gain support. +He is a realist with too romantic a sense, perhaps,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> +of the mystery which surrounds existence to pry +into it. And, like modern civilisation itself, he +is the creature of West and North, of atmospheres, +climates, manners of life which foster neither inertia, +reverence, nor mystic meditation. Essentially +man of action, in ideal action he finds his +only true comfort; and no attempts to discover +for him new gods and symbols will divert him +from the path made for him by the whole trend +of his existence. I am sure that padres at the +front see that the men whose souls they have +gone out to tend are living the highest form of +religion; that in their comic courage, unselfish +humanity, their endurance without whimper of +things worse than death, they have gone beyond +all pulpit-and-death-bed teaching. And who are +these men? Just the early manhood of the race, +just modern man as he was before the war began +and will be when the war is over.</p> + +<p>This modern world, of which we English and +Americans are perhaps the truest types, stands +revealed, from beneath its froth, frippery, and +vulgar excrescences, sound at core—a world +whose implicit motto is: "The good of all humanity." +But the herd-life, which is its characteristic, +brings many evils, has many dangers; and +to preserve a sane mind in a healthy body is the +riddle before us. Somehow we must free ourselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> +from the driving domination of machines +and money-getting, not only for our own sakes +but for that of all mankind.</p> + +<p>And there is another thing of the most solemn +importance: We English-speaking nations are by +chance as it were the ballast of the future. It is +<i>absolutely necessary</i> that we should remain united. +The comradeship we now feel must and surely +shall abide. For unless we work together, and in +no selfish or exclusive spirit—good-bye to Civilisation! +It will vanish like the dew off grass. +The betterment not only of the British nations +and America, but of all mankind, is and must be +our object.</p> + +<p>When from all our hearts this great weight is +lifted; when no longer in those fields death sweeps +his scythe, and our ears at last are free from the +rustling thereof—then will come the test of magnanimity +in all countries. Will modern man rise +to the ordering of a sane, a free, a generous life? +Each of us loves his own country best, be it a little +land or the greatest on earth; but jealousy is +the dark thing, the creeping poison. Where there +is true greatness, let us acclaim it; where there +is true worth, let us prize it—as if it were our +own.</p> + +<p>This earth is made too subtly, of too multiple +warp and woof, for prophecy. When he surveys<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> +the world around, the wondrous things which +there abound, the prophet closes foolish lips. +Besides, as the historian tells us: "Writers have +that undeterminateness of spirit which commonly +makes literary men of no use in the world." So +I, for one, prophesy not. Still, we do know this: +All English-speaking peoples will go to the adventure +of peace with something of big purpose and +spirit in their hearts, with something of free outlook. +The world is wide and Nature bountiful +enough for all, if we keep sane minds. The earth +is fair and meant to be enjoyed, if we keep sane +bodies. Who dare affront this world of beauty +with mean views? There is no darkness but +what the ape in us still makes, and in spite of all +his monkey-tricks modern man is at heart further +from the ape than man has yet been.</p> + +<p>To do our jobs really well and to be brotherly! +To seek health, and ensue beauty! If, in Britain +and America, in all the English-speaking nations, +we can put that simple faith into real and thorough +practice, what may not this century yet bring +forth? Shall man, the highest product of creation, +be content to pass his little day in a house, +like unto Bedlam?</p> + +<p>When the present great task in which we have +joined hands is ended; when once more from the +shuttered mad-house the figure of Peace steps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> +forth and stands in the sun, and we may go our +ways again in the beauty and wonder of a new +morning—let it be with this vow in our hearts: +"No more of Madness—in War, in <i>Peace</i>!"</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">1917–18.</span> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE LAND, 1917</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<p>If once more through ingenuity, courage, and +good luck we find the submarine menace "well +in hand," and go to sleep again—if we reach the +end of the war without having experienced any +sharp starvation, and go our ways to trade, to +eat, and forget—What then? It is about twenty +years since the first submarine could navigate—and +about seventeen since flying became practicable. +There are a good many years yet before +the world, and numberless developments in front +of these new accomplishments. Hundreds of miles +are going to be what tens are now; thousands of +machines will take the place of hundreds.</p> + +<p>We have ceased to live on an island in any save +a technically geographical sense, and the sooner +we make up our minds to the fact, the better. If +in the future we act as we have in the past—rather +the habit of this country—I can imagine that in +fifteen years' time or so we shall be well enough +prepared against war of the same magnitude and +nature as this war, and that the country which +attacks us will launch an assault against defences +as many years out of date.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> +I can imagine a war starting and well-nigh ending +at once, by a quiet and simultaneous sinking, +from under water and from the air, of most +British ships, in port or at sea. I can imagine +little standardised submarines surreptitiously prepared +by the thousand, and tens of thousands of +the enemy population equipped with flying machines, +instructed in flying as part of their ordinary +civil life, and ready to serve their country +at a moment's notice, by taking a little flight +and dropping a little charge of an explosive many +times more destructive than any in use now. +The agility of submarines and flying machines +will grow almost indefinitely. And even if we +carry our commerce under the sea instead of on +the surface, we shall not be guaranteed against +attack by air. The air menace is, in fact, infinitely +greater than that from under water. I +can imagine all shipping in port, the Houses of +Parliament, the Bank of England, most commercial +buildings of importance, and every national +granary wrecked or fired in a single night, on a +declaration of war springing out of the blue. The +only things I cannot imagine wrecked or fired are +the British character and the good soil of Britain.</p> + +<p>These are sinister suggestions, but there is +really no end to what might now be done to us +by any country which deliberately set its own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> +interests and safety above all considerations of +international right, especially if such country +were moved to the soul by longing for revenge, +and believed success certain. After this world-tragedy +let us hope nations may have a little +sense, less of that ghastly provincialism whence +this war sprang; that no nation may teach in its +schools that it is God's own people, entitled to +hack through, without consideration of others; +that professors may be no longer blind to all +sense of proportion; Emperors things of the past; +diplomacy open and responsible; a real Court of +Nations at work; Military Chiefs unable to stampede +a situation; journalists obliged to sign their +names and held accountable for inflammatory +writings. Let us hope, and let us by every means +endeavour to bring about this better state of the +world. But there is many a slip between cup +and lip; there is also such a thing as hatred. And +to rely blindly on a peace which, at the best, +must take a long time to prove its reality, is to +put our heads again under our wings. Once bit, +twice shy. We shall make a better world the +quicker if we try realism for a little.</p> + +<p>Britain's situation is now absurdly weak, without +and within. And its weakness is due to one +main cause—<i>the fact that we do not grow our own +food</i>. To get the better of submarines in this war<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> +will make no difference to our future situation. +A little peaceful study and development of submarines +and aircraft will antiquate our present +antidotes. You cannot chain air and the deeps +to war uses and think you have done with their +devilish possibilities a score of years afterwards +because for the moment the submarine menace +or the air menace is "well in hand."</p> + +<p>At the end of the war I suppose the Channel +Tunnel will be made. And quite time too! But +even that will not help us. We get no food from +Europe, and never shall again. Not even by +linking ourselves to Europe can we place ourselves +in security from Europe. Faith may remove +mountains, but it will not remove Britain to the +centre of the Atlantic. Here we shall remain, +every year nearer and more accessible to secret +and deadly attack.</p> + +<p>The next war, if there be one—which Man forbid—may +be fought without the use of a single +big ship or a single infantryman. It may begin, +instead of ending, by being a war of starvation; +it may start, as it were, where it leaves off this +time. And the only way of making even reasonably +safe is to grow our own food. If for years +to come we have to supplement by State granaries, +they must be placed underground; not even +there will they be too secure. Unless we grow<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> +our own food after this war we shall be the only +great country which does not, and a constant +temptation to any foe. To be self-sufficing will +be the first precaution taken by our present enemies, +in order that blockade may no longer be a +weapon in our hands, so far as <i>their</i> necessary +food is concerned.</p> + +<p>Whatever arrangements the world makes after +the war to control the conduct of nations in the +future, the internal activities of those nations +will remain unfettered, capable of deadly shaping +and plausible disguise in the hands of able +and damnable schemers.</p> + +<p>The submarine menace of the present is merely +awkward, and no doubt surmountable—it is nothing +to the submarine-<i>cum</i>-air menace of peace +time a few years hence. <i>It will be impossible to +guard against surprise under the new conditions.</i> +If we do not grow our own food, we could be +knocked out of time in the first round.</p> + +<p>But besides the danger from overseas, we have +an inland danger to our future just as formidable—the +desertion of our countryside and the town-blight +which is its corollary.</p> + +<p>Despair seizes on one reading that we should +cope with the danger of the future by new cottages, +better instruction to farmers, better kinds +of manure and seed, encouragement to co-operative<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> +societies, a cheerful spirit, and the storage +of two to three years' supply of grain. Excellent +and necessary, in their small ways—they are a +mere stone to the bread we need.</p> + +<p>In that programme and the speech which put it +forward I see insufficient grasp of the outer peril +and hardly any of the gradual destruction with +which our overwhelming town life threatens us; +not one allusion to the physical and moral welfare +of our race, except this: "That boys should +be in touch with country life and country tastes +is of first importance, and that their elementary +education should be given in terms of country +things is also of enormous importance." That is +all, and it shows how far we have got from reality, +and how difficult it will be to get back; for the +speaker was once Minister for Agriculture.</p> + +<p>Our justifications for not continuing to feed +ourselves were: Pursuit of wealth, command of +the sea, island position. Whatever happens in +this war, we have lost the last two in all but a +superficial sense. Let us see whether the first is +sufficient justification for perseverance in a mode +of life which has brought us to an ugly pass.</p> + +<p>Our wonderful industrialism began about 1766, +and changed us from exporting between the years +1732 and 1766 11,250,000 quarters of wheat to +importing 7,500,000 quarters between the years<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span> +1767 and 1801. In one hundred and fifty years +it has brought us to the state of importing more +than three-quarters of our wheat, and more than +half our total food. Whereas in 1688 (figures of +Gregory and Davenant) about four-fifths of the +population of England was rural, in 1911 only +about two-ninths was rural. This transformation +has given us great wealth, extremely ill-distributed; +plastered our country with scores of +busy, populous, and hideous towns; given us a +merchant fleet which before the war had a gross +tonnage of over 20,000,000, or not far short of +half the world's shipping. It has, or had, fixed +in us the genteel habit of eating very doubtfully +nutritious white bread made of the huskless flour +of wheat; reduced the acreage of arable land in +the United Kingdom from its already insufficient +maximum of 23,000,000 acres to its 1914 figure of +19,000,000 acres; made England, all but its towns, +look very like a pleasure garden; and driven two +shibboleths deep into our minds, "All for wealth" +and "Hands off the food of the people."</p> + +<p>All these "good" results have had certain complementary +disadvantages, some of which we +have just seen, some of which have long been +seen.</p> + +<p>Of these last, let me first take a small sentimental +disadvantage. We have become more<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> +parasitic by far than any other nation. To eat +we have to buy with our manufactures an overwhelming +proportion of our vital foods. The +blood in our veins is sucked from foreign bodies, +in return for the clothing we give them—not a +very self-respecting thought. We have a green +and fertile country, and round it a prolific sea. +Our country, if we will, can produce, with its +seas, all the food we need to eat. We know that +quite well, but we elect to be nourished on foreign +stuff, because we are a practical people and prefer +shekels to sentiment. We do not mind being +parasitic. Taking no interest nationally in the +growth of food, we take no interest nationally in +the cooking of it; the two accomplishments subtly +hang together. Pride in the food capacity, the +corn and wine and oil, of their country has made +the cooking of the French the most appetising +and nourishing in the world. The French do +cook: we open tins. The French preserve the +juices of their home-grown food: we have no +juices to preserve. The life of our poorer classes +is miserably stunted of essential salts and savours. +They throw away skins, refuse husks, make no +soups, prefer pickle to genuine flavour. But +home-grown produce really is more nourishing +than tinned and pickled and frozen foods. If we +honestly feed ourselves we shall not again demand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span> +the old genteel flavourless white bread without +husk or body in it; we shall eat wholemeal bread, +and take to that salutary substance, oatmeal, +which, if I mistake not, has much to say in making +the Scots the tallest and boniest race in +Europe.</p> + +<p>Now for a far more poignant disadvantage. +We have become tied up in teeming congeries, to +which we have grown so used that we are no +longer able to see the blight they have brought +on us. Our great industrial towns, sixty odd in +England alone, with a population of 15,000,000 +to 16,000,000, are our glory, our pride, and the +main source of our wealth. They are the growth, +roughly speaking, of five generations. They +began at a time when social science was unknown, +spread and grew in unchecked riot of individual +moneymaking, till they are the nightmare of +social reformers, and the despair of all lovers +of beauty. They have mastered us so utterly, +morally and physically, that we regard them and +their results as matter of course. They <i>are</i> public +opinion, so that for the battle against town-blight +there is no driving force. They paralyse +the imaginations of our politicians because their +voting power is so enormous, their commercial +interests are so huge, and the food necessities of +their populations seem so paramount.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> +I once bewailed the physique of our towns to +one of our most cultivated and prominent Conservative +statesmen. He did not agree. He +thought that probably physique was on the up-grade. +This commonly held belief is based on +statistics of longevity and sanitation. But the +same superior sanitation and science applied to a +rural population would have lengthened the lives +of a much finer and better-looking stock. Here +are some figures: Out of 1,650 passers-by, women +and men, observed in perhaps the "best" district +of London—St. James's Park, Trafalgar Square, +Westminster Bridge, and Piccadilly—in May of +this year, only 310 had any pretensions to not +being very plain or definitely ugly-not one in +five. And out of that 310 only eleven had what +might be called real beauty. Out of 120 British +soldiers observed round Charing Cross, sixty—just +one-half—passed the same standard. But +out of seventy-two Australian soldiers, fifty-four, +or three-quarters, passed, and several had real +beauty. Out of 120 men, women, and children +taken at random in a remote country village (five +miles from any town, and eleven miles from any +town of 10,000 inhabitants) ninety—or just three-quarters +also—pass this same standard of looks. +It is significant that the average here is the same +as the average among Australian soldiers, who,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span> +though of British stock, come from a country as +yet unaffected by town life. You ask, of course, +what standard is this? A standard which covers +just the very rudiments of proportion and comeliness. +People in small country towns, I admit, +have little or no more beauty than people in large +towns. This is curious, but may be due to too +much inbreeding.</p> + +<p>The first counter to conclusions drawn from +such figures is obviously: "The English are an +ugly people." I said that to a learned and +æsthetic friend when I came back from France +last spring. He started, and then remarked: +"Oh, well; not as ugly as the French, anyway." +A great error; much plainer if you take <i>the bulk, +and not the pick</i>, of the population in both countries. +It may not be fair to attribute French +superiority in looks entirely to the facts that they +grow nearly all their own food (and cook it well), +and had in 1906 four-sevenths of their population +in the country as against our own two-ninths in +1911, because there is the considerable matter of +climate. But when you get so high a proportion +of comeliness in <i>remote</i> country districts in England, +it <i>is</i> fair to assume that climate does not +account for anything like all the difference. I +do not believe that the English are naturally an +ugly people. The best English type is perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> +the handsomest in the world. The physique and +looks of the richer classes are as notoriously better +than those of the poorer classes as the physique +and looks of the remote country are superior +to those of crowded towns. Where conditions +are free from cramp, poor air, poor food, +and <i>herd-life</i>, English physique quite holds its +own with that of other nations.</p> + +<p>We do not realise the great deterioration of our +stock, the squashed-in, stunted, disproportionate, +commonised look of the bulk of our people, because, +as we take our walks abroad, we note only +faces and figures which strike us as good-looking; +the rest pass unremarked. Ugliness has become +a matter of course. There is no reason, save +town life, why this should be so. But what does +it matter if we <i>have</i> become ugly? We work +well, make money, and have lots of moral qualities. +A fair inside is better than a fair outside. +I do think that we are in many ways a very +wonderful people; and our townsfolk not the least +wonderful. But that is all the more reason for +trying to preserve our physique.</p> + +<p>Granted that an expressive face, with interest +in life stamped on it, is better than "chocolate +box" or "barber's block" good looks, that agility +and strength are better than symmetry without +agility and strength; the trouble is that there is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> +no interest stamped on so many of our faces, no +agility or strength in so many of our limbs. If +there were, those faces and limbs would pass my +standard. The old Greek cult of the body was +not to be despised. I defy even the most rigid +Puritans to prove that a satisfactory moral condition +can go on within an exterior which exhibits +no signs of a live, able, and serene existence. By +living on its nerves, overworking its body, starving +its normal aspirations for fresh air, good food, +sunlight, and a modicum of solitude, a country +can get a great deal out of itself, a terrific lot of +wealth, in three or four generations; but it is living +on its capital, physically speaking. This is +precisely what we show every sign of doing; and +partly what I mean by "town-blight."</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +II</h3> + +<p>The impression I get, in our big towns, is most +peculiar—considering that we are a free people. +The faces and forms have a look of being possessed. +To express my meaning exactly is difficult. +There is a dulled and driven look, and yet +a general expression of "Keep smiling—Are we +down-hearted? No." It is as if people were all +being forced along by a huge invisible hand at +the back of their necks, whose pressure they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span> +resent yet are trying to make the best of, because +they cannot tell whence it comes. To understand, +you must watch the grip from its very +beginnings. The small children who swarm in +the little grey playground streets of our big towns +pass their years in utter abandonment. They +roll and play and chatter in conditions of amazing +unrestraint and devil-may-care-dom in the midst +of amazing dirt and ugliness. The younger they +are, as a rule, the chubbier and prettier they are. +Gradually you can see herd-life getting hold of +them, the impact of ugly sights and sounds commonising +the essential grace and individuality of +their little features. On the lack of any standard +or restraint, any real glimpse of Nature, any +knowledge of a future worth striving for, or indeed +of any future at all, they thrive forward +into that hand-to-mouth mood from which they +are mostly destined never to emerge. Quick and +scattery as monkeys, and never alone, they become, +at a rake's progress, little fragments of the +herd. On poor food, poor air, and habits of least +resistance, they wilt and grow distorted, acquiring +withal the sort of pathetic hardihood which +a Dartmoor pony will draw out of moor life in a +frozen winter. All round them, by day, by +night, stretches the huge, grey, grimy waste of +streets, factory walls, chimneys, murky canals,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> +chapels, public-houses, hoardings, posters, butchers' +shops—a waste where nothing beautiful exists +save a pretty cat or pigeon, a blue sky, perhaps, +and a few trees and open spaces. The children of +the class above, too, of the small shop-people, +the artisans—do they escape? Not really. The +same herd-life and the same sights and sounds +pursue them from birth; they also are soon +divested of the grace and free look which you +see in country children walking to and from +school or roaming the hedges. Whether true +slum children, or from streets a little better off, +quickly they all pass out of youth into the iron +drive of commerce and manufacture, into the +clang and clatter, the swish and whirr of wheels, +the strange, dragging, saw-like hubbub of industry, +or the clicking and pigeon-holes of commerce; +perch on a devil's see-saw from monotonous work +to cheap sensation and back. Considering the +conditions it is wonderful that they stand it as +well as they do; and I should be the last to deny +that they possess remarkable qualities. But the +modern industrial English town is a sort of inferno +where people dwell with a marvellous philosophy. +What would you have? They have +never seen any way out of it. And this, perhaps, +would not be so pitiful if for each bond-servant +of our town-tyranny there was in store a prize—some<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> +portion of that national wealth in pursuit +of which the tyrant drives us; if each worker had +before him the chance of emergence at, say, fifty. +But, Lord God! for five that emerge, ninety-and-five +stay bound, less free and wealthy at the end +of the chapter than they were at the beginning. +And the quaint thing is—they know it; know +that they will spend their lives in smoky, noisy, +crowded drudgery, and in crowded drudgery die. +Wealth goes to wealth, and all they can hope for +is a few extra shillings a week, with a corresponding +rise in prices. They know it, but it does not +disturb them, for they were born of the towns, +have never glimpsed at other possibilities. Imprisoned +in town life from birth, they contentedly +perpetuate the species of a folk with an ebbing +future. Yes, ebbing! For if it be not, why is +there now so much conscious effort to arrest the +decay of town workers' nerves and sinews? Why +do we bother to impede a process which is denied? +If there be no town-blight on us, why a million +indications of uneasiness and a thousand little +fights against the march of a degeneration so +natural, vast, and methodical, that it brings them +all to naught? Our physique is slowly rotting, +and that is the plain truth of it.</p> + +<p>But it does not stop with deteriorated physique. +Students of faces in the remoter country are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span> +struck by the absence of what, for want of a +better word, we may call vulgarity. That insidious +defacement is seen to be a thing of towns, +and not at all a matter of "class." The simplest +country cottager, shepherd, fisherman, has as +much, often a deal more, dignity than numbers of +our upper classes, who, in spite of the desire to +keep themselves unspotted, are still, from the +nature of their existence, touched by the herd-life +of modern times. For vulgarity is the natural +product of herd-life; an amalgam of second-hand +thought, cheap and rapid sensation, defensive and +offensive self-consciousness, gradually plastered +over the faces, manners, voices, whole beings, of +those whose elbows are too tightly squeezed to +their sides by the pressure of their fellows, whose +natures are cut off from Nature, whose senses are +rendered imitative by the too insistent impact of +certain sights and sounds. Without doubt the +rapid increase of town-life is responsible for our +acknowledged vulgarity. The same process is +going on in America and in Northern Germany; +but we unfortunately had the lead, and seem to +be doing our best to keep it. Cheap newspapers, +on the sensational tip-and-run system, perpetual +shows of some kind or other, work in association, +every kind of thing in association, at a speed too +great for individual digestion, and in the presence<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> +of every device for removing the need for individual +thought; the thronged streets, the football +match with its crowd emotions; beyond all, the +cinema—a compendium of all these other influences—make +town-life a veritable forcing-pit of +vulgarity. We are all so deeply in it that we do +not see the process going on; or, if we admit it, +hasten to add: "But what does it matter?—there's +no harm in vulgarity; besides, it's inevitable, +you can't set the tide back." Obviously, +the vulgarity of town-life cannot be exorcised by +Act of Parliament; there is not indeed the faintest +chance that Parliament will recognise such a side +to the question at all, since there is naturally no +public opinion on this matter.</p> + +<p>Everybody must recognise and admire certain +qualities specially fostered by town-life; the +extraordinary patience, cheerful courage, philosophic +irony, and unselfishness of our towns-people—qualities +which in this war, both at the +front and at home, have been of the greatest +value. They are worth much of the price paid. +But in this life all is a question of balance; and +my contention is, not so much that town-life in +itself is bad, as that we have pushed it to a point +of excess terribly dangerous to our physique, to +our dignity, and to our sense of beauty. Must +our future have no serene and simple quality, not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> +even a spice of the influence of Nature, with her +air, her trees, her fields, and wide skies? Say +what you like, it is elbow-room for limbs and +mind and lungs which keeps the countryman free +from that dulled and driven look, and gives him +individuality. I know all about the "dullness" +and "monotony" of rural life, bad housing and +the rest of it. All true enough, but the cure is +not exodus, it is improvement in rural-life conditions, +more co-operation, better cottages, a fuller, +freer social life. What we in England now want +more than anything is air—for lungs and mind. +We have overdone herd-life. We <i>are</i> dimly conscious +of this, feel vaguely that there is something +"rattling" and wrong about our progress, for we +have had many little spasmodic "movements" +back to the land these last few years. But what +do they amount to? Whereas in 1901 the proportion +of town to country population in England +and Wales was 3 10/37—1, in 1911 it was 3 17/20—1; +very distinctly greater! At this crab's march we +shall be some time getting "back to the land." +Our effort, so far, has been something like our +revival of Morris dancing, very pleasant and +æsthetic, but without real economic basis or +strength to stand up against the lure of the towns. +And how queer, ironical, and pitiful is that lure, +when you consider that in towns one-third of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> +population are just on or a little below the line +of bare subsistence; that the great majority of +town workers have hopelessly monotonous work, +stuffy housing, poor air, and little leisure. But +there it is—the charm of the lighted-up unknown, +of company, and the streets at night! The countryman +goes to the town in search of adventure. +Honestly—does he really find it? He thinks he +is going to improve his prospects and his mind. +His prospects seldom brighten. He sharpens his +mind, only to lose it and acquire instead that of +the herd.</p> + +<p>To compete with this lure of the towns, there +must first be <i>national</i> consciousness of its danger; +then coherent <i>national</i> effort to fight it. We +must destroy the shibboleth: "All for wealth!" +and re-write it: "All for health!"—the only +wealth worth having. Wealth is not an end, +surely. Then, to what is it the means, if not to +health? Once we admit that in spite of our +wealth our national health is going downhill +through town-blight, we assert the failure of our +country's ideals and life. And if, having got into +a vicious state of congested town existence, we +refuse to make an effort to get out again, because +it is necessary to "hold our own commercially," +and feed "the people" cheaply, we are in effect +saying: "We certainly are going to hell, but look—how<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> +successfully!" I suggest rather that we +try to pull ourselves up again out of the pit of +destruction, even if to do so involves us in a certain +amount of monetary loss and inconvenience. +Yielding to no one in desire that "the people" +should be well, nay better, fed, I decline utterly +to accept the doctrine that there is no way of +doing this compatible with an increased country +population and the growth of our own food. In +national matters, where there is a general and not +a mere Party will, there is a way, and the way is +not to be recoiled from because the first years of +the change may necessitate Governmental regulation. +Many people hold that our salvation +will come through education. Education on right +lines underlies everything, of course; but unless +education includes the growth of our own food +and return to the land in substantial measure, +education cannot save us.</p> + +<p>It may be natural to want to go to hell; it is certainly +easy; we have gone so far in that direction +that we cannot hope to be haloed in our time. For +good or evil, the great towns are here, and we can +but mitigate. The indicated policy of mitigation +is fivefold:—</p> + +<p>(1) Such solid economic basis to the growth of +our food as will give us again national security, +more arable land than we have ever had, and on<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> +it a full complement of well-paid workers, with +better cottages, and a livened village life.</p> + +<p>(2) A vast number of small holdings, State-created, +with co-operative working.</p> + +<p>(3) A wide belt-system of garden allotments +round every town, industrial or not.</p> + +<p>(4) Drastic improvements in housing, feeding, +and sanitation in the towns themselves.</p> + +<p>(5) Education that shall raise not only the +standard of knowledge but the standard of taste +in town and country.</p> + +<p>All these ideals are already well in the public +eye—on paper. But they are incoherently viewed +and urged; they do not as yet form a national +creed. Until welded and supported by all parties +in the State, they will not have driving power +enough to counteract the terrific momentum with +which towns are drawing us down into the pit. +One section pins its faith to town improvement; +another to the development of small holdings; a +third to cottage building; a fourth to education; +a fifth to support of the price of wheat; a sixth to +the destruction of landlords. Comprehensive +vision of the danger is still lacking, and comprehensive +grasp of the means to fight against it.</p> + +<p>We are by a long way the most town-ridden +country in the world; our towns by a long way +the smokiest and worst built, with the most inbred<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> +town populations. We have practically +come to an end of our country-stock reserves. +Unless we are prepared to say: "This is a desirable +state of things; let the inbreeding of town +stocks go on—we shall evolve in time a new type +immune to town life; a little ratty fellow all nerves +and assurance, much better than any country +clod!"—which, by the way, is exactly what some +of us do say! Unless we mean as a nation to +adopt this view and rattle on, light-heartedly, +careless of menace from without and within, assuring +ourselves that health and beauty, freedom +and independence, as hitherto understood, have +always been misnomers, and that nothing whatever +matters so long as we are rich—unless all +this, we must give check to the present state of +things, restore a decent balance between town +and country stock, grow our own food, and establish +a permanent tendency away from towns.</p> + +<p>All this fearfully unorthodox and provocative +of sneers, and—goodness knows—I do not enjoy +saying it. But needs must when the devil drives. +It may be foolish to rave against the past and +those factors and conditions which have put us +so utterly in bond to towns—especially since this +past and these towns have brought us such great +wealth and so dominating a position in the world. +It cannot be foolish, now that we have the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> +wealth and the position, to resolve with all our +might to free ourselves from bondage, to be masters, +not servants, of our fate, to get back to firm +ground, and make Health and Safety what they +ever should be—the true keystones of our policy.</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +III</h3> + +<p>In the midst of a war like this the first efforts of +any Government have to be directed to immediate +ends. But under the pressure of the war the Government +has a unique chance to initiate the comprehensive, +far-reaching policy which alone can +save us. Foundations to safety will only be laid +if our representatives can be induced now to see +this question of the land as <i>the</i> question of the +future, no matter what happens in the war; to +see that, whatever success we attain, we cannot +remove the two real dangers of the future, sudden +strangulation through swift attack by air and +under sea—unless we grow our own food; and slow +strangulation by town-life—unless we restore the +land. Our imaginations are stirred, the driving +force is here, swift action possible, and certain +extraordinary opportunities are open which presently +must close again.</p> + +<p>On demobilisation we have the chance of our +lives to put men on the land. Because this is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> +still a Party question, to be sagaciously debated +up hill and down dale three or four years hence, +we shall very likely grasp the mere shadow and +miss the substance of that opportunity. If the +Government had a mandate "Full steam ahead" +we could add at the end of the war perhaps a +million men (potentially four million people) to +our food-growing country population; as it is, we +may add thereto a few thousands, lose half a +million to the Colonies, and discourage the rest—patting +our own backs the while. To put men on +the land we must have the land ready in terms of +earth, not of paper; and have it in the right places, +within easy reach of town or village. Things can +be done just now. We know, for instance, that +in a few months half a million allotment-gardens +have been created in urban areas and more progress +made with small holdings than in previous +years. I repeat, we have a chance which will not +recur to scotch the food danger, and to restore a +healthier balance between town and country +stocks. Shall we be penny-wise and lose this +chance for the luxury of "free and full discussion +of a controversial matter at a time when men's +minds are not full of the country's danger"? +This <i>is</i> the country's danger—there is no other. +And this is the moment for full and free discussion +of it, for full and free action too. Who doubts<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> +that a Government which brought this question +of the land in its widest aspects to the touch-stone +of full debate at once, would get its mandate, +would get the power it wanted—not to +gerrymander, but to build?</p> + +<p>Consider the Corn Production Bill. I will +quote Mr. Prothero: "National security is not an +impracticable dream. It is within our reach, +within the course of a few years, and it involves +no great dislocation of other industries." (Note +that.) "For all practical purposes, if we could +grow at home here 82 per cent, of all the food that +we require for five years, we should be safe, and +that amount of independence of sea-borne supplies +we can secure, and secure within a few +years.... We could obtain that result if we +could add 8,000,000 acres of arable land to our +existing area—that is to say, if we increased it +from 19,000,000 acres to 27,000,000 acres. If you +once got that extension of your arable area, the +nation would be safe from the nightmare of a +submarine menace, and the number of additional +men who would be required on the land would be +something about a quarter of a million." (Note +that.) "The present Bill is much less ambitious." +It is. And it is introduced by one who +knows and dreads, as much as any of us, the +dangerous and unballasted condition into which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span> +we have drifted; introduced with, as it were, +apology, as if he feared that, unambitious though, +it be, it will startle the nerves of Parliament. On +a question so vast and vital you are bound to +startle by any little measure. Nothing but an +heroic measure would arouse debate on a scale +adequate to reach and stir the depths of our national +condition, and wake us all, politicians and +public, to appreciate the fact that our whole +future is in this matter, and that it must be +tackled.</p> + +<p>If we are not capable now of grasping the vital +nature of this issue we assuredly never shall be. +Only five generations have brought us to the +parasitic, town-ridden condition we are in. The +rate of progress in deterioration will increase +rapidly with each coming generation. We have, +as it were, turned seven-ninths of our population +out into poor paddocks, to breed promiscuously +among themselves. We have the chance to make +our English and Welsh figures read: Twenty-four +millions of town-dwellers to twelve of country, +instead of, as now, twenty-eight millions to eight. +Consider what that would mean to the breeding +of the next generation. In such extra millions of +country stock our national hope lies. What we +should never dream of permitting with our domestic +animals, we are not only permitting but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> +encouraging among ourselves; we are doing all we +can to perpetuate and increase poor stock; stock +without either quality or bone, run-down, and +ill-shaped. And, just as the progress in the +"stock" danger is accelerated with each generation, +so does the danger from outside increase with +every year which sees flying and submarining +improve, and our food capacity standing still.</p> + +<p>The great argument against a united effort to +regain our ballast is: We must not take away too +many from our vital industries. Why, even the +Minister of Agriculture, who really knows and +dreads the danger, almost apologises for taking +two hundred and fifty thousand from those vital +industries, to carry out, not his immediate, but +his ideal, programme. Vital industries! Ah! +vital to Britain's destruction within the next few +generations unless we mend our ways! The +great impediment is the force of things as they +are, the huge vested interests, the iron network +of vast enterprises frightened of losing profit. +If we pass this moment, when men of every class +and occupation, even those who most thrive on +our town-ridden state, are a little frightened; if +we let slip this chance for a real reversal—can we +hope that anything considerable will be done, +with the dice loaded as they are, the scales +weighted so hopelessly in favour of the towns?<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span> +Representatives of seven-ninths will always see +that representatives of two-ninths do not outvote +them. This is a crude way of putting it, but it +serves; because, after all, an elector is only a little +bundle of the immediate needs of his locality +and mode of life, outside of which he cannot see, +and which he does not want prejudiced. He is +not a fool, like me, looking into the future. And +his representatives have got to serve him. The +only chance, in a question so huge, vital, and <i>long</i> +as this, is that greatly distrusted agent—Panic +Legislation. When panic makes men, for a brief +space, open their eyes and see truth, then it is +valuable. Before our eyes close again and see +nothing but the darkness of the daily struggle +for existence, let us take advantage, and lay +foundations which will be difficult, at least, to +overturn.</p> + +<p>What has been done so far, and what more can +be done? A bounty on corn has been introduced. +I suppose nobody, certainly not its promoter, is +enamoured of this. But it does not seem to have +occurred to every one that you cannot eat nuts +without breaking their shells, or get out of evil +courses without a transition period of extreme +annoyance to yourself. "Bounty" is, in many +quarters, looked on as a piece of petting to an +interest already pampered. Well—while we look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> +on the land as an "interest" in competition with +other "interests" and not as <i>the</i> vital interest of +the country, underlying every other, so long shall +we continue to be "in the soup." The land needs +fostering, and again fostering, because the whole +vicious tendency of the country's life has brought +farming to its present pass and farmers to their +attitude of mistrust. Doctrinaire objections are +now ridiculous. An economic basis must be re-established, +or we may as well cry "Kamerad" +at once and hold up our hands to Fate. The +greater the arable acreage in this country, the +less will be the necessity for a bounty on corn. +Unlike most stimulants, it is one which gradually +stimulates away the need for it. With every +year and every million acres broken up, not only +will the need for bounty diminish, but the present +mistrustful breed of farmer will be a step nearer +to extinction. Shrewd, naturally conservative, +and somewhat intolerant of anything so dreamy +as a national point of view, they will not live for +ever. The up-growing farmer will not be like +them, and about the time the need for bounty +is vanishing the new farmer will be in possession. +But in the meantime land must be broken +up until 8,000,000 acres at least are conquered; +and bounty is the only lever. It will not be +lever enough without constant urging. In Mr.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span> +Prothero's history of English farming occur these +words: "A Norfolk farmer migrated to Devonshire +in 1780, where he drilled and hoed his roots; +though his crops were far superior to those of +other farmers in the district, yet at the close of +the century no neighbour had followed his example."</p> + +<p>But even the break-up of 8,000,000 acres, +though it may make us safe for food, will only +increase our country population by 250,000 labourers +and their families (a million souls)—a +mere beginning towards the satisfaction of our +need. We want in operation, before demobilisation +begins, a great national plan for the creation +of good small holdings run on co-operative lines. +And to this end, why should not the suggestion of +tithe redemption, thrown out by Mr. Prothero, +on pages 399 and 400 of "English Farming: Past +and Present," be adopted? The annual value of +tithes is about £5,000,000. Their extinction +should provide the Government with about 2,500,000 +acres, enough at one stroke to put three +or four hundred thousand soldiers on the land. +The tithe-holders would get their money, landlords +would not be prejudiced; the Government, +by virtue of judicious choice and discretionary +compulsion, would obtain the sort of land it +wanted, and the land would be for ever free of a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> +teasing and vexatious charge. The cost to the +Government would be £100,000,000 (perhaps +more) on the best security it could have. "Present +conditions," I quote from the book, "are +favourable to such a transaction. The price of +land enables owners to extinguish the rent charge +by the surrender of a reasonable acreage, and the +low price of Consols enables investors to obtain +a larger interest for their money." For those not +familiar with this notion, the process, in brief, is +this: The Government pays the tithe-holder the +capitalised value of his tithe, and takes over from +the landlord as much land as produces in net annual +rent the amount of the tithe-rent charge, +leaving the rest of his land tithe-free for ever. +There are doubtless difficulties and objections, +but so there must be to any comprehensive plan +for obtaining an amount of land at all adequate. +Time is of desperate importance in this matter. +It is already dangerously late, but if the Government +would turn-to now with a will, the situation +could still be saved, and this unique chance +for re-stocking our countryside would not be +thrown away.</p> + +<p>I alluded to the formation within a few months +of half a million garden-allotments—plots of +ground averaging about ten poles each, taken +under the Defence of the Realm Act from building<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> +and other land in urban areas, and given to +cultivators, under a guarantee, for the growth of +vegetables. This most valuable effort, for which +the Board of Agriculture deserves the thanks of +all, is surely capable of very great extension. +Every town, no matter how quickly it may be +developing, is always surrounded by a belt of +dubious land—not quite town and not quite +country. When town development mops up plots +in cultivation, a hole can be let out in an elastic +belt which is capable of almost indefinite expansion. +But this most useful and health-giving work +has only been possible under powers which will +cease when the immediate danger to the State +has passed. If a movement, which greatly augments +our home-grown food supply and can give +quiet, healthy, open-air, interesting work for +several hours a week to perhaps a million out of +our congested town populations—if such a movement +be allowed to collapse at the coming of +peace, it will be nothing less than criminal. I +plead here that the real danger to the State will +not pass but rather begin, with the signing of +peace, that the powers to acquire and grant these +garden-allotments should be continued, and every +effort made to foster and <i>extend</i> the movement. +Considering that, whatever we do to re-colonise +our land, we must still have in this country a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span> +dangerously huge town population, this kitchen-garden +movement can be of incalculable value in +combating town-blight, in securing just that air to +lungs and mind, and just that spice of earth reality +which all town-dwellers need so much.</p> + +<p>Extension of arable land by at least 8,000,000 +acres; creation of hundreds of thousands of small +holdings by tithe redemption, or another scheme +still in the blue; increase and perpetuation of garden-allotments—besides +all these we want, of +course, agricultural schools and facilities for training; +<i>co-operatively organised finance, transport, and +marketing of produce</i>; for without schooling, and +co-operation, no system of small holding on a +large scale can possibly succeed. We now have +the labourer's minimum wage, which, I think, +will want increasing; but we want good rural +housing on an economically sound basis, an enlivened +village life, and all that can be done to +give the worker on the land a feeling that he can +rise, the sense that he is not a mere herd, at the +beck and call of what has been dubbed the "tyranny +of the countryside." The land gives work +which is varied, alive, and interesting beyond all +town industries, save those, perhaps, of art and +the highly-skilled crafts and professions. If we +can once get land-life back on to a wide and solid +basis, it should hold its own.</p> + +<p>Dare any say that this whole vast question of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> +the land, with its throbbing importance, yea—seeing +that demobilisations do not come every +year—its desperately immediate importance, is +not fit matter for instant debate and action; dare +any say that we ought to relegate it to that limbo +"After the war"? In grim reality it takes precedence +of every other question. It is infinitely +more vital to our safety and our health than consideration +of our future commercial arrangements. +In our present Parliament—practically, +if not sentimentally speaking—all shades of opinion +are as well represented as they are likely to +be in future Parliaments—even the interests of +our women and our soldiers; to put off the good +day when this question is threshed out, is to crane +at an imagined hedge.</p> + +<p>Let us know now at what we are aiming, let us +admit and record in the black and white of legislation +that we intend to trim our course once more +for the port of health and safety. If this Britain +of ours is going to pin her whole future to a blind +pursuit of wealth, without considering whether +that wealth is making us all healthier and happier, +many of us, like Sancho, would rather retire at +once, and be made "governors of islands." For +who can want part or lot on a ship which goes +yawing with every sail set into the dark, without +rudder, compass, or lighted star?</p> + +<p>I, for one, want a Britain who refuses to take<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span> +the mere immediate line of least resistance, who +knows and sets her course, and that a worthy one. +So do we all, I believe, at heart—only, the current +is so mighty and strong, and we are so used to it!</p> + +<p>By the parasitic and town-ridden condition we +are in now, and in which without great and immediate +effort we are likely to remain, we degrade +our patriotism. That we should have to +tremble lest we be starved is a miserable, a +humiliating thought. To have had so little pride +and independence of spirit as to have come to +this, to have been such gobblers at wealth—who +dare defend it? We have made our bed; let us, +now, refuse to lie thereon. Better the floor than +this dingy feather couch of suffocation.</p> + +<p>Our country is dear to us, and many are dying +for her. There can be no consecration of their +memory so deep or so true as this regeneration of +The Land.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">1917</span> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span></p> +<h2>THE LAND, 1918</h2> + +<h3>I</h3> + +<h3>INTRODUCTORY</h3> + +<p>Can one assume that the pinch of this war is +really bringing home to us the vital need of growing +our own food henceforth? I do not think so. +Is there any serious shame felt at our parasitic +condition? None. Are we in earnest about the +resettlement of the land? Not yet.</p> + +<p>All our history shows us to be a practical people +with short views. "<i>Tiens! Une montagne!</i>" +Never was a better summing up of British character +than those words of the French cartoonist +during the Boer War, beneath his picture of a +certain British General of those days, riding at a +hand gallop till his head was butting a cliff. +Without seeing a hand's breadth before our noses +we have built our Empire, our towns, our law. +We are born empiricists, and must have our faces +ground by hard facts, before we attempt to wriggle +past them. We have thriven so far, but the +ruin of England is likely to be the work of practical +men who burn the house down to roast the +pig, because they cannot see beyond the next +meal. Visions are airy; but I propose to see<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> +visions for a moment, and Britain as she <i>might</i> +be in 1948.</p> + +<p>I see our towns, not indeed diminished from +their present size, but no larger; much cleaner, +and surrounded by wide belts of garden allotments, +wherein town workers spend many of their +leisure hours. I see in Great Britain fifty millions +instead of forty-one; but the town population +only thirty-two millions as now, and the rural +population eighteen millions instead of the present +nine. I see the land farmed in three ways: very +large farms growing corn and milk, meat and +wool, or sugar beet; small farms <i>co-operatively run</i> +growing everything; and large groups of co-operative +small holdings, growing vegetables, fruit, pigs, +poultry, and dairy produce to some extent. There +are no game laws to speak of, and certainly no +large areas of ground cut to waste for private +whims. I see very decent cottages everywhere, +with large plots of ground at economic rents, and +decently waged people paying them; no tithes, +but a band of extinguished tithe-holders, happy +with their compensation. The main waterways +of the country seem joined by wide canals, and +along these canals factories are spread out on +the garden city plan, with allotments for the +factory workers. Along better roads run long +chains of small holdings, so that the co-operated<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span> +holders have no difficulty in marketing their produce. +I see motor transport; tractor ploughs; improved +farm machinery; forestry properly looked +after, and foreshores reclaimed; each village owning +its recreation hall, with stage and cinema attached; +and public-houses run only on the principle +of no commission on the drink sold; every +school teaching the truth that happiness and +health, not mere money and learning, are the +prizes of life and the objects of education, and +for ever impressing on the scholars that life in the +open air and pleasure in their work are the two +chief secrets of health and happiness. In every +district a model farm radiates scientific knowledge +of the art of husbandry, bringing instruction +to each individual farmer, and leaving him no +excuse for ignorance. The land produces what it +ought; not, as now, feeding with each hundred +acres only fifty persons, while a German hundred +acres, not nearly so favoured by Nature, feeds +seventy-five. Every little girl has been taught +to cook. Farmers are no longer fearful of bankruptcy, +as in the years from 1875 to 1897, but +hold their own with all comers, proud of their +industry, the spine and marrow of a country which +respects itself once more. There seems no longer +jealousy or division between town and country; +and statesmen by tacit consent leave the land<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> +free from Party politics. I see taller and stronger +men and women, rosier and happier children; a +race no longer narrow, squashed, and disproportionate; +no longer smoke-dried and nerve-racked, +with the driven, don't-care look of a town-ridden +land. And surely the words "Old England" are +spoken by all voices with a new affection, as of a +land no longer sucking its sustenance from other +lands, but sound and sweet, the worthy heart +once more of a great commonwealth of countries.</p> + +<p>All this I seem to see, if certain things are done +now and persevered in hereafter. But let none +think that we can restore self-respect and the +land-spirit to this country under the mere momentary +pressure of our present-day need. Such +a transformation cannot come unless we are +genuinely ashamed that Britain should be a +sponge; unless we truly wish to make her again +sound metal, ringing true, instead of a splay-footed +creature, dependent for vital nourishment +on oversea supplies—a cockshy for every foe.</p> + +<p>We are practically secured by Nature, yet have +thrown security to the winds because we cannot +feed ourselves! We have as good a climate and +soil as any in the world, not indeed for pleasure, +but for health and food, and yet, I am sure, we +are rotting physically faster than any other people!</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> +Let the nation put that reflection in its pipe +and smoke it day by day; for only so shall we +emerge from a bad dream and seize again on our +birthright.</p> + +<p>Let us dream a little of what we might become. +Let us not crawl on with our stomachs to the +ground, and not an ounce of vision in our heads +for fear lest we be called visionaries. And let us +rid our minds of one or two noxious superstitions. +It is not true that country life need mean dull +and cloddish life; it has in the past, because agriculture +as been neglected for the false glamour +of the towns, and village life left to seed down. +There is no real reason why the villager should +not have all he needs of social life and sane amusement; +village life only wants organising. It is +not true that country folk must be worse fed and +worse plenished than town folk. This has only +been so sometimes because a starved industry +which was losing hope has paid starvation wages. +It is not true that our soil and climate are of indifferent +value for the growth of wheat. The +contrary is the case. "The fact which has been +lost sight of in the past twenty years must be insisted +on nowadays, that England is naturally one +of the best, if not the very best wheat-growing +country in the world. Its climate and soil are almost +ideal for the production of the heaviest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> +crops": Professor R. H. Biffen. "The view of +leading German agriculturists is that their soils +and climate are distinctly inferior to those of +Britain": Mr. T. H. Middleton, Assistant Secretary +to the Board of Agriculture.</p> + +<p>We have many mouths in this country, but no +real excuse for not growing the wherewithal to +feed them.</p> + +<p>To break the chains of our lethargy and superstitions, +let us keep before us a thought and a +vision—the thought that, since the air is mastered +and there are pathways under the sea, we, the +proudest people in the world, will exist henceforth +by mere merciful accident, <i>until we grow our +own food</i>; and the vision of ourselves as a finer +race in body and mind than we have ever yet +been. And then let us be practical by all means; +for in the practical measures of the present, +spurred on by that thought, inspired by that +vision, alone lies the hope and safety of the future.</p> + +<p>What are those measures?</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +II</h3> + +<h3>WHEAT</h3> + +<p>The measure which underlies all else is the +ploughing up of permanent grass—the reconversion +of land which was once arable, the addition to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> +arable of land which has never been arable, so as +to secure the only possible basis of success—the +wheat basis.</p> + +<p>I have before me a Report on the Breaking up +of Grass Land in fifty-five counties for the winter +of 1916–1917, which shows four successes for every +failure. The Report says: "It has been argued +during the past few months that it is hopeless +to attempt to plough out old grass land in +the expectation of adding to the nation's food. +The experience of 1917 does not support this contention. +It shows not only that the successes far +outnumber the failures, but that the latter are to +some extent preventable."</p> + +<p>The Government's 1918 tillage programme for +England and Wales was to increase (as compared +with 1916), (1) the area under corn by 2,600,000 +acres, (2) the area under potatoes and mangolds +by 400,000 acres, (3) the arable land by 2,000,000 +acres. I have it on the best authority that the +Government hopes to better this in the forth-coming +harvest. That shows what our farmers +can do with their backs to the wall. It sometimes +happens in this world that we act virtuously +without in any way believing that virtue is its +own reward. Most of our farmers are hoeing +their rows in this crisis in the full belief that they +are serving the country to the hurt of their own<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span> +interests; they will not, I imagine, realise that +they are laying the foundations of a future prosperity +beyond their happiest dreams until the +crisis is long past. All the more credit to them +for a great effort. They by no means grasp at +present the fact that with every acre they add to +arable, with each additional acre of wheat, they +increase their own importance and stability, and +set the snowball of permanent prosperity in their +industry rolling anew. Pasture was a policy +adopted by men who felt defeat in their bones, +saw bankruptcy round every corner. Those who +best know seem agreed that after the war the +price of wheat will not come down with a run. +The world shortage of food and shipping will be +very great, and the "new world's" surplus will +be small. Let our farmers take their courage in +their hands, play a bold game, and back their +own horse for the next four or five seasons, and +they will, <i>if supported by the country</i>, be in a +position once more to defy competition. Let +them have faith and go for the gloves and they +will end by living without fear of the new worlds. +"There is a tide in the affairs of men." This is +the British farmer's tide, which, taken at the +flood, leads on to fortune. But only if the British +farmer intends that Britain shall feed herself; +only if he farms the land of Britain so that acre<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> +by acre it yields the maximum of food. A hundred +acres under potatoes feeds 420 persons; a +hundred acres under wheat feeds 200 persons; a +hundred acres of grass feeds fifteen persons. It +requires no expert to see that the last is the losing +horse; for increase of arable means also increase +of winter food, and in the long run increase, +not decrease, of live stock. In Denmark (1912) +arable was to permanent grass as about 4 to 5; in +the United Kingdom it was only as about 5 to 7. +Yet in Denmark there were five cattle to every +eight acres of grass, and in the United Kingdom +only four cattle to every nine acres.</p> + +<p>Let me quote Professor Biffen on the prospects +of wheat: "In the United States the amount exported +tends to fall. The results are so marked +that we find American agricultural experts seriously +considering the possibility of the United +States having to become a wheat importing country +in order to feed the rapidly growing population." +When she does, that wheat will come from +Canada; and "there are several other facts which +lead one to question the statement so frequently +made that Canada will shortly be the Empire's +granary...." He thinks that the Argentine +(which trebles her population every forty years) +is an uncertain source; that Russia, where the +population also increases with extreme rapidity,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> +is still more uncertain; that neither India nor +Australia are dependable fields of supply. "The +world's crop continues to increase slowly, and +concurrently the number of wheat consumers increases.... +Prices have tended to rise of late +years, a fact which may indicate that the world's +consumption is increasing faster than its rate of +production. There are now no vast areas of land +comparable with those of North and South America +awaiting the pioneer wheat growers, and consequently +<i>there is no likelihood of any repetition of +the over-production characteristic of the period of +1874–1894</i>....</p> + +<p>"If as there is every reason to hope the problem +of breeding satisfactory strong wheats" (for this +country) "has been solved, then their cultivation +should add about £1 to the value of the produce +of every acre of wheat in the country....</p> + +<p>"At a rough estimate the careful use of artificials +might increase the average yield of the acre +from four quarters up to five....</p> + +<p>"England is one of the best, if not the very +best wheat-growing country in the world."</p> + +<p>That, shortly, is the wheat position for this +country in the view of our most brilliant practical +expert. I commend it to the notice of those +who are faint-hearted about the future of wheat +in Britain.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> +With these prospects and possibilities before +him, <i>and a fair price for wheat guaranteed him</i>, is +the British farmer going to let down the land to +grass again when the war is over? The fair price +for wheat will be the point on which his decision +will turn. When things have settled down after +the war, the fair price will be that at which the +<i>average</i> farmer can profitably grow wheat, and +such a price must be maintained—by bounty, if +necessary. It never can be too often urged on +politicians and electorate that they, who thwart a +policy which makes wheat-growing firm and +profitable, are knocking nails in the coffin of their +country. We are no longer, and never shall again +be, an island. The air is henceforth as simple an +avenue of approach as Piccadilly is to Leicester +Square. If we are ever attacked there will be no +time to get our second wind, unless we can feed +ourselves. And since we are constitutionally +liable to be caught napping, we shall infallibly +be brought to the German heel next time, if we +are not self-supporting. But if we are, there will +be no next time. An attempt on us will not be +worth the cost. Further, we are running to seed +physically from too much town-life and the failure +of country stocks; we shall never stem that +rot unless we re-establish agriculture on a large +scale. To do that, in the view of nearly all who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> +have thought this matter out, we must found our +farming on wheat; grow four-fifths instead of one-fifth +of our supply, and all else will follow.</p> + +<p>In England and Wales 11,246,106 acres were +arable land in 1917, and 15,835,375 permanent +grass land. To reverse these figures, at least, is +the condition of security, perhaps even of existence +in the present and the only guarantee of a +decent and safe future.</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +III</h3> + +<h3>HOLDINGS</h3> + +<p>One expert pins faith to large farms; another to +small holdings. How agreeable to think that +both are right. We cannot afford to neglect any +type of holding; all must be developed and supported, +for all serve vital purposes. For instance, +the great development of small holdings in Germany +is mainly responsible for the plentiful supply +of labour on the land there; "until measures +can be devised for greatly increasing the area +under holdings of less than 100 acres in Britain +we are not likely to breed and maintain in the +country a sufficient number of that class of +worker which will be required if we are greatly +to extend our arable land": Mr. T. H. Middleton, +Assistant Secretary to the Board of Agriculture.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> +But I am not going into the <i>pros</i> and <i>cons</i> +of the holdings question. I desire rather to point +out here that a moment is approaching, which +will never come again, for the resettling of the +land.</p> + +<p>A rough census taken in 1916 among our soldiers +gave the astounding figure of 750,000 desirous +of going on the land. That figure will +shrink to a mere skeleton unless on demobilisation +the Government is ready with a comprehensive +plan. The men fall roughly into two classes: those +who were already on the land; those who were not. +The first will want to go back to their own districts, +but not to the cottages and wages they +had before the war. For them, it is essential to +provide new cottages with larger gardens, otherwise +they will go to the Dominions, to America, +or to the towns. A fresh census should be taken +and kept up to date, the wants of each man +noted, and a definite attempt made now to earmark +sites and material for building, to provide +the garden plots, and plan the best and prettiest +type of cottage. For lack of labour and material +no substantial progress can be made with housing +while the war is on, but if a man can see his +cottage and his ground ready, in the air, he will +wait; if he cannot, he will be off, and we shall +have lost him. Wages are not to fall again below<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span> +twenty-five shillings, and will probably stay at a +considerably higher level. The cottage and the +garden ground for these men will be the determining +factor, and that garden ground should be +at least an acre. A larger class by far will be +men who were not on the land, but having tasted +open-air life, think they wish to continue it. A +fresh census of this class and their wants should +be taken also. It will subdivide them into men +who want the life of independent medium and +small holders, with from 100 to 20 acres of land, +and men who with 5 or 10 acres of their own are +willing to supplement their living by seasonal +work on the large farms. For all a cut-and-dried +scheme providing land and homes is absolutely +essential. If they cannot be assured of having +these within a few months of their return to civil +life, they will go either to the Dominions or back +to the towns. One of them, I am told, thus +forecasts their future wants: "When we're free +we shall have a big spree in the town; we shall +then take the first job that comes along; if it's +an indoor job we shan't be able to stick it and +shall want to get on the land." I am pretty sure +he's wrong. He will want his spree, of course; +but <i>if he is allowed to go back to a town job</i> he is +not at all likely to leave it again. Men so soon +get used to things, and the towns have a fierce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> +grip. For this second class, no less than the +first, it is vital to have the land ready, and the +cottages estimated for. I think men of both +these classes, when free, should be set at once to +the building of their own homes and the preparation +of their land. I think huts ought to be ready +for them and their wives till their homes are +habitable. A man who takes a hand in the +building of his house, and the first work on his +new holding, is far less likely to abandon his idea +of settling on the land than a man who is simply +dumped into a ready-made concern. That is +human nature. Let him begin at the beginning, +and while his house is going up be assisted and +instructed. Frankly, I am afraid that in the +difficulty of fixing on an ideal scheme and ideal +ways of working it, we shall forget that the moment +of demobilisation is unique. Any scheme, +however rough and ready, which will fix men or +their intention of settling on the land in Britain +at the moment of demobilisation will be worth a +hundred better-laid plans which have waited for +perfection till that one precious moment is overpast. +While doctors quarrel, or lay their heads +together, the patient dies.</p> + +<p>The Government, I understand, have adopted +a scheme by which they can secure land. If they +have not ascertained from these men what land<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> +they will want, and secured that land by the time +the men are ready, that scheme will be of little +use to them.</p> + +<p>The Government, I gather, have decided on a +huge scheme for urban and rural housing. About +that I have this to say. The rural housing ought +to take precedence of the urban, not because it is +more intrinsically necessary, but because if the +moment of demobilisation is let slip for want of +rural cottages, we shall lose our very life blood, +our future safety, perhaps our existence as a +nation. We must seize on this one precious +chance of restoring the land and guaranteeing +our future. The towns can wait a little for their +housing, the country cannot. It is a sort of test +question for our leaders in every Party. Surely +they will rise to the vital necessity of grasping +this chance! If, when the danger of starvation +has been staring us hourly in the face for years +on end, and we have for once men in hundreds of +thousands waiting and hoping to be settled on +the land, to give us the safety of the future—if, +in such circumstances, we cannot agree to make +the most of that chance, it will show such lack of +vision that I really feel we may as well throw up +the sponge. If jealousy by towns of country can +so blind public opinion to our danger and our +chance, so that no precedence can be given to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> +rural needs, well, then, frankly we are not fit to +live as a nation.</p> + +<p>I am told that Germany has seen to this matter. +She does not mean to be starved in the +future; she intends to keep the backbone of her +country sound. She, who already grew 80 per +cent. of her food, will grow it all. She, who already +appreciated the dangers of a rampant +industrialism, will take no further risks with the +physique of her population. We who did not +grow one-half of our food, and whose riotous industrialism +has made far greater inroads on our +physique; we who, though we have not yet suffered +the privations of Germany, have been in +far more real danger—we shall talk about it, say +how grave the situation is, how "profoundly" we +are impressed by the need to feed ourselves—and +we shall act, I am very much afraid, too late.</p> + +<p>There are times when the proverb: "Act in +haste and repent at leisure" should be written +"Unless you act in haste you will repent at leisure." +This is such a time. We can take, of +course, the right steps or the wrong steps to settle +our soldiers on the land; but no wrong step +we can take will be so utterly wrong as to let the +moment of demobilisation slip. We have a good +and zealous Minister of Agriculture, we have +good men alive to the necessity, working on this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> +job. If we miss the chance it will be because +"interests" purblind, selfish and perverse, and a +lethargic public opinion, do not back them; because +we want to talk it out; because trade and +industry think themselves of superior importance +to the land. Henceforth trade and industry are +of secondary importance in this country. There +is only one thing of absolutely vital importance, +and that is agriculture.</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +IV</h3> + +<h3>INSTRUCTION</h3> + +<p>I who have lived most of my time on a farm for +many years, in daily contact with farmer and +labourer, do really appreciate what variety and +depth of knowledge is wanted for good farming. +It is a lesson to the armchair reformer to watch a +farmer walking across the "home meadow" +whence he can see a good way over his land. +One can feel the slow wisdom working in his head. +A halt, a look this way and that, a whistle, the +call of some instruction so vernacular that only a +native could understand; the contemplation of +sheep, beasts, sky, crops; always something being +noted, and shrewd deductions made therefrom. +It is a great art, and, like all art, to be +learned only with the sweat of the brow and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> +long, minute attention to innumerable details. +You cannot play at farming, and you cannot +"mug it up." One understands the contempt of +the farmer born and bred for the book-skilled +gentleman who tries to instruct his grandmother +in the sucking of eggs. The farmer's knowledge, +acquired through years of dumb wrestling with +Nature, in his own particular corner, is his strength +and—his weakness. Vision of the land at large, +of its potentialities, and its needs is almost of +necessity excluded. The practical farmers of our +generation might well be likened unto sailing-ship +seamen in an age when it has suddenly become +needful to carry commerce by steam. They are +pupils of the stern taskmaster bankruptcy; the +children of the years from 1874–1897, when the +nation had turned its thumb down on British +farmers, and left them to fight, unaided, against +extinction. They have been brought up to carry +on against contrary winds and save themselves +as best they could. Well, they have done it; and +now they are being asked to reverse their processes +in the interests of a country which left them +in the lurch. Naturally they are not yet persuaded +that the country will not leave them in the +lurch again.</p> + +<p>Instruction of the British farmer begins with +the fortification of his will by confidence. When<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> +you ask him to plough up grass land, to revise +the rotation of his crops, to grow wheat, to use +new brands of corn, to plough with tractors, and +to co-operate, you are asking a man deeply and +deservedly cynical about your intentions and +your knowledge. He has seen wheat fail all his +life, he has seen grass succeed. Grass has saved +him, and now he is asked to turn his back on it. +Little wonder that he curses you for a meddling +fool. "Prove it!" he says—and you cannot. You +could if you had it in your power to show him +that your guarantee of a fair price for wheat was +"good as the Bank." Thus, the first item of instruction +to the farmer consists in the definite +alteration of public opinion towards the land by +adoption of the <i>sine quâ non</i> that in future we will +feed ourselves. The majority of our farmers do +not think their interests are being served by the +present revolution of farming. Patriotic fear for +the country, and dread of D.O.R.A.—not quite +the same thing—are driving them on. Besides, it +is the townsmen of Britain, <i>not the farmers</i>, who +are in danger of starvation, not merely now, but +henceforth for evermore until we feed ourselves. +If starvation really knocked at our doors, the only +houses it would not enter would be the houses of +those who grow food. The farmers in Germany +are all right; they would be all right here. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span> +townsmen of this country were entirely responsible +for our present condition, and the very least +they can do is to support their own salvation. +But while with one corner of their mouths the +towns are now shouting: "Grow food! Feed us, +please!" with the other they are still inclined to +add: "You pampered industry!" Alas! we cannot +have it both ways.</p> + +<p>The second point I want to make about instruction +is the importance of youth. In America, +where they contemplate a labour shortage of +2,000,000 men on their farms, they are using boys +from sixteen to twenty-one, when their military +age begins. Can we not do the same here? Most +of our boys from fifteen to eighteen are now on +other work. But the work they are doing could +surely be done by girls or women. If we could +put even a couple of hundred thousand boys of +that age on the land it would be the solution of +our present agricultural labour shortage, and the +very best thing that could happen for the future +of farming. The boys would learn at first hand; +they would learn slowly and thoroughly; and +many of them would stay on the land. They +might be given specialised schooling in agriculture, +the most important schooling we can give +our rising generation, while all of them would +gain physically. By employing women on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span> +land, where we can employ boys of from fifteen +to eighteen, we are blind-alleying. Women will +not stay on the land in any numbers; few will +wish that they should. Boys will, and every one +would wish that they may.</p> + +<p>The third point I want to make concerns the +model farm. If we are to have resettlement on +any large scale and base our farming on crops in +future, the accessibility of the best practical advice +is an absolute essential.</p> + +<p>Till reformed education begins to take effect, +the advice and aid of "model" farmers should be +available in every district. Some recognised diploma +might with advantage be given to farmers +for outstanding merit and enterprise. No instruction +provided from our advisory agricultural +councils or colleges can have as much prestige +and use in any district as the advice of the +leading farmer who had been crowned as a successful +expert. It is ever well in this country to +take advantage of the competitive spirit which +lies deep in the bones of our race. To give the +best farmers a position and prestige to which +other farmers can aspire would speed up effort +everywhere. We want more competition in actual +husbandry and less competition in matters +of purchase and sale. And that brings us to the +vital question of co-operation.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span></p> +<h3> +<br /> +V</h3> + +<h3>CO-OPERATION (SMALL HOLDINGS)</h3> + +<p>"The most important economic question for all +nations in the past has been, and in the future +will be, the question of a sufficient food supply, +independent of imports.</p> + +<p>"It is doubtful whether the replacement of +German agriculture on a sound basis in the last +ten years is to be ascribed in a greater measure +to technical advance in agricultural methods, or +to the development of the co-operative system. +Perhaps it would be right to say that for the +large farms it is due to the first, and for the smaller +farms (three quarters of the arable land in Germany) +to the second. <i>For it is only through +co-operation that the advantages of farming on a +large scale are made possible for smaller farmers.</i> +The more important of those advantages are the +regulated purchase of all raw materials and half-finished +products (artificial manures, feeding stuffs, +seeds, etc.), better prices for products, facilities +for making use, in moderation, of personal credit +at a cheap rate of interest, together with the +possibility of saving and putting aside small sums +of interest; all these advantages of the large farmer +have been placed within the reach of the small<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> +farmers by local co-operative societies for buying, +selling, and farming co-operatively, as well as +by saving and other banks, all connected to central +associations and central co-operative societies.</p> + +<p>"<i>Over two million small farmers are organised in +Germany on co-operative lines.</i>"<a name="FNanchor_E_5" id="FNanchor_E_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_E_5" class="fnanchor">[E]</a></p> + +<p>Nearly two million small farmers co-operated +in Germany; and here-how many? The Registrar +returns the numbers for 1916 at 1,427 small +holders.</p> + +<p>In the view of all authorities co-operation is +essential for the success of small farmers and +small holders; but it needs no brilliant intellect, +nor any sweep of the imagination to see a truth +plainer than the nose on a man's face.</p> + +<p>"There is some reason to hope," says Mr. +Middleton, "that after the war agriculturalists +will show a greater disposition to co-operate; but +we cannot expect co-operation to do as much +for British agriculture as it has done for the +Germans, who so readily join societies and support +co-operative efforts."</p> + +<p>So much the worse for us!</p> + +<p>The Agricultural Organisation Society, the officially +recognised agency for fostering the co-operative<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> +principle, has recently formed an Agricultural +Wholesale Society with a large subscribed +capital, for the purchase of all farming requirements, +and the marketing of produce, to be at +the disposal of all co-operated farmers, small +holders, and allotment holders, whose societies +are affiliated to the Agricultural Organisation. +Society. This is a step of infinite promise. The +drawing together of these three classes of workers +on the land is in itself a matter of great importance. +One of the chief complaints of small holders +in the past has been that large holders regard +them askance. The same, perhaps, applies to +the attitude of the small holder to the allotment +holder. That is all bad. Men and women on +the land should be one big family, with interests, +and sympathies in common and a neighbourly +feeling.</p> + +<p>A leaflet of the Agricultural Organisation Society +thus describes a certain co-operative small +holdings' society with seventeen members renting +ninety acres. "It owns a team of horses, cart, +horse-hoe, plough, ridger, harrow, Cambridge +roller, marker; and hires other implements as +required; it insures, buys, and sells co-operatively. +This year (for patriotic reasons) wheat and potatoes +form the chief crop, with sufficient oats, +barley, beans and mangolds to feed the horses and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> +the pigs, of which there are many. The society +last year marketed more fat pigs than the rest of +the village and adjoining farms put together.</p> + +<p>"The land, on the whole, is undoubtedly better +cultivated and cropped, and <i>supports a far larger +head of population per acre than the neighbouring +large farms</i>." Even allowing that the first statement +may be disputed, the last is beyond dispute, +and is <i>the</i> important thing to bear in mind about +small holdings from the national point of view; +for every extra man and woman on the land is a +credit item in the bank book of the nation's future.</p> + +<p>"In addition," says the leaflet, "there is a +friendly spirit prevalent among the members, +who are always willing to help each other, and +at harvest time combine to gather in the crops."</p> + +<p>With more land, not only some, but all the +members of this little society could support +themselves entirely on their holdings. "The +members value their independence and freedom, +but recognise the value of combined action and +new ideas."</p> + +<p>Now this is exactly what we want. For instance, +these members have found out that the +profit on potatoes when home-grown farmyard +manure alone was used was only 14<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> per acre; +and that a suitable combination of artificial<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> +manures gave a profit of £14 12<i>s.</i> 6<i>d.</i> an acre, +with double the yield. Mutual help and the +spread of knowledge; more men and women on +the land—this is the value of the agricultural co-operative +movement, whose importance to this +country it is impossible to over-estimate.</p> + +<p>From letters of small holders I take the following remarks:—</p> + +<p>"Of course it's absolutely necessary that the +prospective small holder should have a thorough +knowledge of farming."</p> + +<p>"In regard to implements, you need as many +of some sorts on a small holding as you do on a +large farm. A small man can't afford to buy all, +so he has to work at a disadvantage.... Then +as to seeds, why not buy them wholesale, and +sell them to the small holder, also manures, and +many other things which the small holder has to +pay through the nose for."</p> + +<p>"Men with no actual knowledge of land work +would rarely succeed whatever financial backing +they might receive."</p> + +<p>"About here small holdings are usually let to +men who have been tradesmen or pitmen, and +they of course cannot be expected to make the +most of them."</p> + +<p>"When you restrict a farmer to 50 acres he +ought to be provided with ample and proper<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span> +buildings for every kind of stock he wishes to +keep."</p> + +<p>These few remarks, which might be supplemented +<i>ad libitum</i>, illustrate the difficulties and +dangers which beset any large scheme of land +settlement by our returning soldiers and others. +Such a scheme is bound to fail unless it is based +most firmly on co-operation, for, without that, +the two absolute essentials—knowledge, with the +benefit of practical advice and help; and assistance +by way of co-operative finance, and co-operatively-owned +implements, will be lacking.</p> + +<p>Set the returning soldier down on the land to +work it on his own and, whatever his good-will, +you present the countryside with failure. Place +at his back pooled labour, monetary help and +knowledge, and, above all, the spirit of mutual +aid, and you may, and I believe will, triumph over +difficulties, which are admittedly very great.</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +VI</h3> + +<h3>CO-OPERATION (ALLOTMENTS)</h3> + +<p>The growth of allotment gardens is a striking +feature of our agricultural development under +stimulus of the war. They say a million and a +half allotment gardens are now being worked on. +That is, no doubt, a papery figure; nor is it so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span> +much the number, as what is being done on them, +that matters. Romance may have "brought up +the nine-fifteen," but it will not bring up potatoes. +Still, these new allotments without doubt add +very greatly to our food supply, give hosts of our +town population healthy work in the open air, and +revive in them that "earth instinct" which was +in danger of being utterly lost. The spade is a +grand corrective of nerve strain, and the more +town and factory workers take up allotment gardens, +the better for each individual, and for us all +as a race.</p> + +<p>They say nearly all the ground available round +our towns has already been utilised. But DORA, +in her wild career, may yet wring out another +hundred thousand acres. I wish her well in this +particular activity. And the Government she +serves with such devotion will betray her if, when +DORA is in her grave—consummation devoutly +to be wished—her work on allotment gardens is +not continued. There is always a ring of land +round a town, like a halo round the moon. As +the town's girth increases, so should that halo; +and even in time of peace, larger and larger, not +less and less, should grow the number of town +dwellers raising vegetables, fruit and flowers, resting +their nerves and expanding lungs and muscles +with healthy outdoor work.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span> +"In no direction is the co-operative principle +more adaptable or more useful than in the matter +of Allotment Associations."</p> + +<p>There are now allotment associations in many +parts of the country. One at Winchester has over +1,000 tenant members. And round the great +manufacturing towns many others have been +formed.</p> + +<p>To illustrate the advantages of such co-operation, +let me quote a little from the Hon. Secretary +of the Urmston Allotments Association, near +Manchester: "Though the Urmston men had +foremost in their mind the aim of producing payable +crops ... they determined that their allotments +should be convenient and comfortable to +work, and pleasing to look upon.... It is a delusion +often found among novices that ordinary +ground takes a long time to get into decent order; +and is an expensive business. But enlightened +and energetic men <i>working together</i> can do wonderful +things. They did them at Urmston. The +ground was only broken up in March, 1916, but +in the same season splendid crops of peas, potatoes +and other vegetables were raised by the +holders, <i>the majority of whom had little or no +previous experience of gardening</i>.... So as to deal +with the main needs of the members co-operatively +in the most effective manner a Trading<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> +Committee was appointed to advise and make +contracts.... Manure, lime, salt, and artificial +manures have been ordered collectively; and seeds +and other gardening requisites arranged for at +liberal discounts."</p> + +<p>Besides all this the association has fought the +potato wart disease; had its soil analyzed; educated +its members through literature and lectures; +made roads and fences; looked after the +appearance of its plots, and encouraged flower-growing. +Finally, a neighbourly feeling of friendly +emulation has grown up among its members. +And this is their conclusion: "The advantages of +co-operation are not confined to economy in time +and money, for the common interest that binds +all members to seek the success of the Association, +also provides the means of developing and +utilising the individual talents of the members +for communal and national purposes."</p> + +<p>They speak, indeed, like a book, and every +word is true—which is not always the same thing.</p> + +<p>The Agricultural Organization Society gives +every assistance in forming these associations; +and the more there are of them the greater will +be the output of food, the strength and knowledge +of the individual plot-holder, the stability of his +tenure, and the advantage of the nation.</p> + +<p>Mistrust and reserve between workers on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> +land, be they large farmers, small farmers, or +plotholders is the result of combining husbandry +with the habits and qualities of the salesman. If +a man's business is to get the better of his neighbours +on market days, it will be his pleasure to +doubt them on all other days.</p> + +<p>The co-operative system, by conducting purchase +and sale impersonally, removes half the +reason and excuse for curmudgeonery, besides securing +better prices both at sale and purchase. +To the disgust of the cynic, moral and material +advantage here go hand in hand. Throughout +agriculture co-operation will do more than anything +else to restore spirit and economy to an +industry which had long become dejected, suspicious +and wasteful; and it will help to remove +jealousy and distrust between townsmen and countrymen. +The allotment holder, if encouraged and +given fixity of tenure, or at all events the power of +getting fresh ground if he must give up what he +has—a vital matter—will become the necessary +link between town and country, with mind open +to the influence of both. The more he is brought +into working contact with the small holder and +the large farmer the better he will appreciate his +own importance to the country and ensure theirs. +But this contact can only be established through +some central body, and by use of a wholesale<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> +society for trading and other purposes, such as +has just been set up for all classes of co-operated +agriculturalists.</p> + +<p>Addressing a recent meeting of its members, +the Chairman of the Agricultural Organisation +Society, Mr. Leslie Scott, spoke thus:—"We have +to cover the country" (with co-operative societies), +"and we have got to get all the farmers in! If +we can carry out any such scheme as this, which +will rope in all the farmers of the country, what +a magnificent position we shall be in! You will +have your great trading organisation with its +central wholesale society! You will have your +organisation side with the Agricultural Organisation +Society at the centre.... You will be able +to use that side for all the ancillary purposes +connected with farming; and do a great deal in +the way of expert assistance. And through your +electing the Board of Governors of the Agricultural +Organisation Society, with the provincial +branch Committees, you will have what is in +effect a central Parliament in London.... You +will be able to put before the country, both locally +and here in London, the views of the farming +community, and, those views will get from Government +Departments an attention which the +farming industry in the past has failed to get. +You will command a power in the country."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> +And in a letter to Mr. Scott, read at the same +meeting, the present Minister of Agriculture had +this to say about co-operation:</p> + +<p>"Farming is a business in which as in every +other industry union is strength.... Every +farmer should belong to a co-operative society.... +Small societies like small farmers, must" +(in their turn) "co-operate.... The word +'farmers' is intended to include all those who cultivate +the land. In this sense allotment holders +are farmers, and I trust that the union of all cultivators +of the land in this sense will help to +bridge the gap between town and country."</p> + +<p>That townsman and countryman should feel +their interests to be at bottom the same goes to +the root of any land revival.</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +VII</h3> + +<h3>VALEDICTORY</h3> + +<p>"There are many who contend that the nation +will never again allow its rural industry to be +neglected and discouraged as it was in the past; +that the war has taught a lesson which will not +soon be forgotten. This view of the national +temperament is considered by others to be too +confident. It is the firm conviction of this school +that the consumer will speedily return to his old<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> +habit of indifference to national stability in the +matter of food, and that Parliament acting at his +bidding, will manifest equal apathy."</p> + +<p>These words, taken from a leader in <i>The Times</i> +of February 11th, 1918, bring me back to the +starting point of these ragged reflections. There +will be no permanent stablishing of our agriculture, +no lasting advance towards safety and health, +if we have not vision and a fixed ideal. The ruts +of the past were deep, and our habit is to walk +along without looking to left or right. A Liberalism +worthy of the word should lift its head and +see new paths. The Liberalism of the past, bent +on the improvement of the people and the growth +of good-will between nations, forgot in that absorption +to take in the whole truth. Fixing its eyes +on measures which should redeem the evils of +the day, it did not see that those evils were growing +faster than all possible remedy, because we +had forgotten that a great community bountifully +blessed by Nature has no business to exist +parasitically on the earth produce of other communities; +and because our position under pure free trade, +and pure industrialism, was making +us a tempting bait for aggression, and retarding +the very good-will between nations which it desired +so earnestly.</p> + +<p>The human animal perishes if not fed. We<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> +have gone so far with our happy-go-lucky scheme +of existence that it has become necessary to remind +ourselves of that. So long as we had money +we thought we could continue to exist. Not so. +Henceforth till we feed ourselves again, we live +on sufferance, and dangle before all eyes the apple +of discord. A self-supporting Britain, free from +this carking fear, would become once more a +liberalising power. A Britain fed from overseas +can only be an Imperialistic Junker, armed to the +teeth, jealous and doubtful of each move by any +foreigner; prizing quantity not quality; indifferent +about the condition of his heart. Such a +Britain dare not be liberal if it will.</p> + +<p>The greatest obstacle to a true League of +Nations, with the exception of the condition of +Russia, will be the condition of Britain, till she +can feed herself.</p> + +<p>I believe in the principle of free trade, because +it forces man to put his best leg foremost. But +all is a question of degree in this world. It is no +use starting a donkey, in the Derby, and bawling +in its ear: "A fair field and no favour!" especially +if all your money is on the donkey. All our +money is henceforth on our agriculture till we +have brought it into its own. And that can only +be done at present with the help of bounty.</p> + +<p>The other day a Canadian free trader said:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> +"It all depends on what sort of peace we secure; +if we have a crushing victory, I see no reason +why Britain should not go on importing her +food."</p> + +<p>Fallacy—politically and biologically! The +worst thing that could happen to us after the +war would be a sense of perfect security, in which +to continue to neglect our agriculture and increase +our towns. Does any man think that a +momentary exhaustion of our enemy is going to +prevent that huge and vigorous nation from becoming +strong again? Does he believe that we +can trust a League of Nations—a noble project, +for which we must all work—to prevent war till +we have seen it successful for at least a generation? +Does he consider that our national physique +will stand another fifty years of rampant +industrialism without fresh country stocks to +breed from? Does he suppose that the use of +the air and the underparts of the sea is more +than just beginning?</p> + +<p>Politically, our independence in the matter of +food is essential to good will between the nations. +Biologically, more country life is essential to +British health. The improvement of town and +factory conditions may do something to arrest +degeneration, but in my firm conviction it cannot +hope to do enough in a land where towns have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> +been allowed to absorb seven-ninths of the population, +and—such crowded, grimy towns!</p> + +<p>Even from the economic point of view it will +be far cheaper to restore the countryside and re-establish +agriculture on a paying basis than to +demolish and rebuild our towns till they become +health resorts. And behind it all there is this: +Are we satisfied with the trend of our modern +civilisation? Are we easy in our consciences? +Have not machines, and the demands of industry +run away with our sense of proportion? Grant +for a moment that this age marks the highest +water so far of British advance. Are we content +with that high-water mark? In health, happiness, +taste, beauty, we are surely far from the +ideal. I do not say that restoration of the land +will work a miracle; but I do say that nothing +we can do will benefit us so potently as the redress +of balance between town and country life.</p> + +<p>We are at the parting of the ways. The war +has brought us realisation and opportunity. We +can close our eyes again and drift, or we can move +forward under the star of a new ideal. The principle +which alone preserves the sanity of nations +is the principle of balance. Not even the most +enraged defender of our present condition will +dare maintain that we have followed out that +principle. The scales are loaded in favour of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> +towns, till they almost touch earth; unless our +eyes are cleared to see that, unless our will is +moved to set it right, we shall bump the ground +before another two decades have slipped away, +and in the mud shall stay, an invitation to any +trampling heel.</p> + +<p>I have tried to indicate general measures and +considerations vital to the resettlement of the +land, conscious that some of my readers will have +forgotten more than I know, and that what could +be said would fill volumes. But the thought +which, of all others, I have wished to convey is +this: Without vision we perish. Without apprehension +of danger and ardour for salvation in the +great body of this people there is no hope of anything +save a momentary spurt, which will die +away, and leave us plodding down the hill. There +are two essentials. The farmer—and that means +every cultivator of the land—must have faith in +the vital importance of his work and in the +possibility of success; the townsman must see and +believe that the future of the country, and with +it his own prosperity, is involved in the revival +of our agriculture and bound up with our independence +of oversea supply. Without that vision +and belief in the townsman the farmer will never +regain faith, and without that faith of the farmer +agriculture will not revive.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> +Statesmen may contrive, reformers plan, farmers +struggle on, but if there be not conviction in +the body politic, it will be no use.</p> + +<p>Resettlement of the land, and independence of +outside food supply, is the only hope of welfare +and safety for this country. Fervently believing +that, I have set down these poor words.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">1918.</span> +</p> + + + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p> +<h2>GROTESQUES</h2> + +<h3>Κυνηδόν</h3> + +<h3>I</h3> + + +<p>The Angel Æthereal, on his official visit to the +Earth in 1947, paused between the Bank and the +Stock Exchange to smoke a cigarette and scrutinise +the passers-by.</p> + +<p>"How they swarm," he said, "and with what +seeming energy—in such an atmosphere! Of +what can they be made?"</p> + +<p>"Of money, sir," replied his dragoman; "in the +past, the present, or the future. Stocks are booming. +The barometer of joy stands very high. +Nothing like it has been known for thirty years; +not, indeed, since the days of the Great Skirmish."</p> + +<p>"There is, then, a connection between joy and +money?" remarked the Angel, letting smoke +dribble through his chiselled nostrils.</p> + +<p>"Such is the common belief; though to prove it +might take time. I will, however, endeavour to +do this if you desire it, sir."</p> + +<p>"I certainly do," said the Angel; "for a less +joyous-looking crowd I have seldom seen. Between<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span> +every pair of brows there is a furrow, and +no one whistles."</p> + +<p>"You do not understand," returned his dragoman; +"nor indeed is it surprising, for it is not so +much the money as the thought that some day +you need no longer make it which causes joy."</p> + +<p>"If that day is coming to all," asked the Angel, +"why do they not look joyful?"</p> + +<p>"It is not so simple as that, sir. To the majority +of these persons that day will never come, +and many of them know it—these are called +clerks; to some amongst the others, even, it will +not come—these will be called bankrupts; to the +rest it will come, and they will live at Wimblehurst +and other islands of the blessed, when they +have become so accustomed to making money +that to cease making it will be equivalent to boredom, +if not torture, or when they are so old that +they can but spend it in trying to modify the disabilities +of age."</p> + +<p>"What price joy, then?" said the Angel, raising +his eyebrows. "For that, I fancy, is the expression +you use?"</p> + +<p>"I perceive, sir," answered his dragoman, +"that you have not yet regained your understanding +of the human being, and especially of +the breed which inhabits this country. Illusion +is what we are after. Without our illusions we<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span> +might just as well be angels or Frenchmen, who +pursue at all events to some extent the sordid +reality known as '<i>le plaisir</i>,' or enjoyment of life. +In pursuit of illusion we go on making money and +furrows in our brows, for the process is wearing. +I speak, of course, of the bourgeoisie or Patriotic +classes; for the practice of the Laborious is different, +though their illusions are the same."</p> + +<p>"How?" asked the Angel briefly.</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, both hold the illusion that they will +one day be joyful through the possession of money; +but whereas the Patriotic expect to make it +through the labour of the Laborious, the Laborious +expect to make it through the labour of the +Patriotic."</p> + +<p>"Ha, ha!" said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Angels may laugh," replied his dragoman, +"but it is a matter to make men weep."</p> + +<p>"You know your own business best," said the +Angel, "I suppose."</p> + +<p>"Ah! sir, if we did, how pleasant it would be. +It is frequently my fate to study the countenances +and figures of the population, and I find the joy +which the pursuit of illusion brings them is insufficient +to counteract the confined, monotonous +and worried character of their lives."</p> + +<p>"They are certainly very plain," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"They are," sighed his dragoman, "and getting<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> +plainer every day. Take for instance that +one," and he pointed to a gentleman going up the +steps. "Mark how he is built. The top of his +grizzled head is narrow, the bottom of it broad. +His body is short and thick and square; his legs +even thicker, and his feet turn out too much; the +general effect is almost pyramidal. Again, take +this one," and he indicated a gentleman coming +down the steps, "you could thread his legs and +body through a needle's eye, but his head would +defy you. Mark his boiled eyes, his flashing +spectacles, and the absence of all hair. Disproportion, +sir, has become endemic."</p> + +<p>"Can this not be corrected?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"To correct a thing," answered his dragoman, +"you must first be aware of it, and these are not; +no more than they are aware that it is disproportionate +to spend six days out of every seven in a +counting-house or factory. Man, sir, is the +creature of habit, and when his habits are bad, +man is worse."</p> + +<p>"I have a headache," said the Angel; "the noise +is more deafening than it was when I was here +in 1910."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir; since then we have had the Great +Skirmish, an event which furiously intensified +money-making. We, like every other people, +have ever since been obliged to cultivate the art<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> +of getting five out of two-and-two. The progress +of civilisation has been considerably speeded up +thereby, and everything but man has benefited; +even horses, for they are no longer overloaded +and overdriven up Tower Hill or any other."</p> + +<p>"How is that," asked the Angel, "if the pressure +of work is greater?"</p> + +<p>"Because they are extinct," said his dragoman; +"entirely superseded by electric and air traction, +as you see."</p> + +<p>"You appear to be inimical to money," the +Angel interjected, with a penetrating look. "Tell +me, would you really rather own one shilling than +five and sixpence?"</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied his dragoman, "you are putting +the candidate before the caucus, as the saying is. +For money is nothing but the power to purchase +what one wants. You should rather be inquiring +what I want."</p> + +<p>"Well, what do you?" said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"To my thinking," answered his dragoman, +"instead of endeavouring to increase money when +we found ourselves so very bankrupt, we should +have endeavoured to decrease our wants. The +path of real progress, sir, is the simplification of +life and desire till we have dispensed even with +trousers and wear a single clean garment reaching +to the knees; till we are content with exercising<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> +our own limbs on the solid earth; the eating +of simple food we have grown ourselves; the hearing +of our own voices, and tunes on oaten straws; +the feel on our faces of the sun and rain and wind; +the scent of the fields and woods; the homely +roof, and the comely wife unspoiled by heels, +pearls, and powder; the domestic animals at +play, wild birds singing, and children brought up +to colder water than their fathers. It should have +been our business to pursue health till we no longer +needed the interior of the chemist's shop, the optician's +store, the hairdresser's, the corset-maker's, +the thousand and one emporiums which patch and +prink us, promoting our fancies and disguising +the ravages which modern life makes in our figures. +Our ambition should have been to need so +little that, with our present scientific knowledge, +we should have been able to produce it very easily +and quickly, and have had abundant leisure +and sound nerves and bodies wherewith to enjoy +nature, art, and the domestic affections. The +tragedy of man, sir, is his senseless and insatiate +curiosity and greed, together with his incurable +habit of neglecting the present for the sake of a +future which will never come."</p> + +<p>"You speak like a book," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"I wish I did," retorted his dragoman, "for no +book I am able to procure enjoins us to stop this<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> +riot, and betake ourselves to the pleasurable +simplicity which alone can save us."</p> + +<p>"You would be bored stiff in a week," said the +Angel.</p> + +<p>"We should, sir," replied his dragoman, "because +from our schooldays we are brought up to +be acquisitive, competitive, and restless. Consider +the baby in the perambulator, absorbed in +contemplating the heavens and sucking its own +thumb. Existence, sir, should be like that."</p> + +<p>"A beautiful metaphor," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"As it is, we do but skip upon the hearse of +life."</p> + +<p>"You would appear to be of those whose motto +is: 'Try never to leave things as you find them,'" +observed the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir!" responded his dragoman, with a +sad smile, "the part of a dragoman is rather ever +to try and find things where he leaves them."</p> + +<p>"Talking of that," said the Angel dreamily, +"when I was here in 1910, I bought some Marconi's +for the rise. What are they at now?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you," replied his dragoman in a +deprecating voice, "but this I will say: Inventors +are not only the benefactors but the curses of +mankind, and will be so long as we do not find +a way of adapting their discoveries to our very +limited digestive powers. The chronic dyspepsia<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span> +of our civilisation, due to the attempt to swallow +every pabulum which ingenuity puts before it, +is so violent that I sometimes wonder whether +we shall survive until your visit in 1984."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the Angel, pricking his ears; "you +really think there is a chance?"</p> + +<p>"I do indeed," his dragoman answered gloomily. +"Life is now one long telephone call—and what's +it all about? A tour in darkness! A rattling of +wheels under a sky of smoke! A never-ending +game of poker!"</p> + +<p>"Confess," said the Angel, "that you have +eaten something which has not agreed with you?"</p> + +<p>"It is so," answered his dragoman; "I have +eaten of modernity, the damndest dish that was +ever set to lips. Look at those fellows," he went +on, "busy as ants from nine o'clock in the morning +to seven in the evening. And look at their +wives!"</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes," said the Angel cheerily; "let us +look at their wives," and with three strokes of +his wings he passed to Oxford Street.</p> + +<p>"Look at them!" repeated his dragoman, +"busy as ants from ten o'clock in the morning +to five in the evening."</p> + +<p>"Plain is not the word for <i>them</i>," said the +Angel sadly. "What are they after, running in +and out of these shop-holes?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span> +"Illusion, sir. The romance of business there, +the romance of commerce here. They have got +into these habits and, as you know, it is so much +easier to get in than to get out. Would you like +to see one of their homes?"</p> + +<p>"No, no," said the Angel, starting back and +coming into contact with a lady's hat. "Why do +they have them so large?" he asked, with a certain +irritation.</p> + +<p>"In order that they may have them small next +season," replied his dragoman. "The future, sir; +the future! The cycle of beauty and eternal hope, +and, incidentally, <i>the good of trade</i>. Grasp that +phrase and you will have no need for further inquiry, +and probably no inclination."</p> + +<p>"One could get American sweets in here, I +guess," said the Angel, entering.</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +II</h3> + +<p>"And where would you wish to go to-day, +sir?" asked his dragoman of the Angel who was +moving his head from side to side like a dromedary +in the Haymarket.</p> + +<p>"I should like," the Angel answered, "to go +into the country."</p> + +<p>"The country!" returned his dragoman, doubtfully. +"You will find very little to see there."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> +"Natheless," said the Angel, spreading his +wings.</p> + +<p>"These," gasped his dragoman, after a few +breathless minutes, "are the Chilterns—they will +serve; any part of the country is now the same. +Shall we descend?"</p> + +<p>Alighting on what seemed to be a common, he +removed the cloud moisture from his brow, and +shading his eyes with his hand, stood peering into +the distance on every side. "As I thought," he +said; "there has been no movement since I +brought the Prime here in 1944; we shall have +some difficulty in getting lunch."</p> + +<p>"A wonderfully peaceful spot," said the +Angel.</p> + +<p>"True," said his dragoman. "We might fly +sixty miles in any direction and not see a house +in repair."</p> + +<p>"Let us!" said the Angel. They flew a hundred, +and alighted again.</p> + +<p>"Same here!" said his dragoman. "This is +Leicestershire. Note the rolling landscape of +wild pastures."</p> + +<p>"I am getting hungry," said the Angel. "Let +us fly again."</p> + +<p>"I have told you, sir," remarked his dragoman, +while they were flying, "that we shall have the +greatest difficulty in finding any inhabited dwelling<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> +in the country. Had we not better alight +at Blackton or Bradleeds?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the Angel. "I have come for a +day in the fresh air."</p> + +<p>"Would bilberries serve?" asked his dragoman; +"for I see a man gathering them."</p> + +<p>The Angel closed his wings, and they dropped +on to a moor close to an aged man.</p> + +<p>"My worthy wight," said the Angel, "we are +hungry. Would you give us some of your bilberries?"</p> + +<p>"Wot oh!" ejaculated the ancient party; +"never 'eard yer comin'. Been flyin' by wireless, +'ave yer? Got an observer, I see," he added, +jerking his grizzled chin at the dragoman. "Strike +me, it's the good old dyes o' the Gryte Skirmish +over agyne."</p> + +<p>"Is this," asked the Angel, whose mouth was +already black with bilberries, "the dialect of rural +England?"</p> + +<p>"I will interrogate him, sir," said his dragoman, +"for in truth I am at a loss to account for +the presence of a man in the country." He took +the old person by his last button and led him a +little apart. Returning to the Angel, who had +finished the bilberries, he whispered:</p> + +<p>"It is as I thought. This is the sole survivor +of the soldiers settled on the land at the conclusion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span> +of the Great Skirmish. He lives on berries +and birds who have died a natural death."</p> + +<p>"I fail to understand," answered the Angel. +"Where is all the rural population, where the +mansions of the great, the thriving farmer, the +contented peasant, the labourer about to have his +minimum wage, the Old, the Merrie England of +1910?"</p> + +<p>"That," responded his dragoman somewhat +dramatically, extending his hand towards the old +man, "<i>that</i> is the rural population, and he a cockney +hardened in the Great Skirmish, or he could +never have stayed the course."</p> + +<p>"What!" said the Angel; "is no food grown in +all this land!"</p> + +<p>"Not a cabbage," replied his dragoman; "not +a mustard and cress—outside the towns, that is."</p> + +<p>"I perceive," said the Angel, "that I have lost +touch with much that is of interest. Give me, I +pray, a brief sketch of the agricultural movement."</p> + +<p>"Why, sir," replied his dragoman, "the agricultural +movement in this country since the days +of the Great Skirmish, when all were talking of +resettling the land, may be summed up in two +words: 'Town Expansion.' In order to make this +clear to you, however, I must remind you of the +political currents of the past thirty years. You<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> +will not recollect that during the Great Skirmish, +beneath the seeming absence of politics, there +were germinating the Parties of the future. A +secret but resolute intention was forming in all +minds to immolate those who had played any part +in politics before and during the important world-tragedy +which was then being enacted, especially +such as continued to hold portfolios, or persisted +in asking questions in the House of Commons, as +it was then called. It was not that people held +them to be responsible, but nerves required soothing, +and there is no anodyne, as you know, sir, +equal to human sacrifice. The politician was, as +one may say—'off.' No sooner, of course, was +peace declared than the first real General Election +was held, and it was with a certain chagrin that +the old Parties found themselves in the soup. +The Parties which had been forming beneath the +surface swept the country; one called itself the +Patriotic, and was called by its opponents the +Prussian Party; the other called itself the Laborious, +and was called by its opponents the +Loafing Party. Their representatives were nearly +all new men. In the first flush of peace, with +which the human mind ever associates plenty, +they came out on such an even keel that no Government +could pass anything at all. Since, however, +it was imperative to find the interest on a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> +National Debt of £8,000,000,000, a further election +was needed. This time, though the word +Peace remained, the word Plenty had already +vanished; and the Laborious Party, which, having +much less to tax, felt that it could tax more +freely, found itself in an overwhelming majority. +You will be curious to hear, sir, of what elements +this Party was composed. Its solid bulk were +the returned soldiers, and the other manual +workers of the country; but to this main body +there was added a rump, of pundits, men of excellent +intentions, brains, and principles, such as +in old days had been known as Radicals and +advanced Liberals. These had joined out of +despair, feeling that otherwise their very existence +was jeopardised. To this collocation—and to one +or two other circumstances, as you will presently +see, sir—the doom of the land must be traced. +Now, the Laborious Party, apart from its rump, +on which it would or could not sit—we shall never +know now—had views about the resettlement +of the land not far divergent from those held by +the Patriotic Party, and they proceeded to put +a scheme into operation, which, for perhaps a +year, seemed to have a prospect of success. +Many returned soldiers were established in favourable +localities, and there was even a disposition +to place the country on a self-sufficing<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> +basis in regard to food. But they had not been +in power eighteen months when their rump—which, +as I have told you, contained nearly all +their principles—had a severe attack of these. +'Free Trade,'—which, say what you will, follows +the line of least resistance and is based on the +'good of trade'—was, they perceived, endangered, +and they began to agitate against bonuses on corn +and preferential treatment of a pampered industry. +The bonus on corn was in consequence rescinded +in 1924, and in lieu thereof the system +of small holdings was extended—on paper. At +the same time the somewhat stunning taxation +which had been placed upon the wealthy began +to cause the break-up of landed estates. As the +general bankruptcy and exhaustion of Europe became +more and more apparent the notion of +danger from future war began to seem increasingly +remote, and the 'good of trade' became +again the one object before every British eye. +Food from overseas was cheapening once more. +The inevitable occurred. Country mansions became +a drug in the market, farmers farmed at a +loss; small holders went bust daily, and emigrated; +agricultural labourers sought the towns. In 1926 +the Laborious Party, who had carried the taxation +of their opponents to a pitch beyond the +power of human endurance, got what the racy<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> +call 'the knock,' and the four years which followed +witnessed the bitterest internecine struggle +within the memory of every journalist. In the +course of this strife emigration increased and the +land emptied rapidly. The final victory of the +Laborious Party, in 1930, saw them, still propelled +by their rump, committed, among other +things, to a pure town policy. They have never +been out of power since; the result you see. +Food is now entirely brought from overseas, +largely by submarine and air service, in tabloid +form, and expanded to its original proportions on +arrival by an ingenious process discovered by a +German. The country is now used only as a +subject for sentimental poets, and to fly over, or +by lovers on bicycles at week-ends."</p> + +<p>"<i>Mon Dieu!</i>" said the Angel thoughtfully. +"To me, indeed, it seems that this must have +been a case of: 'Oh! What a surprise!'"</p> + +<p>"You are not mistaken, sir," replied his dragoman; +"people still open their mouths over this +consummation. It is pre-eminently an instance +of what will happen sometimes when you are not +looking, even to the English, who have been most +fortunate in this respect. For you must remember +that all Parties, even the Pundits, have always +declared that rural life and all that, don't +you know, is most necessary, and have ever asserted<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> +that they were fostering it to the utmost. +But they forgot to remember that our circumstances, +traditions, education, and vested interests +so favoured town life and the 'good of trade' +that it required a real and unparliamentary effort +not to take that line of least resistance. In fact, +we have here a very good example of what I told +you the other day was our most striking characteristic—never +knowing where we are till after +the event. But what with fog and principles, +how can you expect we should? Better be a +little town blighter with no constitution and high +political principles, than your mere healthy country +product of a pampered industry. But you +have not yet seen the other side of the moon."</p> + +<p>"To what do you refer?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, to the glorious expansion of the +towns. To this I shall introduce you to-morrow, +if such is your pleasure."</p> + +<p>"Is London, then, not a town?" asked the Angel +playfully.</p> + +<p>"London?" cried his dragoman; "a mere pleasure +village. To which real town shall I take +you? Liverchester?"</p> + +<p>"Anywhere," said the Angel, "where I can get +a good dinner." So-saying, he paid the rural +population with a smile and spread his wings.</p> + + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p> +<h3> +<br /> +III</h3> + +<p>"The night is yet young," said the Angel +Æthereal on leaving the White Heart Hostel at +Liverchester, "and I have had perhaps too much +to eat. Let us walk and see the town."</p> + +<p>"As you will, sir," replied his dragoman; +"there is no difference between night and day, +now that they are using the tides for the provision +of electric power."</p> + +<p>The Angel took a note of the fact. "What do +they manufacture here?" he asked.</p> + +<p>"The entire town," returned his dragoman, +"which now extends from the old Liverpool to +the old Manchester (as indeed its name implies), +is occupied with expanding the tabloids of food +which are landed in its port from the new worlds. +This and the town of Brister, reaching from the +old Bristol to the old Gloucester, have had the +monopoly of food expansion for the United Kingdom +since 1940."</p> + +<p>"By what means precisely?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Congenial environment and bacteriology," responded +his dragoman. They walked for some +time in silence, flying a little now and then in the +dirtier streets, before the Angel spoke again:</p> + +<p>"It is curious," he said, "but I perceive no +difference between this town and those I remember<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> +on my visit in 1910, save that the streets +are better lighted, which is not an unmixed joy, +for they are dirty and full of people whose faces +do not please me."</p> + +<p>"Ah! sir," replied his dragoman, "it is too +much to expect that the wonderful darkness which +prevailed at the time of the Great Skirmish could +endure; then, indeed, one could indulge the hope +that the houses were all built by Wren, and the +people all clean and beautiful. There is no +poetry now."</p> + +<p>"No!" said the Angel, sniffing, "but there is +atmosphere, and it is not agreeable."</p> + +<p>"Mankind, when herded together, <i>will</i> smell," +answered his dragoman. "You cannot avoid it. +What with old clothes, patchouli, petrol, fried +fish and the fag, those five essentials of human +life, the atmosphere of Turner and Corot are as +nothing."</p> + +<p>"But do you not run your towns to please +yourselves?" said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, sir! The resistance would be dreadful. +They run us. You see, they are so very +big, and have such prestige. Besides," he added, +"even if we dared, we should not know how. +For, though some great and good man once +brought us plane-trees, we English are above getting +the best out of life and its conditions, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span> +despise light Frenchified taste. Notice the principle +which governs this twenty-mile residential +stretch. It was intended to be light, but how +earnest it has all turned out! You can tell at a +glance that these dwellings belong to the species +'house' and yet are individual houses, just as a +man belongs to the species 'man,' and yet, as +they say, has a soul of his own. This principle +was introduced off the Avenue Road a few years +before the Great Skirmish, and is now universal. +Any person who lives in a house identical with +another house is not known. Has anything +heavier and more conscientious ever been +seen?"</p> + +<p>"Does this principle also apply to the houses +of the working-man?" inquired the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Hush, sir!" returned his dragoman, looking +round him nervously; "a dangerous word. The +<span class="smcap">Laborious</span> dwell in palaces built after the design +of an architect called Jerry, with communal +kitchens and baths."</p> + +<p>"Do they use them?" asked the Angel with +some interest.</p> + +<p>"Not as yet, indeed," replied his dragoman; +"but I believe they are thinking of it. As you +know, sir, it takes time to introduce a custom. +Thirty years is but as yesterday."</p> + +<p>"The Japanese wash daily," mused the Angel.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> +"Not a Christian nation," replied his dragoman; +"nor have they the dirt to contend with +which is conspicuous here. Let us do justice to +the discouragement which dogs the ablutions of +such as know they will soon be dirty again. It +was confidently supposed, at the time of the Great +Skirmish, which introduced military discipline +and so entirely abolished caste, that the habit of +washing would at last become endemic throughout +the whole population. Judge how surprised +were we of that day when the facts turned out +otherwise. Instead of the Laborious washing +more, the Patriotic washed less. It may have +been the higher price of soap, or merely that +human life was not very highly regarded at the +time. We cannot tell. But not until military +discipline disappeared, and caste was restored, +which happened the moment peace returned, did +the survivors of the Patriotic begin to wash immoderately +again, leaving the Laborious to preserve +a level more suited to democracy."</p> + +<p>"Talking of levels," said the Angel; "is the +populace increasing in stature?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, no, indeed!" responded his dragoman; +"the latest statistics give a diminution of one +inch and a half during the past generation."</p> + +<p>"And in longevity?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"As to that, babies and old people are now communally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span> +treated, and all those diseases which are +curable by lymph are well in hand."</p> + +<p>"Do people, then, not die?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes, sir! About as often as before. +There are new complaints which redress the +balance."</p> + +<p>"And what are those?"</p> + +<p>"A group of diseases called for convenience +Scienticitis. Some think they come from the +present food system; others from the accumulation +of lymphs in the body; others, again, regard +them as the result of dwelling on the subject—a +kind of hypnotisation by death; a fourth school +hold them traceable to town air; while a fifth +consider them a mere manifestation of jealousy +on the part of Nature. They date, one may say, +with confidence, from the time of the Great Skirmish, +when men's minds were turned with some +anxiety to the question of statistics, and babies +were at a premium."</p> + +<p>"Is the population, then, much larger?"</p> + +<p>"You mean smaller, sir, do you not? Not perhaps +so much smaller as you might expect; but +it is still nicely down. You see, the Patriotic +Party, including even those Pontificals whose private +practice most discouraged all that sort of +thing, began at once to urge propagation. But +their propaganda was, as one may say, brain-spun;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span> +and at once bumped up—pardon the colloquialism—against +the economic situation. The +existing babies, it is true, were saved; the trouble +was rather that the babies began not to exist. +The same, of course, obtained in every European +country, with the exception of what was still, +in a manner of speaking, Russia; and if that +country had but retained its homogeneity, it +would soon by sheer numbers have swamped the +rest of Europe. Fortunately, perhaps, it did not +remain homogeneous. An incurable reluctance +to make food for cannon and impose further burdens +on selves already weighted to the ground by +taxes, developed in the peoples of each Central +and Western land; and in the years from 1920 to +1930 the downward curve was so alarming in +Great Britain that if the Patriotic Party could +only have kept office long enough at a time they +would, no doubt, have enforced conception at +the point of the bayonet. Luckily or unluckily, +according to taste, they did not; and it was left +for more natural causes to produce the inevitable +reaction which began to set in after 1930, when +the population of the United Kingdom had been +reduced to some twenty-five millions. About +that time commerce revived. The question of +the land had been settled by its unconscious +abandonment, and people began to see before<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> +them again the possibility of supporting families. +The ingrained disposition of men and women to +own pets, together with 'the good of trade,' began +once more to have its way; and the population +rose rapidly. A renewed joy in life, and the +assurance of not having to pay the piper, caused +the slums, as they used to be called, to swarm +once more, and filled the communal crèches. +And had it not been for the fact that any one +with physical strength, or love of fresh air, +promptly emigrated to the Sister Nations on +attaining the age of eighteen we might now, sir, +be witnessing an overcrowding equal to that of +the times before the Great Skirmish. The movement +is receiving an added impetus with the approach +of the Greater Skirmish between the Teutons +and Mongolians, for it is expected that trade +will boom and much wealth accrue to those countries +which are privileged to look on with equanimity +at this great new drama, as the editors +are already calling it."</p> + +<p>"In all this," said the Angel Æthereal, "I perceive +something rather sordid."</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied his dragoman earnestly, "your +remark is characteristic of the sky, where people +are not made of flesh and blood; pay, I believe, +no taxes; and have no experience of the devastating +consequences of war. I recollect so well<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> +when I was a young man, before the Great Skirmish +began, and even when it had been going on +several years, how glibly the leaders of opinion +talked of human progress, and how blind they +were to the fact that it has a certain connection +with environment. You must remember that +ever since that large and, as some still think, +rather tragic occurrence environment has been +very dicky and Utopia not unrelated to thin air. +It has been perceived time and again that the +leaders of public opinion are not always confirmed +by events. The new world, which was so +sapiently prophesied by rhetoricians, is now nigh +thirty years old, and, for my part, I confess to +surprise that it is not worse than it actually is. +I am moralising, I fear, however, for these suburban +buildings grievously encourage the philosophic +habit. Rather let us barge along and +see the Laborious at their labours, which are +never interrupted now by the mere accident of +night."</p> + +<p>The Angel increased his speed till they alighted +amid a forest of tall chimneys, whose sirens were +singing like a watch of nightingales.</p> + +<p>"There is a shift on," said the dragoman. +"Stand here, sir; we shall see them passing in +and out."</p> + +<p>The Laborious were not hurrying, and went by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> +uttering the words: "Cheer oh!" "So long!" +and "Wot abaht it!"</p> + +<p>The Angel contemplated them for a time before +he said: "It comes back to me now how they +used to talk when they were doing up my flat +on my visit in 1910."</p> + +<p>"Give me, I pray, an imitation," said his dragoman.</p> + +<p>The Angel struck the attitude of one painting +a door. "William," he said, rendering those +voices of the past, "what money are you obtaining?"</p> + +<p>"Not half, Alfred."</p> + +<p>"If that is so, indeed, William, should you not +rather leave your tools and obtain better money? +I myself am doing this."</p> + +<p>"Not half, Alfred."</p> + +<p>"Round the corner I can obtain more money by +working for fewer hours. In my opinion there is +no use in working for less money when you can +obtain more. How much does Henry obtain?"</p> + +<p>"Not half, Alfred."</p> + +<p>"What I am now obtaining is, in my opinion, +no use at all."</p> + +<p>"Not half, Alfred."</p> + +<p>Here the Angel paused, and let his hand move +for one second in a masterly exhibition of activity.</p> + +<p>"It is doubtful, sir," said his dragoman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> +"whether you would be permitted to dilute your +conversation with so much labour in these days; +the rules are very strict."</p> + +<p>"Are there, then, still Trades Unions?" asked +the Angel.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," replied his dragoman; "but there +are Committees. That habit which grew up at +the time of the Great Skirmish has flourished ever +since. Statistics reveal the fact that there are +practically no adults in the country between the +ages of nineteen and fifty who are not sitting on +Committees. At the time of the Great Skirmish +all Committees were nominally active; they are +now both active and passive. In every industry, +enterprise, or walk of life a small active Committee +directs; and a large passive Committee, +formed of everybody else, resists that direction. +And it is safe to say that the Passive Committees +are active and the Active Committees passive; +in this way no inordinate amount of work is +done. Indeed, if the tongue and the electric +button had not usurped practically all the functions +of the human hand, the State would have +some difficulty in getting its boots blacked. But +a ha'poth of visualisation is worth three lectures +at ten shillings the stall, so enter, sir, and see for +yourself."</p> + +<p>Saying this, he pushed open the door.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span> +In a shed, which extended beyond the illimitable +range of the Angel's eye, machinery and +tongues were engaged in a contest which filled +the ozone with an incomparable hum. Men and +women in profusion were leaning against walls or +the pillars on which the great roof was supported, +assiduously pressing buttons. The scent of expanding +food revived the Angel's appetite.</p> + +<p>"I shall require supper," he said dreamily.</p> + +<p>"By all means, sir," replied his dragoman; +"after work—play. It will afford you an opportunity +to witness modern pleasures in our great +industrial centres. But what a blessing is electric +power!" he added. "Consider these lilies of +the town, they toil not, neither do they spin——"</p> + +<p>"Yet Solomon in all his glory," chipped in the +Angel eagerly, "had not their appearance, you +bet."</p> + +<p>"Indeed they are an insouciant crowd," mused +his dragoman. "How tinkling is their laughter! +The habit dates from the days of the Great Skirmish, +when nothing but laughter would meet the case."</p> + +<p>"Tell me," said the Angel, "are the English +satisfied at last with their industrial conditions, +and generally with their mode of life in these expanded +towns?"</p> + +<p>"Satisfied? Oh dear, no, sir! But you know<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span> +what it is: They are obliged to wait for each +fresh development before they can see what they +have to counteract; and, since that great creative +force, 'the good of trade,' is always a little stronger +than the forces of criticism and reform, each development +carries them a little further on the +road to——"</p> + +<p>"Hell! How hungry I am again!" exclaimed +the Angel. "Let us sup!"</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +IV</h3> + +<p>"Laughter," said the Angel Æthereal, applying +his wineglass to his nose, "has ever distinguished +mankind from all other animals with the exception +of the dog. And the power of laughing at nothing +distinguishes man even from that quadruped."</p> + +<p>"I would go further, sir," returned his dragoman, +"and say that the power of laughing at that +which should make him sick distinguishes the +Englishman from all other varieties of man except +the negro. Kindly observe!" He rose, and +taking the Angel by the waist, fox-trotted him +among the little tables.</p> + +<p>"See!" he said, indicating the other supper-takers +with a circular movement of his beard, +"they are consumed with laughter. The habit of +fox-trotting in the intervals of eating has been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span> +known ever since it was introduced by Americans +a generation ago, at the beginning of the +Great Skirmish, when that important people had +as yet nothing else to do; but it still causes laughter +in this country. A distressing custom," he +wheezed, as they resumed their seats, "for not +only does it disturb the oyster, but it compels one +to think lightly of the human species. Not that +one requires much compulsion," he added, "now +that music-hall, cinema, and restaurant are conjoined. +What a happy idea that was of Berlin's, +and how excellent for business! Kindly glance +for a moment—but not more—at the left-hand +stage."</p> + +<p>The Angel turned his eyes towards a cinematograph +film which was being displayed. He contemplated +it for the moment without speaking.</p> + +<p>"I do not comprehend," he said at last, "why +the person with the arrested moustaches is hitting +so many people with that sack of flour."</p> + +<p>"To cause amusement, sir," replied his dragoman. +"Look at the laughing faces around you."</p> + +<p>"But it is not funny," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"No, indeed," returned his dragoman. "Be so +good as to carry your eyes now to the stage on the +right, but not for long. What do you see?"</p> + +<p>"I see a very red-nosed man beating a very +white-nosed man about the body."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span> +"It is a real scream, is it not?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the Angel drily. "Does nothing +else ever happen on these stages?"</p> + +<p>"Nothing. Stay! <i>Revues</i> happen!"</p> + +<p>"What are <i>revues</i>?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Criticisms of life, sir, as it would be seen by +persons inebriated on various intoxicants."</p> + +<p>"They should be joyous."</p> + +<p>"They are accounted so," his dragoman replied; +"but for my part, I prefer to criticise life +for myself, especially when I am drunk."</p> + +<p>"Are there no plays, no operas?" asked the +Angel from behind his glass.</p> + +<p>"Not in the old and proper sense of these words. +They disappeared towards the end of the Great +Skirmish."</p> + +<p>"What food for the mind is there, then?" +asked the Angel, adding an oyster to his collection.</p> + +<p>"None in public, sir, for it is well recognised, +and has been ever since those days, that laughter +alone promotes business and removes the thought +of death. You cannot recall, as I can, sir, the +continual stream which used to issue from theatres, +music-halls, and picture-palaces in the days +of the Great Skirmish, nor the joviality of the +Strand and the more expensive restaurants. I +have often thought," he added with a touch of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> +philosophy, "what a height of civilisation we +must have reached to go jesting, as we did, to the +Great Unknown."</p> + +<p>"Is that really what the English did at the +time of the Great Skirmish?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"It is," replied his dragoman solemnly.</p> + +<p>"Then they are a very fine people, and I can +put up with much about them which seems to +me distressing."</p> + +<p>"Ah! sir, though, being an Englishman, I am +sometimes inclined to disparage the English, I am +yet convinced that you could not fly a week's +journey and come across another race with such +a peculiar nobility, or such an unconquerable +soul, if you will forgive my using a word whose +meaning is much disputed. May I tempt you +with a clam?" he added, more lightly. "We now +have them from America—in fair preservation, +and very nasty they are, in my opinion."</p> + +<p>The Angel took a clam.</p> + +<p>"My Lord!" he said, after a moment of deglutition.</p> + +<p>"Quite so!" replied his dragoman. "But +kindly glance at the right-hand stage again. +There is a <i>revue</i> on now. What do you see?"</p> + +<p>The Angel made two holes with his forefingers +and thumbs and, putting them to his eyes, bent +a little forward.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> +"Tut, tut!" he said; "I see some attractive +young females with very few clothes on, walking +up and down in front of what seem to me, indeed, +to be two grown-up men in collars and jackets +as of little boys. What precise criticism of life +is this conveying?"</p> + +<p>His dragoman answered in reproachful accents:</p> + +<p>"Do you not feel, sir, from your own sensations, +how marvellously this informs one of the +secret passions of mankind? Is there not in it +a striking revelation of the natural tendencies of +the male population? Remark how the whole +audience, including your august self, is leaning +forward and looking through their thumb-holes?"</p> + +<p>The Angel sat back hurriedly.</p> + +<p>"True," he said, "I was carried away. But +that is not the criticism of life which art demands. +If it had been, the audience, myself +included, would have been sitting back with their +lips curled dry, instead of watering."</p> + +<p>"For all that," replied his dragoman, "it is +the best we can give you; anything which induces +the detached mood of which you spoke, has been +banned from the stage since the days of the +Great Skirmish; it is so very bad for business."</p> + +<p>"Pity!" said the Angel, imperceptibly edging +forward; "the mission of art is to elevate."</p> + +<p>"It is plain, sir," said his dragoman, "that you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> +have lost touch with the world as it is. The mission +of art—now truly democratic—is to level—in +principle up, in practice down. Do not forget, +sir, that the English have ever regarded æstheticism +as unmanly, and grace as immoral; when to +that basic principle you add the principle of serving +the taste of the majority, you have perfect +conditions for a sure and gradual decrescendo."</p> + +<p>"Does taste, then, no longer exist?" asked the +Angel.</p> + +<p>"It is not wholly, as yet, extinct, but lingers in +the communal kitchens and canteens, as introduced +by the Young Men's Christian Association +in the days of the Great Skirmish. While there is +appetite there is hope, nor is it wholly discouraging +that taste should now centre in the stomach; +for is not that the real centre of man's activity? +Who dare affirm that from so universal a foundation +the fair structure of æstheticism shall not +be rebuilt? The eye, accustomed to the look of +dainty dishes and pleasant cookery, may once +more demand the architecture of Wren, the sculpture +of Rodin, the paintings of—dear me—whom? +Why, sir, even before the days of the Great +Skirmish, when you were last on earth, we had +already begun to put the future of æstheticism on +a more real basis, and were converting the concert-halls +of London into hotels. Few at the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> +time saw the far-reaching significance of that +movement, or realised that æstheticism was to be +levelled down to the stomach, in order that it +might be levelled up again to the head, on true +democratic principles."</p> + +<p>"But what," said the Angel, with one of his +preternatural flashes of acumen, "what if, on the +other hand, taste should continue to sink and +lose even its present hold on the stomach? If +all else has gone, why should not the beauty of +the kitchen go?"</p> + +<p>"That indeed," sighed his dragoman, placing +his hand on his heart, "is a thought which often +gives me a sinking sensation. Two liqueur +brandies," he murmured to the waiter. "But +the stout heart refuses to despair. Besides, advertisements +show decided traces of æsthetic +advance. All the great painters, poets, and fiction +writers are working on them; the movement +had its origin in the propaganda demanded by the +Great Skirmish. You will not recollect the war +poetry of that period, the patriotic films, the death +cartoons, and other remarkable achievements. +We have just as great talents now, though their +object has not perhaps the religious singleness of +those stirring times. Not a food, corset, or collar +which has not its artist working for it! Toothbrushes, +nutcrackers, babies' baths—the whole<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span> +caboodle of manufacture—are now set to music. +Such themes are considered subliminal if not sublime. +No, sir, I will not despair; it is only at +moments when I have dined poorly that the +horizon seems dark. Listen—they have turned +on the 'Kalophone,' for you must know that all +music now is beautifully made by machine—so +much easier for every one."</p> + +<p>The Angel raised his head, and into his eyes +came the glow associated with celestial strains.</p> + +<p>"The tune," he said, "is familiar to me."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir," answered his dragoman, "for it is +'The Messiah' in ragtime. No time is wasted, +you notice; all, even pleasure, is intensively cultivated, +on the lines of least resistance, thanks to +the feverishness engendered in us by the Great +Skirmish, when no one knew if he would have +another chance, and to the subsequent need for +fostering industry. But whether we really enjoy +ourselves is perhaps a question to answer +which you must examine the English character."</p> + +<p>"That I refuse to do," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"And you are wise, sir, for it is a puzzler, and +many have cracked their heads over it. But have +we not been here long enough? We can pursue +our researches into the higher realms of art to-morrow."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> +A beam from the Angel's lustrous eyes fell on a +lady at the next table. "Yes, perhaps we had +better go," he sighed.</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +V</h3> + +<p>"And so it is through the fields of true art that +we shall walk this morning?" said the Angel +Æthereal.</p> + +<p>"Such as they are in this year of Peace 1947," +responded his dragoman, arresting him before a +statue; "for the development of this hobby has +been peculiar since you were here in 1910, when +the childlike and contortionist movement was +just beginning to take hold of the British."</p> + +<p>"Whom does this represent?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"A celebrated publicist, recently deceased at a +great age. You see him unfolded by this work of +multiform genius, in every aspect known to art, +religion, nature, and the population. From his +knees downwards he is clearly devoted to nature, +and is portrayed as about to enter his bath. From +his waist to his knees he is devoted to religion—mark +the complete disappearance of the human +aspect. From his neck to his waist he is devoted +to public affairs; observe the tweed coat, the +watch chain, and other signs of practical sobriety. +But the head is, after all, the crown of the human +being, and is devoted to art. This is why you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> +cannot make out that it is a head. Note its +pyramidal severity, its cunning little ears, its box-built, +water-tightal structure. The hair you note +to be in flames. Here we have the touch of +beauty—the burning shrub. In the whole you will +observe that aversion from natural form and the +single point of view, characteristic of all twentieth-century +æsthetics. The whole thing is a very +great masterpiece of childlike contortionism. +To do things as irresponsibly as children and +contortionists—what a happy discovery of the +line of least resistance in art that was! Mark, +by the way, this exquisite touch about the left +hand."</p> + +<p>"It appears to be deformed," said the Angel, +going a step nearer.</p> + +<p>"Look closer still," returned his dragoman, +"and you will see that it is holding a novel of the +great Russian, upside down. Ever since that +simple master who so happily blended the childlike +with the contortionist became known in this +country they have been trying to go him one +better, in letters, in painting, in sculpture, and +in music, refusing to admit that he was the last +cry; and until they have beaten him this movement +simply cannot cease; it may therefore go on +for ever, for he was the limit. That hand symbolises +the whole movement."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> +"How?" said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Why, sir, somersault is its mainspring. Did +you never observe the great Russian's method? +Prepare your characters to do one thing, and +make them very swiftly do the opposite. Thus +did that terrific novelist demonstrate his overmastering +range of vision and knowledge of the +depths of human nature. Since his characters +never varied this routine in the course of some +eight thousand pages, people have lightly said +that he repeated himself. But what of that? +Consider what perfect dissociation he thereby attained +between character and action; what nebulosity +of fact; what a truly childlike and mystic +mix-up of all human values hitherto known! +And here, sir, at the risk of tickling you, I must +whisper." The dragoman made a trumpet of his +hand: "Fiction can only be written by those who +have exceptionally little knowledge of ordinary +human nature, and great fiction only by such as +have none at all."</p> + +<p>"How is that?" said the Angel, somewhat disconcerted.</p> + +<p>"Surprise, sir, is the very kernel of all effects +in art, and in real life people <i>will</i> act as their characters +and temperaments determine that they +shall. This dreadful and unmalleable trait would +have upset all the great mystic masters from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span> +generation to generation if they had only noticed +it. But did they? Fortunately not. These +greater men naturally put into their books the +greater confusion and flux in which their extraordinary +selves exist! The nature they portray is +not human, but super- or subter-human, which +you will. Who would have it otherwise?"</p> + +<p>"Not I," said the Angel. "For I confess to a +liking for what is called the 'tuppence coloured.' +But Russians are not as other men, are they?"</p> + +<p>"They are not," said his dragoman, "but the +trouble is, sir, that since the British discovered +him, every character in our greater fiction has a +Russian soul, though living in Cornwall or the +Midlands, in a British body under a Scottish or +English name."</p> + +<p>"Very piquant," said the Angel, turning from +the masterpiece before him. "Are there no undraped +statues to be seen?"</p> + +<p>"In no recognisable form. For, not being educated +to the detached contemplation which still +prevailed to a limited extent even as late as the +days of the Great Skirmish, the populace can no +longer be trusted with such works of art; they are +liable to rush at them, for embrace, or demolition, +as their temperaments may dictate."</p> + +<p>"The Greeks are dead, then," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"As door-nails, sir. They regarded life as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> +thing to be enjoyed—a vice you will not have +noticed in the British. The Greeks were an outdoor +people, who lived in the sun and the fresh +air, and had none of the niceness bred by the life +of our towns. We have long been renowned for +our delicacy about the body; nor has the tendency +been decreased by constituting Watch Committees +of young persons in every borough. These +are now the arbiters of art, and nothing unsuitable +to the child of seven passes their censorship."</p> + +<p>"How careful!" said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"The result has been wonderful," remarked his +dragoman. "Wonderful!" he repeated, dreamily. +"I suppose there is more smouldering sexual desire +and disease in this country than in any +other."</p> + +<p>"Was that the intention?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Oh! no, sir! That is but the natural effect of +so remarkably pure a surface. All is within instead +of without. Nature has now wholly disappeared. +The process was sped up by the Great +Skirmish. For, since then, we have had little +leisure and income to spare on the gratification of +anything but laughter; this and the 'unco-guid' +have made our art-surface glare in the eyes of the +nations, thin and spotless as if made of tin."</p> + +<p>The Angel raised his eyebrows. "I had hoped +for better things," he said.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> +"You must not suppose, sir," pursued his +dragoman, "that there is not plenty of the undraped, +so long as it is vulgar, as you saw just +now upon the stage, for that is good business; +the line is only drawn at the danger-point of art, +which is always very bad business in this country. +Yet even in real life the undraped has to be +grotesque to be admitted; the one fatal quality +is natural beauty. The laugh, sir, the laugh—even +the most hideous and vulgar laugh—is such +a disinfectant. I should, however, say in justice +to our literary men, that they have not altogether +succumbed to the demand for cachinnations. A +school, which first drew breath before the Great +Skirmish began, has perfected itself, till now we +have whole tomes where hardly a sentence would +be intelligible to any save the initiate; this enables +them to defy the Watch Committees, with +other Philistines. We have writers who mysteriously +preach the realisation of self by never +considering anybody else; of purity through experience +of exotic vice; of courage through habitual +cowardice; and of kindness through Prussian +behaviour. They are generally young. We have +others whose fiction consists of autobiography interspersed +with philosophic and political fluencies. +These may be of any age from eighty odd to the +bitter thirties. We have also the copious and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span> +chatty novelist; and transcribers of the life of the +Laborious, whom the Laborious never read. +Above all, we have the great Patriotic school, +who put the national motto first, and write purely +what is good for trade. In fact, we have every +sort, as in the old days."</p> + +<p>"It would appear," said the Angel, "that the +arts have stood somewhat still."</p> + +<p>"Except for a more external purity, and a +higher internal corruption," replied his dragoman.</p> + +<p>"Are artists still noted for their jealousies?" +asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"They are, sir; for that is inherent in the artistic +temperament, which is extremely touchy about +fame."</p> + +<p>"And do they still get angry when those gentlemen—the——"</p> + +<p>"Critics," his dragoman suggested. "They +get angry, sir; but critics are usually anonymous, +and from excellent reasons; for not only are the +passions of an angry artist very high, but the +knowledge of an angry critic is not infrequently +very low, especially of art. It is kinder to save +life, where possible."</p> + +<p>"For my part," said the Angel, "I have little +regard for human life, and consider that many +persons would be better buried."</p> + +<p>"That may be," his dragoman retorted with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span> +some irritation; "'<i>errare est humanum</i>.' But I, +for one, would rather be a dead human being any +day than a live angel, for I think they are more +charitable."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Angel genially, "you have the +prejudice of your kind. Have you an artist about +the place, to show me? I do not recollect any +at Madame Tussaud's."</p> + +<p>"They have taken to declining that honour. +We could see one in real life if we went to Cornwall."</p> + +<p>"Why Cornwall?"</p> + +<p>"I cannot tell you, sir. There is something in +the air which affects their passions."</p> + +<p>"I am hungry, and would rather go to the +Savoy," said the Angel, walking on.</p> + +<p>"You are in luck," whispered his dragoman, +when they had seated themselves at a table covered +with prawns; "for at the next on your left +is our most famous exponent of the mosaic school +of novelism."</p> + +<p>"Then here goes!" replied the Angel. And, +turning to his neighbour, he asked pleasantly: +"How do you do, sir? What is your income?"</p> + +<p>The gentleman addressed looked up from his +prawn, and replied wearily: "Ask my agent. He +may conceivably possess the knowledge you require."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> +"Answer me this, at all events," said the +Angel, with more dignity, if possible: "How do +you write your books? For it must be wonderful +to summon around you every day the creatures +of your imagination. Do you wait for afflatus?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the author; "er—no! I—er—" +he added weightily, "sit down every morning."</p> + +<p>The Angel rolled his eyes and, turning to his +dragoman, said in a well-bred whisper: "He sits +down every morning! My Lord, how good for +trade!"</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +VI</h3> + +<p>"A glass of sherry, dry, and ham sandwich, +stale, can be obtained here, sir," said the dragoman; +"and for dessert, the scent of parchment +and bananas. We will then attend Court 45, +where I shall show you how fundamentally our +legal procedure has changed in the generation +that has elapsed since the days of the Great +Skirmish."</p> + +<p>"Can it really be that the Law has changed? +I had thought it immutable," said the Angel, +causing his teeth to meet with difficulty: "What +will be the nature of the suit to which we shall +listen?"</p> + +<p>"I have thought it best, sir, to select a divorce<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span> +case, lest you should sleep, overcome by the ozone +and eloquence in these places."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the Angel: "I am ready."</p> + +<p>The Court was crowded, and they took their +seats with difficulty, and a lady sitting on the +Angel's left wing.</p> + +<p>"The public <i>will</i> frequent this class of case," +whispered his dragoman. "How different when +you were here in 1910!"</p> + +<p>The Angel collected himself: "Tell me," he +murmured, "which of the grey-haired ones is the +judge?"</p> + +<p>"He in the bag-wig, sir," returned his dragoman; +"and that little lot is the jury," he +added, indicating twelve gentlemen seated in +two rows.</p> + +<p>"What is their private life?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"No better than it should be, perhaps," responded +his dragoman facetiously; "but no one +can tell that from their words and manner, as you +will presently see. These are special ones," he +added, "and pay income tax, so that their judgment +in matters of morality is of considerable +value."</p> + +<p>"They have wise faces," said the Angel. +"Which is the prosecutor?"</p> + +<p>"No, no!" his dragoman answered, vividly: +"This is a civil case. That is the plaintiff with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> +a little mourning about her eyes and a touch of +red about her lips, in the black hat with the +aigrette, the pearls, and the fashionably sober +clothes."</p> + +<p>"I see her," said the Angel: "an attractive +woman. Will she win?"</p> + +<p>"We do not call it winning, sir; for this, as you +must know, is a sad matter, and implies the breaking-up +of a home. She will most unwillingly receive +a decree, at least, I think so," he added; +"though whether it will stand the scrutiny of the +King's Proctor we may wonder a little, from her +appearance."</p> + +<p>"King's Proctor?" said the Angel. "What is +that?"</p> + +<p>"A celestial Die-hard, sir, paid to join together +again those whom man have put asunder."</p> + +<p>"I do not follow," said the Angel fretfully.</p> + +<p>"I perceive," whispered his dragoman, "that I +must make clear to you the spirit which animates +our justice in these matters. You know, of course, +that the intention of our law is ever to penalise +the wrong-doer. It therefore requires the innocent +party, like that lady there, to be exceptionally +innocent, not only before she secures her divorce, +but for six months afterwards."</p> + +<p>"Oh!" said the Angel. "And where is the +guilty party?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span> +"Probably in the south of France," returned +his dragoman, "with the new partner of his affections. +They have a place in the sun; this one +a place in the Law Courts."</p> + +<p>"Dear me!" said the Angel. "Does she prefer +that?"</p> + +<p>"There are ladies," his dragoman replied, "who +find it a pleasure to appear, no matter where, so +long as people can see them in a pretty hat. But +the great majority would rather sink into the +earth than do this thing."</p> + +<p>"The face of this one is most agreeable to me; +I should not wish her to sink," said the Angel +warmly.</p> + +<p>"Agreeable or not," resumed his dragoman, +"they have to bring their hearts for inspection by +the public if they wish to become free from the +party who has done them wrong. This is necessary, +for the penalisation of the wrong-doer."</p> + +<p>"And how will he be penalised?" asked the +Angel naïvely.</p> + +<p>"By receiving his freedom," returned his dragoman, +"together with the power to enjoy himself +with his new partner, in the sun, until, in due +course, he is able to marry her."</p> + +<p>"This is mysterious to me," murmured the +Angel. "Is not the boot on the wrong leg?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! sir, the law would not make a mistake<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> +like that. You are bringing a single mind to the +consideration of this matter, but that will never +do. This lady is a true and much-wronged wife; +that is—let us hope so!—to whom our law has +given its protection and remedy; but she is also, +in its eyes, somewhat reprehensible for desiring +to avail herself of that protection and remedy. +For, though the law is now purely the affair of +the State and has nothing to do with the Appointed, +it still secretly believes in the religious +maxim: 'Once married, always married,' and feels +that however much a married person is neglected +or ill-treated, she should not desire to be free."</p> + +<p>"She?" said the Angel. "Does a man never +desire to be free?"</p> + +<p>"Oh, yes! sir, and not infrequently."</p> + +<p>"Does your law, then, not consider him reprehensible +in that desire?"</p> + +<p>"In theory, perhaps; but there is a subtle distinction. +For, sir, as you observe from the +countenances before you, the law is administered +entirely by males, and males cannot but believe +in the divine right of males to have a better +time than females; and, though they do not say +so, they naturally feel that a husband wronged +by a wife is more injured than a wife wronged by +a husband."</p> + +<p>"There is much in that," said the Angel. "But<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> +tell me how the oracle is worked—for it may come +in handy!"</p> + +<p>"You allude, sir, to the necessary procedure? +I will make this clear. There are two kinds of +cases: what I may call the 'O.K.' and what I +may call the 'rig.' Now in the 'O.K.' it is only +necessary for the plaintiff, if it be a woman, to +receive a black eye from her husband and to +pay detectives to find out that he has been too +closely in the company of another; if it be a man, +he need not receive a black eye from his wife, +and has merely to pay the detectives to obtain +the same necessary information."</p> + +<p>"Why this difference between the sexes?" +asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Because," answered his dragoman, "woman is +the weaker sex, things are therefore harder for +her."</p> + +<p>"But," said the Angel, "the English have a +reputation for chivalry."</p> + +<p>"They have, sir."</p> + +<p>"Well——" began the Angel.</p> + +<p>"When these conditions are complied with," +interrupted his dragoman, "a suit for divorce +may be brought, which may or may not be defended. +Now, the 'rig,' which is always brought +by the wife, is not so simple, for it must be subdivided +into two sections: 'Ye straight rig' and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> +'Ye crooked rig.' 'Ye straight rig' is where the +wife cannot induce her husband to remain with +her, and discovering from him that he has been +in the close company of another, wishes to be +free of him. She therefore tells the Court that +she wishes him to come back to her, and the +Court will tell him to go back. Whereon, if he +obey, the fat is sometimes in the fire. If, however, +he obeys not, which is the more probable, she may, +after a short delay, bring a suit, adducing the +evidence she has obtained, and receive a decree. +This may be the case before you, or, on the other +hand, it may not, and will then be what is called +'Ye crooked rig.' If that is so, these two persons, +having found that they cannot live in conjugal +friendliness, have laid their heads together +for the last time, and arranged to part; the procedure +will now be the same as in 'Ye straight +rig.' But the wife must take the greatest care to +lead the Court to suppose that she really wishes +her husband to come back; for, if she does not, +it is collusion. The more ardent her desire to +part from him, the more care she must take to +pretend the opposite! But this sort of case is, +after all, the simplest, for both parties are in +complete accord in desiring to be free of each +other, so neither does anything to retard that +end, which is soon obtained."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span> +"About that evidence?" said the Angel. "What +must the man do?"</p> + +<p>"He will require to go to an hotel with a lady +friend," replied his dragoman; "once will be +enough. And, provided they are called in the +morning, there is no real necessity for anything +else."</p> + +<p>"H'm!" said the Angel. "This, indeed, seems +to me to be all around about the bush. Could +there not be some simple method which would +not necessitate the perversion of the truth?"</p> + +<p>"Ah, no!" responded his dragoman. "You +forget what I told you, sir. However unhappy +people may be together, our law grudges their +separation; it requires them therefore to be immoral, +or to lie, or both, before they can part."</p> + +<p>"Curious!" said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"You must understand, sir, that when a man +says he will take a woman, and a woman says she +will take a man, for the rest of their natural existence, +they are assumed to know all about each +other, though not permitted, of course, by the +laws of morality to know anything of real importance. +Since it is almost impossible from a +modest acquaintanceship to make sure whether +they will continue to desire each other's company +after a completed knowledge, they are naturally +disposed to go it 'blind,' if I may be pardoned<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> +the expression, and will take each other for ever +on the smallest provocations. For the human +being, sir, makes nothing of the words 'for ever,' +when it sees immediate happiness before it. You +can well understand, therefore, how necessary it +is to make it very hard for them to get untied +again."</p> + +<p>"I should dislike living with a wife if I were +tired of her," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Sir," returned his dragoman confidentially, +"in that sentiment you would have with you the +whole male population. And, I believe, the +whole of the female population would feel the +same if they were tired of you, as the husband."</p> + +<p>"That!" said the Angel, with a quiet smile.</p> + +<p>"Ah! yes, sir; but does not this convince you +of the necessity to force people who are tired of +each other to go on living together?"</p> + +<p>"No," said the Angel, with appalling frankness.</p> + +<p>"Well," his dragoman replied soberly, "I must +admit that some have thought our marriage laws +should be in a museum, for they are unique; and, +though a source of amusement to the public, and +emolument to the profession, they pass the comprehension +of men and angels who have not the +key of the mystery."</p> + +<p>"What key?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"I will give it you, sir," said his dragoman:<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span> +"The English have a genius for taking the shadow +of a thing for its substance. 'So long,' they say, +'as our marriages, our virtue, our honesty, and +happiness <i>seem</i> to be, they <i>are</i>.' So long, therefore, +as we do not dissolve a marriage it remains +virtuous, honest and happy though the parties +to it may be unfaithful, untruthful, and in misery. +It would be regarded as awful, sir, for marriage to +depend on mutual liking. We English cannot +bear the thought of defeat. To dissolve an unhappy +marriage is to recognise defeat by life, +and we would rather that other people lived in +wretchedness all their days than admit that members +of our race had come up against something +too hard to overcome. The English do not care +about making the best out of this life in reality so +long as they can do it in appearance."</p> + +<p>"Then they believe in a future life?"</p> + +<p>"They did to some considerable extent up to +the 'eighties of the last century, and their laws +and customs were no doubt settled in accordance +therewith, and have not yet had time to adapt +themselves. We are a somewhat slow-moving +people, always a generation or two behind our +real beliefs."</p> + +<p>"They have lost their belief, then?"</p> + +<p>"It is difficult to arrive at figures, sir, on such +a question. But it has been estimated that perhaps<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> +one in ten adults now has some semblance +of what may be called active belief in a future +existence."</p> + +<p>"And the rest are prepared to let their lives be +arranged in accordance with the belief of that +tenth?" asked the Angel, surprised. "Tell me, +do they think their matrimonial differences will +be adjusted over there, or what?"</p> + +<p>"As to that, all is cloudy; and certain matters +would be difficult to adjust without bigamy; for +general opinion and the law permit the remarriage +of persons whose first has gone before."</p> + +<p>"How about children?" said the Angel; "for +that is no inconsiderable item, I imagine."</p> + +<p>"Yes, sir, they are a difficulty. But here, +again, my key will fit. So long as the marriage +<i>seems</i> real, it does not matter that the children +know it isn't and suffer from the disharmony of +their parents."</p> + +<p>"I think," said the Angel acutely, "there must +be some more earthly reason for the condition of +your marriage laws than those you give me. It's +all a matter of property at bottom, I suspect."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said his dragoman, seemingly much +struck, "I should not be surprised if you were +right. There is little interest in divorce where no +money is involved, and our poor are considered +able to do without it. But I will never admit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span> +that this is the reason for the state of our divorce +laws. No, no; I am an Englishman."</p> + +<p>"Well," said the Angel, "we are wandering. +Does this judge believe what they are now saying +to him?"</p> + +<p>"It is impossible to inform you, for judges are +very deep and know all that is to be known on +these matters. But of this you may be certain: +if anything is fishy to the average apprehension, +he will not suffer it to pass his nose."</p> + +<p>"Where is the average apprehension?" asked +the Angel.</p> + +<p>"There, sir," said his dragoman, pointing to +the jury with his chin, "noted for their common +sense."</p> + +<p>"And these others with grey heads who are +calling each other friend, though they appear to +be inimical?"</p> + +<p>"Little can be hid from them," returned his +dragoman; "but this case, though defended as to +certain matters of money, is not disputed in regard +to the divorce itself. Moreover, they are +bound by professional etiquette to serve their +clients through thin and thick."</p> + +<p>"Cease!" said the Angel; "I wish to hear this +evidence, and so does the lady on my left wing."</p> + +<p>His dragoman smiled in his beard, and made no +answer.</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> +"Tell me," remarked the Angel, when he had +listened, "does this woman get anything for saying +she called them in the morning?"</p> + +<p>"Fie, sir!" responded his dragoman; "only her +expenses to the Court and back. Though indeed, +it is possible that after she had called them, she +got half a sovereign from the defendant to impress +the matter on her mind, seeing that she +calls many people every day."</p> + +<p>"The whole matter," said the Angel with a +frown, "appears to be in the nature of a game; +nor are the details as savoury as I expected."</p> + +<p>"It would be otherwise if the case were defended, +sir," returned his dragoman; "then, too, +you would have had an opportunity of understanding +the capacity of the human mind for +seeing the same incident to be both black and +white; but it would take much of your valuable +time, and the Court would be so crowded that +you would have a lady sitting on your right wing +also, and possibly on your knee. For, as you observe, +ladies are particularly attached to these +dramas of real life."</p> + +<p>"If my wife were a wrong one," said the Angel, +"I suppose that, according to your law, I could +not sew her up in a sack and place it in the water?"</p> + +<p>"We are not now in the days of the Great +Skirmish," replied his dragoman somewhat coldly.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span> +"At that time any soldier who found his wife +unfaithful, as we call it, could shoot her with +impunity and receive the plaudits and possibly a +presentation from the populace, though he himself +may not have been impeccable while away—a +masterly method of securing a divorce. But, +as I told you, our procedure has changed since +then; and even soldiers now have to go to work +in this roundabout fashion."</p> + +<p>"Can he not shoot the paramour?" asked the +Angel.</p> + +<p>"Not even that," answered his dragoman. +"So soft and degenerate are the days. Though, +if he can invent for the paramour a German name, +he will still receive but a nominal sentence. Our +law is renowned for never being swayed by sentimental +reasons. I well recollect a case in the +days of the Great Skirmish, when a jury found +contrary to the plainest facts sooner than allow +that reputation for impartiality to be tarnished."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the Angel absently; "what is happening +now?"</p> + +<p>"The jury are considering their verdict. The +conclusion is, however, foregone, for they are not +retiring. The plaintiff is now using her smelling +salts."</p> + +<p>"She is a fine woman," said the Angel emphatically.<span class="pagenum"> +<a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span></p> + +<p>"Hush, sir! The judge might hear you."</p> + +<p>"What if he does?" asked the Angel in surprise.</p> + +<p>"He would then eject you for contempt of +Court."</p> + +<p>"Does he not think her a fine woman, too?"</p> + +<p>"For the love of justice, sir, be silent," entreated +his dragoman. "This concerns the happiness +of three, if not of five lives. Look! She +is lifting her veil; she is going to use her handkerchief."</p> + +<p>"I cannot bear to see a woman cry," said the +Angel, trying to rise; "please take this lady off +my left wing."</p> + +<p>"Kindly sit tight!" murmured his dragoman to +the lady, leaning across behind the Angel's back. +"Listen, sir!" he added to the Angel: "The jury +are satisfied that what is necessary has taken +place. All is well; she will get her decree."</p> + +<p>"Hurrah!" said the Angel in a loud voice.</p> + +<p>"If that noise is repeated, I will have the Court +cleared."</p> + +<p>"I am going to repeat it," said the Angel +firmly; "she is beautiful!"</p> + +<p>His dragoman placed a hand respectfully over +the Angel's mouth. "Oh, sir!" he said soothingly, +"do not spoil this charming moment. +Hark! He is giving her a decree <i>nisi</i>, with costs.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span> +To-morrow it will be in all the papers, for it helps +to sell them. See! She is withdrawing; we can +now go." And he disengaged the Angel's wing.</p> + +<p>The Angel rose quickly and made his way towards +the door. "I am going to walk out with +her," he announced joyously.</p> + +<p>"I beseech you," said his dragoman, hurrying +beside him, "remember the King's Proctor! +Where is your chivalry? For <i>he</i> has none, sir—not +a little bit!"</p> + +<p>"Bring him to me; I will give it him!" said +the Angel, kissing the tips of his fingers to the +plaintiff, who was vanishing in the gloom of the +fresh air.</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +VII</h3> + +<p>In the Strangers' room of the Strangers' Club +the usual solitude was reigning when the Angel +Æthereal entered.</p> + +<p>"You will be quiet here," said his dragoman, +drawing up two leather chairs to the hearth, "and +comfortable," he added, as the Angel crossed his +legs. "After our recent experience, I thought it +better to bring you where your mind would be +composed, since we have to consider so important +a subject as morality. There is no place, indeed, +where we could be so completely sheltered from +life, or so free to evolve from our inner consciousness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> +the momentous conclusions of the armchair +moralist. When you have had your sneeze," he +added, glancing at the Angel, who was taking +snuff, "I shall make known to you the conclusions I +have formed in the course of a chequered career."</p> + +<p>"Before you do that," said the Angel, "it +would perhaps be as well to limit the sphere of +our inquiry."</p> + +<p>"As to that," remarked his dragoman, "I shall +confine my information to the morals of the English +since the opening of the Great Skirmish, in +1914, just a short generation of three and thirty +years ago; and you will find my theme readily +falls, sir, into the two main compartments of +public and private morality. When I have finished +you can ask me any questions."</p> + +<p>"Proceed!" said the Angel, letting his eyelids +droop.</p> + +<p>"Public morality," his dragoman began, "is +either superlative, comparative, positive, or negative. +And superlative morality is found, of course, +only in the newspapers. It is the special prerogative +of leader-writers. Its note, remote and +unchallengeable, was well struck by almost every +organ at the commencement of the Great Skirmish, +and may be summed up in a single solemn +phrase: 'We will sacrifice on the altar of duty the +last life and the last dollar—except the last life<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> +and dollar of the last leader-writer.' For, as all +must see, that one had to be preserved, to ensure +and comment on the consummation of the sacrifice. +What loftier morality can be conceived? +And it has ever been a grief to the multitude that +the lives of those patriots and benefactors of their +species should, through modesty, have been unrevealed +to such as pant to copy them. Here and +there the lineaments of a tip-topper were discernible +beneath the disguise of custom; but +what fair existences were screened! I may tell +you at once, sir, that the State was so much +struck at the time of the Great Skirmish by this +doctrine of the utter sacrifice of others that it +almost immediately adopted the idea, and has +struggled to retain it ever since. Indeed, only +the unaccountable reluctance of 'others' to be +utterly sacrificed has ensured their perpetuity."</p> + +<p>"In 1910," said the Angel, "I happened to notice +that the Prussians had already perfected that +system. Yet it was against the Prussians that +this country fought?"</p> + +<p>"That is so," returned his dragoman; "there +were many who drew attention to the fact. And +at the conclusion of the Great Skirmish the reaction +was such that for a long moment even the +leader-writers wavered in their selfless doctrines; +nor could continuity be secured till the Laborious<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> +Party came solidly to the saddle in 1930. Since +then the principle has been firm but the practice +has been firmer, and public morality has never +been altogether superlative. Let us pass to comparative +public morality. In the days of the +Great Skirmish this was practised by those with +names, who told others what to do. This large +and capable body included all the preachers, publicists, +and politicians of the day, and in many +cases there is even evidence that they would have +been willing to practise what they preached if +their age had not been so venerable or their directive +power so invaluable."</p> + +<p>"<i>In</i>-valuable," murmured the Angel; "has that +word a negative signification?"</p> + +<p>"Not in all cases," said his dragoman with a +smile; "there were men whom it would have been +difficult to replace, though not many, and those +perhaps the least comparatively moral. In this +category, too, were undoubtedly the persons +known as conchies."</p> + +<p>"From conch, a shell?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Not precisely," returned his dragoman; "and +yet you have hit it, sir, for into their shells they +certainly withdrew, refusing to have anything to +do with this wicked world. Sufficient unto them +was the voice within. They were not well treated +by an unfeeling populace."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> +"This is interesting to me," said the Angel. +"To what did they object?"</p> + +<p>"To war," replied his dragoman. "'What is it +to us,' they said, 'that there should be barbarians +like these Prussians, who override the laws of +justice and humanity?'—words, sir, very much +in vogue in those days. 'How can it affect our +principles if these rude foreigners have not our +views, and are prepared, by cutting off the food +supplies of this island, to starve us into submission +to their rule? Rather than turn a deaf ear +to the voice within we are prepared for general +starvation; whether we are prepared for the +starvation of our individual selves we cannot, of +course, say until we experience it. But we hope +for the best, and believe that we shall go through +with it to death, in the undesired company of all +who do not agree with us.' And it is certain, sir, +that some of them were capable of this; for there +is, as you know, a type of man who will die rather +than admit that his views are too extreme to keep +himself and his fellow-men alive."</p> + +<p>"How entertaining!" said the Angel. "Do +such persons still exist?"</p> + +<p>"Oh! yes," replied the dragoman; "and always +will. Nor is it, in my opinion, altogether to +the disadvantage of mankind, for they afford a +salutary warning to the human species not to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span> +isolate itself in fancy from the realities of existence +and extinguish human life before its time +has come. We shall now consider the positively +moral. At the time of the Great Skirmish these +were such as took no sugar in their tea and invested +all they had in War Stock at five per cent. +without waiting for what were called Premium +Bonds to be issued. They were a large and +healthy group, more immediately concerned with +commerce than the war. But the largest body of +all were the negatively moral. These were they +who did what they crudely called 'their bit,' +which I may tell you, sir, was often very bitter. +I myself was a ship's steward at the time, and +frequently swallowed much salt water, owing to +the submarines. But I was not to be deterred, +and would sign on again when it had been pumped +out of me. Our morality was purely negative, if +not actually low. We acted, as it were, from instinct, +and often wondered at the sublime sacrifices +which were being made by our betters. +Most of us were killed or injured in one way or +another; but a blind and obstinate mania for not +giving in possessed us. We were a simple lot." +The dragoman paused and fixed his eyes on the +empty hearth. "I will not disguise from you," he +added, "that we were fed-up nearly all the time; +and yet—we couldn't stop. Odd, was it not?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span> +"I wish I had been with you," said the Angel, +"for—to use that word without which you English +seem unable to express anything—you were +heroes."</p> + +<p>"Sir," said his dragoman, "you flatter us by +such encomium. We were, I fear, dismally lacking +in commercial spirit, just men and women in +the street having neither time nor inclination to +examine our conduct and motives, nor to question +or direct the conduct of others. Purely +negative beings, with perhaps a touch of human +courage and human kindliness in us. All this, +however, is a tale of long ago. You can now ask +me any questions, sir, before I pass to private +morality."</p> + +<p>"You alluded to courage and kindliness," said +the Angel: "How do these qualities now stand?"</p> + +<p>"The quality of courage," responded his dragoman, +"received a set-back in men's estimation at +the time of the Great Skirmish, from which it has +never properly recovered. For physical courage +was then, for the first time, perceived to be most +excessively common; it is, indeed, probably a +mere attribute of the bony chin, especially prevalent +in the English-speaking races. As to moral +courage, it was so hunted down that it is still +somewhat in hiding. Of kindliness there are, as +you know, two sorts: that which people manifest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span> +towards their own belongings; and that which +they do not as a rule manifest towards every one +else."</p> + +<p>"Since we attended the Divorce Court," remarked +the Angel with deliberation, "I have +been thinking. And I fancy no one can be really +kind unless they have had matrimonial trouble, +preferably in conflict with the law."</p> + +<p>"A new thought to me," observed his dragoman +attentively; "and yet you may be right, for +there is nothing like being morally outcast to +make you feel the intolerance of others. But +that brings us to private morality."</p> + +<p>"Quite!" said the Angel, with relief. "I forgot +to ask you this morning how the ancient custom +of marriage was now regarded in the large?"</p> + +<p>"Not indeed as a sacrament," replied his dragoman; +"such a view was becoming rare already at +the time of the Great Skirmish. Yet the notion +might have been preserved but for the opposition +of the Pontifical of those days to the reform of the +Divorce Laws. When principle opposes common +sense too long, a landslide follows."</p> + +<p>"Of what nature, then, is marriage now?"</p> + +<p>"Purely a civil, or uncivil, contract, as the case +may be. The holy state of judicial separation, +too, has long been unknown."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the Angel, "that was the custom by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> +which the man became a monk and the lady a +nun, was it not?"</p> + +<p>"In theory, sir," replied his dragoman, "but in +practice not a little bit, as you may well suppose. +The Pontifical, however, and the women, old and +otherwise, who supported them, had but small experience +of life to go on, and honestly believed +that they were punishing those still-married but +erring persons who were thus separated. These, +on the contrary, almost invariably assumed that +they were justified in free companionships, nor +were they particular to avoid promiscuity! So +it ever is, sir, when the great laws of Nature are +violated in deference to the Higher Doctrine."</p> + +<p>"Are children still born out of wedlock?" asked +the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Yes," said his dragoman, "but no longer considered +responsible for the past conduct of their +parents."</p> + +<p>"Society, then, is more humane?"</p> + +<p>"Well, sir, we shall not see the Millennium in +that respect for some years to come. Zoos are +still permitted, and I read only yesterday a letter +from a Scottish gentleman pouring scorn on the +humane proposal that prisoners should be allowed +to see their wives once a month without +bars or the presence of a third party; precisely as +if we still lived in the days of the Great Skirmish.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> +Can you tell me why it is that such letters are always +written by Scotsmen?"</p> + +<p>"Is it a riddle?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"It is indeed, sir."</p> + +<p>"Then it bores me. Speaking generally, are +you satisfied with current virtue now that it is a +State matter, as you informed me yesterday?"</p> + +<p>"To tell you the truth, sir, I do not judge my +neighbours; sufficient unto myself is the vice +thereof. But one thing I observe, the less virtuous +people assume themselves to be, the more +virtuous they commonly are. Where the limelight +is not, the flower blooms. Have you not +frequently noticed that they who day by day +cheerfully endure most unpleasant things, while +helping their neighbours at the expense of their +own time and goods, are often rendered lyrical by +receiving a sovereign from some one who would +never miss it, and are ready to enthrone him in +their hearts as a king of men? The truest virtue, +sir, must be sought among the lowly. Sugar and +snow may be seen on the top, but for the salt of +the earth one must look to the bottom."</p> + +<p>"I believe you," said the Angel. "It is probably +harder for a man in the limelight to enter +virtue than for the virtuous to enter the limelight. +Ha, ha! Is the good old custom of buying +honour still preserved?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> +"No, sir; honour is now only given to such as +make themselves too noisy to be endured, and +saddles the recipient with an obligation to preserve +public silence for a period not exceeding +three years. That maximum sentence is given +for a dukedom. It is reckoned that few can survive +so fearful a term."</p> + +<p>"Concerning the morality of this new custom," +said the Angel, "I feel doubtful. It savours of +surrender to the bully and the braggart, does it +not?"</p> + +<p>"Rather to the bore, sir; not necessarily the +same thing. But whether men be decorated for +making themselves useful, or troublesome, the +result in either case is to secure a comparative +inertia, which has ever been the desideratum; +for you must surely be aware, sir, how a man's +dignity weighs him down."</p> + +<p>"Are women also rewarded in this way?"</p> + +<p>"Yes, and very often; for although their dignity +is already ample, their tongues are long, and +they have little shame and no nerves in the matter +of public speaking."</p> + +<p>"And what price their virtue?" asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"There is some change since the days of the +Great Skirmish," responded his dragoman. "They +do not now so readily sell it, except for a wedding<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> +ring; and many marry for love. Women, indeed, +are often deplorably lacking in commercial spirit; +and though they now mix in commerce, have not +yet been able to adapt themselves. Some men +even go so far as to think that their participation +in active life is not good for trade and keeps the +country back."</p> + +<p>"They are a curious sex," said the Angel; "I +like them, but they make too much fuss about +babies."</p> + +<p>"Ah! sir, there is the great flaw. The mother +instinct—so heedless and uncommercial! They +seem to love the things just for their own sakes."</p> + +<p>"Yes," said the Angel, "there's no future in it. +Give me a cigar."</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +VIII</h3> + +<p>"What, then, is the present position of 'the +good'?" asked the Angel Æthereal, taking wing +from Watchester Cathedrome towards the City +Tabernacle.</p> + +<p>"There are a number of discordant views, sir," +his dragoman whiffled through his nose in the +rushing air; "which is no more novel in this year +of Peace 1947 than it was when you were here in +1910. On the far right are certain extremists, +who believe it to be what it was—omnipotent, but<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> +suffering the presence of 'the bad' for no reason +which has yet been ascertained; omnipresent, +though presumably absent where 'the bad' is +present; mysterious, though perfectly revealed; +terrible, though loving; eternal, though limited +by a beginning and an end. They are not numerous, +but all stall-holders, and chiefly characterised +by an almost perfect intolerance of those +whose views do not coincide with their own; nor +will they suffer for a moment any examination +into the nature of 'the good,' which they hold to +be established for all time, in the form I have +stated, by persons who have long been dead. +They are, as you may imagine, somewhat out of +touch with science, such as it is, and are regarded +by the community at large rather with +curiosity than anything else."</p> + +<p>"The type is well known in the sky," said the +Angel. "Tell me: Do they torture those who do +not agree with them?"</p> + +<p>"Not materially," responded his dragoman. +"Such a custom was extinct even before the days +of the Great Skirmish, though what would have +happened if the Patriotic or Prussian Party had +been able to keep power for any length of time +we cannot tell. As it is, the torture they apply +is purely spiritual, and consists in looking down +their noses at all who have not their belief and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> +calling them erratics. But it would be a mistake +to underrate their power, for human nature +loves the Pontifical, and there are those who will +follow to the death any one who looks down his +nose, and says: 'I know!' Moreover, sir, consider +how unsettling a question 'the good' is, when +you come to think about it and how unfatiguing +the faith which precludes all such speculation."</p> + +<p>"That is so," said the Angel thoughtfully.</p> + +<p>"The right centre," continued his dragoman, +"is occupied by the small yet noisy Fifth Party. +These are they who play the cornet and tambourine, +big drum and concertina, descendants of the +Old Prophet, and survivors of those who, following +a younger prophet, joined them at the time +of the Great Skirmish. In a form ever modifying +with scientific discovery they hold that 'the +good' is a superman, bodiless yet bodily, with a +beginning but without an end. It is an attractive +faith, enabling them to say to Nature: '<i>Je +m'en fiche de tout cela.</i> My big brother will look +after me Pom!' One may call it anthropomorphia, +for it seems especially soothing to strong +personalities. Every man to his creed, as they +say; and I would never wish to throw cold water +on such as seek to find 'the good' by closing one +eye instead of two, as is done by the extremists +on the right."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> +"You are tolerant," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Sir," said his dragoman, "as one gets older, +one perceives more and more how impossible it +is for man not to regard himself as the cause of +the universe, and for certain individual men not +to believe themselves the centre of the cause. +For such to start a new belief is a biological necessity, +and should by no means be discouraged. It +is a safety-valve—the form of passion which the +fires of youth take in men after the age of fifty, +as one may judge by the case of the prophet +Tolstoy and other great ones. But to resume: In +the centre, of course, are situated the enormous +majority of the community, whose view is that +they have no view of what 'the good' is."</p> + +<p>"None?" repeated the Angel Æthereal, somewhat +struck.</p> + +<p>"Not the faintest," answered his dragoman. +"These are the only true mystics; for what is a +mystic if not one with an impenetrable belief in +the mystery of his own existence? This group +embraces the great bulk of the Laborious. It is +true that many of them will repeat what is told +them of 'the good' as if it were their own view, +without compunction, but this is no more than +the majority of persons have done from the beginning +of time."</p> + +<p>"Quite," admitted the Angel; "I have observed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> +that phenomenon in the course of my travels. We +will not waste words on them."</p> + +<p>"Ah, sir!" retorted his dragoman, "there is +more wisdom in these persons than you imagine. +For, consider what would be the fate of their +brains if they attempted to think for themselves. +Moreover, as you know, all definite views about +'the good' are very wearing, and it is better, so +this great majority thinks, to let sleeping dogs +lie than to have them barking in its head. But I +will tell you something," the dragoman added: +"These innumerable persons have a secret belief +of their own, old as the Greeks, that good fellowship +is all that matters. And, in my opinion, +taking 'the good' in its limited sense, it is an admirable +creed."</p> + +<p>"Oh! cut on!" said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"My mistake, sir!" said his dragoman. "On +the left centre are grouped that increasing section +whose view is that since everything is very bad, +'the good' is ultimate extinction—'Peace, perfect +peace,' as the poet says. You will recollect +the old tag: 'To be or not to be.' These are they +who have answered that question in the negative; +pessimists masquerading to an unsuspecting +public as optimists. They are no doubt descendants +of such as used to be called 'Theosophians,' +a sect which presupposed everything and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> +then desired to be annihilated; or, again, of the +Christian Scientites, who simply could not bear +things as they were, so set themselves to think +they were not, with some limited amount of success, +if I remember rightly. I recall to mind the +case of a lady who lost her virtue, and recovered +it by dint of remembering that she had no +body."</p> + +<p>"Curious!" said the Angel. "I should like to +question her; let me have her address after the +lecture. Does the theory of reincarnation still +obtain?"</p> + +<p>"I do not wonder, sir, that you are interested +in the point, for believers in that doctrine are +compelled, by the old and awkward rule that +'Two and two make four,' to draw on other +spheres for the reincarnation of their spirits."</p> + +<p>"I do not follow," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"It is simple, however," answered his dragoman, +"for at one time on earth, as is admitted, +there was no life. The first incarnation, therefore—an +amœba, we used to be told—enclosed a +spirit, possibly from above. It may, indeed, have +been yours, sir. Again, at some time on this +earth, as is admitted, there will again be no life; +the last spirit will therefore flit to an incarnation, +possibly below; and again, sir, who knows, it may +be yours."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> +"I cannot jest on such a subject," said the Angel, +with a sneeze.</p> + +<p>"No offence," murmured his dragoman. "The +last group, on the far left, to which indeed I myself +am not altogether unaffiliated, is composed +of a small number of extremists, who hold that +'the good' is things as they are—pardon the inevitable +flaw in grammar. They consider that +what is now has always been, and will always be; +that things do but swell and contract and swell +again, and so on for ever and ever; and that, +since they could not swell if they did not contract, +since without the black there could not be the +white, nor pleasure without pain, nor virtue without +vice, nor criminals without judges; even contraction, +or the black, or pain, or vice, or judges, +are not 'the bad,' but only negatives; and that +all is for the best in the best of all possible worlds. +They are Voltairean optimists masquerading to +an unsuspecting population as pessimists. 'Eternal +Variation' is their motto."</p> + +<p>"I gather," said the Angel, "that these think +there is no purpose in existence?"</p> + +<p>"Rather, sir, that existence <i>is</i> the purpose. +For, if you consider, any other conception of +purpose implies fulfilment, or an <i>end</i>, which they +do not admit, just as they do not admit a beginning."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> +"How logical!" said the Angel. "It makes me +dizzy! You have renounced the idea of climbing, +then?"</p> + +<p>"Not so," responded his dragoman. "We +climb to the top of the pole, slide imperceptibly +down, and begin over again; but since we never +really know whether we are climbing or sliding, +this does not depress us."</p> + +<p>"To believe that this goes on for ever is futile," +said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"So we are told," replied his dragoman, without +emotion. "<i>We</i> think, however, that the truth +is with us, in spite of jesting Pilate."</p> + +<p>"It is not for me," said the Angel, with dignity, +"to argue with my dragoman."</p> + +<p>"No, sir, for it is always necessary to beware of +the open mind. I myself find it very difficult to +believe the same thing every day. And the fact +is that whatever you believe will probably not +alter the truth, which may be said to have a +certain mysterious immutability, considering the +number of efforts men have made to change it +from time to time. We are now, however, just +above the City Tabernacle, and if you will close +your wings we shall penetrate it through the +clap-trap-door which enables its preachers now +and then to ascend to higher spheres."</p> + +<p>"Stay!" said the Angel; "let me float a minute<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> +while I suck a peppermint, for the audiences in +these places often have colds." And with that +delicious aroma clinging to them they made their +entry through a strait gate in the roof and took +their seats in the front row, below a tall prophet +in eyeglasses, who was discoursing on the stars. +The Angel slept heavily.</p> + +<p>"You have lost a good thing, sir," said his +dragoman reproachfully, when they left the +Tabernacle.</p> + +<p>"In my opinion," the Angel playfully responded, +"I won a better, for I went nap. What +can a mortal know about the stars?"</p> + +<p>"Believe me," answered his dragoman, "the +subject is not more abstruse than is generally +chosen."</p> + +<p>"If he had taken religion I should have listened +with pleasure," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Oh! sir, but in these days such a subject is +unknown in a place of worship. Religion is now +exclusively a State affair. The change began +with discipline and the Education Bill in 1918, +and has gradually crystallised ever since. It is +true that individual extremists on the right make +continual endeavours to encroach on the functions +of the State, but they preach to empty +houses."</p> + +<p>"And the Deity?" said the Angel: "You have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> +not once mentioned Him. It has struck me as +curious."</p> + +<p>"Belief in the Deity," responded his dragoman, +"perished shortly after the Great Skirmish, during +which there was too active and varied an +effort to revive it. Action, as you know, sir, always +brings reaction, and it must be said that the +spiritual propaganda of those days was so grossly +tinged with the commercial spirit that it came +under the head of profiteering and earned for +itself a certain abhorrence. For no sooner had +the fears and griefs brought by the Great Skirmish +faded from men's spirits than they perceived +that their new impetus towards the Deity had +been directed purely by the longing for protection, +solace, comfort, and reward, and not by any +real desire for 'the good' in itself. It was this +truth, together with the appropriation of the +word by Emperors, and the expansion of our +towns, a process ever destructive of traditions, +which brought about extinction of belief in His +existence."</p> + +<p>"It was a large order," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"It was more a change of nomenclature," replied +his dragoman. "The ruling motive for belief +in 'the good' is still the hope of getting something +out of it—the commercial spirit is innate."</p> + +<p>"Ah!" said the Angel, absently. "Can we have<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> +another lunch now? I could do with a slice of +beef."</p> + +<p>"An admirable idea, sir," replied his dragoman; +"we will have it in the White City."</p> + + +<h3> +<br /> +IX</h3> + +<p>"What in your opinion is the nature of happiness?" +asked the Angel Æthereal, as he finished +his second bottle of Bass, in the grounds of +the White City. The dragoman regarded his +angel with one eye.</p> + +<p>"The question is not simple, sir, though often +made the subject of symposiums in the more intellectual +journals. Even now, in the middle of +the twentieth century, some still hold that it is a +by-product of fresh air and good liquor. The +Old and Merrie England indubitably procured +it from those elements. Some, again, imagine it +to follow from high thinking and low living, while +no mean number believe that it depends on +women."</p> + +<p>"Their absence or their presence?" asked the +Angel, with interest.</p> + +<p>"Some this and others that. But for my part, +it is not altogether the outcome of these causes."</p> + +<p>"Is this now a happy land?"</p> + +<p>"Sir," returned his dragoman, "all things +earthly are comparative."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span> +"Get on with it," said the Angel.</p> + +<p>"I will comply," responded his dragoman reproachfully, +"if you will permit me first to draw +your third cork. And let me say in passing that +even your present happiness is comparative, or +possibly superlative, as you will know when you +have finished this last bottle. It may or may not +be greater; we shall see."</p> + +<p>"We shall," said the Angel, resolutely.</p> + +<p>"You ask me whether this land is happy; but +must we not first decide what happiness is? And +how difficult this will be you shall soon discover. +For example, in the early days of the Great Skirmish, +happiness was reputed non-existent; every +family was plunged into anxiety or mourning; +and, though this to my own knowledge was not +the case, such as were not pretended to be. Yet, +strange as it may appear, the shrewd observer of +those days was unable to remark any indication +of added gloom. Certain creature comforts, no +doubt, were scarce, but there was no lack of +spiritual comfort, which high minds have ever +associated with happiness; nor do I here allude to +liquor. What, then, was the nature of this spiritual +comfort, you will certainly be asking. I will +tell you, and in seven words: People forgot themselves +and remembered other people. Until those +days it had never been realised what a lot of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span> +medical men could be spared from the civil +population; what a number of clergymen, lawyers, +stockbrokers, artists, writers, politicians, and +other persons, whose work in life is to cause people +to think about themselves, never would be +missed. Invalids knitted socks and forgot to be +unwell; old gentlemen read the papers and forgot +to talk about their food; people travelled in trains +and forgot not to fall into conversation with each +other; merchants became special constables and +forgot to differ about property; the House of +Lords remembered its dignity and forgot its impudence; +the House of Commons almost forgot +to chatter. The case of the working man was the +most striking of all—he forgot he was the working +man. The very dogs forgot themselves, though +that, to be sure, was no novelty, as the Irish +writer demonstrated in his terrific outburst: 'On +my doorstep.' But time went on, and hens in +their turn forgot to lay, ships to return to port, +cows to give enough milk, and Governments to +look ahead, till the first flush of self-forgetfulness +which had dyed peoples' cheeks——"</p> + +<p>"Died on them," put in the Angel, with a quiet +smile.</p> + +<p>"You take my meaning, sir," said his dragoman, +"though I should not have worded it so +happily. But certainly the return to self began,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> +and people used to think: 'This war is not so +bloody as I thought, for I am getting better +money than I ever did, and the longer it lasts the +more I shall get, and for the sake of this I am +prepared to endure much.' The saying "Beef +and beer, for soon you must put up the shutters," +became the motto of all classes. 'If I am to be +shot, drowned, bombed, ruined, or starved to-morrow,' +they said, 'I had better eat, drink, +marry, and buy jewelry to-day.' And so they +did, in spite of the dreadful efforts of one bishop +and two gentlemen who presided over the important +question of food. They did not, it is true, +relax their manual efforts to accomplish the defeat +of their enemies, or 'win the war,' as it was +somewhat loosely called; but they no longer +worked with their spirits, which, with a few exceptions, +went to sleep. For, sir, the spirit, like +the body, demands regular repose, and in my +opinion is usually the first of the two to snore. +Before the Great Skirmish came at last to its +appointed end the snoring from spirits in this +country might have been heard in the moon. +People thought of little but money, revenge, and +what they could get to eat, though the word +'sacrifice' was so accustomed to their lips that +they could no more get it off them than the other +forms of lip-salve, increasingly in vogue. They<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> +became very merry. And the question I would +raise is this: By which of these two standards +shall we assess the word 'happiness'? Were these +people happy when they mourned and thought +not of self; or when they merried and thought of +self all the time?"</p> + +<p>"By the first standard," replied the Angel, with +kindling eyes. "Happiness is undoubtedly nobility."</p> + +<p>"Not so fast, sir," replied his dragoman; "for I +have frequently met with nobility in distress; +and, indeed, the more exalted and refined the +mind, the unhappier is frequently the owner +thereof, for to him are visible a thousand cruelties +and mean injustices which lower natures do not +perceive."</p> + +<p>"Hold!" exclaimed the Angel: "This is blasphemy +against Olympus, 'The Spectator,' and +other High-Brows."</p> + +<p>"Sir," replied his dragoman gravely, "I am +not one of those who accept gilded doctrines without +examination; I read in the Book of Life rather +than in the million tomes written by men to get +away from their own unhappiness."</p> + +<p>"I perceive," said the Angel, with a shrewd +glance, "that you have something up your sleeve. +Shake it out!"</p> + +<p>"My conclusion is this, sir," returned his<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span> +dragoman, well pleased: "Man is only happy +when he is living at a certain pressure of life to +the square inch; in other words, when he is so +absorbed in what he is doing, making, saying, +thinking, or dreaming, that he has lost self-consciousness. +If there be upon him any ill—such as +toothache or moody meditation—so poignant as +to prevent him losing himself in the interest of +the moment, then he is not happy. Nor must he +merely think himself absorbed, but actually be +so, as are two lovers sitting under one umbrella, +or he who is just making a couplet rhyme."</p> + +<p>"Would you say, then," insinuated the Angel, +"that a man is happy when he meets a mad bull +in a narrow lane? For there will surely be much +pressure of life to the square inch."</p> + +<p>"It does not follow," responded his dragoman; +"for at such moments one is prone to stand apart, +pitying himself and reflecting on the unevenness +of fortune. But if he collects himself and meets +the occasion with spirit he will enjoy it until, +while sailing over the hedge, he has leisure to reflect +once more. It is clear to me," he proceeded, +"that the fruit of the tree of knowledge in the +old fable was not, as has hitherto been supposed +by a puritanical people, the mere knowledge of +sex, but symbolised rather general self-consciousness; +for I have little doubt that Adam and Eve<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> +sat together under one umbrella long before they +discovered they had no clothes on. Not until +they became self-conscious about things at large +did they become unhappy."</p> + +<p>"Love is commonly reputed by some, and power +by others, to be the keys of happiness," said the +Angel, regardless of his grammar.</p> + +<p>"Duds," broke in his dragoman. "For love +and power are only two of the various paths to +absorption, or unconsciousness of self; mere methods +by which men of differing natures succeed in +losing their self-consciousness, for he who, like +Saint Francis, loves all creation, has no time to be +conscious of loving himself, and he who rattles +the sword and rules like Bill Kaser, has no time +to be conscious that he is not ruling himself. I +do not deny that such men may be happy, but +not because of the love or the power. No, it is +because they are loving or ruling with such intensity +that they forget themselves in doing +it."</p> + +<p>"There is much in what you say," said the +Angel thoughtfully. "How do you apply it to +the times and land in which you live?"</p> + +<p>"Sir," his dragoman responded, "the Englishman +never has been, and is not now, by any +means so unhappy as he looks, for, where you see +a furrow in the brow, or a mouth a little open, it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> +portends absorption rather than thoughtfulness—unless, +indeed, it means adenoids—and is the +mark of a naturally self-forgetful nature; nor +should you suppose that poverty and dirt which +abound, as you see, even under the sway of the +Laborious, is necessarily deterrent to the power +of living in the moment; it may even be a symptom +of that habit. The unhappy are more frequently +the clean and leisured, especially in times +of peace, when they have little to do save sit +under mulberry trees, invest money, pay their +taxes, wash, fly, and think about themselves. +Nevertheless, many of the Laborious also live at +half-cock, and cannot be said to have lost consciousness +of self."</p> + +<p>"Then democracy is not synonymous with happiness?" +asked the Angel.</p> + +<p>"Dear sir," replied his dragoman, "I know they +said so at the time of the Great Skirmish. But +they said so much that one little one like that +hardly counted. I will let you into a secret. We +have not yet achieved democracy, either here or +anywhere else. The old American saying about +it is all very well, but since not one man in ten +has any real opinion of his own on any subject +on which he votes, he cannot, with the best will +in the world, put it on record. Not until he +learns to have and record his own real opinion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span> +will he truly govern himself for himself, +which is, as you know, the test of true democracy."</p> + +<p>"I am getting fuddled," said the Angel. "What +is it you want to make you happy?"</p> + +<p>His dragoman sat up: "If I am right," he +purred, "in my view that happiness is absorption, +our problem is to direct men's minds to absorption +in right and pleasant things. An American +making a corner in wheat is absorbed and +no doubt happy, yet he is an enemy of mankind, +for his activity is destructive. We should seek +to give our minds to creation, to activities good +for others as well as for ourselves, to simplicity, +pride in work, and forgetfulness of self in every +walk of life. We should do things for the sheer +pleasure of doing them, and not for what they +may or may not be going to bring us in, and be +taught always to give our whole minds to it; in +this way only will the edge of our appetite for +existence remain as keen as a razor which is +stropped every morning by one who knows how. +On the negative side we should be brought up to +be kind, to be clean, to be moderate, and to love +good music, exercise, and fresh air."</p> + +<p>"That sounds a bit of all right," said the Angel. +"What measures are being taken in these directions?"</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> +"It has been my habit, sir, to study the Education +Acts of my country ever since that which +was passed at the time of the Great Skirmish; +but, with the exception of exercise, I have not as +yet been able to find any direct allusion to these +matters. Nor is this surprising when you consider +that education is popularly supposed to be, +not for the acquisition of happiness, but for the +good of trade or the promotion of acute self-consciousness +through what we know as culture. If +by any chance there should arise a President of +Education so enlightened as to share my views, +it would be impossible for him to mention the fact +for fear of being sent to Colney Hatch."</p> + +<p>"In that case," asked the Angel, "you do not +believe in the progress of your country?"</p> + +<p>"Sir," his dragoman replied earnestly, "you +have seen this land for yourself and have heard +from me some account of its growth from the +days when you were last on earth, shortly before +the Great Skirmish; it will not have escaped your +eagle eye that this considerable event has had +some influence in accelerating the course of its +progression; and you will have noticed how, notwithstanding +the most strenuous intentions at +the close of that tragedy, we have yielded to circumstance +and in every direction followed the line +of least resistance."</p> + +<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> +"I have a certain sympathy with that," said +the Angel, with a yawn; "it is so much easier."</p> + +<p>"So we have found; and our country has got +along, perhaps, as well as one could have expected, +considering what it has had to contend +with: pressure of debt; primrose paths; pelf; +party; patrio-Prussianism; the people; pundits; +Puritans; proctors; property; philosophers; the +Pontifical; and progress. I will not disguise from +you, however, that we are far from perfection; +and it may be that on your next visit, thirty-seven +years hence, we shall be further. For, +however it may be with angels, sir, with men +things do not stand still; and, as I have tried to +make clear to you, in order to advance in body +and spirit, it is necessary to be masters of your +environment and discoveries instead of letting +them be masters of you. Wealthy again we may +be; healthy and happy we are not, as yet."</p> + +<p>"I have finished my beer," said the Angel +Æthereal, with finality, "and am ready to rise. +You have nothing to drink! Let me give you a +testimonial instead!" Pulling a quill from his +wing, he dipped it in the mustard and wrote: "A +Dry Dog—No Good For Trade" on his dragoman's +white hat. "I shall now leave the earth," +he added.</p> + +<p>"I am pleased to hear it," said his dragoman,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> +"for I fancy that the longer you stay the more +vulgar you will become. I have noticed it growing +on you, sir, just as it does on us."</p> + +<p>The Angel smiled. "Meet me by sunlight +alone," he said, "under the left-hand lion in +Trafalgar Square at this hour of this day, in 1984. +Remember me to the waiter, will you? So long!" +And, without pausing for a reply, he spread his +wings, and soared away.</p> + +<p>"<i>L'homme moyen sensuel! Sic itur ad astra!</i>" +murmured his dragoman enigmatically, and, lifting +his eyes, he followed the Angel's flight into +the empyrean.</p> + +<p> +<span style="margin-left: 1em;">1917–18.</span><br /> +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> +<h2><i>BY THE SAME AUTHOR</i></h2> + +<p class="ads"> +VILLA RUBEIN, and Other Stories<br /> +THE ISLAND PHARISEES<br /> +THE MAN OF PROPERTY<br /> +THE COUNTRY HOUSE<br /> +FRATERNITY<br /> +THE PATRICIAN<br /> +THE DARK FLOWER<br /> +THE FREELANDS<br /> +BEYOND<br /> +FIVE TALES</p> + +<hr class="ads" /> + +<p class="ads"> +A COMMENTARY<br /> +A MOTLEY<br /> +THE INN OF TRANQUILLITY<br /> +THE LITTLE MAN, and Other Satires<br /> +A SHEAF<br /> +ANOTHER SHEAF</p> + +<hr class="ads" /> + +<p class="ads">PLAYS: FIRST SERIES<br /> +<span class="separately"><i>and Separately</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="play">THE SILVER BOX</span><br /> +<span class="play">JOY</span><br /> +<span class="play">STRIFE</span></p> + +<p class="ads">PLAYS: SECOND SERIES<br /> +<span class="separately"><i>and Separately</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="play">THE ELDEST SON</span><br /> +<span class="play">THE LITTLE DREAM</span><br /> +<span class="play">JUSTICE</span></p> + +<p class="ads">PLAYS: THIRD SERIES<br /> +<span class="separately"><i>and Separately</i></span><br /> +<br /> +<span class="play">THE FUGITIVE</span><br /> +<span class="play">THE PIGEON</span><br /> +<span class="play">THE MOB</span></p> + +<p class="ads">A BIT O' LOVE</p> + +<hr class="ads" /> + +<p class="ads">MOODS, SONGS, AND DOGGERELS<br /> +MEMORIES. Illustrated +</p> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="fn"> +<h2>Footnotes</h2> +<p><a name="Footnote_A_1" id="Footnote_A_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_A_1"> +<span class="label">[A]</span></a> Since these words were written one hears of demobilization +schemes ready to the last buttons. Let us hope the buttons +won't come off.—J. G.</p> +<p><a name="Footnote_B_2" id="Footnote_B_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_B_2"> +<span class="label">[B]</span></a> "England and the War." Hodder & Stoughton.</p> +<p><a name="Footnote_C_3" id="Footnote_C_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_C_3"> +<span class="label">[C]</span></a> The first part of this paper was published in the <i>Hibbert +Journal</i> in 1910.</p> +<p><a name="Footnote_D_4" id="Footnote_D_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_D_4"> +<span class="label">[D]</span></a> A paper read on March 21st, 1918.</p> +<p><a name="Footnote_E_5" id="Footnote_E_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_E_5"> +<span class="label">[E]</span></a> From an essay by the President of the German Agricultural +Council, quoted by Mr. T. H. Middleton, of the Board of Agriculture, in his report on the recent +development of German agriculture.</p> + +</div> + +<hr style="width: 65%;" /> + +<div class="tn"> +<h4>Transcriber's Note:</h4> +<ul class="corrections"> +<li>Inconsistent hyphenation retained as printed in the original.</li> +<li>The footnotes have been moved to the end of the book.</li> +<li><a href="#Page_56">p. 56</a>: Corrected spelling of word "lacheront" to "lâcheront" located +in the phrase "Les Anglais ne lacheront pas".</li> +<li><a href="#Page_149">p. 149</a>: Corrected spelling of word "gound" to "ground" +located in line "up yearly more and more gound to less and less".</li> +<li><a href="#Page_174">p. 174</a>: Removed extraneous "the" located in the phrase +"for the the speaker was once Minister for Agriculture".</li> +<li><a href="#Page_205">p. 205</a>: "hand" in the phrase "riding at a hand gallop" (a speed +between a canter and a full out gallop) retained as printed.</li> +<li><a href="#Page_207">p. 207</a>: Corrected spelling of word "knowlledge" to "knowledge" located in line +"district a model farm radiates scientific knowlledge".</li> +<li><a href="#Page_273">p. 273</a>: Replaced the period after "no." with a comma located in line +"Oh dear, no. sir!".</li> +<li><a href="#Page_322">p. 322</a>: Added missing comma after the word "dignity" located in the phrase +"said the Angel, with dignity".</li> +</ul> +</div> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Another Sheaf, by John Galsworthy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ANOTHER SHEAF *** + +***** This file should be named 29711-h.htm or 29711-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/7/1/29711/ + +Produced by D Alexander, Larry B. 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