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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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