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+The Project Gutenberg eBook of Free Opinions, by Marie Corelli
+
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at
+www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you
+will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before
+using this eBook.
+
+Title: Free Opinions
+       Freely Expressed on Certain Phases of Modern Social Life and
+       Conduct
+
+Author: Marie Corelli
+
+Release Date: August 18, 2021 [eBook #66079]
+
+Language: English
+
+Character set encoding: UTF-8
+
+Produced by: Tim Lindell, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed
+             Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was
+             produced from images generously made available by The Internet
+             Archive/American Libraries.)
+
+*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FREE OPINIONS ***
+
++-------------------------------------------------+
+|Transcriber’s note:                              |
+|                                                 |
+|Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.  |
+|                                                 |
++-------------------------------------------------+
+
+
+
+
+FREE OPINIONS
+
+FREELY EXPRESSED
+
+
+
+
+CONSTABLE’S NEW 6/- NOVELS
+
+
+     _ROBERT W. CHAMBERS._
+
+     IN SEARCH OF THE UNKNOWN.
+
+     _JOHN FOX_ (_Author of “The Little Shepherd of Kingdom Come”_).
+
+     CRITTENDEN.
+
+     _MRS. STEPNEY RAWSON._
+
+     TALES OF RYE TOWN.
+
+     _ERNEST GLANVILLE._
+
+     A ROUGH REFORMER.
+
+     _UNA L. SILBERRAD._
+
+     THE WEDDING OF THE LADY OF LOVELL.
+
+     _HELEN H. COLVILL._
+
+     THE STEPPING STONE.
+
+     _MRS. COMYNS CARR._
+
+     JOHN FLETCHER’S MADONNA.
+
+     _MAY SINCLAIR._
+
+     THE DIVINE FIRE.
+
+LONDON:
+ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & CO. LTD.
+
+
+
+
+FREE OPINIONS
+
+FREELY EXPRESSED
+
+ON
+
+Certain Phases of Modern Social
+Life and Conduct
+
+
+By
+
+MARIE CORELLI
+
+AUTHOR OF “GOD’S GOOD MAN” “TEMPORAL POWER”
+“BARABBAS” “THE MASTER CHRISTIAN” ETC
+
+
+LONDON
+ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE & CO LTD
+1905
+
+
+
+
+BUTLER & TANNER,
+THE SELWOOD PRINTING WORKS,
+FROME, AND LONDON.
+
+
+
+
+           A Toi, Sauvage!
+
+     “Si vous voulez combattre,
+         Il faut croire d’abord;
+     Il faut que le lutteur
+         Affirme la justice;
+     Il faut, pour le devoir
+         Qu’il s’offre au sacrifice,
+     Et qu’il soit le plus pur,
+         S’il n’est pas le plus fort.”
+                          EUGÈNE MANUEL.
+
+
+
+
+CONTENTS
+
+                                                    PAGE
+A VITAL POINT OF EDUCATION                             1
+
+THE RESPONSIBILITY OF THE PRESS                       14
+
+“PAGAN LONDON”                                        29
+
+A QUESTION OF FAITH                                   38
+
+UNCHRISTIAN CLERICS                                   68
+
+THE SOCIAL BLIGHT                                     79
+
+THE DEATH OF HOSPITALITY                              89
+
+THE VULGARITY OF WEALTH                               98
+
+AMERICAN WOMEN IN ENGLAND                            117
+
+THE AMERICAN BOUNDER                                 128
+
+COWARD ADAM                                          143
+
+ACCURSËD EVE                                         152
+
+“IMAGINARY” LOVE                                     162
+
+THE ADVANCE OF WOMAN                                 169
+
+THE PALM OF BEAUTY                                   185
+
+THE MADNESS OF CLOTHES                               195
+
+THE DECAY OF HOME LIFE IN ENGLAND                    207
+
+SOCIETY AND SUNDAY                                   233
+
+THE “STRONG” BOOK OF THE ISHBOSHETH                  245
+
+THE MAKING OF LITTLE POETS                           252
+
+THE PRAYER OF THE SMALL COUNTRY M.P.                 262
+
+THE THANKSGIVING OF THE SMALL COUNTRY M.P.’S WIFE    267
+
+THE VANISHING GIFT                                   273
+
+THE POWER OF THE PEN                                 292
+
+THE GLORY OF WORK                                    310
+
+THE HAPPY LIFE                                       326
+
+THE SOUL OF THE NATION                               340
+
+
+
+
+AUTHOR’S NOTE
+
+
+Some of these social papers which are now collected together for the
+first time, have appeared before in various periodicals enjoying
+a simultaneous circulation in this country and the United States.
+Eleven of them were written for an American syndicate, which (for the
+purpose of copyright in Great Britain) sold them to a London weekly
+journal, wherein they were duly issued. “Pagan London,” however, which
+caused some little public discussion, was not included among those
+supplied to the American syndicated press, that article having been
+written specially for readers in this country as a protest against
+Archdeacon Sinclair’s sweeping condemnation of the lax morality and
+neglect of religion among the teeming millions that populate our
+great English metropolis,--a condemnation which I ventured, and still
+venture to think unfair, in the face of the open worldliness, and gross
+inattention to the spiritual needs of their congregations on the part
+of a very large majority of the clergy themselves. Certain people,
+whose brains must be of that peculiar density which is incapable
+of receiving even the impression of a shadow of common sense, have
+since accused me of attacking “all” the clergy. Such an accusation is
+unwarranted and unwarrantable, for no one appreciates more than I do
+the brave, patient, self-denying and silent work of the true ministers
+of the Gospel, who, seeking nothing for themselves, sacrifice all for
+their Master. But it is just these noble clergy whose high profession
+is degraded by the ever-increasing tribe of the false hypocrites of
+their order, such as those mentioned in “Unchristian Clerics,” all
+of whom have come within the radius of my own personal experience. I
+readily admit that I have little patience with humbug of any kind,
+and that “religious” humbug does always seem to me more like open
+blasphemy than what is commonly called by that name. I equally confess
+that I have no sympathy with any form of faith which needs continuous
+blatant public advertisement in the press of a so-called “Christian”
+country--nor do I believe in a Brass-band “revival” of what, if our
+religion is religion at all, should never need “reviving.” I have put
+forward these views plainly in “The Soul of the Nation,” which appears
+for the first time in the present volume.
+
+I have only to add that I attach no other merit to such “opinions” as
+will be found in the following pages, than that they are honest, and
+that they are honestly expressed, without fear or favour. This is their
+only claim upon the attention of the public.
+
+STRATFORD-ON-AVON,
+_March, 1905_.
+
+
+
+
+A VITAL POINT OF EDUCATION
+
+
+In days like these, when the necessity of Education, technical or
+otherwise, is strenuously insisted upon by all the learned, worshipful,
+governmental and dictatorial personages who “sit” on County Councils,
+or talk the precious time recklessly away in Parliament without
+apparently arriving at any decision of definite workable good for the
+nation, it will not perhaps be considered obtrusive or intrusive if a
+suggestion be put forward as to the importance of one point,--
+
+
+THE NECESSITY OF TEACHING PEOPLE TO READ.
+
+This essential of education is sadly lacking among the general majority
+of “educated” persons in Great Britain, and I think I may say America.
+Especially among those of the “upper” classes, in both countries.
+When we speak of these “upper” classes, we mean of course those, who
+by chance or fortune have been born either to such rank or to such
+sufficient wealth as to be lifted above the toiling million, and
+who may be presumed to have had all the physical, mental and social
+advantages that tuition, training and general surroundings can give
+them. Yet it is precisely among these that we find the ones who cannot
+read, who frequently cannot spell, and whose handwriting is so bad as
+to be well-nigh illegible. When it is said that they cannot read,
+that statement is not intended to convey the idea that if a book or
+newspaper be given to them they do not understand the letters or the
+print in which the reading matter is presented to their eyes. They
+do. But such letters and such print impress no meaning upon their
+minds. Anyone can prove this by merely asking them what they have been
+reading. In nine cases out of ten they “don’t know.” And if they ever
+did know, during one unusual moment of brain-activity, they “forget.”
+The thinking faculty is, with them, like a worn-out sieve, through
+which everything runs easily and drops to waste. The news of the day,
+be it set forth never so boldly in no matter what startlingly stout
+headlines, barely excites their interest for more than a second.
+They may perhaps glance at a couple of newspaper placards and lazily
+observe, “Russia at it again,” but of the ins and outs of policy, the
+difficulties of Government, the work of nations, they grasp absolutely
+nothing. Thus it happens that when they are asked their opinion on
+any such events of the hour as may be making history in the future,
+they display their utter ignorance in such a frankly stupid fashion
+that any intelligent enquirer is bound to be stunned by their lack
+of knowledge, and will perhaps murmur feebly: “Have you not read the
+news?” to which will come the vague reply: “Oh, yes, I read all the
+newspapers! But I really don’t remember the particulars just now!” What
+they do remember--these “cultured” persons, (and the more highly they
+are cultured, the more tenacious appears to be their memory in this
+respect)--is a divorce case. They always read that carefully over and
+over again. They comment upon it afterwards with such gusto as to make
+it quite evident to the merest tyro, that they have learned all its
+worst details by heart. If they can only revel in the published shame
+and disgrace of one or two of their very “dearest” friends, they enjoy
+and appreciate that kind of mental fare more than all the beautiful
+poems and idyllic romances ever written.
+
+The “million” have long ago learned to read,--and are reading. The last
+is the most important fact, and one which those who seek to govern them
+would do well to remember. For their reading is of a most strange,
+mixed, and desultory order--and who can say what wondrous new notions
+and disturbing theories may not leap out sprite-like from the witch’s
+cauldron of seething ideas round which they gather, watching the
+literary “bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,” wherein the “eye of newt
+and toe of frog” in the book line may contrast with something which is
+altogether outside the boiling hotch-potch,--namely that “sick eagle
+looking at the sky” which is the true symbol of the highest literary
+art. But the highest literary art, particularly in its poetic form, is
+at a discount nowadays. And why? Simply because even the million do
+not know “how” to read. Moreover, it is very difficult to make them
+learn. They have neither the skill nor the patience to study beautiful
+thoughts expressed in beautiful language. They want to “rush” something
+through. Whether poem, play, or novel, it must be “rushed through” and
+done with. Very few authors’ work, if any, can be sure of an honest and
+unprejudiced reading, either by those whose business it is to review
+it for the press, or those whose pleasure it is to “skim” it for
+themselves. “They have no time.” They have time for motoring, cycling,
+card-playing, racing, betting, hockey and golf,--anything in short
+which does not directly appeal to the intellectual faculties,--but for
+real reading, they can neither make leisure, nor acquire aptitude.
+
+This vague, sieve-like quality of brain and general inability to
+comprehend or retain impressions of character or events, which is
+becoming so common among modern so-called “readers” of books, can but
+make things very difficult for authors who seek to contribute something
+of their utmost and best to the world of literature. Most men and
+women who feel the “divine afflatus,” and who are able to write in a
+style above the average, must be conscious of a desire to rise yet
+higher than any of their own attempted efforts, and to do something
+new, strong, and true enough to hold life and lasting in it when other
+contemporary work is forgotten. It is the craving of the “sick eagle
+looking at the sky” perhaps, nevertheless it is a noble craving. In
+taking an aim, it is as well to let fly at the moon, even if one only
+hits a tree. But when fiery-footed Pegasus would fain gallop away with
+its rider into the realms of imagination and enchantment,--when the
+aspiring disciple of literature, all aglow with freshness and fervour,
+strives to catch some new spirit of thought as it rushes past on its
+swift wings, or seeks to create some fair consoling idyll of human
+circumstance, then all the publishers stand massed in the way and cry
+“Halt!” “Don’t let us have any great ideas!” they say--“They are above
+the heads of the public. Be domestic--be matrimonially iniquitous,--be
+anything in the line of fiction but ‘great.’ Don’t give us new things
+to think about,--the public have no time to think. What they want is
+just something to glance at between tea and dinner.”
+
+Now this condition of affairs, which is positively disastrous to all
+literary art, is brought about by the lack of the one vital point in
+the modern education of the British and American people,--namely, that
+they have not been taught “how” to read. As a result of this, they
+frequently pronounce a book “too long” or “too dull,”--too this, or too
+that, without having looked at more than perhaps twenty pages of its
+contents. They will skim over any amount of cheap newspapers and trashy
+society “weeklies” full of the unimportant movements and doings of he
+and she and they, but to take up a book with any serious intention of
+reading it thoroughly, is a task which only the thoughtful few will
+be found ready to undertake. What is called the appreciation of the
+“belles lettres” is indeed “caviare to the general.” Knowledge brings
+confidence; and if it were made as much the fashion to read as it is to
+ride in motor-cars, some improvement in manners and conduct might be
+the happy result of such a prevailing taste. But as matters stand at
+the present day, there are a large majority of the “educated” class,
+who actually do not know the beginnings of “how” to read. They have
+never learned--and some of them will never learn. They cannot realize
+the unspeakable delight and charm of giving one’s self up to one’s
+author, _sans_ prejudice, _sans_ criticism, _sans_ everything that
+could possibly break or mar the spell, and being carried on the wings
+of gentle romance away from Self, away from the everyday cares and
+petty personalities of social convention, and observance, and living
+“with” the characters which have been created by the man or woman whose
+fertile brain and toiling pen have unitedly done their best to give
+this little respite and holiday to those who will take it and rejoice
+in it with gratitude.
+
+Few there are nowadays who will so permit themselves to be carried
+away. Far larger is the class of people who take up a novel or a
+volume of essays, merely to find fault with it and fling it aside half
+unread. The attitude of the bad-tempered child who does not know what
+toy to break next, is the attitude of many modern readers. Nothing is
+more manifestly unfair to an author than to judge a book by the mere
+“skimming” of its pages, and this injustice becomes almost felonious
+when the merits or demerits of the work are decided without reading it
+at all. For instance, Smith meets Jones in the train which is taking
+them out to their respective “little places” in the country, and says:
+
+“Have you read So-and-So’s latest book? If not, don’t!” Whereupon
+Jones murmurs: “Really! So bad as all that! Have _you_ read it?”
+To which Smith rejoins rudely: “No! And don’t intend! I’ve _heard_
+all about it!” And Jones, acquiescing feebly, decides that he must
+“taboo” that book, also its author, lest perhaps Mrs. Jones’ virtue
+be put to the blush at the mention of either. Now if Smith dared to
+condemn a tradesman in this way, and depreciated his goods to Jones
+in such wise that the latter should be led to avoid him altogether,
+that tradesman could claim damages for injuring his character and
+depriving him of custom. Should not the same rule apply to authors when
+they are condemned on mere hearsay? Or when their work is wilfully
+misrepresented and misquoted in the press?
+
+It may not, perhaps, be considered out of place here to recall a
+“personal reminiscence” of the wilful misrepresentation made to a
+certain section of the public of a novel of mine entitled “Temporal
+Power.” That book had scarcely left the printer’s hands when W. T.
+Stead, of the _Review of Reviews_, wrote me a most cordial letter,
+congratulating me on the work, and averring that it was “the best”
+of all I had done. But in his letter he set forth the startling
+proposition that I “must have meant” King Edward, our own gracious
+Sovereign, for my “fictional” King, Queen Alexandra for the Queen,
+the Prince of Wales for my “Prince Humphry,” and Mr. Chamberlain for
+the defaulting Secretary of State, who figures in the story as “Carl
+Perousse.” I was so amazed at this curious free translation of my
+ideas, that at first I thought it was “Julia” who had thus persuaded
+Mr. Stead to see things upside down. But as his criticism of the book
+had not yet appeared in the _Review of Reviews_, I wrote to him at
+once, and earnestly assured him of the complete misapprehension he
+had made of my whole scope and intention. Despite this explanation on
+my part, however, Mr. Stead wrote and published a review of the book
+maintaining his own fabricated “case” against me, notwithstanding
+the fact that he held my denial of his assertions in his possession
+_before_ the publication of his criticism! And though a dealer in
+meat, groceries, and other food stuffs may obtain compensation if his
+wares are wilfully misrepresented to the buying public, the purveyor
+of thoughts or ideas has no remedy when such thoughts or ideas are
+deliberately and purposefully falsified to the world through the press.
+Yet the damage is surely as great,--and the injury done to one’s honest
+intention quite as gratuitous. From this little incident occurring to
+myself, I venture to say in reference to the assertion that people do
+not know how to read, that if those who “rushed” through the misleading
+criticism of “Temporal Power” had honestly read the book so criticized
+for themselves, they would have seen at once how distorted was Mr.
+Stead’s view of the whole story. But,--while many who had read the book
+and _not_ the review, laughed at the bare notion of there being any
+resemblance between my fictional hero-king of romance and the Sovereign
+of the British Empire, others, reading the review only, foolishly
+decided that I must have written some “travesty” upon English royalty,
+and condemned the book _without reading it_. This is what all authors
+have a right to complain of,--the condemnation or censure of their
+books by persons who have not read them. For though there never was so
+much reading matter put before the public, there was never less actual
+“reading” in the truest and highest sense of the term than there is at
+present.
+
+To read, as I take it, means to sit down quietly and enjoy a book in
+its every line and expression. Whether it be tragic or humourous,
+simple or ornate, it has been written to beguile us from our daily
+routine of life, and to give us a little change of thought or mood.
+It may please us, or it may make us sad--it may even anger us by
+upsetting our pet theories and contradicting us on our own lines of
+argument; but if it has taken us away for a time from ourselves, it
+has fulfilled the greater part of its mission, and done us a good
+turn. Those who have really learned to read, are no encouragers of the
+Free Library craze. The true lover of books will never want to peruse
+volumes that are thumbed and soiled by hundreds of other hands--he or
+she will manage to buy them and keep them as friends in the private
+household. Any book, save the most expensive “édition de luxe,” can
+be purchased for a few shillings,--a little saving on drugged beer
+and betting would enable the most ordinary mechanic to stock himself
+with a very decent library of his own. To borrow one’s mental fare
+from Free Libraries is a dirty habit to begin with. It is rather like
+picking up eatables dropped by some one else in the road, and making
+one’s dinner off another’s leavings. One book, clean and fresh from the
+bookseller’s counter, is worth half a dozen of the soiled and messy
+knock-about volumes, which many of our medical men assure us carry
+disease-germs in their too-frequently fingered pages. Free Libraries
+are undoubtedly very useful resorts for betting men. They can run in,
+glance at the newspapers for the latest “Sporting Items” and run out
+again. But why ratepayers should support such houses of call for these
+gentry remains a mystery which one would have to pierce through all
+the Wool and Wobble of Municipal Corporations to solve. An American
+“professor”--(there are so many of them) spoke to me the other day in
+glowing terms of Andrew Carnegie. “He’s cute, you bet!” he remarked,
+“he goes one better than Pears’ Soap! Pears has got to pay for the
+upkeep of his hoardings, but Carnegie plants his down in the shape of
+libraries and gets the British ratepayer to keep them all going! Ain’t
+he spry!”
+
+Poor British ratepayer! It is to be feared he is easily gulled!
+But,--to return to the old argument--if he knew “how” to read--really
+knew,--he would not be so easily taken in, even by the schemes of
+philanthropy. He would buy his books himself, and among them he might
+even manage to secure a copy of a very interesting volume published in
+America, so I am given to understand, which tells us how Carnegie made
+his millions, and how he sanctioned the action of the Pinkerton police
+force in firing on his men when they “struck” for higher wages.
+
+Apropos of America and things American, there is just now a pretty
+little story started in the press on both sides of the water, about
+British novels and British authors no longer being wanted in the United
+States. The Children of the Eagle are going to make their fiction
+themselves. All power to their elbows! But British authors will do
+themselves no harm by enquiring carefully into this report. It may
+even pay some of them to send over a private agent on their own behalf
+to study the American book stores, and take count of the thousands of
+volumes of British fiction which are selling there “like hot cakes,” to
+quote a choice expression of Transatlantic slang. It is quite evident
+that the Children of the Eagle purchase British fiction. It is equally
+evident that the publishers who cater for the Children of the Eagle
+are anxious to get British fiction cheap, and are doing this little
+deal of the “No demand” business from an acute sense of urgency. It is
+all right, of course! If I were an American publisher and had to pay
+large prices to popular British authors for popular British fiction
+(now that “piracy” is no longer possible), I should naturally tell
+those British authors that they are not wanted in America, and that it
+is very good and condescending of me to consider their wares at all.
+I should give a well-known British author from £100 to £500 for the
+sole American rights of his or her newest production, and proceed to
+make £5,000 or £7,000 profit out of it. That kind of thing is called
+“business.” I should never suspect the British author of being so base
+as to send over and get legal statements as to how his or her book was
+selling, or to take note of the thousands of copies stacked up every
+day in the stores, to be melted away as soon as stacked, in the hands
+of eager purchasers. No! As a strictly honourable person, I should
+hope that the British author would stay at home and mind his or her
+own business. But let us suppose that the American publisher’s latest
+delicate “feeler” respecting the “No demand for British literature”
+were true, it would seem that Americans, even more than the British,
+require to be taught “how” to read. If one may judge from their own
+output of literature, the lesson is badly needed. Ralph Waldo Emerson
+remains, as yet, their biggest literary man. He knew “how” to read,
+and from that knowledge learned “how” to write. But no American author
+has come after him that can be called greater than he, or as great.
+Concerning the art of fiction, the present American “make” is, whatever
+the immediate “catching on” of it may be, distinctly ephemera of the
+utmost ephemeral. Such “literature” would not exist even in America, if
+Americans knew “how” to read. What is called the “Yellow Journalism”
+would not exist either. Why? Because a really educated reader of things
+worth reading would not read it--and it would therefore be a case of
+the wicked ceasing to trouble and the weary being at rest.
+
+There is a general complaint nowadays--especially among authors--of
+the “decadence” of literature. It is true enough. But the cause of the
+“decadence” is the same--simply and solely that people cannot and will
+not read. They do not know “how” to do it. If they ever did know in the
+bygone days of Dickens and Thackeray, they have forgotten. Every book
+is “too long” for them. Yet scarcely any novel is published now as long
+as the novels of Dickens, which were so eagerly devoured at one time by
+tens of thousands of admiring readers. A short, risky, rather “nasty”
+book, (reviewers would call it strong, but that is only a little joke
+of theirs,--they speak of this kind of literature as though it were
+cheese) finds most favour with the “upper” circles of society in Great
+Britain and America. Not so with the “million” though. The million
+prefer simpler fare--and they read a good deal--though scarcely in the
+right way. It is always more a case of “skimming” than reading. If
+they are ever taught the right way to read, they may become wiser than
+any political government would like them to be. For right reading makes
+right thinking--and right thinking makes right living--and right living
+would result in what? Well! For one thing, members of councils and
+other “ruling” bodies would be lazier than ever, with less to do--and
+the Education Act would no longer be necessary, as the fact of simply
+knowing “how” to read, would educate everybody without further trouble.
+
+Dear Sir or Madam,--read! Don’t “skim”! Learn your letters! Study the
+pronunciation and meaning of words thoroughly first, and then you may
+proceed to sentences. Gradually you will be able to master a whole
+passage of prose or poetry in such a manner as actually to understand
+it. That will be a great thing! And once you understand it, you may
+even possibly remember it! And then,--no matter how much you may have
+previously been educated,--your education will only have just begun.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+THE RESPONSIBILITY OF THE PRESS
+
+
+Not very long ago a Royal hint was given by one of the wisest and most
+tactful among the great throned Rulers of the world, to that other
+ruling power which is frequently alluded to as “the Fourth Estate.”
+Edward the Seventh, King by the Grace of God over Great Britain and
+all the dependencies which flourish under the sign of the Rose,
+Shamrock and Thistle, using that courteous and diplomatic manner which
+particularly belongs to him, expressed his “hope” that the Gentlemen
+of the Press would do their best to foster amity and goodwill between
+the British Empire and other nations. Now amongst the many kindly,
+thoughtful, sagacious and farsighted things which His Majesty has done
+since he ascended the English Throne, that highest seat of honour in
+the world--perhaps this mild and friendly suggestion to the Press is
+one of the most pointed, necessary and admirable. It is a suggestion
+which, if accepted in the frank, manly and magnanimous spirit in
+which it has been conveyed, would make for the peace of Europe. Petty
+insult often begets serious strife, and the cheap sneer of a would-be
+“smart” journalist at another country’s governmental mistakes may lead
+to consequences undreamt of in newspaper-office philosophy. Yet the
+journalist, as journalist, is scarcely to blame if, in a praiseworthy
+desire to give a “selling” impetus to the paper on which he is
+employed, he gets up a little bit of speculative melodrama, such as
+“German Malignity,” “Russian Trickery,” “Mysterious Movements of the
+Fleet,” “French Insult to the King,” “America’s Secret Treaty,” or
+“Alarming Eastern Rumours.” He is perhaps not in any way departing
+from his own special line of business if he counts on the general
+gullibility of the public, though in this matter he is often liable to
+be himself gulled. For the public have been so frequently taken in by
+mere “sensationalism” in war news and the like, that they are beginning
+to view all such rumours with more contempt than credence. Nevertheless
+the ambitious little Press boys (for they are only boys in their lack
+of discernment, whatever may be their external appearance as grown
+men) do not deserve so much reproof for their hot-headed, impulsive
+and thoughtless ways as the personages set in authority over them,
+whose business it is to edit their “copy” before passing it on to the
+printers. _They_ are the responsible parties,--and when they forget the
+dignity of their position so much as to allow a merely jejune view of
+the political situation to appear in their journals, under flamboyant
+headlines which catch the eye and ensnare the attention of the more
+or less uninstructed crowd, one naturally deplores the lapse of their
+honourable duty. For in this way a great deal of harm may be done and
+endless misunderstanding and mischief created. It is quite wrong and
+wholly unpatriotic that the newspapers of any country should strive to
+foster ill-feeling between conflicting nations or political parties.
+When they engage in this kind of petty strife one is irresistibly
+reminded of the bad child in the nursery who, seeing his two little
+brothers quarrelling, cries out: “Go it, Tom! Go it, Jack! Hit him in
+the eye!” and then, when the hit is given and mutual screams follow,
+runs to his mother with the news--“Ma! Tom and Jack are fighting!”
+carefully suppressing the fact that he helped to set them at it. And
+when the trouble begins to be serious, and national recriminations are
+freely exchanged, it is curious to note how quickly the Press, on both
+sides, assumes the attitude of an almost matronly remonstrance. One
+hears in every leading article the “How can you behave so, Jack? What a
+naughty boy you are, Tom! Positively, I am ashamed of you both!”
+
+There would be no greater force existing in the world as an aid to
+civilization and human fraternity than the Press, if its vast powers
+were employed to the noblest purposes. It ought to resemble a mighty
+ship, which, with brave, true men at the helm, moves ever on a straight
+course, cleaving the waters of darkness and error, and making direct
+for the highest shores of peace and promise. But it must be a ship
+indeed,--grandly built, nobly manned, and steadily steered,--not a
+crazy, water-logged vessel, creaking with the thud of every wave, or
+bobbing backwards and forwards uncertainly in a gale. Its position
+at the present day is, or appears to be, rather the latter than the
+former. Unquestionably the people, taken in the mass, do not rely
+upon it. They read the newspapers--but they almost immediately forget
+everything in them except the headlines and one or two unpleasant
+police cases. And why do they forget? Simply because first of all they
+are not sufficiently interested; and, secondly, because they do not
+believe the news they read. A working man told me the other day that he
+had been saving sixpence a week on two halfpenny papers which he had
+been accustomed to take in for the past year. “I found ’em out in ten
+lies, all on top of one another, in two weeks,” he candidly explained;
+“and so I thought I might as well keep my money for something more
+useful. So I started putting the halfpence by for my little kiddie, and
+I’m going to stick to it. There’s five shillings in the Savings Bank
+already!”
+
+Glancing back to the early journalism of the past century, when Dickens
+and Thackeray wrote for the newspapers (“there were giants in those
+days”), one cannot help being struck by the great deterioration in the
+whole “tone” of the press at the present time, as contrasted with that
+which prevailed in the dawn of the Victorian era. There is dignity,
+refinement, and power in the leading articles of the _Times_ and other
+journals then in vogue, such as must needs have compelled people not
+only to read, but to think. The vulgar “personal” note, the flippant
+sneer at this, that, or t’other personage,--the monkey-like mockery of
+women,--the senseless gibes flung at poets and poetry,--the clownish
+kick at sentiment,--were all apparently unknown.
+
+True it is that the _Times_ still holds its own as a journal in
+which one may look in vain for “sensationalism” but its position is
+rather like that of a grim old lion surrounded by cubs of all sizes
+and ages, that yap and snap at its whiskers and take liberties with
+its tail. It can be said, however, that all the better, higher-class
+periodicals are in the same situation--the yapping and snapping goes
+on around them precisely in the same way--“Circulation Five Times as
+Large as that of any Penny Morning Journal,” etcetera, etcetera. And
+the question of the circulation of any particular newspaper resolves
+itself into two points,--first, the amount of money it puts into the
+pockets of its proprietors or proprietor,--and secondly, the influence
+it has, or is likely to have, on the manners and morals of the public.
+The last is by far the most important matter, though the first is
+naturally the leading motive of its publication. Herein we touch the
+keynote of responsibility. How, and in what way are the majority of
+people swayed or affected by the statements and opinions of some one
+man or several men employed on the world’s press? On this point it
+may perhaps be asked whether any newspaper is really justified in
+setting before readers of all ages and temperaments, a daily fare of
+suicides, murders, divorce-cases, sudden deaths, or abnormal “horrors”
+of every kind to startle, depress or warp the mind away from a sane
+and healthful outlook upon life and the things of life in general? A
+very brilliant and able journalist tells me that “if we don’t put these
+things in, we are so deadly dull!” One can but smile at this candid
+statement of inefficiency. The idea that there can be any “lively”
+reading in the sorrowful details of sickness, crime or mania, leaves
+much room for doubt. And when it is remembered how powerfully the human
+mind is affected by suggestion, it is surely worth while enquiring
+as to whether the newspapers could not manage to offer their readers
+noble and instructive subjects of thought, rather than morbid or
+degrading ones. Fortunately for all classes, the bulk of what may be
+called “magazine literature” makes distinctly for the instruction and
+enlightenment of the public, and though a “gutter press” exists in
+Great Britain, as in America, a great portion of the public are now
+educated enough to recognize its type and to treat it with the contempt
+it merits. I quote here part of a letter which recently appeared in the
+_Westminster Gazette_ signed “Observer,” and entitled:
+
+
+     “A PRESS-GOVERNED EMPIRE.
+
+     “To the Editor of the _Westminster Gazette_.
+
+     “SIR,--We have it on the highest authority that the Government
+     acts on the same information as is at the disposal of ‘the man in
+     the street’ (_vide_ Mr. Balfour at Manchester). The man in the
+     street obviously must depend on the Press for his information. How
+     has the Press served him?
+
+     “Let me take a recent illustration. A great experiment was
+     to be made by the Navy. A battleship with all its tremendous
+     armament was to pound a battleship. Naturally the Press was well
+     represented, and the public was eager for its report.
+
+     “In due course a narrative appeared describing the terrible havoc
+     wrought. The greatest stress was laid upon the instant ignition
+     and complete destruction by fire of all the woodwork on the doomed
+     ship. Elaborate leading articles appeared enforcing the lesson
+     that wood was no longer a possible material for the accessory
+     furniture of a battleship.
+
+     “A day or two after, a quiet answer in the House of Commons from
+     Mr. Goschen informed the limited public who read it, that no fire
+     whatever had occurred on the occasion so graphically described by
+     the host of Press correspondents.
+
+     “The events dealt with on these occasions took place in our own
+     country, and under our own eyes, so to speak. If such untrue
+     reports are set forth with the verisimilitude of accurate and
+     detailed personal description of eye-witnesses, what are we to say
+     of the truth in the reports of events occurring at a distance?
+
+     “Special knowledge, special experience long continued, speaking
+     under a sense of responsibility, are set at nought. The regular
+     channels of information are neglected, and the conduct of affairs
+     is based on newspaper reports. Any private business conducted
+     and managed on these lines would be immediately ruined. The
+     business of the Empire is more important, and the results of its
+     mismanagement are more serious. For how long will it be possible
+     to continue its management, trusting to the light thrown on events
+     by an irresponsible Press?”
+
+                *       *       *       *       *
+
+The “irresponsibility” here complained of comes out perhaps more often
+and most glaringly in those papers which profess to chronicle the
+sayings and doings of kings and queens, prime ministers, and personages
+more or less well known in the world of art, letters and society. In
+nine cases out of ten, the journalist who reports these sayings and
+doings has never set eyes on the people about whom he writes with such
+a free and easy flippancy. Even if he has, his authority to make their
+conversation public may be questioned. It is surely not too much to ask
+of the editors of newspapers that they should, by applying directly to
+the individuals concerned, ascertain whether such and such a statement
+made to them is true before giving it currency. A couple of penny
+stamps expended in private correspondence would settle the matter to
+the satisfaction of both parties.
+
+“Personalities,” however, would seem to be greatly in vogue. Note the
+following:
+
+“At seven o’clock the King left the hotel and walked to the spring to
+drink more of the water. Altogether, His Majesty has to drink about a
+quart of the water every morning, before breakfast.
+
+“Standing among the throng, in which every type and nationality of
+humanity was represented, the King sipped his second pint glass of
+water.
+
+“After drinking the quart of water, the regulations laid down for the
+‘cure’ further require the King to walk for two hours before eating a
+morsel of food.
+
+“This His Majesty performed by pacing up and down the promenade from
+the Kruez spring at one end, to the Ferdinand spring at the other.
+
+“Notwithstanding all the appeals of the local authorities to the
+visitors, King Edward was[1]_much greatly_ inconvenienced by the
+snobbish curiosity of the crowd.”
+
+One may query whether “the snobbish curiosity of the crowd” or the
+snobbish information as to how “the King sipped his second pint glass
+of water” was the more reprehensible. Of course there are both men and
+women who delight in the personalities of the Press, especially when
+they concern themselves. Many ladies of rank and title are only too
+happy to have their dresses described to the man in the street, and
+their physical charms discussed by Tom, Dick and Harry. And when the
+Press is amiable enough to oblige them in these little yearnings for
+personal publicity, let us hope that the labourer, being worthy of his
+hire, hath his reward.
+
+The following extract, taken from a daily journal boasting a large
+circulation, can be called little less than a pandering to the lowest
+tastes of the abandoned feminine snob, as well as a flagrant example
+of the positively criminal recklessness with which irresponsible
+journalists permit themselves to incite, by their flamboyant praise
+of the _demi-mondaine_, the envy and cupidity of thoughtless girls
+and women, who perhaps but for the perusal of such tawdry stuff,
+would never have known of, or half-unconsciously coveted the
+dress-and-diamond gew-gaws which are the common reward of female
+degradation and dishonesty:
+
+
+     “Miss W., a young American actress, has burst upon London. She has
+     brought back from Paris to the Savoy Hotel, along with her golden
+     hair and lovely brown eyes, an enormous jewel-case, innumerable
+     dress-baskets--and a story. It concerns herself and how she
+     made a fortune on the Paris Bourse, and she told it to our
+     representative yesterday.
+
+     “She is an American, and was eating candy when she met M. J----
+     L----. ‘Ah!’ said he, ‘give up stick and buy stock.’ She ‘took
+     the tip,’ she says, and staked her fortune--every penny--on the
+     deal. A fortnight later she came back one night to her flat in the
+     Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, from the Olympia, where she plays a
+     leading part. A telegram from her bankers was waiting. It said:
+     ‘You have been successful.’ ‘Next day,’ says Miss W., ‘I called on
+     those bankers and picked up the £20,000 I had made.’
+
+                         “INVETERATE GAMBLER.
+
+     “‘Wonderful, wasn’t it?’ said Miss W., and our representative
+     agreed that it was. ‘Oh, but it was a mere nothing!’ she said. ‘I
+     have gambled since I was seven. Then I used to bet in pop-corn and
+     always won. At seventeen I was quite ‘a dab’ at spotting winners
+     on the Turf.
+
+     “‘Monte Carlo? Oh, yes. I won a trifle there this year--£800 or
+     so. And Trouville! Why, you may not believe it, but I won £4,000
+     there this year in a few weeks.
+
+     “‘Of course, I don’t know the tricks of the Stock Exchange, though
+     I was once chased by a bull,’ observed Miss W., with a smile.
+     ‘Still, I think I’ll stick to it.’
+
+     “Opposite the Bourse is a shop where fashionable Parisians buy
+     their furs. She spent £1,600 in a sable coat and hat on the day
+     that the Bourse made her. Her other purchases include:--
+
+
+     Paris hats to the value of £200.
+     A robe of baby lamb, £150.
+     Fifteen Paquin gowns.
+     Two long fur coats.
+     Five short fur coats.
+     Three sets of furs.
+
+
+     “She also admits that she bought such trifles in the way of
+     jewellery as:--
+
+
+     A corsage with thirteen large diamonds.
+     Eighteen rows of pearls.
+     Eighteen diamond rings.
+     Two diamond butterflies.
+     One emerald ring.
+     Several pendants.
+
+
+     “Diamonds, says Miss W., are the joy of her life. Each night on
+     the stage of the Olympia she wears between £30,000 and £40,000
+     worth of jewellery.”
+
+
+The woman who confides her wardrobe list and the prices of her clothes
+to a Fleet Street hack of the pen is far gone past recall, but her
+manner of misdemeaning herself should not be proclaimed in the Press
+under “headings” as if it were news of importance to the country; and
+it would not be so proclaimed were the Press entirely, instead of only
+partially, in the hands of educated men.
+
+In olden days it would seem that a great part of the responsibility
+of the Press lay in its criticism of art and literature. That burden,
+however, no longer lies upon its shoulders. Since the people began
+to read for themselves, newspaper criticism, so far as books are
+concerned, carries little weight. When some particular book secures
+a great success, we read this kind of thing about it: “In argument,
+intrigue and style it captures the fancy of the masses without
+attracting the slightest attention from the critical and discriminating
+few whose approval alone gives any chance of permanence to work.” This
+is, of course, very old hearing. “The critical and discriminating few”
+in Italy long ago condemned Dante as a “vulgar” rhymer, who used the
+“people’s vernacular.” Now the much-abused Florentine is the great
+Italian classic. The same “critical and discriminating few” condemned
+John Keats, who is now enrolled among the chiefest of English poets.
+Onslaughts of the bitterest kind were hurled at the novels of Charles
+Dickens by the “critical and discriminating few”--in the great writer’s
+time--but he “captured the fancy of the masses” and lives in the hearts
+and homes of thousands for whom the “critical and discriminating few”
+might just as well never have existed. And when we look up the names
+of the “critical and discriminating few” in our own day, we find,
+strange to say, that they are all disappointed authors! All of them
+have-written poems or novels, which are failures. So we must needs pity
+their “criticism” and “discrimination” equally, knowing the secret
+fount of gall from which these delicate emotions spring. At the same
+time, the “responsibility” of the Press might still be appealed to in
+literary, dramatic and artistic matters as, for example:
+
+Why allow an unsuccessful artist to criticize a successful picture?
+
+Why ask an unlucky playwright who cannot get even a farce accepted by
+the managers, to criticize a brilliant play?
+
+Why depute a gentleman or lady who has “essayed” a little unsuccessful
+fiction to “review” a novel which has “captured the fancy of the
+masses” and is selling well?
+
+These be weighty matters! Common human nature is common human nature
+all the world over, and it is not in common human nature to give
+praise to another for qualities we ourselves envy. Every one has
+not the same fine endowment of generosity as Sir Walter Scott, who
+wrote an anonymous review of Lord Byron’s poems, giving them the most
+enthusiastic praise, and frankly stating that after the appearance of
+so brilliant a luminary of genius, Walter Scott could no longer be
+considered worthy of attention as a poet. What rhymer of to-day would
+thus nobly condemn himself in order to give praise to a rival?
+
+May it not, with due respect, be suggested to those who have the
+handling of such matters that neither the avowed friends nor the avowed
+foes of authors be permitted to review their books?--the same rule
+of criticism to apply equally to the works of musicians, painters,
+sculptors and playwrights? Neither personal prejudice nor personal
+favouritism should be allowed to interfere with the impression produced
+on the mind by a work of art. Vulgar abuse and fervid eulogy are
+alike out of place. In the productions of the human brain nothing
+is wholly bad and nothing is wholly good. Perfection is impossible
+of attainment on our present plane of existence. We do not find it
+in Nature,--still less shall we find it in ourselves. The critic
+can show good in everything if he himself is of a good mind. Or he
+can show bad in everything as easily, should his digestion be out
+of order. Unfortunately the “wear and tear of life”--to quote the
+patent medicine advertisements, wreaks natural havoc on the physical
+composition of the gentleman who is perhaps set down to review twenty
+novels in one column of print for the trifling sum of a guinea. All
+sorts of difficulties beset him. For instance, he may be employed on
+a certain “literary” paper which, being the property of the relatives
+of a novelist, exists chiefly to praise that novelist, even though it
+be curiously called an “organ of English literature,”--and woe betide
+the miserable man who dares to praise anyone else! Knowing much of the
+ins and outs of the literary grind, I tender my salutations to all
+reviewers of books, together with my respectful sympathy. I am truly
+sorry for them, and I do not in the least wonder that they hate with
+a deadly hatred every scribbling creature who writes a “long” novel.
+Because the “pay” for reviewing such a book is never in proportion to
+its length, as of course it ought to be. But anyway it doesn’t matter
+how much or how little of it is criticized. The bulk of the public do
+not read reviews. That is left to the “discriminating few.” And oh,
+how that “discriminating few” would love to “capture the fancy of the
+masses” if they could only manage to do it! Yet--“Never mind!” they
+say, with the tragedian’s glare and scowl--“Our names will be inscribed
+upon the scroll of fame when all ye are forgotten!” Dear things! Heaven
+grant them this poor comfort in their graves!
+
+One cannot but regret that in these days of wonderful research,
+discovery and invention, so little is done to popularize science in the
+columns of the daily Press. The majority of the public are appallingly
+ignorant of astronomy for instance. Would it not be as interesting to
+instruct them in a simple and easy style as to the actual wonders of
+the heavens about us, as to fill their minds with the details of a
+murder? I hardly like to touch on the subject of geography, for out of
+fifteen “educated” persons I asked the question of recently, not one
+knew the actual situation on the map, of Tibet. Now it seems to me that
+the Press could work wonders in the way of education,--much more than
+the “Bill” will ever do. Books on science and learning are often sadly
+dull and generally expensive, and the public cannot afford to buy them
+largely, nor do they ask for them much at the libraries. If the daily
+journals made it a rule to give bright picturesque articles on some
+grand old truths or great new discoveries of science, such a course
+of procedure would be far more productive of good than any amount of
+“Short Sermons” such as we have lately heard discussed in various
+quarters. For the Press is a greater educational force than the Pulpit.
+In its hands it has the social moulding of a people, and the dignity
+of a nation as represented to other nations. There could hardly be a
+nobler task,--there can certainly never be a higher responsibility.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[1] Copied _verbatim_ from the Press report.
+
+
+
+
+“PAGAN LONDON”
+
+
+London is “a pagan city.” Such was the uncompromising verdict lately
+pronounced upon it by the Venerable Archdeacon Sinclair, of great
+St. Paul’s. “A pagan city”--he said, or was reported to say--“with
+churches glimmering here and there like fairy lamps twinkling in the
+spaces of darkness upon a lawn. Like fairy lamps, they serve to show
+the darkness rather than to illuminate it.” It was in a manner striking
+and curious that the Archdeacon should have chosen such a simile as
+“fairy lamps” for the Churches. It was an unconsciously happy hit--no
+doubt absolutely unintentional. But it described the Churches of to-day
+with marvellous exactitude. They are “fairy lamps”--no more!--only
+fit for show--of no use in a storm--and quenched easily with a
+strong puff of wind. Fairy lamps!--not strong or steady beacons--not
+lighthouses in the rough sea of life, planted bravely on impregnable
+rocks of faith to which the drowning sailor may cling for rescue and
+haply find life again. Fairy lamps! Multiply them by scores, good
+Archdeacon!--quadruple them in every corner of this “pagan” city of
+ours, over which the heart of every earnest thinker must yearn with a
+passion of love and pity, and they shall be no use whatever to light
+the blackness of one soul’s midnight of despair! “Pagan London!” The
+roaring, rushing crowd--the broad deep river of suffering, working,
+loving, struggling humanity, sweeping on, despite itself, to the
+limitless sea of Death,--every unit in the mass craving for sympathy,
+praying for guidance, longing for comfort, trying to discover ways out
+of pain and grief, and hoping to find God somehow and somewhere--and
+naught but “fairy lamps”--twinkling doubtfully, making the gloom more
+visible, the uncertainty of the gathering shadows more confusing and
+misleading!--“fairy lamps” of which the “Church of the Laodiceans,” so
+strongly reproved by the “Spirit” in the Revelation of St. John the
+Divine, must have been the originator and precursor--“I know thy works,
+that thou art neither cold nor hot; I would thou wert cold or hot. So,
+because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee
+out of my mouth!”
+
+It is perhaps to be doubted whether any Churchman, no matter how
+distinguished, learned, fashionable or popular, has the right to call
+London or any city which is under the Christian dispensation “pagan.”
+No one man can honestly say he has probed the heart of another,--and
+if this be true, as it undoubtedly is, still less can one man assume
+to judge the faith or the emotions of six million hearts--six million
+striving, working and struggling souls. That even a handful of the
+six million should still wander towards “fairy lamp” Churches, in
+the hope to find warmth and luminance for their poor lives in such
+flickering and easily quenched sparks of life, speaks volumes for the
+touching faith, the craving hope, the desire of ultimate good, which
+animates our “pagan” citizens. For, if after two thousand years of
+Christianity, some of them are still passionately asking to be taught
+and guided, still praying for strength and courage to fight against
+many natural besetting sins, and still seeking after such pure ideals
+of work and attainment as can alone make life worth living, it is not
+they, surely, who merit the term “pagan.” They should not be so much
+blamed as compassionated, if, when searching for God’s fair and open
+sunshine, they only stumble at the “fairy lamps,” and, angered thereby,
+turn altogether away into the outer darkness. Such a term as “pagan”
+can be applied with far more justice to their teachers and preachers,
+who, having all the means of help and consolation at their disposal,
+fail to perform their high duties with either power, conviction or
+effect. It is quite easy to say “Pagan London,” but what if one spoke
+of “pagan clergy”? What of certain ecclesiastics who do not believe
+one word of the creed they profess, and who daily play the part of
+Judas Iscariot over again in taking money for a new betrayal of Christ?
+What of the ordained ministers of Christianity who are un-Christian
+in every word and act of their daily lives? What of the surpliced
+hypocrites who preach to others what they never even try to practise?
+What of certain vicious and worldly clerical _bon-vivants_, who may
+constantly be met with in the houses of wealthy and titled persons,
+“clothed in fine linen and faring sumptuously every day,” talking
+unsavoury society scandal with as much easy glibness as any dissolute
+“lay” decadent that ever cozened another man’s wife away from the path
+of honour in the tricky disguise of a “Soul”? What of the spiteful,
+small-minded, quarrelsome “local” parsons, who, instead of fostering
+kindness, neighbourliness, goodwill and unity among their parishioners,
+set them all by the ears, and play the petty tyrant with a domineering
+obstinacy which is rather worse than pagan, being purely barbarous?
+Many cases could easily be quoted where the childish, not to say
+querulous, pettiness of the ruling vicar of a country parish has helped
+to narrow, coarsen, and deteriorate the spirit of a whole community,
+spreading mean jealousies, fostering cheap rivalries, and making every
+soul in the place, from Sunday school children up to poor workhouse
+octogenarians, irritable, discontented and unhappy. And if the word
+“pagan” be used at all, should it not be particularly and specially
+applied to those theatrical dignitaries of the Church whose following
+of the simple and beautiful doctrine of Christ consists in sheer
+disobedience to His commands--disobedience openly displayed in the
+ornate ritual and “vain repetitions” which Christ expressly forbade.
+“For all their works they do to be seen of men; they make broad their
+phylacteries, and enlarge the borders of their garments.” And while
+“enlarging the borders of their garments” they institute “processional”
+services and promenades round the “fairy lamp” churches, with various
+altar-bobbings and other foolish ceremonies, caring nothing for the
+_Spirit_ of the faith, if only all forms and observances, imported
+from Rome, or from still older “pagan” rites than the Roman, namely,
+the Græco-Egyptian, may be in some way introduced into the simple and
+unaffected form of prayer authorized by the Church of England. Disloyal
+to both God and the King, the “pagan clergy” are doing more at this
+present day to injure the cause of true religion among the masses than
+is any lack of zeal or want of faith that may exist in the people
+themselves. Who can blame sensible men and women for staying away from
+church, when in nine cases out of ten they know that the officiating
+minister is less Christian, less enlightened, less charitable and
+kind-hearted than themselves? Canon Allen Edwards, in an admirable
+letter addressed to the Press, put the case of “pagan London” very
+clearly. He says: “We do not want new churches.” True. No more “fairy
+lamps” are required for the general misleading of the straying sheep.
+He adds: “We want new men.”
+
+This is the real need--men! Men of thought--men of heart,--men of
+true conviction, ardent faith, passionate exaltation, and unceasing
+devotion,--men who will not play about with “show” services, like
+amateur actors in a charity performance,--but who will sincerely care
+for and sympathize with their fellow-creatures, and will offer up the
+prayer and praise of humanity to an all-wise Omnipotence with that deep
+heartfelt fervour which is always expressed in the utmost simplicity
+of form and language,--men who have the intelligence to understand
+intelligent people, and who are as able to deal sympathetically
+with the spiritual troubles and perplexities of an educated person
+as with those of the ill-taught and frequently ill-fed rustic,--men
+who, if they preach, can find something to say of the marvels of this
+God-born creation of which we are a part--who will teach as well as
+admonish,--and who will take reverent care not to set the Almighty
+Creator within a small circle of their own special form of orthodoxy,
+and condemn every creature that wanders outside that exclusive “fairy
+lamp” enclosure. Canon Allen Edwards further remarked that “The reason
+why the working classes do not go to church is the same reason why I
+do not go to the Derby, not because I think it wrong, for I have no
+opinion on the subject, but because I have no interest in the things
+that go on there. And this is the reason, and no other, why many men
+do not go to church. They are not interested in what is done there....
+A large number of those who are going into the ministry to-day are,
+for one most essential part of their work, entirely without the first
+elements of equipment. They cannot preach, and they are not helped to
+try and learn, and yet preaching is that very part of their work for
+which the people expect, and have a right to expect, equipment of the
+highest order.”
+
+The Canon says: “they cannot preach.” That is true enough, but why?
+I maintain that if they _felt_ their mission, they could preach it.
+If they loved their fellow-creatures a thousand times better than
+themselves, as they should do, they would find much of greatness,
+beauty and truth to say! If they honoured and worshipped their Divine
+Master as they profess to honour and worship Him, there would be little
+lack of spirit or of eloquence! People always know when a speaker or a
+preacher is _in earnest_. He may have a faulty utterance--his elocution
+may be far from perfect, but if the _heart_ attunes the voice, the
+voice carries. There are many hundreds of noble clergy--but they are
+fewer than the ignoble of the same calling. And many there are, not
+only ignoble in themselves, but who attempt to pervert their very
+churches to illegitimate uses. I quote the following from a letter
+addressed to me on one occasion by a notorious “minister” of the Gospel.
+
+“As the vicar of one of the largest parishes in England, I am often
+put to it how best to attract to the church the careless and the
+indifferent. Though a very strong High Anglican, I am an intense
+believer in the Priesthood of the Laity. It is the one weak spot in
+the Church’s system that she does not, as do the non-conformists, make
+sufficient use of and properly appreciate the services of her lay
+members. It has occurred to me therefore this year that by way of a
+start in this direction I should ask the help of certain leading people
+in the Literary, Dramatic and Artistic worlds. My friend, Mrs. X.,
+has already made a beginning by reciting two poems in my Church, and
+thereby moving intensely a congregation of upwards of 3,000 people.”
+Now Mrs. X. was, and is, a well-known actress, and she recited the
+two poems in question _from the chancel steps at the conclusion of
+the Sunday evening service_. I am told, (though for this I will not
+vouch,) that money was taken at the church doors, and seats reserved
+and paid for, precisely as if the sacred building had been suddenly
+metamorphosed into a theatre or music hall. It never seemed to occur to
+the reverend gentleman who is the proprietor of this once “consecrated”
+building, that if he could not attract to his church “the careless
+and indifferent,” the fault probably lay in himself and his general
+unfitness. As a “very strong High Anglican” he would naturally have
+leanings towards the theatre and its lime-light effects, and _certes_,
+the “Priesthood of the Laity,” whatever may be meant by that term, is
+more to be believed in than the Priesthood of this particular ordained
+“priest” who instituted and encouraged a kind of stage recital from the
+steps of a sacred chancel, where the actor or actress concerned was
+invited to declaim his or her lines, with back turned to the Altar, the
+Communion-table serving as the “scenery.” Such men as these are the
+real “pagans,” and they do infinite harm to the dignity and purity of
+the Christian doctrine by their unworthy and debasing example. Churches
+under their dominance are less than “fairy lamps” in their influence
+for good,--they are the mere flare of stage footlights, showing up the
+grease-paint and powder of the clerical mime.
+
+A deep religious sentiment lies at the hearts of the British people,
+as indeed of all peoples in the world. No nation, small or great,
+was ever entirely given over to atheism. If atheism and indifference
+affect a few, or even a majority of persons, the fault is assuredly
+with those who are elected to teach “the Way, the Truth, and the Life.”
+They are chosen and solemnly ordained to be the friends, lovers and
+guides of humanity,--not to be selfish pedants, quarrelsome quidnuncs,
+and bigoted despots, exposing themselves, as they often do, to the
+righteous scorn, as well as to the careless contempt of the more honest
+laity. When they show themselves unworthy, the people fall away. When
+even one minister of religion appears as co-respondent in a divorce
+case, tens of thousands of men and women turn their backs on the
+Church. When anything low, mean, despicable or treacherous is said or
+done by a professing “servant of Christ,” the evil word or deed from
+such a source makes Christianity a byword to many more than the merely
+profane. When certain great dignitaries of the Church sit wine-bibbing
+at “swagger” dinner-parties, relating questionable or “spicy” anecdotes
+unfitting for the ears of decent women, they lose not only caste
+themselves, but they lay all the brethren of their order open to
+doubt. “Example is better than precept.” We have all written that in
+our school copy-books,--and nothing has ever happened, or ever will
+happen, that is likely to contradict the statement. If London is indeed
+a “pagan” city, as Archdeacon Sinclair has solemnly declared from
+under the shadowy luminance of his own big “fairy lamp,” St. Paul’s
+Cathedral, then the clergy, and the clergy alone are responsible. On
+their “ordained” heads be it! For “pagan” people are merely the natural
+outcome of a “pagan” priesthood.
+
+[Illustration: Decoration]
+
+
+
+
+A QUESTION OF FAITH
+
+PROPOUNDED TO ALL WHOM IT MAY CONCERN
+
+
+Before fully entering on this paper, I should like those who may be
+inclined to read it to understand very distinctly, once and for all,
+that I am a Christian. I am sorry that the too-hasty misjudgment of
+others compels me to assert the fact. The term “Atheist” has been
+applied to me by several persons who should know better,--for it is an
+absolutely false, and I may add, libellous accusation. That it has been
+uttered unthinkingly and at random, by idle chatterers who have never
+read a line I have written I can well believe,--nevertheless it is a
+mischievous rumour, as senseless as wicked. Poor and inadequate as my
+service is, and must ever be, still I am a follower of the Christian
+Faith, as expounded in Christ’s own words to His disciples. I believe
+that Christian Faith to be the grandest and purest in the world,--the
+most hopeful, the most strengthening, the most soul-supporting and
+ennobling religion ever taught to humanity. To me, in hours of the
+bitterest trial, it has proved not “a reed shaken by the wind,”--but
+a rock firmer than the foundations of the world, against which the
+waves of tribulation break in vain and disperse to naught,--and when
+brought face to face with imminent death as I have been, it has kept me
+fearless and calm. I know--because I have experienced,--its priceless
+worth, its truth, its grand uplifting power; and it is because this
+simple Christian Faith is so dear to me, and so much a part of my
+every-day life, that I venture to ask a few straight questions of
+those who, calling themselves Christians, seem to have lost sight
+altogether of their Master and His commands. I like people who are
+consistent. Inconsistency of mind is like uncleanliness of body; it
+breeds discomfort and disease. And in this wonderful age of ours, in
+which there is so little real “greatness,”--when even the tried heroism
+of our leading statesmen and generals is sullied by contemptible
+jealousies and petty discussions of a quarrelsome nature,--when the
+minds of men are bent chiefly on money-making and mechanical inventions
+to save labour (labour being most unfortunately estimated as a curse
+instead of the blessing it indubitably is), I find inconsistency the
+chief ingredient of all modern thought. Things are jumbled up in a
+heterogeneous mass, without order, distinction or merit. And the
+principal subject on which men and women are most wildly, glaringly
+inconsistent, is that which is supposed to be the guiding rule of
+life--Religion. I should like to try and help to settle this vexed
+question. I want to find out what the Christian Empire means by its
+“faith.” I venture to lift up my voice as the voice of one alone in
+the wilderness, and to send it with as clear a pitch and true a tone
+as I can across the sea of discussion,--the stormy ocean of angry and
+contradictory tongues,--and I ask bluntly and straightly, “What is it
+all about? DO YOU BELIEVE YOUR RELIGION, OR DO YOU NOT?”
+
+It is an honest question, and demands an honest answer. Put it to
+yourselves plainly. DO YOU BELIEVE WITH ALL YOUR HEART AND SOUL IN THE
+FAITH YOU PROFESS TO FOLLOW?
+
+Again--put it with equal plainness--DO YOU NOT BELIEVE ONE IOTA OF IT
+ALL? AND ARE YOU ONLY FOLLOWING IT AS A MATTER OF CUSTOM AND FORM?
+
+Let us, my reader or readers, be round and frank with each other. If
+you are a Christian, your religion is to believe that Christ was a
+human Incarnation or Manifestation of an Eternal God, born miraculously
+of the Virgin Mary; that He was crucified in the flesh as a criminal,
+died, was buried, rose again from the dead, and ascended to heaven as
+God and Man in one, and there perpetually acts as Mediator between
+mankind and Divine Justice. Remember, that if you believe this, you
+believe in the PURELY SUPERNATURAL. But let any one talk or write of
+the purely supernatural as existent in any other form save this one of
+the Christian Faith, and you will probably be the first to scout the
+idea of the supernatural altogether. Why? Where is your consistency? If
+you believe in one thing which is supernatural, why not in others?
+
+Now let us consider the other side of the question. You who do
+not believe, but still pretend to do so, for the sake of form and
+conventional custom, do you realize what you are? You consider yourself
+virtuous and respectable, no doubt; but facts are facts, and you, in
+your pretence at faith, are nothing but a Liar. The honest sunshiny
+face of day looks on you, and knows you for a hypocrite--a miserable
+unit who is trying in a vague, mad fashion to cheat the Eternal Forces.
+Be ashamed of lying, man or woman, whichever you be! Stand out of the
+press and say openly that you do not believe; so at least shall you be
+respected. Do not show any religious leanings either to one side or the
+other “for the sake of custom”--and then we shall see you as you are,
+and refrain from branding you “liar.” I would say to all, clergy and
+laity, who do not in their hearts believe in the Christian Faith, “Go
+out of all churches; stand aside and let us see who is who. Let us have
+space in which to count up those who are willing to sacrifice all their
+earthly well-being for Christ’s sake (for it amounts to nothing less
+than this), and those who prefer this world to the next.” I will not
+presume to calculate as to which will form the larger majority. I only
+say it is absurd to keep up churches, and an enormous staff of clergy,
+archbishops, bishops, popes, cardinals, and the like, for a faith in
+which we do not TRULY, ABSOLUTELY, AND ENTIRELY BELIEVE. It is a mere
+pageant of inflated Falsehood, and as such must be loathsome in the
+sight of God,--this always with the modern proviso, “if there indeed be
+a God.” Yet, apart from a God altogether, it is degrading to ourselves
+to play the hypocrite with the serious facts of life and death.
+Therefore, I ask you again--Do you believe, or do you not believe? My
+object in proposing the question at all is to endeavour to show the
+spiritual and symbolic basis upon which the Christian Faith rests,
+and the paramount necessity there is for accepting it in its pristine
+purity and beauty, if we would be wise. To grasp it thoroughly, we
+must view it, not as it now seems to look to us through the darkening
+shadows of sectarianism, BUT AS IT WAS ORIGINALLY FOUNDED. The time
+has come upon us that is spoken of in the New Testament, when “one
+shall be taken and the other left,” and the sorting of the sheep from
+the goats has already commenced. It can be said with truth that most
+of our Churches, as they now exist, are diametrically opposed to the
+actual teachings of their Divine Founder. It can be proved that in our
+daily lives we live exactly in the manner which Christ Himself would
+have most sternly condemned. And when all the proofs are put before
+you plainly, and without disguise or hyperbole, in the simplest and
+straightest language possible, I shall again ask you, “DO YOU BELIEVE,
+OR DO YOU NOT BELIEVE?” If you do believe, declare it openly and live
+accordingly; if you do not believe, in God’s name leave off lying!
+
+The Symbolism of the Christian Faith has been, and is still, very much
+lost sight of, owing to the manner in which the unimaginative and
+unthinking majority of people will persist in looking at things from a
+directly physical, materialistic and worldly point of view. But if we
+take the life and character of Christ as a Symbolic representation of
+that Perfect Manhood which alone can be pleasing to God,--which alone
+can be worthy to call the Divine Source of Creation “Father!”--some of
+our difficulties may possibly be removed. Christ’s Gospel was first
+proclaimed in the East,--and the Eastern peoples were accustomed to
+learn the great truths of religion by a “symbolic,” or allegorical
+method of instruction. Christ Himself knew this,--for “He taught them
+many things by parables.”
+
+We shall do well to keep this spirit of Eastern symbolism in mind when
+considering the “miraculous” manner of Christ’s birth. Note the extreme
+poverty, humility, well-nigh shame attending it! Joseph doubted Mary,
+and was “minded to put her away privily.” Mary herself doubted the
+Angelic Annunciation, and said, “How shall this be?”
+
+Thus, even with those most closely concerned, a cloud of complete
+disbelief and distrust environed the very thought, suggestion, and
+announcement of the God-in-Man.
+
+It should be remembered that the Evangelists, Mark and John, have no
+account of a “miraculous” birth at all. John, supreme as a Symbolist,
+the “disciple whom Jesus loved,” wrote, “The WORD was made flesh and
+dwelt among us.”
+
+Securing this symbolic statement for ourselves, we find that two of the
+chief things to which we attach importance in this world--namely, birth
+and position--are altogether set aside in this humanizing of the WORD,
+and are of no account whatever. And, that the helpless Child lying in
+a manger on that first Christmas morning of the world, was,--despite
+poverty and humility,--fore-destined to possess more power than all the
+kings and emperors ever born in the purple.
+
+Thus, the first lessons we get from the birth of Christ are--Faith and
+Humility--these are indeed the whole spirit of His Divine doctrine.
+
+Now,--How does this spirit pervade our social community to-day, after
+nearly two thousand years of constant preaching and teaching?
+
+Look round on the proud array of the self-important, pugnacious,
+quarrelsome, sectarian and intolerant so-called “servants of the Lord.”
+The Pope of Rome, and his Cardinals and his Monsignori! The Archbishop
+of Canterbury, and _his_ Bishops, Deacons, Deans and Chapters and the
+like! The million “sects”--and all the cumbrous paraphernalia of the
+wealthy and worldly, “ordained” to preach the Gospel! Ask them for
+“proofs” of faith! For signs of “humility”! For evidences of any kind
+to show that they are in very soul and life and truth, the followers of
+that Master who never knew luxury, and had not where to lay His head!
+
+And you, among the laity, how can you pray, or pretend to pray to a
+poor and despised “Man of Sorrows,” in these days, when with every act
+and word of your life you show your neighbours that you love Money
+better than anything else in earth or in heaven!--when even you who are
+millionaires only give and do just as much as will bring you notoriety,
+or purchase you a “handle” to your names! Why do you bend your
+hypocritical heads on Sundays to the Name of “Jesus,” who (so far as
+visible worldly position admitted) was merely the son of a carpenter,
+and followed the carpenter’s trade, while on week-days you make no
+secret of your scorn of, or indifference to the “working-man,” and more
+often than not spurn the beggar from your gates!
+
+Be consistent, friends!--be consistent! IF YOU BELIEVE IN
+CHRISTIANITY, you must also believe in these three things:--
+
+
+     1. The virtue of poverty.
+
+     2. The dignity of labour.
+
+     3. The excellence of simplicity.
+
+
+Rank, wealth, and all kinds of ostentation should be to you
+pitiable--not enviable.
+
+IS IT SO? Do you prefer poverty, with a pure conscience, to ill-gotten
+riches? Would you rather be a faithful servant of Christ or a slave of
+Mammon? Give the answer to your own soul,--but give it honestly--if you
+can!
+
+If you find, on close self-examination, that you love yourself, your
+own importance, your position, your money, your household goods and
+clothes, your place in what you call “society,” more than the steady
+working for and following of Christ,--YOU ARE NOT A CHRISTIAN. That
+being the case, be brave about it! Say what you are, and do not pretend
+to be what you are not!
+
+It ought to be quite easy for you to come to a clear understanding
+with yourselves. Take down the New Testament and read it. Read it as
+closely and carefully as you read your cheap newspapers, and with
+as much eagerness to find out “news.” For news there is in it, and
+of grave import. Not news affecting the things of this world, which
+pass like a breath of wind and are no more,--but news which treats of
+Eternal Facts, outlasting the creation and re-creation of countless
+worlds. Read this book for yourselves, I say, rather than take it in
+portions on Sundays only from your clergy,--and devote your earnest
+attention to the simple precepts uttered by Christ Himself. If you
+are a Christian, you believe Christ was an Incarnation of God,--then
+does it not behove you to listen when God speaks? Or is it a matter
+of indifference to you that the Maker and Upholder of millions of
+universes should have condescended to come and teach you how to live?
+If it is, then stand forth and let us see you! Do not attend places of
+worship merely to be noticed by your neighbours. For,--apart from such
+conduct being strictly forbidden by Christ,--you insult other persons
+by your presence as a liar and hypocrite. This is what you may call a
+“rude” statement;--plain-speaking and truth-telling are always called
+“rude.” You will find the utmost plain-speaking in the Gospels upon
+which you profess to pin your faith. If you have any “fancy Ritualism”
+lurking about you, you will discover that “forms” are not tolerated by
+the Saviour of mankind.
+
+“All their works they do for to be seen of men; they make broad their
+phylacteries and enlarge the borders of their garments.”
+
+“Shows” of religion are severely censured and condemned by Him whose
+commands we assume to try and obey--we can scarcely find even a peg
+whereon to hang an excuse for our practice of praying in public, while
+“vain repetitions” of prayer are expressly prohibited. I repeat--Read
+the Four Gospels; they are very much mis-read in these days, and even
+in the Churches are only gabbled. See if your private and personal
+lives are in keeping with the commands there set down. If not, cease to
+play Humbug with the Eternities;--they will avenge themselves upon your
+hypocrisy in a way you dream not of! “Whosoever excuses himself accuses
+himself.”
+
+The true Christian faith has no dogma,--no form,--no sect. It starts
+with Christ as God-in-Man, in an all-embracing love for God and His
+whole Creation, with an explicit and clear understanding (as symbolized
+so emphatically in the Crucifixion and Resurrection), that each
+individual Soul is an immortal germ of life, in process of eternal
+development, to which each new “experience” of thought, whether on
+this planet or others, adds larger powers, wider intelligence, and
+intensified consciousness. There are no “isms” in this faith--no
+bigotry, and no intolerance. It leaves no ground for discussion.
+
+“This is my commandment,--That ye love one another as I have loved you.”
+
+It is all there,--simple, straight and pure--no more, no less than this.
+
+“Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what
+is above its strength, pleads no excuse of impossibility. It is,
+therefore, able to undertake all things, and it completes many things
+and warrants them to take effect where he who does not love would faint
+and lie down. Love is watchful, and, sleeping, slumbereth not. Though
+weary, it is not tired; though alarmed, it is not confounded, but, as a
+lively flame and burning torch, it forces its way upwards, and securely
+passes all.... Love is born of God and cannot rest but in God, above
+all created things.”
+
+Is our Gospel of modern life and society to-day one of love or of hate?
+Do we help each other more readily than we kick each other down? Do we
+prefer to praise or to slander our neighbours? Is it not absolutely
+true that “a cruel story runs on wheels, and every hand oils the wheels
+as they run”? Can we leave anybody alone without covert or open
+detraction from his or her merits? Even in the most ordinary, every-day
+life do we not see people taking a malicious, insane delight in making
+their next-door neighbours as uncomfortable as possible in every petty
+way they can? These persons, by the way, are generally the class who go
+to Church most regularly, and are constant Communicants. Do they not by
+their profane attempt to assimilate the malignity of their dispositions
+with the gospel of Christ, deserve to be considered as mere blasphemers
+of the Faith?
+
+Yet, as a matter of fact, it is much easier to love than to hate. Love
+is the natural and native air of the immortal soul. “While we fulfil
+the law of love in all our thoughts and actions, we cannot fail to
+grow.” Hatred, discontent, envy, and pessimism, cramp all the higher
+faculties of the mind and very often actually breed disease in the
+body. To love all creation is to draw the responsive health and life of
+creation into one’s own immortal cognizance. “Love easily loosens all
+our bonds. There is no discomfort that will not yield to its sovereign
+power.” But it must not be a selfish love. It must be a Love which is
+the keynote of the Christian Faith--“Love one another as I have loved
+you.”
+
+It follows very plainly that if we truly loved one another there would
+be no wars, no envyings, no racial hatreds, no over-reaching of our
+brethren for either wealth, place or power. There would be no such
+hells as the Lancashire factories, for example, where, as Allen Clarke
+graphically tells us,[2] “Amidst that sickening jerry-jumble of cheap
+bricks and cheaper British industry, over a hundred thousand men,
+women and children, toil and exist, sweating in the vast, hot, stuffy
+mills and sweltering forges--going, when young, to the smut-surrounded
+schools to improve their minds, and trying to commune with the living
+God in the dreary, dead, besmirched churches and grimy puritanical
+chapels; growing up stunted, breeding thoughtlessly, dying prematurely,
+knowing not, nor dreaming, except for here and there a solitary one
+cursed with keen sight and sensitive soul, of aught better and brighter
+than this sickening, steaming sphere of slime and sorrow.” Contrast
+this picture with a crowded “supper-night” at the Carlton or any other
+fashionable Feeding-place of London, and then maintain, if you dare,
+that the men and women who are responsible for two such differing sides
+of life are “Christians”!
+
+England is, we are told, in danger of becoming “Romanized.” Priests
+and nuns of various “orders” who have been thrust out of France and
+Spain for intermeddling, are seeking refuge here, in company with the
+organ-grinders and other folk who have been found unnecessary in their
+own countries. From Paris official news was cabled on September 11,
+1902, as follows:--
+
+
+     “JESUIT EXODUS FROM FRANCE.
+
+     “PARIS, _Wednesday, September 11_.
+
+     “It is announced officially that by the 1st of next month
+     not a single Jesuit will be left in France. Most of them
+     are emigrating to England, and will make Canterbury their
+     headquarters.--DALZIEL.”
+
+
+France will not have the Jesuits; may it be asked why _we_ are to have
+them? It is England’s proud privilege to be an international workhouse
+for all the decrepit of the world, and for this cause a happy hunting
+ground is open to Rome among these same decrepit. There is no creed in
+the world which is better adapted for those who are morally weak, and
+frightened of themselves. All the millionaires who have gotten their
+goods by fraud, can, by leaving the greater part of these goods to
+Rome, secure a reserved seat in Rome’s Heaven, with a special harp and
+crown. All the women with “soul-affinities” other than lawful, can,
+after a considerable wallow in social mire, enter the Church of Rome,
+and, after confession, be “cleansed” sufficiently to begin again a new
+life, approved of the saints. All the spiritualists and faith-healers
+can find support for their theories with Rome,--and the Roman hell,
+full of large snakes and much brimstone, is a satisfactory place
+to consign one’s enemies to, when we have quite put aside Christ’s
+command, “Love one another.” Altogether Romanism is calculated to
+appeal to a very large majority of persons through the sensuous and
+emotional beauty of its ritual;--it is a kind of heavenly narcotic
+which persuades the believer to resign his own will into the hypnotic
+management of the priests. The church is made gorgeous with soft lights
+and colours,--glorious music resounds through the building, and the
+mind drowses gently under the influence of the Latin chanting, which
+we need not follow unless we like,--we are permitted to believe that
+a large number of saints and angels are specially looking after us,
+and that the sweet Virgin Mary is ever ready with outstretched hands
+to listen to all our little griefs and vexations. It is a beautiful
+and fascinating Creed, hallowed by long antiquity, graced by deeds
+of romance and chivalry, sanctified by the memories of great martyrs
+and pure saints, and even in these degenerate days, glorified by
+the noble-hearted men and women who follow it without bigotry or
+intolerance, doing good everywhere, tending the sick, comforting the
+sorrowful, and gathering up the little children into their protecting
+arms, even as Jesus Himself gathered them. It would need an angel’s pen
+dipped in fire, to record the true history of a faithful, self-denying
+priest of the Roman Church, who gives up his own advantage for the sake
+of serving others,--who walks fearlessly into squalid dens reeking
+with fever, and sets the pure Host between the infected lips of the
+dying,--who combats with the Demon of Drink, and drags up the almost
+lost reprobate out of that horrible chasm of vice and destruction.
+No one could ever give sufficient honour to such a man for all the
+immense amount of good he does, unostentatiously and without hope of
+reward. But many men like himself exist equally in the English Church
+as the Roman,--in the Presbyterian Church, in the Greek Church, in the
+Buddhist temples, among the Quakers, “Plymouth Brethren,” and other
+sects--among the followers of Mahomet or of Confucius. For there are
+good men and good women in every Church, faithful to the SPIRIT OF
+CHRIST, and, therefore, “Christians,” even if called Jews or Hindoos.
+
+Personally, I have no more objection or dislike to Romanism than I
+have to any other “ism” ever formulated. From a student’s point of
+view I admire the Roman Catholic priesthood, because they understand
+their business, and thoroughly know the material with which they have
+to deal. Wise as their Egyptian prototypes of old, they decline to
+unveil “mysteries” to the uninitiated vulgar--therefore the laity are
+not expected to read the Bible for themselves. Knowing the terrors
+of a guilty conscience, they are able to intimidate the uneducated
+ruffian of both sexes more successfully than all the majesty of the
+law. Thoroughly aware of the popular delight in “shows,” they organize
+public processions on feast days, just as the “Masters of the Stars”
+used to do in Memphis, where, by the way (as those who take the
+trouble to study ancient Egyptian records will discover), our latest
+inventions, such as the electric light, the telephone, the phonograph,
+and many other modern conveniences, were used by the priests for
+“miraculous” effects. From the Egyptian priesthood we derive the
+beginnings of scientific discovery;--to the early Roman Catholic
+priesthood we owe the preservation of much history and learning. The
+one is, intellectually speaking, a lineal descendant of the other, and
+both deserve the utmost respect for their immense capacity as Rulers of
+the Ignorant.
+
+The greater majority of persons have no force of will and no decided
+opinions, but only an under-sense of coward fear or vexation at the
+possible unsuccessful or damaging result of their own ill-doings. Hence
+the power of the Roman Catholic dogma. It is not Christianity; it has
+not the delicate subtlety of Greek mythology; it is simply pagan Rome
+engrafted on the conversion and repentance of the Jew, Peter, who, in
+the time of trial, “knew not the Man.” Curiously enough, it is just the
+“Man,” the real typical Christ, the pure, strong God-in-humanity who
+is still “not known” in the Roman Catholic ritual. There are prayers
+to the “Sacred Heart” and to other physical attributes of Jesus,--just
+as in old Rome there were prayers to the physical attributes of
+the various deities, but of the perfect “Man,” as seen in Christ’s
+dauntless love of truth and exposure of shams, His scourging of the
+thieves out of the holy temple, His grand indifference to the world’s
+malice and hatred, and His conquest over death and the grave,--of
+these things we are given no clear or helpful image. Nevertheless, it
+is the “Man” we most need,--the “Man” who came to us to teach us how
+to live;--the brother, the friend, the close sympathizer,--the great
+Creator of all life mingling Himself with His human creation in a
+beautiful, tender, loving, wise and all-pitiful Spirit, wherein is no
+hate, no revenge, and no intolerance! This is the Christ;--this is His
+Christianity. Romanism, on the contrary, allows plenty of space for
+those who want to hate as well as to love, and it is as helpful or as
+useless as any of the thousand and one dogmas built up around Christ,
+dogmas which include bad passions as well as divine aspirations. The
+danger of such a creed gaining too much ground in England, the land
+where our forefathers fought against it and trampled it out with
+their own blood and tears, is not because it is a particular form of
+religious Faith, but because it is an intolerant system of secret
+Government. This has been proved over and over again throughout
+history. Its leaders have not shown themselves as gentle pagans by any
+means, either now or in the past;--and intolerance in any form, from
+any sect, is no part of the Constitution of a free country.
+
+Hence the real cause of the objection which has been entertained by
+millions of persons in the Empire to the suggested alteration of
+the King’s Coronation oath. The British King is a Constitutional
+monarch,--and the words “Defender of the Faith” imply that he is
+equally Defender of the Constitution. He agrees, when he is crowned
+King of England, to uphold that Constitution,--he therefore tacitly
+rejects all that might tend to undermine it,--all secret methods of
+tampering with political, governmental or financial matters relating
+to the State. The wording of the Coronation Oath is, and must be
+distinctly offensive to thousands of excellent persons who are Roman
+Catholics,--nevertheless, in the times when it was so worded, the
+offending terms were made necessary by the conduct of the Roman
+Catholics themselves. Those times, we are assured, are past. We have
+made progress in education,--we are now broad-minded enough to be
+fair to foes, as well as to friends. We should, therefore, in common
+courtesy to a rival Church, consent to have this irritating formula
+altered. Perhaps we should,--but is it too much to ask our Roman
+Catholic brethren that they also should, if they wish for tolerance,
+exhibit it on their own side? When Queen Victoria died, was it not
+quite as offensive on the part of Pope Leo to publicly state that he
+“could not be represented at the funeral of a Protestant Queen”--as it
+may be for our King to publicly repudiate the service of the Mass?
+Nothing could have been more calculated to gratuitously wound the
+feelings of a great People than that most unnecessary announcement
+made from an historical religious centre like the Vatican, at a time
+of universal grief for the death of a good Monarch. If the Pope’s act
+was according to the rule of his Church, the King’s oath is according
+to the rule of the British Constitution. No one could accuse the Pope
+of any particularly “Christian” feeling in declining to be represented
+at the last obsequies of the best Queen that ever reigned--no one can
+or would ever conscientiously accuse an English King of “religious
+intolerance” when he takes the oath as it is set down for him. Both
+acts are matters of policy. We have seen the foremost peer of England,
+the Duke of Norfolk, forgetting himself so far on one occasion as
+to drag his religious creed into the political arena, and publicly
+expressing the hope on behalf of all English Catholics that the Pope
+may soon regain temporal power (which means, to put it quite plainly,
+that the British Constitution should be disintegrated and laid under
+subjection to Rome): the natural consequence of such conduct is that
+an enormous majority of perfectly sensible broad-minded people doubt
+whether it is wise to leave an entirely loose rein on the neck of
+the papal Pegasus. Tolerance and equity on the one side must be met
+by tolerance and equity on the other, if a fair understanding is to
+be arrived at. And when the professors of any religious Creed still
+persecute heroism and intellect, or refuse reverence to the last
+rite of a noble Queen, whose long reign was a blessing to the whole
+world, one may be permitted to question their fitness for the task
+of elevating and refining the minds and morals of those whom their
+teachings help to influence. And having, as a man of intellectual
+and keen perception, the full consciousness that such unuttered
+“questioning” was burning the hearts and minds of thousands, the late
+Cardinal Vaughan showed himself a master of the art of Roman Catholic
+diplomacy in his speech at Newcastle-on-Tyne on September 9, 1902.
+Speaking of the inrush of Roman Catholic priests into England, he
+said:--
+
+“A statement from a London paper has been running through the
+provincial Press to the effect that I have deliberately outraged
+public feeling by inviting to England certain French religieux, some
+of those _confrères_ who have made themselves particularly obnoxious
+by their constant attacks upon this country. The fact is that, upon
+the passing of the iniquitous law against the religious congregations,
+I gave a general invitation to any religieux who might wish, to come
+to my diocese until they could return to France. Among those who
+applied were three or four fathers, some of those _confrères_ who do
+not love England. My invitation being general, I was not, and am not
+going to make distinctions. None will come who do not intend to obey
+the laws and follow my direction. And if there be any who have not
+been sufficiently enlightened to appreciate this country while living
+in France, they are the very people who had best come and make our
+acquaintance. This is the surest way to change their views. But while
+England boasts of her generous hospitality to every kind of refugee, I
+shall certainly offer whatever hospitality I can to the men and women
+who have suffered for Christ’s sake. _I am too broad an Englishman to
+know any other policy._”
+
+“Broad Englishman” as the Cardinal professed to be, he had no pity on
+the aged Dr. St. George Mivart, the circumstances of whose treatment
+are not yet forgotten.
+
+Speaking of the Coronation oath, the Cardinal said: “I entirely and
+frankly accept the decision of the country that the King must be a
+Protestant. They believe that this is in some way bound up with the
+welfare of the Empire. WITHOUT GOING THIS LENGTH, I am convinced that
+in the present condition of the English people, HAUNTED AS THEY ARE
+BY FEARS AND SUSPICIONS, it is expedient that the King should be of
+the religion of the overwhelming majority. Besides, the King being, in
+virtue of Royal supremacy, head of the State Church, it is impossible
+that he should be other than a Protestant. Catholics have no difficulty
+in paying most loyal allegiance to a Protestant Sovereign. In this
+they seem to be of more liberal and confiding temper than those who
+would refuse allegiance to a King unless he professed their creed. The
+Catholic has no difficulty, because he gives his allegiance and his
+life, when needed, primarily to the civil power ordained of God.”
+
+(The Cardinal did not pause here to try and explain why God has thus
+“ordained” a Protestant sovereign instead of a Roman Catholic one! Yet
+no doubt he will admit that God knows best.)
+
+“The Sovereign REPRESENTS THIS POWER, whatever be his religion. Was
+it not Catholic Belgium that placed the Protestant King Leopold upon
+the Throne, and gave to him at least as hearty a devotion as ever has
+been shown to his Catholic successor? Other Catholic States are ruled
+by Protestant Sovereigns. And who can say that the 16,000,000 of German
+Catholics are a whit less loyal to their German Protestant Emperor
+than the millions who are of the Protestant or of no religion? There
+are people, I believe, pursued by the conviction that we Catholics
+would do anything in the world to get a Catholic King upon the Throne;
+that the Pope would give us leave to tell lies, commit perjury, plot,
+scheme, and kill to any extent for such a purpose; that there is no
+crime we should stick at if the certainty, or even the probability
+of accomplishing such an end were in view. Now let me put it to our
+Protestant friends in this way. If the King of England were an absolute
+Monarch, the dictator of the laws to be enacted, and his own executive,
+there might be something of vital importance to our interests and
+to those of religion to excite in us an intense desire to have a
+Catholic King. Though even then the end could never, even remotely,
+justify the means suggested. But how do matters really stand? We have
+a Constitutional Monarch who is subject to the laws, and in practice
+bound to follow the advice of his Ministers. A Catholic King, under
+present circumstances, would be a cause of weakness, of perpetual
+difficulty, and of untold anxiety. We are far better off as we are. Our
+dangers and grievances, our hopes and our happiness, LIE IN THE WORKING
+OF THE CONSTITUTION, not in the favour or power of any Sovereign. IT
+IS THE PARLIAMENT, THE HOUSE OF COMMONS, THAT WE MUST CONVERT, or at
+least strive to retain within the influence of Christianity. For the
+well-being of this country and the salvation of its people depend,
+above all other human things, UPON THE VIEW THAT THE HOUSE OF COMMONS
+CAN BE GOT TO TAKE OF ITS DUTY--to respect and obey the law of Christ.
+What we want is to get the House of Commons to maintain the Christian
+laws of marriage as the basis of society, and to secure to parents and
+their children a true and proper liberty in the matter of Christian
+education. And in this, remember well, THAT THE HOUSE OF COMMONS
+DEPENDS NOT UPON THE KING, WHATEVER HIS RELIGION, BUT UPON OURSELVES.
+The people of this country must work out their own salvation. And
+here let me point out to you, in passing, that the next Session of
+Parliament may settle for ever the position of Christianity in this
+country. Secondary and middle-class education will be thrown into the
+melting-pot. In the process of the devolution of educational authority
+upon county councils, Christianity will run the risk of losing rights
+which it seems to have almost secured under the working of the
+Education Department. The adoption of a single clause or principle
+will have far-reaching and most vital results. There will be another
+educational struggle. Struggles will be inevitable until the Christian
+cause which is becoming more and more openly the cause of the majority
+has permanently triumphed.”
+
+Here we have four distinct “moves” on the plan of campaign.
+
+
+     1. “It is the Parliament, the House of Commons, that we must
+     convert.”
+
+
+This means, that wherever influence can be brought to bear on the
+return of Roman Catholic members to the House, that influence will not
+be lacking.
+
+
+     2. “The next Session of Parliament may settle for ever the
+     position of Christianity in this country.”
+
+
+Not CHRISTIANITY, for that is above all “settling,”--save with its
+Founder--but that the next or other Sessions may open the way to a more
+complete Roman Catholic domination is what is here hoped for.
+
+
+     3. “The adoption of a _single clause_ or principle will have
+     far-reaching and most vital results.”
+
+
+Precisely;--so far-reaching and vital that England must be on her guard
+against even a “single clause or principle” which endangers the liberty
+of the subject.
+
+
+     4. “Struggles will be inevitable until the Christian cause which
+     is becoming more and more openly the cause of the majority has
+     permanently triumphed.”
+
+
+For Cardinal Vaughan there was only one “Christian” cause--viz., the
+Roman Catholic, and he who runs may read the meaning of the above
+phrase without much difficulty.
+
+Concerning the King’s Declaration Oath, said the Cardinal:--
+
+“It is not the King who is responsible for the drafting or the
+retention of this detestable Declaration. It is the Ministry, the
+Legislature, the Constitution that are responsible for its retention,
+and for forcing its acceptance upon the Sovereign. The gravamen,
+therefore, lies against the State, not against the person of the King.”
+
+Quite true; and it is therefore against the State that the Vatican
+powers must, and possibly may, in time, be directed.
+
+“And,” went on the Cardinal, “do not devout clergymen swear every day
+in good faith to teach the Thirty-nine Articles, and find every day
+that conscience and good faith compel them to break their engagement by
+submitting to the Catholic Church? When a man fully realizes that by a
+promise or an oath he has pledged himself to something that is unjust,
+immoral, untrue, the engagement ceases to bind.”
+
+_Ergo_, the English Church, the particular “Faith” which our King
+undertakes to DEFEND, is “unjust, immoral and untrue.”
+
+And, “Could Englishmen see themselves as others see them, they would be
+more chary than they are of provoking hatred by such wanton contempt
+for the feelings of other nations.”
+
+Well, Englishmen have every chance of seeing themselves as others see
+them, when they have to chronicle a “Christian” Cardinal’s indictment
+accusing them of “wanton contempt for the feelings of other nations.”
+To whom do other nations turn in want or distress but England? From
+whom do the famine and fever-stricken in all corners of the world
+obtain relief? England! Where is there any Roman Catholic country that
+has poured out such limitless charity and pity to all in sorrow as
+England? And why should the “conversion of England” be so valuable to
+the Roman Church? Merely because of England’s incalculable wealth and
+power!
+
+Again, concerning the Declaration Oath, the Cardinal continued:--“Now,
+should it ever happen that the King became convinced, by God’s grace,
+of the truth of the doctrines that he abjured, of what value would be
+the Declaration? Absolutely none!”
+
+Of course not!--he would simply cease to be King, and would enjoy the
+complete liberty of the subject.
+
+“By all means,” went on his Eminence, warming with his theme, “let the
+majority, if it please, stand by the law, which exists apart from the
+Declaration, declaring that to reign over England the Sovereign must be
+a Protestant. Retain this law and enforce it; but respect our creed, at
+least just so far as to ignore it, and to leave us alone. This, surely,
+is not a heavy demand to make upon the spirit of modern toleration.”
+
+Then why did not the Cardinal and all his followers “respect the
+creed” established in this country,--the religion of the State,--“just
+so far as to ignore it,” and to leave those who honour it “alone”?
+“This, surely, is not a heavy demand to make upon the spirit of
+modern toleration.” It was not the Church of England which started
+any discussion on the Coronation Oath at the time of King Edward the
+Seventh’s crowning,--the quarrel emanated entirely from the Roman
+Catholic side. And the Cardinal’s speech was intended to be more
+aggressive than pacifying.
+
+“But if,” he continued, “after all, there must be a Declaration _as
+a sop to certain fears and passions_, let there be one to the effect
+that the King is a Protestant--and stop there. Should, however, a
+denunciation of the Catholic religion be added to a profession of
+Protestantism, the whole world will understand it; it will understand
+it as a pitiable _confession of English fear and weakness_. And as to
+ourselves; well, we shall take it as a complimentary acknowledgment
+by our Protestant fellow-countrymen of the importance and power of
+faith--that it can not only remove mountains, but is capable of _moving
+even the fabric of the British Empire itself_. But I should like to
+conclude in another strain, and add to these observations a resolution
+to this effect:--
+
+“That the Sovereign of this Empire ought to be raised high above the
+strife of all political and religious controversies, the more easily to
+draw to himself and to retain the unabated loyalty of all creeds and
+races within his Empire.”
+
+With the latter part of the Cardinal’s harangue every one of every
+creed and class will agree, but “a pitiable confession of English fear
+and weakness” is a phrase that should never have been uttered by an
+Englishman, whether “broad” or narrow, cardinal or layman. “English
+fear and weakness” has never yet been known in the world’s history.
+And as for “moving the fabric of the British Empire,” that can only
+be done through the possible incompetence or demoralization of its
+own statesmen,--by shiftiness, treachery and corruption in State
+affairs--and even at this utmost worst, though England might be bent,
+she would never be broken.
+
+All this, however, has nothing to do with the Christian faith as Christ
+Himself expounded it in His own commands. Quarrels and dissensions are
+as far from the teaching of the Divine Master as an earth’s dusthole
+is from the centre of the sun. Differences of dogma are not approved
+in His eyes. Whether candles shall, or shall not, be set on the altar,
+whether incense shall, or shall not, be burnt, may be said to relegate
+to the “cleansing of the outside of the cup and platter,” and are not
+a vital part of His intention--for He has nothing but condemnation
+for “forms” and “ceremonies.” There is something both strange and
+unnatural in the provocative spirit which is at present being exercised
+by professing rulers of the Church of England against one another;
+and another matter too for deep regret is the attitude of favour
+maintained by certain political ministers, towards the practice of an
+almost theatrical display in the form of English Christian services.
+The various appointments of High Churchmen to important bishoprics
+shows the tendency towards extravagant ritualism; certainly the more
+simple and unaffected men of pure taste and dignity in Church ritual
+get little chance of encouragement; and that the path is being prepared
+for a second Cromwell is only too evident. It is lamentable indeed that
+any discussions should arise between the different sects as to “forms
+and ceremonies,” and those who excite fanatical hatreds by their petty
+quarrels over unimportant “shows” and observances, are criminally to
+blame for any evils that are likely to ensue. What Christ commands is
+“Love one another”;--what He desires is that all mankind should be
+friends and brothers in His Name. And it is from this point of view
+that I again ask the question of those who may have glanced through
+this paper--DO YOU BELIEVE, OR DO YOU NOT BELIEVE? Are you a CHRISTIAN?
+Or a SECTARIAN? The one is not the other.
+
+For my own part I would desire to see all the Sects cease their long
+quarrel,--all “dogmas” dropped--and all creeds amalgamated into one
+great loving family under the name of Christ. I should like to see
+an end to all bigotry, whether of Protestantism against Romanism, or
+Romanism against Protestantism,--a conclusion to all differences--and
+one Universal Church of simple Love and Thanksgiving, and obedience
+to Christ’s own commands. “Temporal power” should be held as the poor
+thing which it is, compared to Spiritual power,--for Spiritual power,
+according to the Founder of the Christian Faith, is the transcendent
+force of Love--love to God and love to man,--“that perfect love which
+casteth out fear,” and which, being “born of God, cannot rest but in
+God above all created things.”
+
+Thus it follows--That if we hate or envy or slander any person, WE ARE
+NOT CHRISTIANS.
+
+If we prefer outward forms of religious ceremonial to the every-day
+practice of a life lived as closely as possible in accordance with the
+commands laid down for us in the Gospel, WE ARE NOT CHRISTIANS.
+
+If we love ourselves more than our neighbours, WE ARE NOT CHRISTIANS.
+
+If we care for money, position, and the ostentation attending these
+things, more than truth, simplicity and plain dealing, WE ARE NOT
+CHRISTIANS.
+
+These ordinary tests of our daily conduct are quite enough to enable
+us to decide whether we are or are not of the faith. If we are _not_,
+we should cease to “sham” that we _are_. It will be far better for
+all those with whom we are brought in contact. For, thank God, there
+exist thousands of very real “Christians”--(“by their fruits ye shall
+know them”), doing unostentatious good everywhere, rescuing the lost,
+aiding the poor, comforting the sick, and helping the world to grow
+happier and better. They may be _called_ Jews, or Baptists, Papists,
+or Buddhists,--but I hold them all as “Christians” if they perform
+those good deeds and live those good lives which are acceptable to
+Christ,--while many church-going hypocrites called “Christians” whose
+social existence is a scandal, whose dissipations, gross immoralities
+and pernicious example of living are open dangers to the whole
+community, do not deserve even such a complimentary term as “pagan”
+applied to them. For the pagans--aye, the earliest savages, believed
+in Something higher than themselves,--but these sort of people believe
+in nothing but the necessity of getting what they want at all costs,
+and are mere human cancers of evil, breeding infection and pestilence.
+And it is particularly incumbent on the clergy of all denominations
+at the present juncture to sift Themselves as to their calling and
+election while sifting others,--to ask Themselves whether they may
+not be in a great measure to blame for much of the infamy which reeks
+from our great cities--for much of the apathy and indifference to
+that bitter poverty, that neglected suffering which often gives birth
+to Anarchy,--for much of the open atheism which shames the upper
+classes of society. Let them live such lives as may liberate them
+from all fear or hesitation in speaking out boldly to the souls they
+have in charge--let them “preach the Gospel” as they were commanded,
+rather than expound human dogmas. Sympathy, tenderness, patience, love
+for all living creatures, rejection of everything that is mean and
+cruel, false and cowardly,--a broad mind, open to all the beautiful
+and gracious influences of Nature--a spirit uplifted in thanksgiving
+to the loving God of all worlds, who is brought close to us and made
+the friend of man in the Divine Personality of Christ,--this surely
+is CHRISTIANITY,--a Faith which leaves no corner anywhere for the
+admission of hate, dissension or despair. Such is the Faith the Master
+taught, saying:
+
+[3]“I have not spoken of myself, but of the Father which sent me; He
+gave me a commandment what I should say, and what I should speak.
+
+“And I know that His commandment is life everlasting--whatsoever I
+speak, therefore, even as the Father taught me, so I speak.”
+
+So He speaks--but do we listen? And if we listen,--and believe,--why do
+we not obey?
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[2] “Effects of the Factory System.”--Allen Clarke.
+
+[3] John xii. 49.
+
+
+
+
+UNCHRISTIAN CLERICS
+
+
+It is generally supposed that an ordained minister of the Gospel is a
+Christian. Whatever the faults, negligences and shortcomings of other
+people in other conditions of life, it is tacitly expected that the
+professing disciples of Christ, the priests, teachers and exponents of
+holy and spiritual things, should be more or less holy and spiritual
+in themselves. They are at any rate accredited with honest effort to
+practise, as well as to preach, the divine ethics of their Divine
+Master. Their position in the social community is one which, through
+old-time tradition, historical sentiment, and inborn national piety, is
+bound to command a certain respect from the laity. Any public disgrace
+befalling a clergyman is always accompanied by a strong public sense of
+shame, disappointment and regret. And when we meet (as most unhappily
+we often do), with men in “holy orders” who,--instead of furnishing
+the noble and pure examples of life and character which we have a
+distinct right to look for in them,--degrade themselves and their high
+profession by conduct unworthy of the lowest untutored barbarian, we
+are moved by amazement as well as sorrow to think that such wolves in
+sheep’s clothing should dare to masquerade as the sacredly ordained
+helpers and instructors of the struggling human soul.
+
+During the past few years there have been many examples of men
+belonging to the hierarchy of the Church, who have wantonly and
+knowingly outraged every canon of honour and virtue, and their sins
+appear all the blacker because of the whiteness of the faith they
+profess to serve. A criminal is twice a criminal when he adds hypocrisy
+to his crime. The clergyman of a parish, who has all doors thrown open
+to him,--who invites and receives the trust of his parishioners,--who
+is set among them to guide, help and comfort them in the devious
+and difficult ways of life, is a thousand times more to blame than
+any other man in a less responsible position, when he knowingly and
+deliberately consents to sin. Unless he is able to govern his own
+passions, and eschew every base, mean and petty motive of action,
+he is not fit to influence his fellow men, nor should he presume to
+instruct them in matters which he makes it evident he does not himself
+understand.
+
+Quite recently a case was chronicled in the daily press of a clergyman
+who went to visit a dying woman at her own request. She wished to make
+a last confession to him, and so unburden her soul of its secret misery
+before she passed away, trusting in God’s mercy for pardon and peace.
+The clergyman went accordingly, and heard what she had to say. When the
+unhappy creature was dead, however, he refused her poor body the sacred
+rites of burial! Now it surely may be asked what authority had he or
+any man calling himself a Christian minister to refuse the rites of
+burial even to the worst of sinners? Whatever the woman’s faults might
+have been, vengeance wreaked on a corpse is both futile and barbarous.
+There is nothing in Christ’s pure and noble teaching that can endorse
+so unholy a spirit of intolerance,--one too, which is calculated to
+give the bitterest pain to the living friends and relations of the so
+coarsely-insulted dead, and to breed in them a relentless hostility
+to the Church and its representatives. For the poorest erring human
+creature that ever turned over the pages of the New Testament, knows
+that such conduct is not Christ-like, inasmuch as Christ had nothing
+but the tenderest pity, pardon and peace for the worst sinner at the
+last moment. When death steps in to close all accounts, it behoves man
+to be more than merciful to his brother man. “For if ye forgive not men
+their trespasses neither will your Father forgive you your trespasses.”
+
+Still fresh in the minds of many must be the un-Christian conduct of
+the late Cardinal Vaughan in denying the rites of Christian burial
+to the venerable Dr. St. George Mivart. Dr. St. George Mivart was a
+man of science whose theories did not agree with the tenets of the
+Roman Catholic Church, and as he belonged ostensibly to that form of
+faith, one may call him, if one so chooses, a bad Catholic. But when
+it is remembered that within quite recent days, so-called “Christian”
+priests in Servia have given their solemn benediction to the assassins
+of the late King and Queen of that country, it is somewhat difficult
+to understand or appreciate the kind of “religion” that blesses
+murderers and regicides, yet refuses burial to a modern scientist who,
+as far as his intellectual powers allowed him, was working for the
+good and the wider instruction of the human race. At the time of the
+“inhibition” and subsequent death of Dr. Mivart, I ventured to address
+an “Open Letter” to Cardinal Vaughan on the subject. This Letter was
+published in March 1900, and though no doubt the great “Prince of the
+Church” never deigned to read it, a large majority of the public did,
+and I have had much cause to rejoice that in the timorously silent
+acquiescence of the Christian world in a deed which shames the very
+name of Christ, I, at least, as one of the humblest among the followers
+of the Christian faith, did have sufficient courage to speak out openly
+against the wicked intolerance which made the Church itself seem mere
+“sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal,” because lacking in that holy
+charity “which suffereth long and is kind.” It was a barbarous act
+to “inhibit” Dr. Mivart,--it was still more barbarous to refuse his
+body the sacred burial-rites,--and though the great Cardinal has now
+followed his victim to that world where all the secrets of the soul are
+made manifest, his cruelty remains as a blot on his mortal career,--a
+black smirch, ugly to look upon in the chronicle of his various virtues
+and excellencies. No ordained minister of the Gospel has the right
+to be intolerant. He has not the slightest excuse for arrogating to
+himself any other code of ethics or conduct than that which is set out
+plainly for him in the New Testament. Away from that he should not dare
+to go, if he truly believes what he elects to preach,--and if he does
+not believe, he should at once resign his office and not live on the
+proceeds of what in his own private conscience he considers untrue.
+
+Most of us have met with many a mean little curate,--many a sly,
+spiteful, scandal-mongering hypocritical parson,--in the daily
+round of our common lives and duties. Most of us know the “salad”
+cleric,--the gentleman who is a doubtful compound of oil and vinegar,
+with a good deal of tough green vegetable matter growing where
+the brain should be,--coarse weed of bigotry, prejudice, and rank
+obstinacy. None of us are entirely ignorant of the sedately amorous
+parson who is either looking out for a wife on his own account, or
+attempting a “Christianly” conversion of the wife of somebody else. In
+country towns we can scarcely fail to have come across the domineering
+vicar,--the small and petty tyrant, who whips the souls committed to
+his charge with rods steeped in his own particular pickle of arrogance,
+austerity and coercion, playing the part of a little despot over
+terrorized Sunday-school children, and laying down the law for his
+parishioners by way of a “new dispensation” wherein the Gospel has no
+part. One such petty martinet, well known in a certain rural parish,
+plays regular “ogre” to his choir boys. It is always a case of “Fee,
+fi, fa, fo, fum, I smell the blood of a chorister,” with him. Should
+one of these unfortunate minstrels chance to sneeze during service,
+this vicar straightway imposes a penny fine (sometimes more) on the
+unlucky little wretch for yielding to an irresistible nasal impulse!
+This kind of thing is, of course, ridiculous, and would merit nothing
+but laughter, were it not for the dislike, distrust and contempt
+engendered in the minds of the boys by the display of such a peevish
+spirit of trumpery oppression on the part of a man who is placed in
+the position he holds to be an example of kindness, good temper,
+cheerfulness and amiability to all. True, the vicar in question is
+what may be called “liverish,” and a small boy’s sneeze may seem, to
+a mind perverted by bilious bodily secretions, like the collapse of a
+universe. But there are various ways of conquering even one’s physical
+ills,--at least to the extent of sparing poor children the infliction
+of fines because they have noses which occasionally give them trouble.
+
+The begging cleric is of all sacerdotal figures the one most familiar
+to the general community. One can seldom attend a church without
+hearing the mendicant’s plea. If the collection taken were indeed for
+the poor, and one felt that it was really and truly going to help
+feed the starving and nourish the sick, how gladly most of us would
+contribute, to the very best of our ability! But sad experience teaches
+us that this is not so. There are “Funds” of other mettle than for
+the sick and poor,--“restoration” funds especially. For many years a
+famous church was in debt owing to “restorations,” and Sunday after
+Sunday the vicar implored his congregation to lift “the burden” off its
+time-honoured walls--in vain! At last one parishioner paid the amount
+required in full. The vicar acknowledged the cheque,--put a recording
+line in the “Parish Magazine,”--wrote a formal letter of thanks
+regretting that the donor did not “show a good example by attending
+public worship on Sundays,”--after which, _for more than a year he did
+not speak to that parishioner again_! This is a fact. Neither he nor
+his wife during that time ever showed the slightest common civility
+to the one individual who, out of all the parish, had “lifted the
+burden,” concerning which so many pious exordiums had been preached.
+_Till_ the debt was paid, the vicar showed every friendliness to the
+person in question--but afterwards--well!--one can only suppose it
+was a case of “Othello’s occupation gone!” He could beg no more,--not
+for that particular object. But I understand he has started fresh
+“restorations” lately, so till he finds another trusting sheep in the
+way of a too sympathetic parishioner, he will be quite happy.
+
+There are some clerics who, to their sacred duties add “a little
+literary work.” They are not literary men,--indeed very frequently
+they have no idea whatever of literature--they are what may be called
+“literary jobbers.” Many clergymen have been, and are still, greatly
+distinguished in the literary calling--but I am not alluding to
+past or future Kingsleys. The men I mean are those who “do a bit of
+writing”--and help in compiling books of reference to which few ever
+refer. They are apt to be the most pertinacious beggars of their
+class,--beggars, not for others’ needs, but for their own. They want
+introductions to “useful” people--people of “influence”--and they ask
+for letters to publishers, which they sometimes get. The publishers
+are not grateful. They are over-run, they say, with clergymen who want
+to write guide-books, books of travel, books of reference, books of
+reminiscence. One of these “reverend” individuals, pleading stress of
+poverty, was employed by a lady to do some copying work, for which,
+in a well-meant wish to satisfy the immediate needs of his wife and
+children, she paid him in advance the sum of Fifty Pounds. He sent her
+a signed receipt for the money with the following gushing epistle:
+
+
+     “DEAR ----,
+
+     Could I write as you do, I might find words to express in part
+     some of my feelings of gratitude to you for all your kindness.
+     My little daughter owes to you untold happiness, and I believe
+     the goodness you ever show her will brighten her whole future
+     life. My dear wife you help to bear her many burdens of health
+     and loneliness as no other has ever attempted to do; and my
+     very mediocre self owes to you, a recognition, after many long
+     struggles, I will not say of merit, for no one knows better than
+     myself, my own shortcomings, but of ‘effort.’ In fact, you come to
+     us as Amenhotep sung of the sun:--
+
+
+       Thou art very beautiful, brilliant and exalted above earth,
+       Thy beams encompass all lands, which thou hast made.
+       Thou art our sun.
+       Thou bindest us with thy love.
+       Thou art on high, but the day passes with thy going!
+
+
+     Even so, your kindly heart has shone upon our life, and made us
+     feel the springs of life within us. May the Great Master of all
+     things for ever bless you and yours!”
+
+
+After this poetical effusion,[4] it is difficult to believe that
+this same “Christian” minister, in order to gratify the private
+jealousy, spite and malice of a few common persons whom he fancied
+might be useful to him on account of their “local” influence, wrote
+and published a scurrilous lampoon on the very friend who had tried
+to benefit him and his wife and family, and to whom he had expressed
+himself in the above terms of unmeasured gratitude! But such,
+nevertheless, was the case. Report says that he was handsomely paid
+for his trouble, which may perhaps serve as his excuse,--for in many
+cases, as we know, money outweighs principle, even with a disciple of
+Christ. It did so in the case of Judas Iscariot, who, however, “went
+out and hanged himself” promptly. Perhaps the “very mediocre” cleric
+who owed to the woman he afterwards insulted, “a recognition after many
+long struggles,” will do the same morally and socially in due course.
+For it would be as great a wrong to the Church to call such a man a
+“Christian” as it would be to canonize Judas. Even the untutored savage
+will not injure one with whom he has broken bread. And to bite the hand
+that has supplied a need, is scarcely the act of a mongrel cur,--let us
+hope it is a sufficiently rare performance among mongrel clerics.
+
+Among other such “trifling” instances of the _un_-Christianity of
+Christian ministers may be quoted a recent instance of a letter
+addressed to a country newspaper by a clergyman who complained of
+the small fees allowed him for the burial of paupers! “The game,” so
+he expressed it, “was not worth the candle.” Christian charity was
+no part of the business. Unless one can make a margin of profit, by
+committing paupers to the hope of a joyful resurrection, why do it
+at all? Such appeared to be the sum and substance of the reverend
+gentleman’s argument. Another case in point is the following: A poor
+man of seventy-five years old, getting the impression that Death was
+too long in coming to fetch him, committed suicide by hanging himself
+in a coal-shed. His widow, nearly as aged as he was, went tottering
+feebly along to the clergyman of the parish, to relate the disaster and
+seek for help. The first thing the good minister told her was, that
+her husband, by committing suicide, had gone to hell. He then relaxed
+his sternness somewhat, and kindly said that, considering her age,
+infirmity and trouble, she “might call at the rectory every afternoon
+for the tea-leaves.” This gracious invitation meant that the bereaved
+old creature could have, for her consolation, the refuse of the
+afternoon tea-pot after it had been well drained by this “Christian”
+gentleman, his wife and family! Of other help she got none, and life
+having become too hard for her to manage alone, despite the assistance
+of the clergyman’s tea-leaves, she very soon, fortunately for herself,
+died of grief and starvation. “He that giveth to the poor” in this
+fashion, truly “lendeth to the Lord.”
+
+“Christianity” and “Christian” are beautiful words, emblematic of
+beautiful thoughts and beautiful deeds. The men who profess to teach
+the value of those thoughts, the influence of those deeds, should
+be capable in themselves of practically illustrating what they mean
+by their faith, in their own lives and actions. Inspired by the
+purest Creed that was ever taught to mankind for its better hope and
+enlightenment, they should express in their attitude to the world, a
+confident and constant joy and belief in God’s goodness, and should
+remember that if He, their divine Master “so loved us,” equally should
+they, His ordained ministers, love us, ay, even the worst of us, in
+their turn. When, on the contrary, they do things for which the poorest
+peasant or dockyard labourer would have the right, and the honest
+right too, to despise them,--when they commit base actions for money
+or advancement,--when they are harsh, unyielding, discourteous and
+obstinate to the degree of even declining to aid a good cause or assist
+in some benefit to the nation at large, merely because _they_ have not
+been consulted as to ways and methods, they do not deserve to be called
+“Christian” at all. They are of that class, unhappily increasing in
+number, who cry out: “Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Thy name?”
+to whom will be given the answer: “I never knew you; depart from Me,
+ye that work iniquity!” Great and noble beyond all praise are true
+“Christian” ministers,--and thousands of them are to be found in all
+parts of the world, working silently and bravely for the rescue of
+bodies as well as souls, giving practical as well as spiritual help and
+sympathy to their fellow-men in trouble. But just because their labours
+are so valuable, one resents all the more deeply the conduct of certain
+members of the clergy who cast dishonour upon their whole calling,--and
+just because the vocation of “priest” is so high, we intensely deplore
+every action that tends to debase it. The un-Christian cleric belongs
+to no spiritual form of faith whatsoever, and should not be allowed
+to pretend that he does. He has but one religion,--Self. And from the
+professor of Self, no man need ask either help or instruction.
+
+FOOTNOTE:
+
+[4] As some doubt has been expressed as to whether this incident is a
+true one, the author wishes it to be known that she holds the original
+letter written and signed by the reverend lampooner in question.
+
+
+
+
+THE SOCIAL BLIGHT
+
+
+People who live in the country know what is meant by a “blight”--a
+thing which is neither mist nor storm, neither cloud nor rain,--a
+fever of the atmosphere, without any freshening or cleansing force
+in its composition. Like a dull stretch of smoky fog, it hangs for
+hours and often for days over the face of the landscape, poisoning
+the wholesome fruit and grain in the orchards and fields, and leaving
+trails of noxious insect pests behind it upon trees and flowers,
+withering their foliage, and blackening all buds of promise with a
+destroying canker to their very core. It is a suffocating, malodorous
+miasma, clinging to the air, for which there is no remedy but a
+strong, ay, even a tempestuous wind,--a wind which vigorously pierces
+through the humid vapour and disperses it, tearing it to shreds, and
+finally working up such a storm as shall drown it out of existence in
+torrents of purifying rain. Then all nature is relieved,--the air is
+cleared,--health and gladness re-assert their beneficent influences,
+and the land lies open to renewed life and easy breathing once more.
+
+Even as “blight” is known in things natural, so is it known and easily
+recognizable in things moral and social. It occurs periodically and
+with more or less regularity, between certain changing, and not always
+progressive phases or epochs of human civilization. It visited Sodom
+and Gomorrah, Tyre and Sidon; it loomed over Nineveh and Babylon,--and
+in our day it is steadily spreading its pall over Europe and America.
+Its gloom is heavy and pronounced,--it would seem to be darkening
+into the true sable or death colour, for there is no light of faith
+to illumine it. It is the outcome of the infected breath of peoples
+who are deliberately setting God aside out of their countings, and
+living for Self and the Hour alone. So-called “scientists,” scraping
+at the crust-covering of the mine of knowledge, and learning of its
+hidden treasure about as much as might be measured with a finger-nail,
+have boldly asserted that there is no God, no Supreme Intelligent
+Force back of the universe,--no future life,--nothing but death and
+destruction for the aspiring, fighting, working human soul,--and that,
+therefore, having been created out of caprice, a “sport” of chance
+and the elements, and having nothing to exist for but to make chance
+and the elements as agreeable as possible during his brief conscious
+experience of them, the best thing for man to do is to “eat, drink,
+and be merry all the days of his life,” though even this, according to
+Solomon, is “also vanity.” For of eating comes indigestion, of drink
+stupefaction, and of merriment satiety. Strange it is that if there
+is no higher destiny for man than this world and its uses, he should
+always be thrown back upon himself dissatisfied! Give him millions of
+money, and when he has them, he cares little for what they can bring;
+grant him unlimited power and a few years suffice to weary him of its
+use. And stranger still it is to realize, that while those who do not
+admit God’s existence, strut forth like bantams on a dunghill, crowing
+their little opinions about the sun-rise, we are all held fast and
+guided, not only in our physical, but in our moral lives by immutable
+laws, invisible in their working, but sooner or later made openly
+manifest. Crime meets with punishment as surely as night follows day.
+If the retribution is not of man’s making,--if human law, often so
+vicious and one-sided in itself, fails to give justice to the innocent,
+then Something or Someone steps in to supply man’s lack of truth and
+courage, and executes a judgment from which there is no appeal. What
+it is or Who it is, we may not presume to declare,--the Romans called
+it Jove or Jupiter;--we call it God, while denying, with precisely the
+same easy flippancy as the Romans did just before their downfall, that
+such a Force exists. It is convenient and satisfying to Mammonites
+and sensualists generally, to believe in nothing but themselves, and
+the present day. It would be very unpleasant for them to have to
+contemplate with any certainty a future life where neither Money nor
+Sex prevail. And because it would be unpleasant, they naturally do not
+admit its possibility. Nevertheless, without belief in the Creator and
+Ruler of all things,--without faith in the higher spiritual destiny of
+man as an immortal and individual soul, capable of progressing ever
+onwards to wider and grander spheres of action, life in this world
+appears but a poor and farcical futility.
+
+Yet it is precisely the poor, farcical and futile view of life that
+is taken by thousands of European and American people in our present
+period. Both press and pulpit reflect it; it is openly shown in the
+decadence of the drama, of art, of literature, of politics, and of
+social conduct. The “blight” is over all. The blight of atheism,
+infidelity, callousness and indifference to honourable principle,--the
+blight of moral cowardice, self-indulgence, vanity and want of heart.
+Without mincing matters, it can be fairly stated that the aristocratic
+Jezebel is the fashionable woman of the hour, while the men vie with
+one another as to who shall best screen her from her amours with
+themselves. And so far as the sterner sex are personally concerned,
+the moneyed man is the one most sought after, most tolerated, most
+appreciated and flattered in that swarm of drones called “society”
+where each buzzing insect tries to sting the other, or crawl over it
+in such wise as to be the first to steal whatever honey may be within
+reach. And worst of all things is the selfish apathy which pervades
+the majority of the well-to-do classes. As little sympathy is shown
+among them for the living, as regret for the dead. The misfortunes of
+friends are far more often made subject for ill-natured mockery than
+for compassion,--the deaths of parents and relations are accepted
+with a kind of dull pleasure, as making way for the inheritance of
+money or estates. No real delight is shown in the arts which foster
+peace, progress and wisdom; and equally little enthusiasm is stirred
+for such considerations of diplomacy or government which help to
+keep nations secure. A great man dies one day, and is forgotten the
+next,--unless some clumsy and scandalous “biography” which rakes up
+all his faults and mistakes in life, and publishes private letters of
+the most intimate and sacred character, can be hawked to the front
+by certain literary vultures who get their living by tearing out the
+heart of a corpse. Say that a dire tragedy is enacted,--such as the
+assassination of the Empress Elizabeth of Austria, or the atrocious
+murder of the late King and Queen of Servia,--or, what is to many minds
+almost as bad,--the heartless and un-Christian conduct of Leopold,
+King of the Belgians, to his unhappy daughter Stéphanie,--and though
+each event may be as painful and terrible as any that ever occupied
+the attention of the historian, they appear to excite no more human
+emotion than a few cold expressions of civil surprise or indifference.
+Feeling,--warm, honest, active, passionate feeling for any cause, is
+more difficult to rouse than the Sloth from its slumbers. It would,
+in truth, seem to be dead. The Church cannot move it. The Drama fails
+to stir it. Patriotism,--National Honour,--have no power to lift it
+from the quagmire of inertia. But let there be a sudden panic on the
+Stock Exchange,--let the Paris Bourse be shaken,--let Wall Street be
+ablaze with sinister rumour--and then hey and halloo for a reckless,
+degrading, humiliating, miserable human stampede! Like infuriated
+maniacs men shriek and stamp and wrestle;--with brains on fire,
+they forget that they were born to be reasoning creatures capable
+of self-control;--their much boasted-of “education” avails them
+nothing,--and they offer to the gods a spectacle of frantic fear and
+ignominy of which even an untaught savage might well be ashamed.
+
+But perhaps the most noxious sign of the blight in the social
+atmosphere is the openly increasing laxity of morals, and the frankly
+disgraceful disregard of the marriage tie. Herein the British
+aristocracy take the lead as the choicest examples of the age. Whatever
+Europe or America may show in the way of godless and dissolute living,
+we are unhappily forced to realize that there are men in Great Britain,
+renowned for their historic names and exclusive positions, who are
+content to stand by, the tame witnesses of their own marital dishonour,
+accepting, with a cowardice too contemptible for horsewhipping,
+other men’s children as their own, all the time knowing them to be
+bastards. We have heard of a certain “nobleman” who,--to quote Holy
+Writ,--“neighed after” another man’s wife to such an extent, that to
+stop the noise, the obliging husband accepted £60,000, a trifling sum,
+which was duly handed over. Whether the gentleman who neighed, or the
+gentleman who paid, was the worst rascal, must be left to others to
+determine. It was all hushed up quite nicely,--and both parties are
+received “in the best society,” with even more attention than would be
+shown to them if they were clean and honest, instead of being soiled
+and disreputable. The portrait of the lady whose damaged virtue was
+plastered up for £60,000 is often seen in pictorials, with appended
+letterpress suitably describing her as a lily-white dove of sweet
+purity and peace. One blames the sinners in this sordid comedy less
+than the “fashionable” folk who tolerate and excuse their conduct.
+Sinners there are, and sinners there always will be,--modern Davids
+will always exist who seek after Bathsheba, and do their level best to
+get Uriah the Hittite comfortably out of the way,--but that they should
+be encouraged in their sins and commended for them, is quite another
+story. Apart from the pernicious influence they exercise on their own
+particular “set,” the example of conduct they give to the nation at
+large, not only arouses national contempt, but in some cases, where
+certain notable politicians are concerned, may breed national disaster.
+
+With looseness of morals naturally comes looseness of conversation.
+The conversation of many of the Upper Ten, in England at least, shows
+a remarkable tendency towards repulsive subjects and objectionable
+details. It is becoming quite a common thing to hear men and women
+talking about their “Little Marys,” a phrase which, though invented
+by Mr. J. M. Barrie, is not without considerable vulgarity and
+offence. Before the brilliant Scottish novelist chose this title
+for a play dealing with the digestive apparatus, it would have done
+him no harm to pause and reflect that with a very large portion of
+the Christian world, namely the Roman Catholic, the name of Mary is
+held to be the most sacred of all names, second to none save that of
+the Divine Founder of the Faith. I am told on good authority that
+Americans,--especially the best of the American women,--have been
+amazed and more or less scandalized at the idea that any portion of the
+“cultured” British public should be found willing to attend a dramatic
+representation dealing with matters pertaining to the human stomach.
+I hope this report is true. My admiration for some American women is
+considerable, but it would go up several points higher if I were made
+quite sure that their objection to this form of theatrical enterprise
+was genuine, permanent, and unconquerable. I like Mr. Barrie very much,
+and his Scottish stories delight me as they delight everybody, but I
+want him to draw the line at the unbeautiful details of dyspepsia.
+People are already too fond of talking about the various diseases
+afflicting various parts of their bodies to need any spur in that way
+from the romantic drama. One of the most notorious women of the day has
+attained her doubtful celebrity partially by conversing about her own
+inner mechanism and other people’s inner mechanisms in a style which
+is not only “free,” but frankly disgusting. But,--“she is so amusing!”
+say the Smart Set,--“One cannot repeat her stories, of course--they go
+_rather_ far!--but--but--you really ought to hear her tell them!” This
+kind of thing is on a par with certain lewd fiction lately advertised
+by certain enterprising publishers who announce--“You must have this
+book! The booksellers will not show it on their bookstalls. They say
+you ought NOT to read it. GET IT!”
+
+All homage to the booksellers who draw the line at printed garbage! One
+must needs admire and respect them for refusing to take percentages
+on the sale of corrupt matter. For business is always business,--and
+when business men see that the tendency of a certain portion of the
+reading public is towards prurient literature, they might, were they
+less honourable and conscientious than they are, avail themselves
+financially of this morbid and depraved taste. Especially as there are
+a large number of self-called “stylists” who can always be relied
+upon to praise the indecent in literature. They call it “strong,” or
+“virile,” and reck nothing of the fact that the “strong” stench of it
+may poison previously healthy minds, and corrupt otherwise innocent
+souls. Prurient literature is always a never-failing accompaniment
+of social “blight.” The fancy for it arises when wholesome literary
+fare has become too simple for the diseased and capricious mental
+appetite, and when the ideal conceptions of great imaginative minds,
+such as the romances of Scott and Dickens, are voted “too long and
+boresome!--there’s really no time to read such stories nowadays!”
+No,--there is no time! There’s plenty of time to play Bridge though!
+
+Poetry--the greatest of the arts--is neglected at the present day,
+because nobody will read it. Among the most highly “educated” persons,
+many can be met with who prattle glibly about Shakespeare, but who
+neither know the names of his plays nor have read a line of his work.
+With the decline of Poesy comes as a matter of course the decline of
+Sculpture, Painting, Architecture and Music. For Poesy is the parent
+stem from which all these arts have sprung. The proofs of their decline
+are visible enough amongst us to-day. Neither Great Britain, nor
+Europe, nor America, can show a really great Poet. England’s last great
+poet was Tennyson,--since his death we have had no other. Similarly
+there is no great sculptor, no great painter, no great novelist,
+no great architect, no great musician. I use the word “great,” of
+course, in its largest sense, in the sense wherein we speak of Michael
+Angelo, Raffaelle, or Beethoven. There are plenty of clever “sketchy”
+artists,--“impressionist” painters and fictionists, “rococo” sculptors,
+and melodious drawing-room song-writers,--but we wait in vain for a new
+“grand” opera, a nobly-inspired statue, a novel like “Guy Mannering,”
+or a Cathedral, such as the devout old monks designed in the intervals
+between prayer and praise. The beautiful and poetic ideals that made
+such work possible are, if not quite dead, slowly dying, under the
+influence of the “blight” which infects the social atmosphere,--the
+blight which is thick with Self and Sensuality,--which looms between
+man and his Maker, shutting out every hopeful glimpse of the sun of
+faith, whose life-giving rays invigorate the soul. And those who see
+it slowly darkening--those who have been and are students of history,
+and are thereby able to recognize its appearance, its meaning, and its
+mission, and who know the mischief wrought by the poison it exhales,
+will pray for a Storm!
+
+
+     “Come but the direst storm and stress that Fate
+     Can bring upon us in its darkest hour,
+     Then will the realm awake, however late,
+     From the warm sloth in which we yawn and cower,
+     And pass our sordid lives in greed, or mate
+     With animal delights in luxury’s bower;
+     Then will the ancient virtues bloom anew,
+     And love of country quench the love of gold;
+     Then will the mocking spirits that imbue
+     Our daily converse fade like misty cold
+     When the clear sunshine permeates the blue;
+     Men will be manly as in days of old,
+     And scorn the base delights that sink them down
+     Into the languid waters where they drown!”
+
+
+
+
+THE DEATH OF HOSPITALITY
+
+
+There is an old song, a very old song, the refrain of which runs
+thus: “’Twas merry in the hall, when the beards wagged all, We shall
+never see the like again, again!--We shall never see the like again!”
+Whether there was anything particularly hilarious in the wagging of
+beards we may not feel able to determine, but there is unquestionably
+a vague sense of something festive and social conveyed in the quaint
+lines. We feel, without knowing why, that it was, it _must_ have
+been, “merry in the hall,” at the distant period alluded to,--while
+at the present time we are daily and hourly made painfully aware
+that whether it be in hall, drawing-room or extensive “reception
+gallery,” the merriment formerly so well sung and spoken of exists
+no longer. The Harp that once through Tara’s Halls--no!--I mean the
+Beards that once wagged in the Hall, wag no more. Honest laughter has
+given place to the nanny-goat sniggering bleat now common to polite
+society, and understood to be the elegantly trained and “cultured”
+expression of mirth. The warm hand-shake has, in a very great measure,
+degenerated into the timorous offer of two or three clammy fingers
+extended dubiously, as with a fear of microbes. And Hospitality,
+large-hearted, smiling, gracious Hospitality, is dead and wrapped in
+its grave-clothes, waiting in stiff corpse-like state for its final
+burial. Public dinners, public functions of all kinds,--in England at
+any rate,--are merely so many funeral feasts in memory of the great
+defunct virtue. Its spirit has fled,--and there is no calling it
+back again. The art of entertaining is lost,--together with the art
+of conversation. And when our so-called “friends” are “at home,” we
+are often more anxious to find reasons for declining rather than for
+accepting their invitations, simply because we know that there is no
+real “at home” in it, but merely an “out-of-home” arrangement, in which
+a mixed crowd of people are asked to stand and swelter in an uneasy
+crush on staircases and in drawing-rooms, pretending to listen to music
+which they can scarcely hear, and scrambling for tea which is generally
+too badly made to drink. Indeed, it may be doubted whether, of all
+the various ludicrous social observances in which our progressive
+day takes part, there is anything quite so sublimely idiotic as a
+smart “At Home” in London during the height of the season. Nothing
+certainly presents men and women in such a singularly unintelligent
+aspect. Their faces all wear more or less the same expression of forced
+amiability,--the same civil grin distorts their poor mouths--the same
+wondering and weary stare afflicts their tired straining eyeballs--and
+the same automatic arm-movement and hand-jerk works every unit, as
+each approaches the hostess in the conventional manner enjoined by the
+usages of that “cultured” hypocrisy which covers a multitude of lies.
+Sheep, herding in a field and cropping the herbage in the comfortable
+unconsciousness that they are eating merely to be eaten, are often
+stated to be the silliest of animals,--but whether they are sillier
+than the human beings who consent to be squashed together in stuffy
+rooms where they can scarcely move, under the sham impression that they
+are “at home” with a friend, is a matter open to question. Of course
+to some minds it may be, and no doubt is, extremely edifying to learn
+by the society papers that Mrs. So-and-So, or Lord and Lady Thingummy
+will “entertain a great deal this season.” People who have no idea
+what this kind of “entertaining” means, may have glittering visions
+thereof. They may picture to themselves scenes of brilliancy where “a
+thousand hearts beat happily, and when, Music arose with its voluptuous
+swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went
+merry as a marriage-bell!” Only these things do not happen. Anything
+but love is “looked” from soft eyes and hard eyes equally;--derision,
+contempt, indifference, dejection, malice, and (so far as champagne,
+ices and general messy feeding are concerned) greed, light up these
+“windows of the soul” from time to time during the progress of such
+festivities; but love, never! The women are far too busy finding
+standing-room wherein to show themselves and their newest frocks off
+to advantage, to waste any moment in mere sentiment, and it is a
+Christianly beautiful sight to see how the dear things who wear the
+dressmaker’s latest “creations” elbow and push and hustle and tread on
+the toes of their sisters who are less highly favoured than themselves
+in the matter of mere clothes. As for the men,--if they have, by
+dint of hard exertion, managed to get in at the “crush,” and near
+enough to the hostess to bow and touch her hand, their sole attention
+henceforward becomes concentrated on the business of getting out again
+as rapidly as possible. For let it be said to the praise, honour and
+glory of the sterner sex, that taken in the rough majority, they detest
+the fashionable “At Home,” with vigorous and honest intensity,--and
+unless they are of that degenerate class who like to be seen hanging
+round some notoriously press-puffed “professional beauty,” or some
+equally notoriously known leader of the Smart Set, they are seldom
+seen at such gatherings. They feel themselves to be incongruous and
+out of place,--and so they are. “At Homes” are curious sort of social
+poultry-yards, where the hens have it all their own way, and do most
+distinctly crow.
+
+But if “At Homes” are bad enough, the smart, the very smart
+dinner-party is perhaps a little worse in its entire lack of the true
+hospitality which, united to grace and tact and ready conversation,
+should make every guest feel that his or her presence is valuable
+and welcome. A small private dinner, at which the company are some
+six or eight persons at most, is sometimes (though not by any means
+always) quite a pleasant affair, but a “big” dinner in the “big” sense
+of the word, is generally the most painful and dismal of functions,
+except to those for whom silent gorging and after repletion are the
+essence of all mental and physical joy. I remember--and of a truth
+it would be impossible to forget--one of these dinners which took
+place one season in a very “swagger” house--the house of a member of
+that old British nobility whose ancestors and titles always excite a
+gentle flow of saliva in the mouths of snobs. The tables--there were
+two,--were, to use the formal phrase, “laid for forty covers”--that
+is to say that each table accommodated twenty guests. The loveliest
+flowers, the most priceless silver, the daintiest glass, adorned
+the festive boards,--everything that taste could suggest or wealth
+supply, had its share in the general effect of design and colour,--the
+host was at the head of one table,--the hostess at the other--and
+between-whiles a fine string band discoursed the sweetest music. But
+with it all there was no real hospitality. We might as well have been
+seated at some extra-luxurious table-d’hôte in one of the “Kur” houses
+of Austria or Germany, paying so much per day for our entertainment.
+Any touch of warm and kindly feeling was altogether lacking; and to
+make matters worse, a heavy demon brooded over the brave outward show
+of the feast,--a demon with sodden grey wings that refused to rise
+and soar,--the demon of a hopeless, irremediable Stupidity! Out and
+alas!--here was the core of the mischief! For sad as it is to lack
+Heart in the entertaining of our friends, it doubles the calamity to
+lack Brain as well! Our host was stupid;--dull to a degree unimaginable
+by those who do not know what some lordly British aristocrats can be at
+their own tables,--our hostess, a beautiful woman, was equally stupid,
+being entirely engrossed in herself and her own bodily charms, to the
+utter oblivion of the ease and well-being of her guests. What a meal
+it was! How interminably it dragged its slow length along! What small
+hydraulic bursts of meaningless talk spurted out between the entrées
+and the game!--talk to be either checked by waiters proffering more
+food, or drowned in the musical growling of the band! I believe one
+man hazarded a joke,--but it was not heard,--and I know that a witty
+old Irish peer told an anecdote which was promptly “quashed” by a dish
+of asparagus being thrust before him, just as he was, in the richest
+brogue, arriving at the “point.” But as nobody listened to him, it
+did not matter. Nobody does listen to anybody or anything nowadays at
+social functions. Everybody talks with insane, babbling eagerness,
+apparently indifferent as to whether they are heard or not. Any amount
+of people ask questions and never think of waiting for the answers.
+Should any matters, small or great, require explanation, scarce a
+soul has the patience or courtesy to attend to such explanation or to
+follow it with any lucidity or comprehension. It is all hurry-skurry,
+helter-skelter, and bad, shockingly bad, manners.
+
+I am given to understand that Americans, and Americans alone, retain
+and cherish the old-fashioned grace of Hospitality, which is so rapidly
+becoming extinct in Great Britain. I would fain believe this, but of
+myself I do not know. I have had no experience of social America,
+save such as has been freely and cordially taught me by Americans
+in London. Some of these have indeed proved that they possess the
+art of entertaining friends with real friendly delight in the grace
+and charm and mutual help of social intercourse,--others again, by
+an inordinate display of wealth, and a feverish yearning for the
+Paragraph-Man (or Woman), have plainly shown that Hospitality is,
+with them, a far less concern than Notoriety. However this may be,
+no sane person will allow that it is “hospitality” to ask a number of
+friends into your house and there keep them all standing because you
+have managed that there shall be no room to sit down, while strong,
+half-cold tea and stale confectionery are hastily dispensed among them.
+It is not “hospitality” to ask people to dinner, and never speak a
+word to them all the evening, because you, if a man, are engaged upon
+your own little “business affair,” or, if a woman, are anxious not
+to lose hold of your special male flatterer. If friends are invited,
+they should surely be welcomed in the manner friendly, and made to
+feel at home by the personal attention of both host and hostess. It
+is not “hospitality” to turn them loose in bewildered droves through
+grounds or gardens, to listen to a band which they have no doubt heard
+many times before,--or to pack them all into a stuffy room to be
+“entertained” by a professional musician whom they could hear to much
+more comfortable and independent advantage by paying for stalls at the
+legitimate concert hall. What do we really mean by Hospitality? Surely
+we mean friendship, kindness, personal interest, and warm-hearted
+openness of look and conduct,--and all of these are deplorably missing
+from the “smart” functions of up-to-date society in London, whatever
+the state of things may be concerning this antique virtue in New York
+and Boston. It would appear that the chief ingredients of Hospitality
+are manners,--for as Emerson says: “Manners are the _happy way_ of
+doing things.” This “happy way” is becoming very rare. Society,
+particularly the “Upper Ten” society,--is becoming, quite noticeably,
+very rude. Some of the so-called “smartest” women are notoriously
+very vulgar. Honesty, simplicity, sympathy, and delicacy of feeling
+are, or seem to be, as much out of date as the dainty poems of Robert
+Herrick, and the love-sonnets of Sir Philip Sidney. Time goes on, say
+the iconoclasts--and we must go with it--we must, if our hurrying
+civilization requires it, pass friends by with a cool nod, mock at
+the vices of the young, and sneer at the failings of the old;--we
+are all too busy to be courteous,--too much in a hurry grabbing gold
+to be kind, and much too occupied with ourselves to be thoughtful of
+others. So let us bury Hospitality decently once and for all, and
+talk no more about it! It was a grand old Virtue!--let us inter it
+with honour,--and cease to hold our funeral feasts and entertainments
+in its name. For, being dead, ’tis dead and done with,--and amid all
+our twentieth-century shams, let us at least drop, for shame, our
+base imitations of the great-souled splendid Grace that was meant to
+link our lives more sweetly together, to engender love, and to make
+home more home-like. For nowadays, few of us are simple and truthful
+enough in our lines of conduct even to understand Hospitality in
+its real meaning. “Between simple and noble persons,”--says a great
+philosopher--“there is always a quick intelligence; they recognize
+at sight; and meet on a better ground than the talents and skills
+they may chance to possess, namely, on sincerity and uprightness.”
+Sincerity and uprightness are the very fibre and life-blood of true
+Hospitality. But the chief canon of modern society is hypocrisy, to
+begin with. Insincerity and lack of principle naturally follow, with
+their usual accompaniment, moral cowardice,--and so men and women sneak
+and crawl, and flatter base persons for what they can get, and reject
+all chances of faithful friendship for mere ephemeral show. Under such
+conditions as these, what can good old Hospitality do but draw its
+last breath with a gentle sigh of expiring sorrow for the mistaken
+world which prefers a lie to a truth, and still to this day crucifies
+all its loving would-be redeemers on miserable Calvarys of desolation!
+No happiness does it gain thereby, but only increased bitterness and
+weariness,--and the fact that all our social customs have greatly
+changed since the old time when households were wisely ruled and very
+simply ordered, is no advantage to the general social community. We
+may, if we choose,--(and we very often do so choose,) fly from one
+desire to another and thence to satiety, and back again from satiety to
+desire, but we shall never, in such pursuit, find the peace engendered
+by simplicity of life, or the love and lasting joy inspired by that
+honourable confidence in one another’s best and noblest attributes,
+which should frankly and openly set the seal on friendship, and make
+Hospitality a glad duty as well as a delight. “Old-fashioned” as it may
+be, no new fashion can ever replace it.
+
+
+
+
+THE VULGARITY OF WEALTH
+
+
+There are certain periods in the lives of nations when the balance of
+things in general would seem to be faultily adjusted; when one side
+of the scale almost breaks and falls to the ground through excess of
+weight, and the other tips crazily upward, well-nigh to overturning,
+through an equally undue excess of lightness. The inequality can be
+traced with mathematical precision as occurring at regular intervals
+throughout the world’s history. It is as though the clock of human
+affairs had been set correctly for a certain limited time only, and
+was then foredoomed to fall out of gear in such a manner as to need
+cleansing and winding up afresh. A good many people, including some of
+the wisest of our few wise men, have openly expressed the opinion that
+we, of the proudest and greatest Empire at present under the sun, have
+almost reached that particularly fatal figure on the Eternal Dial,
+
+
+     When all the wheels run down,
+
+
+and when the scales of Justice are becoming so dangerously worn
+out and uneven, as to suggest an incapacity for holding social and
+political weights and measures much longer. One of the symptoms of this
+overstrained condition of our latter-day civilization is precisely
+the same danger-signal which has in all ages accompanied national
+disaster--a pernicious influence, like that of the planet “Algol,”
+which, when in the ascendant, is said to betoken mischief and ruin
+to all who see it rise on the horizon. Our evil Star, the evil star
+of all Empires, has long ago soared above the eastern edge; fully
+declared, it floods our heaven with such lurid brilliancy that we
+can scarce perceive any other luminary. And its name is Mammon. The
+present era in which we are permitted by Divine law to run through
+our brief existence and make our mark or miss it, as we choose, is
+principally distinguished by an insane worship of Wealth. Wealth in
+excess--wealth in chunks--wealth in great awkward, unbecoming dabs,
+is plastered, as it were, by the merest hap-hazard toss of fortune’s
+dice, on the backs of uncultured and illiterate persons, who, bowed
+down like asses beneath the golden burden, are asininely ignorant
+of its highest uses. The making of millions would seem to be like a
+malignant fever, which must run its course, ending in either the death
+or the mental and physical wreck of the patient. He who has much money
+seems always to find it insufficient, and straightway proceeds to make
+more; while he who has not only much, but superabundance of the dross,
+scatters it in every direction broadcast, wherever it can best serve
+as an aid to his own self-advertisement, vanity and ostentation. Once
+upon a time wealth could not purchase an entrance into society; now
+it is the only pass-key. Men of high repute for learning, bravery,
+and distinctive merit, are “shunted” as it were off the line to make
+way for the motor-car traffic of plutocrats, who, by dint of “push,”
+effrontery, and brazen impudence, manage to shout their income figures
+persistently in the ears of those whose high privilege it is to
+“give the lead” in social affairs. And to the shame of such exalted
+individuals be it said, that they listen, with ears stretched wide,
+to the yell of the huckster in stocks and shares; and setting aside
+every thought for the future of Great Britain and the highest honour
+of her sons and daughters, they sell their good word, their influence,
+and their favour easily, for so much cash down. Men and women who have
+the privilege of personally knowing, and frequently associating with
+the Royal Family, are known to accept payment for bringing such and
+such otherwise obscure persons under the immediate notice of the King;
+and it is a most unfortunate and regrettable fact that throughout the
+realm the word goes that no such obscure persons ever dine with their
+Sovereign without having paid the “middle man” for the privilege. It
+would be an easy matter for the present writer to name at least a
+dozen well-known society women, assuming to be “loyal,” who make a
+very good thing out of their “loyalty” by accepting huge payments in
+exchange for their recommendation or introduction to Royal personages,
+and who add considerably to their incomes by such means, bringing
+the names of the King and Queen down to their own sordid level of
+bargain and sale, with a reckless disregard of the damaging results
+of such contemptible conduct. These are some of the very ladies who
+are most frequently favoured by notice at Court, and who occupy the
+position of being in the “swagger set.” Whereas, the men and women
+who are faithful, who hold the honour of their King dearer than their
+own lives, who refuse to truckle to the spirit of money-worship, and
+who presume to denounce the sickening hypocrisy of modern society
+life and its shameless prostitution of high ideals, are “hounded” by
+those portions of the Press which are governed by Jew syndicates, and
+slandered by every dirty cad that makes his cheap living by putting his
+hand secretly in his neighbour’s pocket. Never, in all the ages of the
+world, have truth-tellers been welcome; from Socrates to Christ the
+same persecution has followed every human being who has had enough of
+God in him or her to denounce shams; and the Christian religion itself
+is founded on the crucifixion of Honesty by the priests of Hypocrisy.
+It is a lesson that can hardly be too deeply dwelt upon at the present
+notable time of day, which seems, for many students of national
+affairs, the crucial point of a coming complete change in British
+history.
+
+On every side, look where we may, we see an almost brutal dominance
+of wealth. We see the Yankee Trade-octopus, stretching out greedy
+tentacles in every direction, striving to grasp British shipping,
+British industries, and British interests everywhere, in that devouring
+and deadly grip, which, if permitted to hold, would mean mischief and
+loss of prestige to our country, though, no doubt, it might create
+rejoicing in America. For America is by no means so fond of us as
+certain interested parties would have us suppose. She would dearly like
+to “patronise” us, but she does not love us, though at present she
+hides her hand. In a case of struggle, she would not support the “old
+country” for mere sentimental love of it. She would naturally serve
+only her own best interests. As a nation of bombast and swagger, she
+is a kind of “raree-show” in the world’s progress; but her strength
+is chiefly centred in dollars, and her influence on the social world
+teaches that “dollars are the only wear.” English society has been
+sadly vulgarized by this American taint. Nevertheless, it is, as it
+has always been, a fatal mistake for any nation to rely on the extent
+of its cash power alone. Without the real spirit which makes for
+greatness--without truth, without honour, without sincere patriotism
+and regard for the real well-being and honest government of the
+majority--any national system, whether monarchical or republican, must
+inevitably decay and perish from the face of the earth.
+
+Unblemished honesty is the best policy for statesmen; but that such has
+been their rule of conduct in these latter years may perhaps be open to
+question. The late Mr. W. E. H. Lecky, whose broad-minded, impartial
+views of life, commend themselves forcibly to every literary student,
+writing of Cecil Rhodes, whose funeral service was celebrated with such
+almost royal pomp in St. Paul’s Cathedral, gives us a sketch which
+should make the most casual “man in the street” pause and reflect as to
+whether those solemn public rites and tributary honours from both the
+King and Queen were not somewhat out of place on such an occasion.
+
+“What Mr. Rhodes did,” wrote Mr. Lecky, in his strong, trenchant
+way, “has been very clearly established. When holding the highly
+confidential position of Prime Minister of the Cape Colony, and being
+at the same time a Privy Councillor of the Queen, he engaged in a
+conspiracy for the overthrow of the Government of a neighbouring
+and friendly State. In order to carry out this design, he deceived
+the High Commissioner whose Prime Minister he was. He deceived his
+own colleagues in the Ministry. He collected under false pretences
+a force which was intended to co-operate with an insurrection in
+Johannesburg. Being a Director of the Chartered Company, he made use
+of that position without the knowledge of his colleagues to further
+the conspiracy. He took an active and secret part in smuggling great
+quantities of arms into the Transvaal, which were intended to be used
+in the rebellion; and at a time when his organs in the Press were
+representing Johannesburg as seething with spontaneous indignation
+against an oppressive Government, he, with another millionaire, was
+secretly expending many thousands of pounds in that town in stimulating
+and subsidizing the rising. He was also directly connected with the
+shabbiest incident in the whole affair, the concoction of a letter
+from the Johannesburg conspirators absurdly representing English women
+and children at Johannesburg as in danger of being shot down by the
+Boers, and urging the British to come at once and save them. It was a
+letter drawn up with the sanction of Mr. Rhodes many weeks before the
+raid, and before any disturbance had arisen; and kept in reserve to
+be dated and used in the last moment for the purpose of inducing the
+young soldiers in South Africa to join in the raid, and of subsequently
+justifying their conduct before the War Office, and also for the
+purpose of being published in the English Press at the same time as
+the first news of the raid in order to work upon English opinion, and
+persuade the English people that the raid, though technically wrong was
+morally justifiable.... No reasonable judge can question that in these
+transactions he was more blamable than those who were actually punished
+by the law for taking part in the raid, far more blamable than those
+young officers who were, in truth, the most severely punished and who
+had been induced to take part in it under false representation of the
+wishes of the Government at home, and a grossly false representation
+of the state of things at Johannesburg. The failure of the raid, and
+his undoubted complicity with its design, obliged Mr. Rhodes to resign
+the post of Prime Minister, and his directorship of the Chartered
+Company.... But what can be thought of the language of a Minister who
+volunteered to assure the House of Commons that in all the transactions
+I have described, Mr. Rhodes, though he had made ‘a gigantic mistake,’
+a mistake perhaps as great as a statesman could make, had done nothing
+affecting his personal honour?”
+
+What has been thought, and what _is_ thought of the matter, has been
+largely suppressed by party politicians. The War Enquiry was conducted
+with secrecy; Cabinet Ministers held their Councils, as it were, with
+locked doors. An eager desire to conceal the real state of affairs in
+the country, and an unfortunate tendency to “hush up” such matters
+as are the plain right of ratepayers to know, are the betraying signs
+of many of our statesmen’s inward disquiet. Because, as many people
+instinctively feel, the trail of finance is likely to be openly traced
+to an unlawful, and in some cases, dishonourable extent, over much
+recent political work. Honour, however, is due to those Ministers who
+valiantly endeavour to screen greater names than their own behind their
+skilful diplomacy; and one naturally admires the zeal and courage with
+which they fight for this cause, even as M. Maurepas and M. Necker
+fought a similar campaign long ago in the dark days of France, when,
+as Carlyle writes, it was “clearly a difficult point for Government,
+that of the dealing with the masses--if indeed it be not rather the
+sole point and problem of Government, and all other points were
+incidental crotchets, superficialities, and beatings of the wind! For
+let Charter-chests, Use and Wont, Law, common and special, say what
+they will, the masses count to so many millions of units, made to all
+appearance by God, whose earth this is declared to be. Besides, the
+people are not without ferocity; they have sinews and indignation.”
+
+At the immediate moment, the masses in our country are, rightly or
+wrongly, vaguely conscious of two things which they view as forms
+of injustice, namely, that they are asked to pay rates for an
+educational system which a large bulk of them do not approve, and that
+they are taxed for the expenses of a war, the conduct of which was
+discussed “secretly,” as though its methods implied some dishonour
+to those concerned in it. Moreover, they understand, with more or
+less bewilderment, that though the King is now “Supreme Lord of the
+Transvaal” there is no chance whatever for British subjects to make
+fortune there, the trades being swamped by Germans, and the mines
+controlled by Jews. Therefore, in their inability to follow the devious
+paths of reasoning by which politicians explain away what they term
+“ignorant and illiterate” conclusions, some of them begin to think that
+the blood of their sons has been shed in hard battle, not so much for
+the glory and good of the many, as for the private greed of the few.
+They are no doubt wrong; but it will take something more than “secret”
+enquiries to set them right.
+
+Meanwhile, the passing of the social pageant interests them more
+deeply than is apparent on the frothy surface of social things. Their
+contempt is aroused and kept sullenly alive by daily contemplation of
+the flagrant assertion of money-dominance over every other good. They
+hear of one Andrew Carnegie strewing Free Libraries over the surface
+of the country, as if these institutions were so many lollipops thrown
+out of a schoolboy’s satchel; they follow the accounts of his doings
+with a mingling of wonder and derision, some of them up in Scotland
+openly and forcibly regretting the mischief done to the famed “grit and
+grip” of Scottish students, who are not now, as of yore, forced by hard
+necessity to work for their University education themselves, and win
+it, as it were, by the very skin of their teeth. Hard necessity is a
+fine taskmaster, and turns out splendid scholars and useful men. But
+when educational advantages are thrown headlong at aspiring students,
+and Universities are opened freely, as though they were a species of
+pauper-refuge, the delights of learning are apt to be proportionately
+cheapened and lessened. Lads with real ability naturally and invariably
+seek to do something that shall prove their own capabilities of pluck
+and endurance; and a truly independent spirit not only chafes at,
+but absolutely resents, assistance. Thus it has come to pass that
+Mr. Carnegie’s Free Libraries are looked upon by hosts of people as
+so many brick and mortar advertisements of his own great wealth and
+unfailing liberality. A labour leader of some repute among his own
+class, remarked the other day that “the Carnegie libraries were like
+‘So-and-So’s Pills,’ posted up everywhere lest the inventor’s name
+should be forgotten!” This was an unkind, and perhaps an ungrateful
+observation, but we have to recollect that a People, taken _as_ a
+People, do not want to be grateful for anything. They want to work
+for all they get, and to feel that they have honestly deserved their
+earnings. It is only the drones of the hive that seek to be taken care
+of. The able citizen strenuously objects to be helped in obtaining
+sustenance for either his soul or his body. What is necessary for him,
+that he will fight for, and, having won the battle, he enjoys the
+victory. There is no pleasure in conquering an enemy, if a policeman
+has helped you to knock him down.
+
+Thus, with many of the more independently-thinking class, millionaire
+Carnegie’s money, pitched at the public, savours of “patronage” which
+they resent, and ostentation which they curtly call “swagger.” Free
+Libraries are by no means essential to perfect happiness, while they
+may be called extremely detrimental to the prosperity of authors. A
+popular author would have good reason to rejoice if his works were
+excluded from Free Libraries, inasmuch as his sales would be twice,
+perhaps three times as large. If a Free Library takes a dozen copies of
+a book, that dozen copies has probably to serve for five or six hundred
+people, who get it in turn individually. But if the book could not
+possibly be obtained for gratuitous reading in this fashion, and could
+only be secured by purchase, then it follows that five or six hundred
+copies would be sold instead of twelve. This applies only to authors
+whose works the public clamour for, and insist on reading; with the
+more select “unpopular” geniuses the plan, of course, would not meet
+with approval. In any case, a Free Library is neither to an author,
+nor to the reading public, an unmitigated boon. One has to wait for
+months sometimes for the book specially wanted; sometimes one’s name
+is 1,000 on the list, though certain volumes known as “heavy stock”
+can always be obtained immediately on application, but are seldom
+applied for. Real book-lovers buy their books and keep them. Reading
+which is merely haphazard and casual is purely pernicious, and does
+far more harm than good. However, Carnegie, being the possessor of
+millions, probably does not know what else to do with the cash except
+in the way of Libraries. To burden a human biped with tons of gold,
+and then set him adrift to get rid of it as best he may, is one of the
+scurviest tricks of Fortune. Inasmuch as ostentation is the trade mark
+of vulgarity, and a rich man cannot spend his money without at least
+_appearing_ ostentatious. The revival of the spinning and silk-weaving
+industries in England would be a far nobler and more beneficial help
+to the country and to the many thousands of people, than any number
+of Free Libraries, yet no millionaire comes forward to offer the
+needful assistance towards this deserving end. But perhaps a hundred
+looms set going, with their workers all properly supported, would not
+be so prominently noticed in the general landscape as a hundred Free
+Libraries.
+
+Apart from the manner in which certain rich men spend their wealth,
+there is something in an overplus of riches which is distinctly “out
+of drawing,” and lop-sided. It is a false note in the musical scale.
+Just as a woman, by wearing too great a number of jewels, vulgarizes
+whatever personal beauty she may possess by the flagrant exhibition of
+valuables and bad taste together, so does a man who has no other claim
+upon society than that of mere wealth, appear as a kind of monstrosity
+and deformity in the general equality and equilibrium of Nature. When
+such a man’s career is daily seen to be nothing more than a constant
+pursuit of his own selfish ends, regardless of truth, honour, high
+principle, and consideration for his fellow-men, he becomes even more
+than a man-camel with a golden hump--he is an offence and a danger to
+the community. If, by mere dint of cash, he is allowed to force his
+way everywhere--if no ruling sovereign on the face of the earth has
+sufficient wisdom or strength of character to draw a line against the
+entrance into society and politics of Money, for mere Money’s sake,
+then the close of our circle of civilisation is nearly reached, and
+the old story of Tyre and Sidon and Babylon will be re-told again for
+us with the same fatal conclusion to which Volney, in his _Ruins of
+Empires_ impressively calls attention, in the following passage:
+
+“Cupidity, the daughter and companion of ignorance, has produced
+all the mischiefs that have desolated the globe. Ignorance and the
+love of accumulation, these are the two sources of all the plagues
+that infest the life of man. They have inspired him with false ideas
+of his happiness, and prompted him to misconstrue and infringe the
+laws of nature, as they related to the connection between him and
+exterior objects. Through them his conduct has been injurious to his
+own existence, and he has thus violated the duty he owes to himself;
+they have fortified his heart against compassion, and his mind against
+the dictates of justice, and he has thus violated the duty he owes
+to others. By ignorant and inordinate desire, man has armed himself
+against man, family against family, tribe against tribe, and the earth
+is converted into a bloody theatre of discord and robbery. They have
+sown the seeds of secret war in the bosom of every state, divided
+the citizens from each other, and the same society is constituted of
+oppressors and oppressed, of masters and slaves. They have taught the
+heads of nations, with audacious insolence, to turn the arms of society
+against itself, and _to build upon mercenary avidity the fabric of
+political despotism_, or they have a _more hypocritical and deep-laid
+project, that imposes, as the dictate of heaven, lying sanctions and
+a sacrilegious yoke, thus rendering avarice the source of credulity_.
+In fine, they have corrupted every idea of good and evil, just and
+unjust, virtue and vice; they have misled nations in a _labyrinth
+of calamity and mistake_. Ignorance and the love of accumulation!
+These are the malevolent beings that have laid waste the earth; these
+are the decrees of fate that have overturned empires; these are the
+celestial maledictions that have struck these walls, once so glorious,
+and converted the splendour of populous cities into a sad spectacle of
+ruins!”
+
+Laughable, yet grievous, is the childish conduct of many American
+plutocrats who are never tired of announcing in the daily Press that
+they are spending Three Thousand Pounds on roses for one afternoon’s
+“At Home,” or Five Thousand Pounds on one single banquet! After this,
+why should we call the Roman Heliogabalus a sensualist and voluptuary?
+His orgies were less ostentatious than many social functions of to-day.
+It is not, we believe, recorded that he paid any “fashion-papers”
+(if there were any such in the Roman Empire) to describe his “Feasts
+of Flowers,” though a lively American lady, giving out her “social
+experiences” recently at an “Afternoon tea” said gaily: “I always send
+an account of my dinners, my dresses, and the dresses of my friends to
+‘_The ----_’ with a cheque. Otherwise, you know, I should never get
+myself or my parties mentioned at all!” One is bound to entertain the
+gravest doubts as to the truth of her assertion, knowing, of course,
+that of all institutions in the world, the Press, in Great Britain at
+any rate, is the last to be swayed by financial considerations. One
+has never heard (in England at least) of any “Company” paying several
+thousand pounds to the Press for “floating it.” Though such things
+may be done in America, they are never tolerated here. But, the Press
+apart, which in its unblemished rectitude “shines like a good deed
+in a naughty world,” most things in modern politics and society are
+swayed by money considerations, and the sudden acquisition of wealth
+does not in many cases improve the morality of the person so favoured,
+or persuade him to discharge such debts as he may have incurred in
+his days of limited means. On the contrary, he frequently ignores
+these, and proceeds to incur fresh liabilities, as in the striking
+case of a lady “leader of society” at the present day, who, having
+owed large sums to certain harmless and confiding tradesmen for the
+past seven or eight years, ignores these debts or “shunts them,” and
+spends six thousand pounds recklessly on the adornment of rooms for
+the entertainment of Royalty--which fact most notably proclaims her
+vulgarity, singularly allied to her social distinction. The payment of
+her debts first, and the entertainment of great personages afterwards,
+would seem to be a nobler and more becoming thing.
+
+But show and vanity, pride and “bounce,” appear to have taken the
+place of such old-fashioned virtues as simplicity, sincerity, and that
+genuine hospitality which asserts nothing, but gives all.
+
+
+     Kind hearts are more than coronets,
+     And simple faith than Norman blood.
+
+
+In very few cases does immense wealth seem to go hand in hand with
+refinement, reserve and dignity. Millionaires are for the most part
+ill-mannered and illiterate, and singularly uninteresting in their
+conversation. A certain millionaire, occupying during some seasons
+one of the fine old Scottish Castles whose owners still take pride
+in the fact that its walls once sheltered “bonnie Prince Charlie,”
+can find little to do with himself and his “house-party,” but fill
+the grand old drawing-room with tobacco-smoke and whisky-fumes of
+an evening, and play “Bridge” for ruinous stakes on Sundays, of all
+days in the week. During other hours and days he goes out shooting,
+or drives a motor-car. Intellectually speaking, the man is less of a
+real personality than the great Newfoundland dog he owns. But measured
+by gold he is a person of enormous importance--a human El Dorado. And
+his banking-account is the latchkey with which he opens the houses of
+the great and intrudes his coarse presence through the doors of royal
+palaces; whereas if by some capricious stroke of ill-luck he had not
+a penny left in the world, those same doors would be shut in his face
+with a bang.
+
+The vulgarity of wealth is daily and hourly so broadly evidenced
+and apparent, that one can well credit a strange rumour prevalent
+in certain highly exclusive circles, far removed from the “swagger
+set,” to the effect that with one more turn of blind Fortune’s wheel,
+the grace of Poverty will become a rare social distinction. The Poor
+Gentleman, it is said, will be eagerly sought after, and to be seen in
+his company will entitle one to respect. The man of money will stand
+outside the ring of this Society, which is in process of formation for
+the revival of the Art of Intelligent Conversation and the Cultivation
+of Good Manners. Ladies who dress with a becoming simplicity, and who
+are not liable to the accusation of walking about with clothes unpaid
+for, will be eligible for membership,--and young men who are not
+ashamed to emphatically decline playing cards on Sunday will be equally
+welcome in the select coterie. Limited means will be considered more
+of a recommendation than a drawback, and visits will be interchanged
+among the members on the lines of unaffected hospitality, offered with
+unassuming friendship and sincerity. Kindness towards each other,
+punctilious attention to the smallest courtesies of life, unfailing
+chivalry towards women, and honour to men, will be the prevailing
+“rules” of the community, and every attempt at “show,” either in
+manners or entertainment, will be rigorously forbidden and excluded.
+The aim of the Society will be to prove the truth of the adage that
+“Manners makyth the man,” as opposed to the modern reading, “Money
+makyth the nobleman.” Bearing in mind that the greatest reformers and
+teachers of the world were seldom destitute of the grace of Poverty, it
+will be deemed good and necessary to make a stand for this ancient and
+becoming Virtue, which as a learned writer says, “doth sit on a wise
+man more becomingly than royal robes on a king.” Many who entertain
+this view are prepared to unite their forces in making well-born and
+well-bred Poverty the fashion. For in such a scheme, singular as it may
+appear, there is just a faint chance of putting up a barrier against
+boorish Plutocracy (which is a more unwieldy and offensive power than
+Democracy), and also of asserting the existence of grander national
+qualities than greed, avarice, and self-indulgence, which humours, if
+allowed to generate and grow in the minds of a people, result in the
+ravaging sickness of such a pestilence of evil as cannot be easily
+stayed or remedied. There has been enough, and too much of the Idolatry
+of Money-bags--it is time the fever of such insanity should abate and
+cool down. To conclude with another admirable quotation from Mr. Lecky:
+“Of colossal fortunes only a very small fraction can be truly said to
+minister to the personal enjoyment of the owner. The disproportion in
+the world between pleasure and cost is indeed almost ludicrous. The two
+or three shillings that gave us our first Shakespeare would go but a
+small way towards providing one of the perhaps untasted dishes on the
+dessert table. The choicest masterpieces of the human mind--the works
+of human genius that through the long course of centuries have done
+most to ennoble, console, brighten, and direct the lives of men, might
+all be purchased--I do not say by the cost of a lady’s necklace, but
+by that of one or two of the little stones of which it is composed.
+Compare the relish with which the tired pedestrian eats his bread and
+cheese with the appetites with which men sit down to some stately
+banquet; compare the level of spirits at the village dance with that
+of the great city ball whose lavish splendour fills the society papers
+with admiration; compare the charms of conversation in the college
+common room with the weary faces that may be often seen around the
+millionaire’s dinner table, and we may gain a good lesson of the
+vanity of riches.”
+
+And, we may add, of the vulgarity of those who advertise their wealth
+by ostentation, as well as of those who honour Purses more than
+Principles.
+
+
+
+
+AMERICAN WOMEN IN ENGLAND
+
+
+Why is the American woman so popular in English society? Why is her
+charmingly assertive personality acknowledged everywhere? Why is she
+received by knights and earls and belted churls with such overpowering
+enthusiasm? Surely something subtle, elusive and mysterious, clings to
+her particular form, nature and identity, for more often than not, the
+stolid Britisher, while falling at her feet and metaphorically kissing
+the hem of her garment, wonders vaguely how it is that she manages to
+make such a fool of him! To which, she might reply, on demand, that if
+he were not a fool already, she would not find her task so easy! For
+the American woman is, above all women in the world, clever--or let
+us say “brainy” to an almost incredible height of brainyness. She is
+“all there.” She can take the measure of a man in about ten minutes
+and classify him as though he were a botanical specimen. She realizes
+all his limitations, his “notions,” and his special and particular
+fads,--and she has the uncommonly good sense not to expect much of
+him. She would not “take any” on the lily-maid of Astolat, the fair
+Elaine, who spent her time in polishing the shield of Lancelot, and who
+finally died of love for that most immoral but fascinating Knight of
+the Round Table. No, she wouldn’t polish a shield, you bet! She would
+make Lancelot polish it himself for all he was worth, and polish her
+own dear little boots and shoes for her into the bargain. That is one
+of her secrets--masterfulness--or, let us say queenliness, which sounds
+better. The Lord of creation can do nothing in the way of ordering
+_her_ about,--because, as the Lady of creation she expects to order
+_him_ about,--and she does! She expects to be worked for, worshipped
+and generally attended to,--and she gets her way. What she wants, she
+will have,--though “Companies” smash, and mighty Combines split into
+infinite nothingness; and more than any tamer of wild forest animals
+she makes all her male lions and bears dance at her bidding.
+
+Perhaps the chief note in the ever-ascending scale of her innumerable
+attractions is her intense vitality. The mixed blood of many
+intelligent races courses through her delicate veins and gives a
+joyous lightness to the bounding of her heart and the swift grace of
+her step. She is full of energy as well as charm. If she sets out to
+enjoy herself, she enjoys herself thoroughly. She talks and laughs
+freely. She is not a mere well-dressed automaton like the greater
+majority of upper-class British dames. She is under the impression,--(a
+perfectly correct one) that tongues were given to converse with, and
+that lips, especially pretty ones, were made to smile with. She is,
+taken at her best, eminently good-natured, and refreshingly free from
+the jaundiced spite against others of her own sex which savours the
+afternoon chitter-chatter of nine out of every ten English spinsters
+and matrons taken together in conclave. She would, on the whole,
+rather say a kind thing than a cruel one. Perhaps this is because she
+is herself always so triumphant in her social career,--because she is
+too certain of her own power to feel “the pangs of unrequited love,”
+or to allow herself to be stung by the “green-eyed monster,” jealousy.
+Her car is always rolling over roses,--there is always a British title
+going a-begging,--always some decayed or degenerate or semi-drunken
+peer, whose fortunes are on the verge of black ruin, ready and willing
+to devour, monster-like, the holocaust of an American virgin, provided
+bags of bullion are flung, with her, into his capacious maw. Though
+certainly one should look upon the frequent marriages of American
+heiresses with effete British nobles, as the carrying out of a wise
+and timely dispensation of Providence. New blood--fresh sap, is sorely
+needed to invigorate the grand old tree of the British aristocracy,
+which has of late been looking sadly as though dry rot were setting
+in,--as though the woodlice were at work in its heart, and the rats
+burrowing at its root. But, by the importation of a few clean-minded,
+sweet-souled American women, some of the most decayed places in the
+venerable stem have been purged and purified,--the sap has risen, and
+new boughs and buds of promise are sprouting. And it is full time that
+this should be. For we have had to look with shame and regret upon
+many of our English lords caught in gambling dens,--and shown up in
+dishonourable bankruptcies;--some of them have disported themselves
+upon the “variety” stage, clad in women’s petticoats and singing comic
+songs for a fee,--others have “hired themselves out” as dummy figures
+of attraction at evening parties, accepting five guineas for each
+appearance,--and they have become painfully familiar objects in the
+Divorce Court, where the stories of their most unsavoury manners and
+customs, as detailed in the press, have offered singular instruction
+and example to those “lower” classes whom they are supposed to more or
+less influence. A return to the old motto of “noblesse oblige” would
+not be objectionable; a re-adopting of old _un_-blemished scutcheons
+of honour would be appreciated, even by the so-called “vulgar,”--and a
+great noble who is at the same time a great man, would in this present
+day, be accepted by all classes with an universal feeling of grateful
+surprise and admiration.
+
+But, _revenons à nos moutons_,--the social popularity of the American
+woman in English society. That she is popular is an admitted and
+incontestable fact. She competes with the native British female
+product at every turn,--in her dress, in her ways, in her irresistible
+vivacity, and above all in her intelligence. When she knows things, she
+lets people know that she knows things. She cannot sit with her hands
+before her in stodgy silence, allowing other folks to talk. That is an
+English habit. No doubt the English girl or woman knows quite as much
+as her American sister, but she has an unhappy knack of assuming to
+be a fool. She says little, and that little not to much purpose,--she
+looks less,--it is dimly understood that she plays hockey, tennis and
+golf, and has large feet. She is an athletic Enigma. I write this, of
+course, solely concerning those British women, young, middle-aged
+and elderly, who make “sport” and out-door exercise the chief aim and
+end of existence. But I yield to none in my love and admiration for
+the real, genuine, _un_modernised English maiden, at her gentlest and
+best,--she is the rosebud of the world. And I tender devout reverence
+and affection to the _un_-fashionable, single-hearted, dear, loving
+and ever-beloved English wife and mother--she is the rose in all its
+full-blown glory. Unfortunately, however, these English rosebuds
+and roses are seldom met with in the sweltering, scrambling crowd
+called “society.” They dwell in quiet country-places where the lovely
+influences of their modest and retiring lives are felt but never seen.
+Society likes to be seen rather than felt. There is all the difference.
+And in that particular section of it whose aim is seeing to be seen,
+and seen to be seeing, the American woman is as an oasis in the desert.
+She also wants to be seen,--but she expresses that desire so naïvely,
+and often so bewitchingly, that it is a satisfaction to every one to
+grant her request. She also would see,--and her eyes are so bright and
+roving and restless, that Mother Britannia is perforce compelled to
+smile indulgently, and to open all her social picture-books for the
+pleasure of the spoilt child of eternal Mayflower pedigree. It has to
+be said and frankly admitted too, that much of the popularity attending
+an American girl when she first comes over to London for a “season” is
+due to an idea which the stolid Britisher gets into his head, namely,
+that she has, she _must_ have, Money. The American girl and Money are
+twins, according to the stolid Britisher’s belief. And when the stolid
+Britisher fixes something--anything--into the passively-resisting
+matter composing his brain, it would take Leviathan, with, not one,
+but several hooks, to _un_fix it. And thus it often happens that the
+sight of a charmingly dressed, graceful, generally “smart” American
+girl attracts the stolid Britisher in the first place because he says
+to himself--“Money!” He knows all the incomes of all the best families
+in his own country,--and none of them are big enough to suit him. But
+the American girl arrives as more or less of a financial mystery. She
+may have thousands,--she may have millions,--he can never be quite
+sure. And he does all he can to ingratiate himself with her and give
+her a good time “on spec.” to begin with, while he makes cautious and
+diplomatic enquiries. If his hopes rest on a firm basis, his attentions
+are redoubled--if, on the contrary, they are built on shifting sand, he
+gradually diminishes his ardour and like a “wilting flower” fades and
+“fizzles” away.
+
+I am here reminded of a certain Earl, renowned in the political and
+social world, who, when he was a young man, went over on a visit to
+America and there fell, or feigned to fall, deeply in love with a
+very sweet, very beautiful, very gentle and lovable American girl.
+In a brief while he became engaged to her. The engagement was made
+public--the wedding day was almost fixed. The girl’s father was
+extremely wealthy, and she was the only child and sole heiress. But an
+unfortunate failure,--a gigantic collapse in the money market, made
+havoc of the father’s fortunes, and as soon as his ruin was declared
+beyond a doubt, the noble Earl, without much hesitation or ado, broke
+off his engagement, and rapidly decamped from the States back to
+his own country, where, as all the world knows, he did very well for
+himself. Strange to say, however, the girl whom he had thus brutally
+forsaken for no fault of her own, had loved him with all the romantic
+and trusting tenderness of first love, and the heartless blow inflicted
+upon her by his noble and honourable lordship was one from which she
+never recovered. The Noble and Honourable has, I repeat, done very
+well for himself, though it is rumoured that he sleeps badly, and that
+he has occasionally been heard muttering after the fashion of Hamlet,
+Prince of Denmark,--“Oh God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count
+myself a king of infinite space were it not that I have bad dreams!”
+
+Marriage, however, is by no means the only, or even the chief
+resource in life of the American woman. She evidently looks with a
+certain favour on the holy estate of matrimony and is quite willing
+to become an excellent wife and mother if the lines of her destiny
+run that way, but if they should happen to branch out in another
+direction, she wastes no time in useless pining. She is too vital,
+too capable, too intelligent and energetic altogether to play the
+_rôle_ of an interesting martyr to male neglect. She will teach, or
+she will lecture,--she will sing, or she will act,--she will take her
+degrees in medicine and surgery,--she will practise for the Bar,--she
+will write books, and the days are fast approaching when she will
+become a high priestess of the Church, and will preach to the lost
+sheep of Israel as well as to the equally lost ones of New York or
+Chicago;--she will be a “beauty doctor,” a “physical culture” woman,
+a “medium,” a stock-broker, a palmist, a florist, a house-decorator,
+a dealer in lace and old curiosities,--ay! she will even become a
+tram-car conductor if necessity compels and the situation is open to
+her,--and she will manage a cattle ranch as easily as a household,
+should opportunity arise. Marriage is but one link in the long chain
+of her general efficiency, and like Cleopatra, “age cannot wither her,
+nor custom stale Her infinite variety.” A curious fact and one worth
+noting is, that we seldom or never hear Americans use the ill-bred
+expression “old maid” when alluding to such of their feminine relatives
+or friends who may happen to remain unmarried. They know too well
+that these confirmed and settled spinsters are as capable and as well
+to the front in the rush of life as the wedded wives, if not more
+so,--they know that among these unmarried feminine forces they have
+to reckon with some of the cleverest heads of the day, to whom no
+opprobrious term of contempt dare be applied,--women who are editors
+and proprietors of great newspapers,--women who manage famous schools
+and colleges,--women who, being left with large fortunes, dispense the
+same in magnificently organized but _un_advertised charities,--women
+who do so command by their unassisted influence certain social
+movements and events, that if indeed they _were_ to marry, something
+like confusion and catastrophe might ensue among the circles they
+control by the introduction of a new and possibly undesirable element.
+“Old maid,” may apply to the unfortunate female who has passed all the
+days of her youth in talking about men and in failing to catch so much
+as one of the wandering tribe, and who, on arriving at forty years,
+meekly retires to the chimney corner with shawl over her shoulders and
+some useful knitting,--but it carries neither meaning nor application
+to the brisk, brilliant American spinster who at fifty keeps her trim
+svelte figure, dresses well, goes here, there and everywhere, and
+sheds her beaming smile with good-natured tolerance, and perchance
+something of gratitude as well, on the men she has escaped from. Life
+does not run only in one channel for the American Woman. She does not
+“make tracks” solely from the cradle to the altar, from the altar
+to the grave. She realizes that there is more fun to be got out of
+being born than just this little old measure meted out to her by the
+barbaric males of earliest barbaric periods, when women were yoked to
+the plough with cattle. And it is the innate consciousness of her own
+power and intelligent ability that gives her the dominating charm,--the
+magnetic spell under which the stolid Britisher falls more or less
+stricken, stupefied and inert. He is never a great talker; she is.
+Her flow of conversation bewilders him. She knows so much too--she
+chatters of Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley, Keats--and he thinks he has
+heard of these people somewhere before. He listens dumbly. Sometimes
+he scratches his head,--occasionally he feels his moustache, if he has
+one. When she laughs, he smiles slowly and dubiously. He hopes she is
+not laughing at _him_. He feels--he feels--dontcherknow--that she is
+“ripping.” He couldn’t tell you what he means by “ripping” to save
+his life. But painfully accustomed as he is to the dull and listless
+conversation of the British materfamilias, and to the half-hoydenish
+conduct of the British tom-boy girl who _will_ insist on playing golf
+and hockey with him in order not to lose him out of her sight, he is
+altogether refreshed and relieved when the American Woman dawns upon
+his cloudy horizon, and instead of waiting upon _him_, commands him
+to wait upon _her_, with one dazzling look of her bright, audacious
+eye. The American Woman is not such a fool as to go play hockey with
+him at all times and in all weathers, thereby allowing him to take the
+unchecked measure of her ankles. She is too clever to do anything that
+might possibly show her in an unlovely or ungraceful light. She takes
+care to keep her hands soft and small and white, that they may be duly
+caressable,--and makes the best and prettiest of herself on all and
+every occasion. And that she has succeeded in taking English society
+by storm is no matter of surprise. English society, unmixed with any
+foreign element, is frequently said to be the dullest in the world. It
+is an entertainment where no one is entertained. A civil apathy wraps
+each man and woman in its fibrous husk, and sets them separately apart
+behind barricades of the most idiotic conventionality. The American
+Woman is the only being that can break down these barricades and tear
+the husk to shreds. No wonder she is popular! The secret of her success
+is in her own personal charm and vivacious intelligence,--in her light
+scorn of stupid ceremonies,--in the frank geniality of her disposition
+(when she can manage to keep it unspoilt by contact with the reserved
+hypocrisy of the “Smart Set,”) and the delightful spontaneity of her
+thoughts which find such ready expression in equally spontaneous
+speech. Altogether the American Woman is a valuable importation into
+Great Britain. She is an incarnation of the Present, and an embryo
+of the Future. She is a gifted daughter of the British race, holding
+within her bright, vital, ambitious identity many of the greater
+possibilities of Britain. And to the question “Why is she popular?” the
+answer is simple--“Because she deserves to be!”
+
+
+
+
+THE AMERICAN BOUNDER
+
+
+Everything in America is colossal, stupendous and pre-eminent,--it
+follows, therefore, that the American “bounder” is the most colossal,
+stupendous and pre-eminent bounder in existence. None of his tribe can
+match him in “brass,”--none of his European forbears or connections
+can equal him in brag. He is an inflated bladder of man, swollen out
+well-nigh to bursting with the wind of the Yankee Doodle Eagle’s wing.
+His aim in life appears to be to disgrace his country by his manners,
+his morals and his conversation. He arrives in Europe with the air
+of laying Europe under a personal debt of obligation to Providence
+for having kindly permitted him to be born. As befits a son of the
+goddess Liberty, he sets his proud foot on the “worn out” soil of the
+Old World and prances there, even as the “wild ass” mentioned in Holy
+Writ. As a citizen of the greatest Republic over which any starred or
+striped flag ever flew, he extends his gracious patronage to tottering
+monarchies, and allows it to be understood that he tolerates with an
+amused compassion that poor, drivelling, aged and senile institution
+known as the Aristocracy. He alludes to “my friend the Duke,” casually,
+as one might speak of a blind beggar. He throws in a remark quite
+unexpectedly at times concerning “Betty--_you’ve_ heard of her surely?
+Countess Betty--the Countess of Hockyfield--oh yes!--you English snobs
+rather ‘kotow’ to her, but _I_ call her Betty!--she likes it!” He may
+frequently be found in residence on the fourth floor back of a swagger
+hotel, occupying a “bed-sitting room” littered with guide books,
+“yellow” journalism, and dubious French novels, with an impressionist
+sketch of the newest Paris “danseuse” in her most suggestive want of
+attire set conspicuously forward for inspection. If chance visitors
+happen to notice flowers on his table, he at once seethes into a
+simmering scum of self-adulation. “Charming, are they not!” he
+says--“So sweet! So dear of the Duchess to send them!--she knows how
+fond I am of Malmaisons!--did you notice that Malmaison?--the Duchess
+gathered it for me herself--it is from one of the Sandringham stock.
+Of course you know the carnation houses at Sandringham? Alex. delights
+in Malmaisons!” And when guileless strangers gasp and blink as they
+realize that it is England’s gracious Queen-Consort who is being spoken
+of as “Alex.” in the company of the soiled literature and the portrait
+of the Paris “danseuse” the Bounder is delighted. He feels he has made
+a point. He chortles cheerfully on--“What a rotten old country this
+is after all, eh? Just crawling alive with snobs! Everyone’s on their
+knees to a title, and the sight of a lord seems to give the average
+Britisher a fit. Now look at me! I don’t care a cent about your dukes
+and earls. Why should I? I’m always with ’em--fact is, they can’t bear
+to have me out of their sight! Lady Belinda Boomall--second daughter
+of the Duke of Borrowdom,--she’s just mad on me! She thinks I’ve
+got money, and I let her! It’s real fun! And as to the Marchioness
+Golfhouse--she’s up to some games _I_ tell you! _She_ knows a thing or
+two! My word!” Here he gives vent to a sound suggestive of something
+between a sneeze and a snigger which is his own particular way of
+rendering the laugh satirical. “I always get on with your blue-blooded
+girls!”--he proceeds; “I guess they’re pretty tired of their own men
+hulking round! They take to an Am_urr_ican as ducks take to water.
+See all those cards?”--pointing in a casual way to half a dozen or
+so of pasteboard slips littered on the mantelshelf, among which
+the discerning observer might certainly see one or two tradesmen’s
+advertisements--“They just shower ’em on me! I’ve got an ‘at home’
+to-night and a ball afterwards--to-morrow I breakfast at Marlborough
+House;--then lunch with Lady Adelaide Sparkler,--she drives me in the
+Park afterwards--and in the evening I dine at St. James’ Palace and go
+to the Opera with the Rothschilds. It’s always like that with me! I
+never have a moment to myself. All these people want me. Lady Adelaide
+Sparkler declares she cannot possibly do without me! I ought to have
+been at Stafford House this afternoon--great show on there--but I can’t
+be bothered!--the Duchess is just too trying for words sometimes! Of
+course it’s all a question of connection;--they know who I am and all
+about my ancestors, and that makes ’em so anxious to have me. You know
+who my ancestors were?”
+
+Now when the American Bounder puts this question, he ought to receive a
+blunt answer. Perhaps if Britishers were as rude as they are sometimes
+reported to be, one of them would give such an answer straight. He
+would say “No, I do not; but I expect you sprang from a convict root of
+humanity thrown out as bad rubbish from an over-populated prison and
+cast by chance into American soil beside an equally rank native Indian
+weed--and that in your present bad form and general condition, you are
+the expressive result of that disastrous combination.” But, as a rule,
+even the most truculent Britisher’s natural pluck is so paralysed by
+the American Bounder’s amazing capacity for lying, that in nine cases
+out of ten, he merely murmurs an inarticulate negative. Whereat the
+Bounder at once proceeds to enlighten him--“I am the direct descendant
+of the Scroobys of Scrooby in Yorkshire,”--he resumes--“_My_ name’s
+not Scrooby--no!--but that has nothing to do with it. The families
+got mixed. Scrooby of Scrooby went over to Holland in 1607 and joined
+the Pilgrim Fathers. He was quite a boy, but Elder Brewster took care
+of him! He held the Bible when Brewster first fell upon his knees
+and thanked God. So you see I really come from Yorkshire. Real old
+Yorkshire ham ‘cured’ into an Am_urr_ican!”
+
+After this, there is nothing more to be said. Questions of course might
+be asked as to how the “Yorkshire ham” not being “Scrooby” now, ever
+started from “Scrooby” in the past, only it is not worth while. It
+never is worth while to try and certify an American Bounder’s claim to
+being sprung from a dead and gone family of English gentlemen. Regard
+for the dead and gone English gentlemen should save them from this
+affront to their honourable dust.
+
+Perhaps the most amazing thing about the American Bounder after his
+free and easy familiarities with “Bertie” (the King) “Alex.” (the
+Queen) and “Georgie and May” (the Prince and Princess of Wales) is
+his overweening, self-satisfied, complacent and arrogant ignorance.
+The most blatant little local tradesman who, through well-meaning
+Parliamentary short-sightedness in educational schemes, becomes
+a “governor” of a Technical School in the provinces, is never so
+blatantly ignorant as he. He talks of everything and knows nothing.
+He assumes to have the last word in science, art and literature. He
+will tell you he is “great chums” with Marconi and Edison, and that
+these famous discoverers and inventors always lay their heads on his
+bosom and tell him their dearest confidences. He knows just what is
+going to be done by everybody with everything. He is friends with the
+Drama too. Beerbohm Tree rings him up on the telephone at all manner
+of strange hours, thirsting for his advice on certain “scenes” and
+“effects.” He is--to use his own words--“doing a great thing” for
+Tree! Sarah Bernhardt is his very dearest of dear ones! She has fallen
+into his arms, coming off the stage at the side wings, exhausted, and
+exclaiming--“Toi, mon cher! Enfin! Maintenant, je respire!” Madame
+Réjane is always at home to him. In fact all Paris hails him with a joy
+too deep for tears. He would not be a true “Am_urr_ican” if _he_ did
+not love Paris, and if Paris did not love _him_.
+
+But though he is completely “at one,” according to his own statement,
+with most of the celebrated personages of the day, if not all, he
+cannot tell you the most commonly known facts about them to save his
+life. And though--again according to his own statement--he has read
+every book ever published, visited every picture gallery, “salon”
+and theatre in Europe, he cannot pronounce the name of one single
+foreign author or artist correctly. His English is bad enough, but
+his French is worse. He seldom makes excursions into the Italian
+language--“Igh--talian” as he calls it, but it is quite enough for
+the merest beginner in the Tuscan tongue to hear him say “gondòla”
+to take the measure of his capacity. “Gòndola” is a word so easily
+learned and so often used in Italian, that one might think any
+child could master its pronunciation from twice hearing it--but the
+American Bounder makes the whole tour of Italy without losing a scrap
+of his own special nasal lingo, and returns in triumph to talk of
+the “gondòla” and the “bella ràgg-azza” (instead of ragàzza) till
+one’s ears almost ache with the hideous infliction of his abominable
+accent. In Switzerland he is always alluding to “Mount Blank”--the
+“Can_tone_ Gry-son”--“N_oo_-shatell”--and the “Mountain Vert”--and
+in Great Britain he has been heard to speak of Lo_che_ Kay-trine and
+Ben _Nee_vis, as well as of Con_iss_ton and Cornwàll. But it is quite
+“correct” he will tell you--it is only the English people who do not
+know how to talk English. The actual, true, pure pronunciation of the
+English language went over to the States with the Scroobys of Scrooby,
+and he their descendant and Bounder, has preserved it intact. Even
+Shakespeare’s river Avon becomes metamorphosed under the roll of his
+atrocious tongue. He will not pronounce it with the English A, as in
+the word “b_a_y,”--he calls it A’von, as the “a” is sounded in the word
+_av_arice--so that the soft poetic name of the classic stream appears
+to have been bitten off by him and swallowed like a pop-corn. But it
+would be of no use to argue with him on this or on any other point,
+because he is always right. No real American Bounder was ever wrong.
+
+One cannot but observe what a close acquaintance the Bounder has with
+Debrett and various “County” Directories. His study of these volumes
+is almost as profound as that of Mr. Balfour must have been when
+writing “The Foundations of Belief.” Between Debrett and Baedeker he
+manages to elicit a certain useful stock of surface information which
+he imparts in a kind of cheap toy-cracker fashion to various persons,
+who, politely listening, wonder why he appears to think that they
+are not aware of facts familiar to them from their childhood. His
+modes of appearing “to know, you know!” are exceedingly simple. For
+example, suppose him to be asked to join a “house-party” in Suffolk. He
+straightway studies the “County Directory” of that quarter of England,
+and looks up the principal persons mentioned therein in various other
+books of handy reference. When, in due course, he arrives at the
+house to which he has been invited, he manages to faintly surprise
+uninitiated persons by his (apparently) familiar acquaintance with
+the pedigree and history of this or that “county” magnate, and his
+(apparently) intimate knowledge of such and such celebrated paintings
+and “objets d’art” as adorn the various historical mansions in the
+district--knowledge for which he is merely indebted to Baedeker. He
+is as loquacious as a village washerwoman. He will relate any number
+of scandalous stories in connection with the several families of
+whose ways and doings he pretends to have such close and particular
+information--and should any listener interrupt him with a mild “Pardon
+me!--but, having resided in this neighbourhood all my life I venture
+to think you must be mistaken”;--he merely smiles blandly at such a
+display of “native” ignorance. “Lived here all your life and not know
+that!” he exclaims--“My word! It takes an Am_urr_ican to teach you
+what’s going on in your own country!”
+
+Offensive as is this more or less ordinary type of American Bounder
+who makes his “home in Yew-rope” on fourth floors of fashionable
+hotels, a still worse and more offensive specimen is found in the
+Starred-and-Striped Bounding Millionaire. This individual--who
+has frequently attained to a plethora of cash through one of two
+reprehensible ways--either by “sweating” labour, or by fooling
+shareholders in “trust” companies,--comes to Great Britain with
+the fixed impression that everything in the “darned old place”
+can be bought for money. Unfortunately he is often right. The
+British--originally and by nature proud, reserved, and almost savagely
+tenacious of their freedom and independence--have been bitten by
+the Transatlantic madness of mere Greed, and their blood has been
+temporarily poisoned by infection. But one may hope and believe that it
+is only a passing malady, and that the old healthy life will re-invest
+the veins of the nation all the more strongly for partial sickness and
+relapse. In the meantime it occasionally happens that the “free” Briton
+bows his head like a whipped mongrel cur to the bulging Bank-Account of
+the American Millionaire-Bounder. And the American Millionaire-Bounder
+plants his flat foot on the so foolishly bent pate and walks over it
+with a commercial chuckle. “You talk of your ‘Noblesse oblige,’ your
+honour, your old historic tradition and aristocratic Order!” he says,
+sneeringly--“Why there isn’t a man alive in Britain that I couldn’t
+buy, principles and all, for fifty thousand pounds!”
+
+This kind of vaunt at Britain’s expense is common to the American
+Millionaire-Bounder--and whether it arises out of his conscious
+experience of the British, or his braggart conceit, must be left to
+others to query or determine. Certain it is that he _does_ buy a good
+deal, and that the owners of such things as he wants seem always ready
+to sell. Famous estates are knocked down to him--manuscripts and
+pictures which should be the preciously guarded property of the nation,
+are easily purchased by him,--and, laughing in his sleeve at the
+purblind apathy of the British Government, which calmly looks on while
+he pockets such relics of national greatness as unborn generations
+will vainly and indignantly ask for,--he congratulates himself on
+possessing, as he says, “the only few things the old country has got
+left worth having.” One can but look gloomily through the “Calendar of
+Shakespearean Rarities,” collected by Halliwell Phillips, which were
+offered to the wealthy city of Birmingham for £7,000, and reflect that
+this same wealthy city disgraced itself by refusing to purchase the
+collection and by allowing everything to be bought and carried away
+from England by “an American” in 1897. We do not say this American was
+a “Bounder”--nevertheless, if he had been a real lover of Shakespeare’s
+memory, rather than of himself, he would have bought these relics for
+Shakespeare’s native country and presented them for Shakespeare’s sake
+to Shakespeare’s native people, who are not, as a People, to blame
+for the parsimony of their Governments. They pay taxes enough in all
+conscience, and at least they deserve that what few relics remain of
+their Greatest Man should be saved and ensured to them.
+
+But perhaps the American Millionaire-Bounder is at his best when he has
+bought an English newspaper and is running it in London. Then he feels
+as if he were running the Imperial Government itself--nay, almost the
+Monarchy. He imagines that he has his finger on the very pulse of Time.
+He hugs himself in the consciousness that the British people,--that
+large majority of them who are not behind the scenes--buy his paper,
+believing it to be a British paper, not a journal of “Am_urr_ican”
+opinion, that is, opinion as ordered and paid for by one “Am_urr_ican.”
+He knows pretty well in his own mind that if they understood that such
+was the actual arrangement, they would save their pence. Unfortunately
+the great drawback of the “man in the street” who buys newspapers, is
+that he has no time to enquire as to the way in which the journals he
+confides in are “run.” If he knew that the particular view taken of the
+political situation in a certain journal, was merely the political view
+_ordered_ to be taken by one “Am_urr_ican”--naturally he would not pin
+his simple faith upon it. Perhaps the Man in the Street will some day
+wake up to the realization that in many cases, (though not all) with
+respect to journalism, he only exists to be “gulled.”
+
+Like all good and bad things, the American Bounder, whether millionaire
+or only shabby-genteel, has a certain height beyond which he can
+no further go--a point where he culminates in a blaze of ultra
+Bounder-ism. This brilliant apotheosis is triumphantly reached in the
+Female of his species. The American Female Bounder is the quintessence
+of vulgarity, and in every way makes herself so objectionable even
+to her own people and country that Americans themselves view her
+departure for “Yew-rope” with perfect equanimity, and hope she will
+never come back. Once in what she calls “the old country” she talks
+all day long through her quivering nose of “Lady This” and “Countess
+That.” One of this class I recall now as I write, who spoke openly of
+a “Mrs. Countess So-and-So”--and utterly declined to be instructed in
+any other form of address. She was not content to trace her lineage
+to such humble folk as the “Scroobys of Scrooby”--no indeed, not she!
+Kings were _her_ ancestors; her “family tree” sprouted from Richard the
+Lion-Heart, according to her own bombastic assertion, and she, with her
+loud twanging voice, odious manners and insufferable impertinence, was
+“genuine stock” of royallest origin. Of course it is quite possible
+that, as in horticulture, a once nobly cultivated human plant may,
+if left without wholesome or fostering influences, degenerate into a
+weed--but that so rank a weed as the American Female Bounder should
+be the dire result of the Conqueror’s blood is open to honest doubt.
+She generally has a “mission” to reform something or somebody,--she is
+very often a “Christian science” woman, or a theosophist. Sometimes
+she “takes up” Art as though it were a dustpan, and sweeps into it
+under her “patronage” certain dusty and doubtful literary and musical
+aspirants who want a “hearing” for their efforts. Fortunately for the
+world, a “hearing” under the gracious auspices of the American Female
+Bounder means a silence everywhere else. She is fond of “frocks and
+frills”--and wears an enormous quantity of jewels, “stones” as she
+calls them. She “pushes” herself in every possible social direction,
+and wherever she sees she is not wanted, there, more particularly than
+elsewhere, she contrives to force an entry. She embraces the game of
+“Bridge” with passionate eagerness because she sees that by keeping
+open house, with card-tables always ready, she can attract the loafing
+“great ones of the earth,” and possibly persuade a “Mrs. Countess” to
+befriend her. If she is fairly wealthy, she can generally manage to
+do this. All Mrs. Countesses have not “that repose which stamps the
+caste of Vere de Vere.” Some of them find the American Female Bounder
+useful--and precisely in the manner she offers herself, even so they
+take her. And thus it often happens that one frequently meets her
+where she has no business to be. One is not surprised to find her at
+Court, or in the Royal enclosure at Ascot, because so many of her
+British sisters in the Bounder line are in these places, ready to give
+her a helping hand--but one _is_ occasionally startled and in a manner
+sorry to discover her making herself at home among certain “exclusive”
+people who are chiefly distinguished for their good-breeding, culture
+and refinement. In one thing, however, we can take much comfort, and
+this is, that whatever the American Bounder, Male or Female, may
+purchase or otherwise insidiously obtain in the Old World, neither
+he nor she can ever secure respect. Driven to bay as the Britisher
+may be by consummate and pertinacious lying, he can and does withhold
+from the liars his honest esteem. He may sell a valuable manuscript or
+picture to a “bounding” Yankee, out of sheer necessitous circumstance,
+but he will never be “friends” with the purchaser. He will call him
+“bounder” to the crack of doom, and Doomsday itself will not alter that
+impression of him.
+
+It may be, and it is I think, taken for granted that America itself
+is very glad to get rid of its “bounders.” It regards them with as
+much shame and distress as we feel when we see certain specimens of
+“travelling English” disporting themselves upon the Continent in the
+’Arry and Jemima way. We always fervently hope that our Continental
+neighbours will not take these extraordinary roughs as bona-fide
+examples of the British people, and in the same way America trusts all
+the nations of Europe not to accept their “Bounders” as examples of
+the real pith and power of the United States. The American People are
+too great, too broad-minded, sane, and thorough, not to wish to shake
+off these _aphides_ on their rose of life. They watch them “clearing
+out” for “Yew-rope” with perfect satisfaction. Said a charming American
+woman to me the other day--“What a pity it is that English people
+_will_ keep on receiving Americans here who would not be tolerated for
+a moment in New York or Boston society! It surprises us very greatly.
+Sometimes indeed we cannot help laughing to see the names of women
+figuring among your ‘haute noblesse’ who would never get inside a
+decent house anywhere in the States. But more often we are sorry that
+your social ‘leaders’ are so easily taken in!”
+
+Here indeed is the sum total of the matter. If Great Britain--and other
+countries in Europe--but Great Britain especially--did not “receive”
+and encourage the American Bounder and Bounderess, these objectionable
+creatures would never be known or heard of. Therefore it is our fault
+that they exist. Were it not for our short-sighted foolishness, and
+our proneness to believe that every “Am_urr_ican” with money must
+be worth knowing, we should be better able to sort the sheep from
+the goats. We should add to the pleasures of our social life and
+intercourse an agreeable knowledge of the real American ladies, the
+real American gentlemen; and though these are seldom seen over here,
+for the very good reason that they are valued and wanted in their own
+country, they could at least be certain, when they did come, of being
+received at their proper valuation, and not set to herd with the
+“Bounders” of their country, whom their country rejects. For one may
+presume that there is some cogent reason why an American citizen of
+the Greatest Republic in the world, should elect to desert his native
+land and “settle down” under “rotten old monarchies.” People do not
+leave the home of their birth for ever unless they find it impossible
+to live there for causes best known to themselves. The poor are often
+compelled to emigrate, we know, in the hope to find employment and
+food in other countries--but when the rich “slope off” from the very
+centres where they have made their capital, one may be permitted to
+doubt the purity of their intentions. Anyway, surrounded as we are
+to-day socially by American Bounders of every description,--American
+Bounders who think themselves as good as any one else “and a darned
+sight better”--American Bounders who declare that they are the “real
+old British race renewed,”--American Bounders who “run” British
+journals of “literary opinion” and so forth,--American Bounders who
+thrust themselves into the company of unhappy kings and queens,--those
+crowned slaves who in such earthquaking days as these have to be more
+than common careful “not to offend,”--American Bounders who themselves
+claim kinship with the blood royal,--the one straight and simple fact
+remains--namely, that all the best Americans still live in America!
+
+
+
+
+COWARD ADAM
+
+
+Among the numerous fascinating and delightful members of the male
+sex whom I have the honour to count as friends, there is one very
+handsome and devotedly attentive gentleman of four years old, who is
+particularly fond of reciting to me in private the following striking
+poem on the Fall of Man.
+
+
+     When Mister Sarpint did deceive
+     Poor little silly Missis Eve,
+     The Lord he spied an apple gone
+     From off the branch it hanged upon;
+     That apple was a heavy loss,
+     And so the Lord got very cross,
+     He searched the garden through and through,
+     And called “Hi Adam! where are you?”
+          But Mister Adam, he,
+          Clum up a tree.
+
+
+There is something in this graphic narrative which appears to tickle my
+young cavalier’s fancy immensely, for whenever he says “Mister Adam,
+he, Clum up a tree,” he opens his big blue eyes very widely, claps his
+tiny hands very loudly, and gives vent to ecstatic shrieks of laughter.
+It is quite evident that he entirely understands and appreciates Adam’s
+position. Young as he is, he has the instinctive knowledge within him
+that when the time comes, he will likewise adopt the “Clum up a tree”
+policy. For Adam is the same Adam still, and nothing will ever change
+him. And when things are getting rather “mixed” in his career, and the
+forbidden fruit he has so readily devoured turns out to be rather more
+sour and tasteless than he had anticipated,--when his Garden of Eden
+is being searched through and through for the causes of the folly and
+disobedience which have devastated its original fairness, the same old
+story may be said of him--“Mister Adam, he, Clum up a tree.” Perhaps
+if he only climbed a tree one might excuse him,--but unfortunately he
+talks while climbing,--talks as though he were an old babbling grandam
+instead of a lord of creation,--and grandam-like puts the blame on
+somebody else. He says--“The woman whom thou gavest to be with me,
+she gave me of the tree and I did eat.” Coward Adam! Observe how he
+at once transfers the fault of his own lack of will and purpose to
+the weaker, more credulous, more loving and trusting partner;--how he
+leaves her defenceless to brave the wrath which he himself dreads,--and
+how he never for one half second dreams of admitting himself to be the
+least in the wrong! But there is always one great satisfaction to be
+derived from the perusal of the strange old Eden story, and this is
+that “Mister Sarpint” was of the male gender. Scripture leaves no room
+for doubt on this point. It says: “Now the serpent was more subtil
+than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made. And _he_ said
+unto the woman----” So that a “he” tempted a woman, before “she” ever
+tempted a “he.” Women should be duly thankful for the sex of “Mister
+Sarpint,” and should also bear in mind that this particular “he” was
+“more subtil than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made.”
+On many an occasion it will be found a salutary and useful fact to
+remember.
+
+Once upon a time, so we are told, there was an Age of Chivalry. The
+word “chivalry” is stated in the dictionary to be derived from the
+French “cheval” a horse, and “chivalrous” men were, in the literal
+meaning of the term, merely men who rode about on horseback. But
+chivalry has somehow come to imply respect, devotion, and reverence
+for women. The “chivalrous” knight is supposed to have gone all over
+the world, wearing the glove or the ribbon of his “ladye faire,” in
+his helmet, and challenging to single combat every other knight that
+dared to question the supremacy of her beauty and virtue. I confess
+at once that I do not believe in him. If he ever existed he must have
+been a most unnatural and abnormal product of humanity, as unlike his
+first progenitor Adam as he could well be. For even in the “Round
+Table” romances one finds an entire lack of chivalry in the so-called
+chivalrous knights of King Arthur. Their moral principles left much to
+be desired, and the conduct of Sir Meliagraunce who betrayed the loves
+of Lancelot and the Queen was merely that of a common sneak. Coward
+Adam spoke in him, as in many of the Arthurian heroes,--and that they
+were more “chivalrous” than the modern male gossips who jeer away a
+woman’s name and honour in their smoking and gaming rooms, is a legend
+which like that of the Tree of Good and Evil itself, requires stronger
+confirmation than history as yet witnesseth.
+
+Coward Adam, taking him as he appears in the present day, has lately
+shown himself off in various odd phases and lamentable positions.
+During the South African War he came out strong in some of our
+generals, who put the blame of certain military mishaps on one another
+like quarrelsome children, thereby losing dignity and offering a most
+humiliating spectacle to the amazed British public. Coward Adam’s
+policy, after making a blunder, is to adopt any lie, rather than say
+frankly and boldly--“I did it!” He will eat dirt by the bushel in
+preference to the nobler starvation act of singly facing his foes. He
+is just now exhibiting himself to his usual advantage in the British
+Parliament, while the nation looks on, waiting for the inevitable
+finale of his various hesitations and inefficiencies--the “Mister
+Adam, he, Clum up a tree.” For in most matters of social, political,
+and moral progress, the great difficulty is to obtain an upright,
+downright, honest and impartial opinion from any leading public man.
+The nation may be drifting devilwards, but statesmen are judged to
+be more statesmanlike, if they hold their tongues and watch it go.
+They must not speak the truth. It would offend so many people. It
+would upset so many interests. It would create a panic on the Stock
+Exchange. It would throw Wall Street into hysterics. The world’s vast
+public, composed of thinking, working, and more or less educated
+and intelligent people, may and do crave for a bold utterance, a
+truth openly enunciated and bravely maintained, but to the weavers
+of political intrigue and the self-seeking schemers in Governmental
+departments, the public is considered merely as a Big Child, to be
+soothed with lollipop phrases and tickled by rattle promises. If the
+Big Child cries and screams because it is hungry, they chirp to it
+about Fair Trade,--if it complains that its ministers of religion
+are trying to make it say its prayers backwards, they promise a full
+“enquiry into recent abuses in the Church.” But fine words butter no
+parsnips. Coward Adam always climbs up a tree as quickly as he can
+when instead of fine words, fine deeds are demanded. Physical feats
+of skill, physical gymnastics of all kinds he excels in, but a moral
+difficulty always places him as it did in the Garden of Eden, in what
+he would conventionally term “an awkward position.”
+
+“Never kiss and tell” is I believe an “unwritten law of chivalry.”
+This law, so I understand, Coward Adam does sometimes manage to obey,
+albeit reluctantly. Because he would like to tell,--he would very much
+like to tell,--if--if the story of the kiss did not involve himself
+in the telling! But at this juncture “the unwritten laws of chivalry”
+step in and he is saved. And chivalry is the tree up which he climbs,
+chattering to himself the usual formula--“The woman whom thou gavest to
+be with me,”--etcetera, etcetera. Alas, poor woman! She has heard him
+saying this ever since she, in an unselfish desire to share her food
+with him, gave him the forbidden apple. No doubt she offered him its
+rosiest and ripest side! She always does,--at first. Not afterwards! As
+soon as he turns traitor and runs up a tree, she takes to pelting him,
+metaphorically speaking, with cocoa-nuts. This is quite natural on her
+part. She _had_ thought him a man,--and when he suddenly changes into
+a monkey, she doesn’t understand it. To this cause may possibly be
+attributed some of the ructions which occasionally jar the harmonious
+estate of matrimony.
+
+Coward Adam does very well in America. He sees his position there
+quite plainly. He knows that if he climbs his tree too often, hundreds
+of feminine hands will pull him down. So he resigns himself to the
+inevitable. He is not slow to repeat the customary whine--“The woman
+whom thou gavest me”--but he says it quietly to himself between whiles.
+Because he knows that _she_ knows all his share in the mischief!
+So he digs and delves, and finds gold and silver and limitless oil
+wherewith to turn into millions of dollars for her pleasure; he packs
+pork, lays railway tracks, starts companies, organizes “combines”--and
+strains every nerve and sinew to “do” every other Adam save himself
+in his own particular line of business, so that “the woman” (or may
+we say the women?) “whom thou gavest” may be clothed in Paris model
+gowns, and wear jewels out-rivalling in size and lustre those of all
+the kings and queens that ever made their sad and stately progress
+through history. Indeed, Coward Adam, in the position he occupies as a
+free citizen of that mighty Republic over which the wild eagle screams
+exultingly, looks a little bit like a beaten animal. But he bears his
+beating well, and is quite pleasant about it. In regard to “the woman
+whom thou gavest me” he is nearer the imaginary code of “chivalry”
+than his European brother. If the original Adam had learned the ways
+of a modern American gentleman of good education and fine manners,
+one can quite imagine him saying--“The woman whom thou gavest to be
+with me generously offered me a share of the apple, and I did eat. But
+the Serpent whom thou didst permit to tell lies to my amiable partner
+concerning this special kind of fruit, was chiefly to blame.”
+
+Coward Adam, as he is seen and known among the lower classes, crops up
+every day in newspapers, which duly chronicle his various acts, such
+as promising marriage to poor working girls and robbing them of all
+their little savings, as well as of their good names,--kicking his
+wife, starving his children, and spending every penny he earns in the
+public-house. But he is just as frequently met with in the houses of
+the Upper Ten. He will wear the garb of a lord with ease, and, entering
+the house of another lord, will cozen his host’s wife away from loyalty
+to her husband in quite the manner “friendly.” He is likewise to be
+found occasionally in the walks of literature, and where a woman is
+concerned in matters artistic will “down” her if he can. He has always
+done his best to hinder woman from receiving any acknowledgment for
+superior intellectual ability. Notably one may quote the case of Madame
+Curie, the discoverer of radium. Coward Adam says she discovered it by
+“a fluke”--that is to say, by chance. Most great discoveries occur,
+even to men, in the same way. In the present instance the “chance”
+came to a woman. Why should she not therefore have all the honour due
+to her?--the same honour precisely as would fall to the lot of a man
+in her place? Columns upon columns of praise would be bestowed upon
+her were she of Adam’s sex, and all the academies of science would
+contend with each other as to which should offer her the best and
+most distinctive award. But Coward Adam cannot abide the thought that
+“the woman whom thou gavest” should take an occasionally higher rank
+than his own among the geniuses of his age. He must have everything
+or nothing. He tries to ignore the fact that woman is winning equal
+honours with himself in University degrees; he would fain forget that
+the two greatest monarchs Great Britain ever had were women--Elizabeth
+and Victoria. There is a brave Adam, of course--a civilized creature
+who owns and admits the brilliant achievements of woman with pride and
+tenderness,--I am only just now speaking of the coward specimen. The
+brave Adam does not turn tail or climb trees, and he appears to have
+had nothing to do with the Garden of Eden. Very likely he was born
+somewhere else. For _he_ says--“The woman whom thou gavest to be with
+me is the joy of my life,--the companion of my thoughts. To her my soul
+turns,--for her my heart beats--in her I rejoice,--her triumphs are my
+pride,--her success is my delight! If danger threatens her, I will be
+her defender, not her accuser,--should she be blamed for aught, I will
+take her fault upon myself, and will serve as a strong shield between
+her and calumny. This is the least I can do to prove my love towards
+her--for without her I should be the worst of creatures,--a lonely soul
+in an empty world!”
+
+So says, or may say brave Adam! But his coward brother does not
+understand such high-flown sentiments. Coward Adam’s main object in
+life is to “avoid a scene” with either the Lord Almighty, Mister
+Sarpint or Missis Eve. He likes to wriggle out of difficulties,
+both public and private, in a quiet way. He does not understand the
+“methods” of plain blunt people who tell him frankly what a sneak he
+is. He is very ubiquitous, and much more frequently to be met with than
+his braver twin. And if he should chance to read what I have here set
+down concerning him, he will probably say as usual: “The woman whom
+thou gavest” in various forms of anonymous vituperation. But his active
+policy will remain the same as it ever was--“Mister Adam, he, Clum up a
+tree!”
+
+
+
+
+ACCURSËD EVE
+
+
+When the masculine Serpent, “who was more subtil than any beast of the
+field which the Lord had made,” tempted the mother of mankind to eat
+of the forbidden fruit, the Voice in the Garden said to her--“I will
+greatly multiply thy sorrow!” It can scarcely be denied that this curse
+has been fulfilled. So manifold and incessant have been the sorrows
+of Woman since the legendary account of the creation of the world,
+that one cannot help thinking the whole business somewhat unfair,
+if,--for merely being “beguiled” by a beast of the field who was known
+to be more “subtil” than any other, and afterwards being “given away”
+by Coward Adam,--Eve and all the descendants of her sex should be
+compelled to suffer centuries of torture. The injustice is manifestly
+cruel and arbitrary,--yet it would seem to have followed poor Accursëd
+Eve from then till now. “I will greatly multiply thy sorrow!” And
+sorrow has been multiplied to such an aggravated and barbarous extent
+upon her unfortunate head, that in the Jewish ritual to this very
+day there is a part of the service wherein the men, standing in the
+presence of women, individually say: “Blessed art thou, O Lord our God,
+King of the universe, who hast not made me a woman!” thus deliberately
+insulting, in their very house of worship, the sex of their mothers!
+
+But from the earliest times, if we are to accept historical testimony,
+the Jews of the ancient world appear to have treated women in the
+majority as “Something worser than their dog, a little lower than
+their horse.” Save and except those rare cases where the Jewish woman
+suddenly found out her latent powers and employed them to advantage,
+the Jewish man made her fetch and carry for him like a veritable beast
+of burden. He yoked her to his plough with oxen,--he sold and exchanged
+her with his friends as freely as any other article of commerce,--his
+“base uses” of her were various, and seldom to his credit,--while, such
+as they were, they only lasted so long as they satisfied his immediate
+humour. When done with, she was “cast out.” The kind of “casting out”
+to which she was subjected is not always explained. But it may be taken
+for granted that in many instances she was either killed immediately,
+or turned adrift to die of starvation and weariness. The Jews in their
+Biblical days were evidently not much affected by her griefs. They were
+God’s “chosen” people,--and the fact that women were the mothers of the
+whole “chosen” race, appeared to call for no claim on their chivalrous
+tenderness or consideration.
+
+Looking back through the vista of time to that fabled Eden, when
+she listened to the tempting of the “subtil” one, the wrongs and
+injustices endured by Accursëd Eve at the hand of Coward Adam make up
+a calendar of appalling, almost superhuman crime. Man has taken the
+full licence allowed him by the old Genesis story (which, by the way,
+was evidently invented by man himself for his own convenience). “Thy
+desire shall be to thy husband and he shall rule over thee.” And among
+all tribes, and in all nations he _has_ ruled with a rod of iron! The
+Christian dispensation has interfered somewhat with his former reign of
+tyranny, for with the birth of Christ came, to a certain extent, the
+idealization and beatification of womanhood. The Greeks and Romans,
+however, had a latent glimmering idea of what Woman in all her glory
+should be, and of what she might possibly attain to in the future,--for
+all their grandest symbols of life, such as Truth, Beauty, Justice,
+Fortune, Fame, Wisdom, are always represented by their sculptors
+clothed in the female form divine. It is a curious fact, that in those
+early periods of civilization, when Literature and Art were just
+dawning upon the world, man, though aggregating to his own Ego nearly
+everything in the universe, paused before representing himself as a
+figure of Justice, Mercy or Wisdom. He evidently realized his unfitness
+to stand, even in marble, before the world as a symbol of moral virtue.
+He therefore, with a grace which well became him in those “pagan” days,
+bent the knee to all noble attributes of humanity as represented in
+Woman. Her fair face, her beauteous figure, greeted him in all his
+temples of worship;--as Venus and Diana she smiled upon him; as the
+goddess of Fortune or Chance, she accepted his votive wreaths,--as
+Fame or Victory, she gave him blessing whenever he went to war, or
+returned in triumph from the field;--and all this was but the embryo
+or shadowing-forth of woman’s higher future and better possibilities,
+when the days of her long and cruel probation should be accomplished,
+and her “curse” in part be lifted. There are signs and tokens that
+this happy end is in sight. Accursëd Eve is beginning to have a good
+time. And the only fear now is, lest she should overstep the mark of
+her well-deserved liberty and run headlong into licence. For Eve,--with
+or without curse,--is naturally impulsive and credulous; and being too
+often forgetful of the little incident which occurred to her in the
+matter of the Tree of Good and Evil, is still far too prone to listen
+to the beguiling of “subtil” personages worse “than any beast of the
+field which the Lord hath made.”
+
+Accursëd Eve, having broken several of her old-time fetters, and
+beginning to feel her feet as well as her wings, just now wants a
+word in politics. As one of her cursëd daughters, I confess I wonder
+that she should wish to put herself to so much unnecessary trouble,
+seeing that she has the whole game in her hands. Politics are generally
+hustled along by Coward Adam,--unless, by rarest chance, Brave Adam,
+his twin brother, suddenly steps forth unexpectedly, when there ensues
+what is called a “collapse of the Government.” In any question, small
+or great, Accursëd Eve has only to offer Coward Adam the apple, and he
+will eat it. Which metaphor implies that even in politics, if she only
+moves him round gradually to her own views in that essentially womanly
+way which, while persuading, seems not to persuade, he is bound to
+yield. Personally speaking, I do not know any man who is not absolutely
+under the thumb of at least one woman. And I will not believe that
+there is any woman so feeble, so stupid, so lost to the power and charm
+of her own individuality, as not to be able to influence quite half
+a dozen men. This being the case, what does Accursëd Eve want with a
+vote? If she is so unhappy, so ugly, so repulsive, so deformed in mind
+and manners as to have no influence at all on any creature of the male
+sex whatever, neither father, nor brother, nor uncle, nor cousin, nor
+lover, nor husband, nor friend,--would the opinion of such an one be of
+any consequence, or her vote of any value? I assert nothing,--I only
+ask the question.
+
+Speaking personally as a woman, I have no politics, and want none. I
+only want the British Empire to be first and foremost in everything,
+and I tender my sincerest homage to all the men of every party who will
+honestly work towards that end. These being my sentiments, I deprecate
+any strong separate parliamentary attitude on the part of Accursëd Eve.
+I say that she has much better, wider work to do than take part in
+tow-rows with the rather undignified personages who often make somewhat
+of a bear-garden of the British House of Commons. That she would prove
+a good M.P. were she a man, I am quite sure; but as a woman I know she
+“goes one better,” in becoming the wife of an M.P.
+
+Accursëd Eve! Mother of the world! What higher thing does she seek?
+Mother of Christianity itself, she stands before us, a figure symbolic
+of all good, her Holy Child in her arms, her sweet, musing, prayerful
+face bending over it in gravely tender devotion. From her soft breast
+humanity springs renewed,--she represents the youth, the hope, the
+love of all mankind. Wronged as she has been, and as she still is,
+her patience never fails. Deceived, she “mends her broken shell with
+pearl,” and still trusts on. Her sweet credulousness is the same as
+ever it was;--the “subtil” one can always over-reach her through her
+too ready confidence in the idea that “all things work together for
+good.” Her “curse” is the crime of loving too well,--believing too
+much. Should a “subtil” one say he loves her, she honestly thinks he
+does. When he turns out, as often happens, to be looking after her
+money rather than herself, she can scarcely force her mind to realize
+that he is not so much hero as cad. When she has to earn her own living
+in any of the artistic professions, she will frequently tell all her
+plans, hopes and ambitions to “subtil” ones with the most engaging
+frankness. The “subtil” ones naturally take every advantage of her, and
+some of them put a stopgap on her efforts if they can.
+
+How many times men have tried to steal away the honour of a woman’s
+name and fame in literature need not here be chronicled. Of how many
+books, bearing a woman’s name on the title-page it is said--“Her
+husband helped her,”--or “She got Mr. So-and-So to write the
+descriptive part!” “George Eliot” has often been accused of being
+assisted in her novels by Mr. Lewes. A little incident,--touching
+enough to my mind,--is related in the memoirs of Charlotte Brontë.
+After her marriage, and when she was expecting the birth of her
+child, she was reading some of the first chapters of an intended new
+novel to her husband,--who, as he listened, said in that peculiarly
+encouraging way which is common to men who have gifted women to deal
+with--“You seem to be repeating yourself. You must take care not to
+repeat yourself.” Poor little soul! She never “repeated” herself,--she
+just died. No one can tell how her husband’s thoughtless phrase may
+have teazed or perplexed her sensitive mind in a critical condition of
+health, and helped to hasten the fatal end.
+
+Edward Fitzgerald’s celebrity as a scholar is not, and never will be
+wide enough to blot out from remembrance his brutal phrase on hearing
+of the death of Elizabeth Barrett Browning--
+
+“Mrs. Browning is dead. Thank God we shall have no more Aurora Leighs!”
+
+While, far more creditable to Algernon Charles Swinburne than his own
+praise of himself now unfortunately affixed to the newly collected
+edition of his works, is the praise he bestows on this noble
+woman-genius in his preface to her great poem. I quote one line of it
+here--
+
+“No English contemporary poet by profession has left us work so full of
+living fire.”
+
+For once, and in this particular instance, Accursëd Eve in literature
+has, in such a verdict, won her merited literary honours.
+
+But as a rule honours are withheld from her, and the laurel is filched
+from her brows by Coward Adam ere she has time to wear it. One flagrant
+case is well known, of a man who having lived entirely on a woman’s
+literary earnings for years, went about in the clothes her pen had
+paid for, among the persons to whom, through her influence, he had
+been introduced, boasting that he assisted her to write the greater
+part of her books. To their shame be it said, a great many people
+believed him; and not till he was dead, and the woman went on writing
+her books as before, did they even begin to see the wrong they had
+done her. They would not have dared to calumniate the false boaster as
+they calumniated the innocent hard worker. The boaster was a man,--the
+worker was a woman;--therefore the dishonour of passing off literary
+work not one’s own, must, so they imagined, naturally belong to
+Accursëd Eve,--not to Coward Adam! Of their humiliation when the real
+truth was known, history sayeth nothing.
+
+Yet with all the weight of her curse more or less upon her, and with
+all her sorrows, shattered ideals, wrecked hopes, and lost loves,
+Accursëd Eve is still the most beautiful, the most perfect figure in
+creation. Her failings, her vanities, her weaknesses, her sins, arise
+in the first place from love--even if afterwards, through Coward Adam’s
+ready encouragement, they degenerate into vice and animalism. Her first
+impulse in earliest youth is a desire to please Adam,--the same impulse
+precisely which led her to offer him the forbidden apple in the first
+days of their mutual acquaintance. She wishes to charm him,--to win his
+heart,--to endear herself to him in a thousand tender ways,--to wind
+herself irretrievably round his life. If she succeeds in this aim, she
+is invariably happy and virtuous. But if she is made to feel that she
+cannot hold him on whom her thoughts are centred,--if his professed
+love for her only proves weak and false when put to trial,--if he
+finds it easy to forget both sentiment and courtesy, and is quick to
+add insult to injury, then all the finer and more delicate emotions
+of her nature become warped and unstrung,--and though she endures her
+suffering because she must, she resents it and takes vengeance when she
+can. Of resentfulness against wrong and revenge for injustice, come
+what are called “bad women.” Yet I would humbly venture to maintain
+that even these “bad” were not bad in the first instance. They were
+born in the usual way, with the usual Eve impulse,--the desire to
+please, not themselves, but the opposite sex. If their instinctive
+efforts have been met with cruelty, oppression, neglect, desertion and
+sometimes the most heartless and cowardly betrayal, they can scarcely
+be blamed if they play the same tricks on the unloving, disloyal churls
+for whom they have perhaps sacrificed the best part of their lives.
+For innocent faith and trusting love _are_ the best part of every
+woman’s life; and when these are destroyed by the brutalizing touch of
+some Coward Adam, the woman may well claim compensation for her soul’s
+murder.
+
+Accursëd Eve! Still she loves,--to find herself fooled and cheated;
+still she hopes, even while hope eludes her,--still she waits, for
+what she may never win,--still she prays prayers that may never be
+answered,--still she bears and rears the men of the future, wondering
+perchance whether any of them will ever help to do her justice,--will
+ever place her where she should be, as the acknowledged queenly
+“help-meet” of her stronger, but less enduring partner! Beautiful,
+frail, trusting, loving, Accursëd Eve! She bends beneath the
+curse,--but the clouds are lifting!--there is light in the sky of
+her future dawn! And it may be that a worse malediction than the one
+pronounced in Eden, will fall on those who make her burden of life
+heavier to bear!
+
+
+
+
+“IMAGINARY” LOVE
+
+                   My love
+     Is as the very centre of the earth
+     Drawing all things to it.
+                      --_Troilus and Cressida._
+
+
+There is perhaps no emotion more elevating or more deceptive than that
+sudden uplifting of the heart and yearning of the senses which may be
+called “imaginary” Love. It resembles the stirring of the sap in the
+roots of flowers, thrilling the very ground with hints and promises of
+spring,--it is the unspeakable outcoming of human emotion and sympathy
+too great to be contained within itself,--the tremulous desire,--half
+vague and wholly innocent,--of the human soul for its mate. The lower
+grades of passion have not as yet ruffled the quivering white wings
+of this divinely sweet emotion, and the being who is happy enough to
+experience it in all its intensity, is, for the time, the most enviable
+on earth. Youth or maiden, whichever it be, the world is a fairyland
+for this chosen dreamer. Nothing appears base or mean,--God’s smile
+is reflected in every ray of sunshine, and Nature offers no prospect
+that is not pleasing. It is the season of glamour and grammarye,--a
+look over the distant hills is sufficient to engage the mind of the
+dreaming girl with brilliant fancies of gallant knights riding from
+far-off countries, with their lady’s colours pinned to their breasts
+“to do or die” for the sake of love and glory,--and the young boy, half
+in love with a pretty face he has seen on his way home from school or
+college, begins to think with all the poets, of eyes blue as skies,
+of loves and doves, and hearts and darts, in happy unconsciousness
+that his thoughts are not in the least original. Yet with all its
+ethereal beauty and gossamer-sense of pleasure, this “imaginary”
+love is often the most pathetic experience we have or ever shall
+have in life. It is answerable for numberless griefs,--for bitter
+disillusions,--occasionally, too, for broken hearts. It glitters
+before us, a brilliant chimera, during our very young days,--and on
+our entrance into society it vanishes, leaving us to pursue it through
+many phases of existence, and always in vain. The poet is perhaps
+the happiest of all who join in this persistent chase after the
+impossible,--for he frequently continues to imagine “imaginary” love
+with ecstasy and fervour to the very end of his days. Next in order
+comes the musician, who in the composition of a melancholy nocturne
+or tender ballad, or in the still greater work of a romantic opera,
+imagines “imaginary” love in strains of perfect sound, which waken
+in the hearts of his hearers all the old feverish longings, all the
+dear youthful dreams, all the delicious romances which accompanied the
+lovely white-winged Sentiment in days past and dead for ever. Strange
+to say, it often happens that the musician, while thus appeasing his
+own insatiable thirst for “imaginary” love, is frequently aware that
+he is arousing it in others; and could he probe to the very fibres of
+his thinking soul, he would confess to a certain keen satisfaction in
+the fact of his being able to revivify the old restless yearning of a
+pain which is sweeter to the lonely soul than pleasure.
+
+Now this expression of the “lonely soul” is used advisedly, because,
+in sad truth, every human soul is lonely. Lonely at birth,--still more
+lonely at death. During its progress through life it gathers around
+it what it can in the way of crumbs of love, grains of affection,
+taking them tenderly and with tears of gratefulness. But it is always
+conscious of solitude,--an awful yet Divine solitude over which the
+Infinite broods, watchful yet silent. Why it is brought into conscious
+being, to live within a material frame and there perform certain duties
+and labours, and from thence depart again, it cannot tell. All is a
+mystery,--a strange Necessity, in which it cannot truly recognize
+its part or place. Yet it is,--and one of the strongest proofs of
+its separate identity from the body is this “imaginary” love for
+which it yearns, and which it never obtains. “Imaginary” love is not
+earthly,--neither is it heavenly,--it is something between both, a
+vague and inchoate feeling, which, though incapable of being reduced
+to any sort of reason or logic, is the foundation of perhaps all the
+greatest art, music and poetry in the world. If we had to do merely
+with men as they are, and women as they are, Art would perish utterly
+from the face of the earth. It is because we make for ourselves
+“ideal” men, “ideal” women, and endow these fair creations with the
+sentiment of “imaginary” love, that we still are able to communicate
+with the gods. Not yet have we lowered ourselves to the level of the
+beasts,--nor shall we do so, though things sometimes seem tending that
+way. Realism and Atheism have darkened the world, as they darken it
+now, long before the present time, and as defacements on the grandeur
+of the Universe they have not been permitted to remain. Nor will they
+be permitted now,--the reaction will, and must inevitably set in. The
+repulsive materialism of Zola, and others of his school,--the loose
+theories of the “smart” set, and the moral degradation of those who
+have no greater God than self,--these things are the merest ephemera,
+destined to leave no more mark on human history than the trail of a
+slug on one leaf of an oak. The Ideal must always be triumphant,--the
+soul can only hope to make way by climbing towards it. Thus it is with
+“imaginary” Love,--it must hold fast to its ideal, or be content to
+perish on the plane of sensual passion, which exhausts itself rapidly,
+and once dead, is dead for ever and aye.
+
+With all its folly, sweetness, piteousness and pathos, “imaginary” love
+is the keynote of Art,--its fool-musings take shape in exquisite verse,
+in tales of romance and adventure, in pictures that bring the nations
+together to stand and marvel, in music that makes the strong man weep.
+It is the most supersensual of all delicate sensations,--as fine as a
+hair, as easily destroyed as a gnat’s wing!--a rough touch will wound
+it,--a coarse word will kill it,--the sneer of the Realist shuts it in
+a coffin of lead and sinks it fathoms deep in the waters of despair.
+Strange and cruel as the fact may seem, Marriage appears to put an end
+to it altogether.
+
+
+     Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch’s wife
+     He would have written sonnets to her all his life?
+
+
+inquires Byron. He certainly would not. The “imaginary” love of
+Petrarch was the source of his poetic inspiration; if he had ever
+dragged it down to the level of the commonplace Actual, he would have
+killed his Muse. In a similar way the love of Dante for Beatrice was
+of the “imaginary” quality. Those who read the “Vita Nuova” will
+scarcely fail to see how the great poet hugs his love-fancies and
+feeds himself with delicious extravagances in the way of idealized
+and sublimated soul-passion. He dissects every fine hair of a stray
+emotion, and writes a sonnet on every passing heart-beat. Dante’s wife
+never became so transfigured in her husband’s love. Why? Alas, who can
+say! No reason can be given save that perchance “familiarity breeds
+contempt,” and that the Unattainable seems always more beautiful than
+the Attained. The delight of possession would appear to be as brief as
+the flowering of a rose. Lovers are in haste to wed,--but when the knot
+is once irrevocably tied, in nine cases out of ten they wish it could
+be untied again. They no longer imagine “imaginary” love! The glamour
+is gone. Illusions are all over. The woman is no longer the removed,
+the fair, the chaste, the unreachable,--the man ceases to be the proud,
+the strong hero endowed with the attributes of the gods. “Imaginary”
+love then resolves itself into one of two things,--a firm, every-day,
+close and tender _friendship_, or else a sick disappointment, often
+ending in utter disgust. But the divine emotion of “imaginary” love
+has died,--the Soul is no longer enamoured of its Ideal--and the
+delicate psychic passion which inspires the poet, the painter, the
+musician, turns at once to fresh objects of admiration and pursuit. For
+it is never exhausted,--unlike any purely earthly sense it knows no
+satiety. Deceived in one direction, it dies in another. Dissatisfied
+with worldly things, it extends its longing heavenwards,--there at
+least it shall find what it seeks,--not now, but hereafter! Age does
+not blunt this fine emotion, for, as may often be remarked with some
+beautiful souls in the decline of bodily life, the resigning of earthly
+enjoyments gives them no pain,--and the sweet placidity of expectation,
+rather than the dull apathy of regret, is their chief characteristic.
+“Imaginary” love still beckons them on;--what has not been found Here
+will be found There!
+
+Happy, and always to be envied, are those who treasure this aerial
+sentiment of the spiritual brain! It is the dearest possession of
+every true artist. In every thought, in every creative work or plan,
+“imaginary” love goes before, pointing out wonders unseen by less
+enlightened eyes,--hiding things unsightly, disclosing things lovely,
+and making the world fair to the mind in all seasons, whether of storm
+or calm. Intensifying every enjoyment, adding a double thrill to the
+notes of a sweet song, lending an extra glow to the sunshine, an added
+radiance to the witchery of the moonlight, a more varied and exquisite
+colouring to the trees and flowers, a charm to every book, a delight
+to every new scene, “imaginary” love, a very sprite of enchantment,
+helps us to believe persistently in good, when those who love not at
+all, neither in reality nor in idealization, are drowning in the black
+waters of suicidal despair.
+
+So it is well for us--those who can--to imagine “imaginary” love! We
+shall never grasp the Dream in this world--nevertheless let us fly
+after it as though it were a Reality! Its path is one of sweetness more
+than pain,--its ways are devious, yet even in sadness still entrancing.
+Better than rank, better than wealth is this talisman, which with a
+touch brings us into close communication with the Higher worlds. Let
+us “imagine” our friends are true; let us “imagine” we are loved for
+our own sakes alone,--let us “imagine,” as we welcome our acquaintances
+into our homes, that their smiles and greetings are sincere--let us
+imagine “imaginary” love as the poets do,--a passion tender, strong
+and changeless--and pursue it always, even if the objects, which for a
+moment its passing wings have brushed, crumble into dust beneath that
+touch of fire! So shall our lives retain the charm of constant Youth
+and Hope,--so shall the world seem always beautiful to us,--so shall
+the Unimaginable glory of the future Real-in-Love shine nearer every
+day in our faithful, fond pursuit of its flying Shadow!
+
+
+
+
+THE ADVANCE OF WOMAN
+
+     Follow Light and do the Right--for man can half control his doom--
+     Till you find the deathless Angel seated in the vacant tomb!
+                       --TENNYSON, _Locksley Hall, Sixty Years After_.
+
+
+Sixty years ago! To us of the present day it seems a very long time--a
+kind of “dark ages” period wherein we peer backward dubiously,
+wondering what everybody was like then. History, taking us by the hand,
+shows us, as in a magic glass, the Coronation of Victoria, one of the
+best Queens that the world has ever known, and tells us of the great
+men and masterly intellects of that past time, whose immortal works we
+still have with us, but whose mere mortal place knows them no more.
+Much may be seen in the backward glimpse that some of us may possibly
+regret and wish that we possessed again. Men of power and dominance,
+for example--great writers, great thinkers, great reformers--surely we
+lack these! Surely we need them sorely! But it seems to be a rule of
+Nature that if we gain in one direction we must lose in another, and
+whatever we have lost in that far-gone period, we have certainly gained
+much in the forward direction. One of the most remarkable changes,
+perhaps, that has taken place in the passing of the years is the
+different position assigned to Woman from that which she occupied when
+Dickens and Thackeray wrote their wonderful novels, and when Charlotte
+Brontë astonished the world by her woman’s genius, to be followed by
+the still more powerful and Scott-like display of brainpower in Mary
+Ann Evans (“George Eliot”). At that time men were still chivalrous.
+Woman was so rarely brilliant--or, shall we put it, she so rarely had
+the chance of asserting the brilliant qualities that are her natural
+endowment--that man was content to acknowledge any unusual talent
+on her part as an abnormal quality, infrequent enough to be safely
+admired. In this spirit, more or less, Sir Walter Scott paid tribute
+to Jane Austen, and Thackeray to Charlotte Brontë; but as time has
+progressed, and women have arisen one after another in the various
+departments of Art and Literature, men have begun to fall back and look
+askance, and somewhat threateningly, on the fair trespassers in their
+hitherto guarded domains. And the falling back and the looking askance
+continue in exact proportion to the swift and steady onward march of
+the white-robed Amazons into the Battle of Life. Braced with the golden
+shield of Courage, helmeted with Patience, and armed with the sword of
+Faith, the women-warriors are taking the field, and are to be seen now
+in massed ranks, daily marshalling themselves in more compact order,
+firm-footed and fearless, prepared to fight for intellectual freedom,
+and die rather than yield. They, too, will earn the right to live;
+they, too, will be something greater than the mere vessels of man’s
+desire--whether maids, wives, or mothers, they will prove themselves
+worthy to be all these three, and more than these, to the very utmost
+extent of their moral and intellectual being!
+
+Perhaps there is nothing more entertaining to the wit of a cultured and
+intelligent woman than the recurrent piping wail of man’s assertion
+that “woman has no creative power.” Her place, says the didactic
+male, is the kitchen, the nursery, and beside the cradle. _Certes_,
+she can manage these three departments infinitely better than he can,
+especially the cradle part of it, wherein his fractious disposition
+is generally well displayed the moment he starts in life. But, as a
+matter of fact, there is hardly any vocation in which she cannot,
+if she puts her mind to it, distinguish herself just as easily and
+successfully as he can if he will only kindly stand out of her way.
+He makes himself ludicrous by persistently “crying her down” when all
+the world _en masse_ beholds her taking the highest University honours
+over his head, and beating him intellectually on his own ground. In
+physical force he certainly outstrips her. Item,--he can kick her as
+heartily and skilfully as he can kick a football, _vide_ the daily
+police reports. Item,--he can eat and drink much more than she can,
+because he devotes a great deal more time and attention to the study
+of gastronomy. Item,--he can smoke more. Item,--he can indulge freely
+in unbridled licentiousness, and amply prove his original savage right
+to be considered a polygamous animal, without being banned from “good
+society,” or anything being said against his moral character. This
+a woman cannot do. If she has many lovers, her conduct is severely
+criticized. But if she has none, she is still more bitterly condemned,
+especially if she happens to be in the least good-looking. And why?
+Simply because her indifference “reflects” on the male sex generally.
+The ugliest of masculine creatures experiences a vague sense of offence
+when he meets a charming woman who neither seeks his advice nor his
+company. And here we have the gist of the whole matter: man is a vain
+animal and wants to be admired. Like the peacock, he struts forward
+and spreads out his glittering tail. The central feature of the
+landscape, as he considers himself, he waits for the pea-hen to worship
+him. If, instead of the humble pea-hen, he finds another sort of bird
+entirely--with not only a tail as brilliant as his own, but wings which
+will carry it over his head, he is mightily incensed, and his shrill
+cry of rage echoes through that particular part of the universe where
+he is no longer “monarch of all he surveys.” His “other world” must be
+pea-hens or none!
+
+And yet Man’s delightful and utter want of the commonest logic is never
+more flagrantly exhibited than in this vital matter of his estimate
+of Woman, taking it all round in a broad sense. Daily, hourly, in the
+household and in the market-place, he may be heard cheapening her
+abilities, sneering at such triumphs as she attains, cracking stale
+jests at her “love of gossip,” “love of dress” (for he is seldom
+original even in a joke), and her “incessant tongue,” blissfully
+ignoring the fact that his own is wagging all the time; and yet no
+one can twist him so limply and helplessly round the littlest of her
+little fingers as she can. Moreover, throughout all the ages, so far as
+the keenest explorer or historical student can discover, his highest
+ideals of life have been depicted in the Feminine form. Fortune, Fame,
+Justice, the Arts and Sciences, are all represented by female figures
+lovingly designed by male hands. Evidently conscious in himself that
+a woman’s purity, honesty, fidelity, and courage are nobler types of
+these virtues than his own, Man apparently is never weary of idealizing
+them as Woman womanly. Thoroughly aware of the supreme sovereignty
+Woman can exercise whenever he gives her the chance, he, while
+endeavouring to bind and hold her intellectual forces by his various
+edicts and customs, takes ever an incongruous satisfaction in doing
+her full justice by the magnitude of his feminine ideals. The divine
+spirit of Nature itself, called “Egeria,” is always depicted by man as
+a woman. Faith, Hope and Charity, are represented as female spirits,
+as are the Three Graces. The Muses are women; so are the Fates. Hence,
+as all the virtues, morals, arts, and sciences are shown by the
+highest masculine skill as wearing woman’s form and possessing woman’s
+attributes, it is easy to see that man has always been perfectly aware
+in his inward intelligence of Woman’s true worth and right place in
+creation, though, by such laws as he has made for his own better
+convenience, he has put up whatever barriers he can in the way of the
+too swift advancement of so superior and victorious a creature. Now
+that she is beginning to take an important share in the world’s work
+and progress, he is becoming vaguely alarmed. In each art, in each
+profession he sees her gaining step by step to higher intellectual
+dominance. He watches her move from plane to plane of study, learning,
+as she goes, that the mere animalism of unthinking subservience to his
+passions is not her only heritage. And straightway the long-spoilt
+child begins to whimper. “A woman has no creative power!” he cries. “No
+imagination!--no originality!--no force of character! What she does in
+the Arts is so very little----!”
+
+Stop, oh Man! You have had a very long, long innings, remember! From
+the time of Abraham, and ages before that worthy patriarch ever turned
+Hagar out into the wilderness, you have been setting Woman alongside
+your cattle, and curling your whip with a magnificent carelessness
+round both at your pleasure, yea! even offering both with indifferent
+readiness for sale and barter. You have enjoyed centuries of liberty;
+it is now woman’s turn to taste the sweets of freedom. She does very
+little in the Arts, you say? I grant you that in the first of them,
+Poetry, she does little indeed. I do not think we shall ever have a
+female Shakespeare, for instance. But, at the same time, I equally do
+not think we shall ever again have a male one! Yet it is to be admitted
+that none of the leading women poets can compare for an instant with
+the leading men in that most divine and primæval of Arts. But I should
+not like to assert that the great woman-Dante or woman-Shelley may not
+yet arise, for it is to be borne in mind that woman’s education and
+woman’s chances have only just begun. In Music, again, she is deemed
+deficient. Yet we are confronted at the present day by the fact that
+many of the most successful and charming of song writers are women.
+And the following appears in the Dresden _Neueste Nachricten_ (October
+18, 1902):--
+
+“Up to the present date we have always entertained the opinion that
+the composition of music was a gift denied to the female sex, elegant
+trifles (as exceptions) only confirming our doubts. And now an English
+lady appears on the scene, amazing the musical world of Dresden. She
+was as a young girl already a distinguished artist, a virtuoso on
+the piano, and played--as ‘Miss Bright,’--under the direction of Dr.
+Wullner, a piano concerto of her own composition, with extraordinary
+success. Then marriage separated her from her art for several years.
+Now (after the death of her husband), the young widow, Mrs. Knatchbull,
+has composed an opera--text, music, and instrumentation all being her
+own work--and has brought it with her to Dresden. The music is so
+captivating, and above all, holds one so strongly that one exclaims
+in astonishment, ‘Can this be the work of a woman?’ It is more than
+probable that the opera will be produced at the Dresden Opera House.”
+
+Here followeth an instructive story:--A recent opera performed with
+considerable success at Monte Carlo and other Continental resorts
+is the work of a woman, stolen by a man. The facts are well known,
+as are the names of the hero and heroine of the sordid tragedy. A
+little love-making on the part of the male composer, who could show
+nothing of ability save the composition of a few amorous drawing-room
+songs--a confiding trust on the part of the woman-genius, whose brain
+was full of God-given melody--these were the motives of the drama.
+She played the score of her opera through to him--he listened with
+admiration--with words of tender flattery, precious to her who was
+weak enough to care for such a rascal; and then he took it away to be
+“transcribed,” as he said, and set out for the orchestra. He loved
+her, so the poor credulous soul thought!--and she trusted him--such
+an old story! He copied her opera in his own manuscript--stole it, in
+short, and left for the Continent, where he had it produced as his own
+composition. Had she complained, the law would have gone against her.
+She had no proof save that of her love. Before a grinning, jesting
+court of law she would have had to publish the secret of her heart.
+People would have shaken their heads and said, “Poor thing! A case
+of self-delusion and hysteria!” He himself would have shaken his
+dirty pate and said, “Poor soul! Mad--quite mad! Many women have had
+their heads turned likewise for love of me!” So it chances that only
+those “in the know” are aware of the story, and the man-Fraud is left
+unmolested; but it is a curious and suggestive fact that he produces no
+more operas.
+
+There is one thing that women generally, in the struggle for
+intellectual free life, should always remember--one that they are
+too often apt to forget--namely, that the Laws, as they at present
+exist, are made _by_ men, _for_ men. There are no really stringent
+laws for the protection of women’s interests except the Married
+Woman’s Property Act, which is a great and needful boon. But take the
+following instances of the eccentricities of English law, both of
+which have come under my own knowledge as having occurred to personal
+friends. A certain foreign nobleman residing in England made a will
+leaving all his fortune to his mistress. His legitimate children were
+advised to dispute the will, as under the law of his native country
+he could not dispossess his lawful heirs of their inheritance. He had
+not naturalized himself at any time as a British subject, and the
+plain proof of this was, that but a year before his death, he had
+applied to the Government of his own country for permission to wear
+a certain decoration, which permission was accorded him. The nature
+of his application proved that he still considered himself a subject
+of his own native land. The case came before an English judge, who
+had apparently eaten some very indigestible matter for his luncheon.
+With an apoplectic countenance and an injured demeanour, the learned
+gentleman declined to go into any of the details of the case, and
+administered “justice” by deciding the whole thing on “a question of
+domicile”--namely, that as the man had lived in England twenty-five
+years, he was, naturalized or unnaturalized, a British subject and
+could make his will as he liked. The fortune was, therefore, handed
+over to his mistress, and the legal wife and legitimately-born children
+were left out in the cold! Another case is that of a lady, well-born
+and well-educated, who married a man with a fortune of some twenty
+thousand a year. After the expiration of about fifteen years, when she
+had borne her husband three children, he suddenly took a fantastic
+dislike to her, and an equally fantastic liking for a chorus girl.
+He promptly sought a divorce. As there was no ground for divorce,
+he failed to obtain it. He, therefore, adopted a course of action
+emanating entirely from his own brilliant brain. Starting for a cruise
+on board his yacht, in company with the bewildering chorus girl,
+he left orders with his solicitor to have the whole of his house
+dismantled of its furniture and “cleared.” This was promptly done, the
+wife and children being left without so much as a bed to lie upon, or a
+chair to sit upon. The unfortunate lady told her story to a court, and
+applied for “maintenance.” This, of course, the recalcitrant husband
+was forced to pay, but the sum was cut down to the smallest possible
+amount, under the supervision of the blandly approving court, with the
+result that this man’s wife, accustomed from her girlhood to every home
+comfort and care, now lives with her children in a condition of genteel
+penury more degrading than absolute poverty. _There is no remedy for
+these things._ One welcomes heartily the idea of women lawyers, in
+the hope that when their keen, quick brains learn to grasp the huge,
+unwieldy, and complex machinery of the muddle called Legal Justice,
+they may, perhaps, be able to effect some reforms on behalf of their
+own sex. As matters at present stand, the unbridled and extravagant
+licentiousness of men, and the consequent degradation of women, are
+_protected_ by law. Even a fraudulent financial concern is so guarded
+by “legal” advice that it would take the lifetime’s earning of an
+honest man to bring about any exposure. We want women-lawyers--Portias,
+with quick brains, to see the way out of a difficulty into which men
+plunge only to flounder more hopelessly. “Can the blind lead the blind?
+Shall they not both fall into the ditch?”
+
+In Medicine, women have made more than a decided mark of triumph. It
+is almost impossible to over-estimate the priceless value of the work
+done by women doctors and women surgeons in the harems of India and
+Turkey, where the selfishness and jealousy of the Eastern sybarite
+would give his women over to cruel agonies of disease and death, rather
+than suffer them to be so much as looked upon by another of his own
+sex. Yet, though perfectly conscious that Woman’s work in this branch
+of science is day by day becoming more and more precious to suffering
+humanity, we have quite recently been confronted by the spectacle of
+a number of men deciding to resign their appointments at a certain
+hospital, rather than suffer a woman to be nominated house-surgeon.
+Her skill and efficiency were as great as theirs, and she had all the
+qualifications necessary for the post; but no! sooner than honour a
+woman’s ability, they preferred to resign. Comment on this incident
+is needless, but it is one of the straws that show which way the wind
+blows.
+
+Much excellent work is done, and remains yet to be done by women, as
+inspectors of schools. They alone are really fitted for the task of
+ascertaining the conditions under which children are made to study,
+and they are not likely, while examining infant classes, to make such
+ponderous statements as that passed by a certain male inspector, who,
+according to an amusing story told me by Sir John Gorst, found the
+babies (not above five years old) “deplorably deficient in mental
+arithmetic!” It takes a man to deplore “lack of mental arithmetic” in
+a baby. A woman would never be capable of such weighty stupidity.
+Perhaps it will be just as well to glance casually at the state of
+things in this country respecting the education of mere infants, as
+arranged by certain laws drawn up by men, laws in which women, who are
+the mothers of the race, are not allowed to have a voice.
+
+1. The law _allows_ them to enter at three years old, and _compels_
+them to enter at five years old.
+
+2. Men inspectors constantly examine children of four years old
+in arithmetic, and the “mental arithmetic of the baby class,” is
+constantly mentioned in reports.
+
+3. Needlework is taught before five years old; two to three hours form
+the staple instruction. Needlework injures the eyesight at such a
+tender age, and two or three hours are a cruelty and a waste of time
+for tiny children.
+
+4. Desks, blackboards, slates and books are everywhere in excess of
+“Kindergarten” occupations, and the “development of the spontaneous
+activity in the child” is twisted into the development of uniformity.
+To differ from the usual is to be naughty; every one must do the same
+thing at the same time. Every one must build a like house, a like
+table, a like chair; each brick must be on the table at the same minute.
+
+5. Despite male inspectors, the babies sleep. They fall off their
+seats and bump their foreheads against the desks, and their spines are
+twisted and crooked as they lie on their arms, heads forward, upon the
+hard supports. Curvature must be produced in many cases, solely from
+these causes.
+
+6. To maintain order, corporal punishment is habitual, and “fear”
+the chief motive for right-doing. To quote from a letter of Sir John
+Gorst’s:--
+
+“The reform of this system is not a matter of sentiment. These babies
+are the future scholars of our improved schools that the Education Act
+is intended to produce, and the future citizens by whom our Imperial
+position is to be maintained. If we prematurely addle their intellects
+by schooling--for which their tender years are unfit; if we cripple
+their bodies by cooping them up in deforming desks; if we destroy their
+sight by premature needlework, and confuse their senses by over-study
+of subjects which they are too young to understand, we shall neither
+have fit scholars for our future schools, nor fit citizens to uphold
+the Empire.”
+
+Starting on these premises it will surely be acknowledged that women
+have an indisputable right to be inspectors of schools. They have the
+natural instinct to know what is best for the health and well-being
+of children, and they are also capable of correctly judging by that
+maternal sympathy which is their inherited gift, how a child’s mental
+abilities should best be encouraged and trained.
+
+I have often been asked if I would like to see women in Parliament.
+I may say frankly, and at once, that I should detest it. I should
+not like to see the sex, pre-eminent for grace and beauty, degraded
+by having to witness or to take part in such “scenes” of heated and
+undignified disputation as have frequently lowered the prestige of
+the House of Commons. On the same lines I may say that I do not care
+to see women playing “hockey” or indulging in any purely “tom-boy”
+sports and pastimes. They lose “caste” and individuality. One of the
+many brilliant and original remarks of mankind concerning the female
+sex is that women should be cooks and housekeepers. So they should. No
+woman is a good housekeeper unless she understands cooking, nor can she
+be a good cook unless she be a good housekeeper. The two things are
+inseparable, and combine to make comfort with economy. A woman should
+know how to cook and keep house for _herself_, not only for man. Man
+says to her: “Be a cook,”--because of all things in the world he loves
+a good dinner; loves it better than his wife, inasmuch as he will often
+“bully” the wife if the dinner fails. But a woman must also eat, and
+she should learn to cook _for her own comfort_, quite apart from his.
+In the same way she should study housekeeping. If she lives a single
+life, she will find such knowledge eminently useful. But to devote all
+her energy and attention to cooking and housekeeping, as most men would
+have her do, would be a waste of power and intelligence. As well ask a
+great military hero to devote his entire time to the canteen.
+
+In breaking her rusty fetters, and stepping out into the glorious
+liberty of the free, Woman has one great thing to remember and to
+strive for,--a thing that she is at present, in her newly emancipated
+condition, somewhat prone to forget. In claiming and securing
+intellectual equality with Man, she should ever bear in mind that such
+a position is only to be held by always maintaining and preserving as
+great an Unlikeness to him as possible in her life and surroundings.
+Let her imitate him in nothing but independence and individuality. Let
+her eschew his fashions in dress, his talk and his manners. A woman who
+wears “mannish” clothes, smokes cigars, rattles out slang, gambles at
+cards, and drinks brandy and soda on the slightest provocation, is lost
+altogether, both as woman and man, and becomes sexless. But the woman
+whose dress is always becoming and graceful, whose voice is equable and
+tender, who enhances whatever beauty she possesses by exquisite manner,
+unblemished reputation, and intellectual capacity combined, raises
+herself not only to an equality with man, but goes so far above him
+that she straightway becomes the Goddess and he the Worshipper. This is
+as it should be. Men adore what they cannot imitate. Therefore when men
+are drunken, let women be sober; when men are licentious, let women be
+chaste; when men are turf-hunters and card-players, let women absent
+themselves from both the race-course and the gambling-table; and while
+placing a gentle yet firm ban on laxity in morals and disregard of the
+binding sanctity of family life, let them silently work on and make
+progress in every art, every profession, every useful handicraft, that
+they may not be dependent for home or livelihood on man’s merely casual
+fancy or idle whim. The mistake of Woman’s progress up to the present,
+has been her slavish imitation of Man’s often unadmirable tastes, and
+a pathetic “going down” under his lofty disdain. Once grasp the fact
+that his disdain is not “lofty” but merely comic, and that his case
+is only that of the Distressful Peacock, hurt by indifference to his
+tail, things will right themselves. Nature has already endowed Woman
+with the contrasting elements of beauty, delicacy, and soft charm, as
+opposed to man’s frequent ugliness and roughness; let Woman herself
+continue to emphasize the difference by bringing out her original and
+individual qualities in all she does or attempts to do. Of course
+for a long time yet, Man will declare “feminine individuality” to be
+non-existent; but as we know the quality is as plain and patent as
+“masculine individuality,” we have only to insist upon it and assert
+it, and in due course it will be fully admitted and acknowledged.
+Meantime, while pressing on towards the desired goal, Woman must learn
+the chief lesson of successful progress, which is, not to copy Man, but
+to carefully preserve her beautiful Unlikeness to him in every possible
+way, so that, while asserting and gaining intellectual equality with
+him, she shall gradually arrive at such ascendancy as to prove herself
+ever the finer and the nobler Creature.
+
+
+
+
+THE PALM OF BEAUTY
+
+
+It would seem, according to the society press, that beauty is a
+very common article. Indeed, if we are to accept the innocent
+ebullitions of the callow youths who drink beer and play skittles
+in the Social-Paragraph line of journalism, and who in their soft
+guilelessness are taken in and “used” by certain ladies of a type
+resembling Miss Skeggs and Lady Blarney in the _Vicar of Wakefield_,
+we are bound to believe that beautiful women are as common as
+blackberries, only more so. In the columns devoted by newspaper editors
+to the meanderings of those intelligent persons, male and female,
+who sign themselves as Onlookers, Observers, Butterflies, Little
+Tomtits, and what may be called “I Spys!” generally, one hardly ever
+sees the name of a lady without the epithet “beautiful” tacked on to
+it, especially if the lady happens to have money. This is curious,
+but true. And supposing the so-called Beautiful One has not only
+money, commonly speaking, but heaps of money, mines of money, she is
+always stated to be “young” as well. The heavier the bullion, the
+more assured the youthfulness. If unkind Time shows her to be the
+mother of a family where the eldest sprout is some twenty odd years
+of age, the complaisant “I Spy” is equal to the occasion and writes
+of her thus--“The beautiful Mrs. Juno-Athene brought her eldest
+girl, looking more like her sister than her mother.” Whereat Mrs.
+Juno-Athene is satisfied,--everybody smiles, and all things are cosy
+and comfortable. If any one should dare to say, especially in print,
+that Mrs. Juno-Athene is not “beautiful” at all, nor “youthful” in
+either looks or bearing, there would be ructions. Somebody would get
+into trouble. The “I Spy” might even be dismissed from his or her post
+of social paragraphist to the Daily Error. Heaven forbid that such a
+catastrophe should happen through the indiscretion of a mere miserable
+truth-monger! Let Mrs. Juno-Athene be beautifully and eternally young,
+by all means, so long as she can afford to pay for it. The humbug of it
+is at any rate kindly and chivalrous, and does nobody any harm, while
+it puts money in the purse of the hardworking penster, who is compelled
+to deal delicately with these little social matters sometimes, or else
+ruminate on a dinner instead of eating it.
+
+Nevertheless, despite the “I Spys,” and the perennial charms of Mrs.
+Juno-Athene, beauty is as rare and choice a thing as ever it was in the
+days of old when men went mad for it, and Greeks and Trojans fought for
+Helen, who, so some historians say, was past forty when her bewitching
+fairness set the soul of Troy on fire. A really beautiful woman is
+scarcely ever seen, not even in Great Britain, where average good looks
+are pleasantly paramount. Prettiness,--the prettiness which is made
+up of a good skin, bright eyes, soft and abundant hair, and a supple
+figure,--is quite ordinary. It can be seen every day among barmaids,
+shop girls, and milliners’ _mannequins_. But Beauty--the divine and
+subtle charm which enraptures all beholders,--the perfect form, united
+to the perfect face in which pure and noble thought is expressed in
+every feature, in every glance of eye, in every smile that makes a
+sweet mouth sweeter,--this is what we may search for through all the
+Isles of Britain, ay, and through Europe and America and the whole
+world besides, and seldom or never find it.
+
+Nine-tenths of the women who are styled “beautiful” by the society
+paragraphist, possess merely the average good looks;--the rest are
+generally more particularly distinguished by some single and special
+trait which may perchance be natural, and may equally be artificial,
+such as uncommon-coloured hair (which may be dyed), a brilliant
+complexion (which may be put on), or a marvellously “svelte” figure
+(which may be the happy result of carefully designed corsets, well
+pulled in). Most of the eulogized “beauties” of the Upper Ten to-day,
+have, or are able to get, sufficient money or credit supplied to
+them for dressing well,--and not only well, but elaborately and
+extravagantly, and dress is often the “beauty” instead of the woman.
+To judge whether the woman herself is really beautiful without the
+modiste’s assistance, it would be necessary to see her deprived of
+all her fashionable clothes. Her bought hair should be taken off
+and only the natural remainder left. She should be content to stand
+_sans_ paint, _sans_ powder, _sans_ back coil, _sans_ corsets, in a
+plain white gown, falling from her neck and shoulders to her feet, and
+thus cheaply, yet decently clad, submit herself to the gaze of her
+male flatterers in full daylight. How many of the “beautiful” Mrs.
+Juno-Athenes or the “lovely” Lady Spendthrifts could stand such a test
+unflinchingly? Yet the simplest draperies clothe the Greek marbles when
+they are clothed at all, and jewels and fripperies on the goddess Diana
+would make her grace seem vulgar and her perfection common. Beauty,
+real beauty, needs no “creator of costume” to define it, but is, as the
+poets say, when unadorned, adorned the most.
+
+Now it is absolutely impossible to meet with any “unadorned” sort
+of beauty in those circles of rank and fashion where the society
+paragraphist basks at his or her pleasure. On the contrary, there is
+so much over-adornment in vogue that it is sometimes difficult to
+find the actual true colour and personality of certain ladies whose
+charms are daily eulogized by an obliging press. Layers of pearl enamel
+picked out with rouge, entirely conceal their human identity. It is
+doubtful whether there was ever more face-painting and “faking up” of
+beauty than there is now,--never did beauty specialists and beauty
+doctors drive such a roaring trade. The profits of beauty-faking are
+enormous. Some idea of it may be gained by the fact that there is a
+certain shrewd and highly intelligent “doctor” in Paris, who, seeing
+which way the wind of fashion blows, brews a harmless little mixture of
+rose-water, eau-de-cologne, tincture of benzoin and cochineal, which
+materials are quite the reverse of costly, and calling it by a pretty
+_sobriquet_, sells the same at twenty-five shillings a bottle! He is
+making a fortune out of women’s stupidity, is this good “doctor,” and
+who shall blame him? Fools exist merely that the wise may use them.
+One has only to read the ladies’ papers, especially the advertisements
+therein, to grasp a faint notion of what is being done to spur on the
+“beauty” craze. Yet beauty remains as rare and remote as ever, and
+often when we see some of the ladies whose “exquisite loveliness”
+has been praised for years in nearly every newspaper on this, or the
+other side of the Atlantic, we fall back dismayed, with a sense of the
+deepest disappointment and aggravation, and wonder what we have done to
+be so deceived?
+
+Taken in the majority, the women of Great Britain are supposed to
+hold the palm of beauty against all other women of the nations of
+the world, and if the word “beauty” be changed to prettiness, the
+supposition is no doubt correct. It is somewhat unfortunate, however,
+that either through the advice of their dressmakers or their own
+erroneous conceptions of Form, they should appear to resent the soft
+outlines and gracious curves of nature, for either by the over-excess
+of their outdoor sports, or the undue compression of corsets, they are
+gradually doing away with their originally intended shapes and becoming
+as flat-chested as jockeys under training. No flat-chested woman is
+pretty. No woman with large hands, large feet, and the coarse muscular
+throat and jaw developed by constant bicycle-riding, can be called
+fascinating. The bony and resolute lady whose lines of figure run
+straight down without a curve anywhere from head to heel, may possibly
+be a good athlete, but her looks are by no means to her advantage.
+Men’s hearts are not enthralled or captured by a Something appearing
+to be neither man nor woman. And there are a great many of these
+Somethings about just now. I am ignorant as to whether American women
+go in for mannish sports as frequently and ardently as their British
+sisters, but I notice that they have daintier hands and feet, and less
+pronounced “muscle.”
+
+At the same time American women on an average, are not so pretty
+as British women on the same average. The American complexion is
+unfortunate. Often radiant and delicate in earliest youth, it fades
+with maturity like a brilliant flower scorched by too hot a sun,
+and once departed returns no more. The clear complexion of British
+women is their best feature. The natural rose and white skin of an
+English, Irish or Scottish girl,--especially a girl born and bred in
+the country, is wonderfully fresh and lovely and lasting, and often
+accompanies her right through her life to old age. That is, of course,
+if she leaves it alone, and is satisfied merely to keep it clean,
+without any “adornment” from the beauty doctor. And, though steadily
+withholding the divine word “beauty” from the greater portion of the
+“beauties” at the Court of King Edward VII. it is unquestionably the
+fact that the prettiest women in the world are the British. Americans
+are likely to contest this. They will, as indeed in true chivalry they
+must, declare that their own “beauties” are best. But one can only
+speak from personal experience, and I am bound to say that I have never
+seen a pretty American woman pretty enough to beat a pretty British
+woman. This, with every possible admission made for the hard-working
+society paragraphist, compelled to write of numerous “beautiful”
+Ladies So-and-So, and “charming” Mrs. Cashboxes, who, when one comes to
+look at them are neither “beautiful” nor “charming” at all.
+
+But British feminine prettiness would be infinitely more captivating
+than it is, if it were associated with a little extra additional
+touch of vivacity and intelligence. When it is put in the shade, (as
+frequently happens,) by the sparkling allurements of the Viennese
+coquette, the graceful _savoir faire_ of the French _mondaine_, or
+the enticing charm of lustrous-eyed sirens from southern Italy, it
+is merely because of its lack of wit. It is a good thing to have a
+pretty face; but if the face be only like a wax mask, moveless and
+expressionless, it soon ceases to attract. The loveliest picture
+would bore us if we had to stare at it dumbly all day. And there is
+undeniably a stiffness, a formality, and often a most repellent and
+unsympathetic coldness about the British fair sex, which re-acts upon
+the men and women of other more warm-hearted and impulsive nations,
+in a manner highly disadvantageous to the ladies of our Fortunate
+Isles. For it is not _real_ stiffness, or _real_ formality after
+all,--nor is it the snowy chill of a touch-me-not chastity, by any
+means,--it is merely a most painful, and in many cases, most absurd
+self-consciousness. British women are always more or less wondering
+what their sister women are thinking about them. They can manage their
+men all right; but they put on curious and unbecoming airs directly
+other feminine influences than their own come into play. They invite
+the comment of the opposite sex, but they dread the criticism of their
+own. The awkward girl who sits on the edge of a chair with her feet
+scraping the carpet and her hands twiddling uneasily in her lap, is
+awkward simply because she has, by some means or other, been made
+self-conscious,--and because, in the excess of this self-consciousness
+she stupidly imagines every one in the room must be staring at her.
+The average London woman, dressed like a fashion-plate, who rustles
+in at afternoon tea, with her card-case well in evidence, and her
+face carefully set in proper “visiting lines,” offers herself up in
+this way as a subject for the satirist, out of the same disfiguring
+self-consciousness, which robs her entirely of the indifferent ease
+and careless grace which should,--to quote the greatest of American
+philosophers, Emerson,--cause her to “repel interference by a decided
+and proud choice of influences,” and to “inspire every beholder with
+something of her own nobleness.” She is probably not _naturally_
+formal,--she is no doubt exceedingly constrained and uncomfortable
+in her fashionable attire,--and one may take it for granted that
+she would rather be herself than try to be a Something which is a
+Nothing. But Custom and Convention are her bogie men, always guarding
+her on either side, and investing her too often with such deplorable
+self-consciousness that her eye becomes furtive, her mouth hard and
+secretive, her conversation inane, and her whole personality an
+uncomfortable exhalation of stupidity and dullness.
+
+Nevertheless, setting Custom and Convention apart for the nonce, and
+bidding them descend into the shadows of hypocrisy which are their
+native atmosphere, the British woman remains the prettiest in the
+world. What a galaxy of feminine charms can be gathered under the word
+“British”! England, Ireland, Wales and Scotland offer all together such
+countless examples of woman’s loveliness, that it would be difficult,
+if not impossible, to give the prize for good looks to one portion of
+Britain more than to the other. America, so far as her samples have
+been, and are, seen in Europe, cannot outrival the “Old Country” in the
+prettiness of its women. But it is prettiness only; not Beauty. Beauty
+remains intrinsically where it was first born and first admitted into
+the annals of Art and Literature. Its home is still in “the Isles of
+Greece, where burning Sappho loved and sung.”
+
+Nothing that was ever created in the way of female loveliness can
+surpass the beauty of a beautiful Greek woman. True, she is as rare as
+a butterfly in a snow storm. True, the women of Athens and of Greece
+generally, taken in the rough majority, are not on an average, even
+pretty. Nevertheless the palm of beauty remains with them--because
+there are always two,--or may be three of them, who dawn year by year
+upon the world in all the old perfection of the classic models, and
+who may truly be taken for newly-descended goddesses, so faultlessly
+formed, so exquisitely featured are they. They are not famed by the
+paragraphist, and they probably will never get the chance of moving in
+the circles of the British “Upper Ten” or the American “Four Hundred.”
+But they are the daughters of Aphrodite still, and hold fast their
+heavenly mother’s attributes. It is easy to find a hundred or more
+pretty British and American women for one beautiful Greek--but when
+found, the beautiful Greek eclipses them all. She is still the wonder
+of the world,--the crown of womanly beauty at its best. She shows the
+heritage of her race in her regal step and freedom of movement,--in
+the lovely curves of her figure, in the classic perfection of her face
+with its broad brows, lustrous eyes, arched sweet lips and delicate
+contour of chin and throat, and perhaps more than all in the queenly
+indifference she bears towards her own loveliness. So,
+
+
+     Fill high the bowl with Samian wine,
+       On Suli’s bank and Parga’s shore,
+     Exists the remnant of a line
+       Such as the Doric mothers bore;
+     And there perhaps some seed is sown
+     The Heracleidan blood might own!
+
+
+And there still, may be found the perfection of womanhood--the one rare
+Greek lily, which blossoming at few and far intervals shows in its
+exquisite form and colouring what Woman should be at her fairest. To
+her, therefore, must be given the Palm of Beauty. But after the lily,
+then the rose!--or rather the roses, multitudinous, varied, and always
+sweet--of the Fortunate Isles of Britain.
+
+
+
+
+THE MADNESS OF CLOTHES
+
+
+To dress well is a social duty. Every educated self-respecting woman
+is bound to clothe her person as neatly, as tastefully and becomingly
+as she can. But just as a virtue when carried to excess develops into
+a vice, so the art of dressing well, when allowed to overstep its
+legitimate uses and expenditure, easily runs into folly and madness.
+The reckless extravagance of women’s dress at the present day is little
+short of criminal insanity. A feverish desire to outvie one another in
+the manner and make of their garments appears to possess every feminine
+creature whose lot in life places her outside positive penury. The
+inordinately wealthy, the normally rich, the well-to-do middle class
+and the shabby genteel are all equally infected by the same hysterical
+frenzy. And it is a frenzy which is humoured and encouraged on all
+sides by those who should have the sense, the intelligence and the
+foresight to realize the danger of such a tendency, and the misery to
+which in many cases it is surely bound to lead.
+
+Latterly there have been certain growlings and mutterings of discontent
+from husbands who have had to pay certain unexpectedly long bills for
+their wives’ “creations in costume”--but, as a matter of fact, it is
+really the men who are chiefly to blame for the wicked waste of money
+they afterwards resent and deplore. They are the principal instigators
+of the mischief,--the aiders and abettors of the destruction of their
+own credit and good name. For they openly show their admiration for
+women’s clothes more than for the women clothed,--that is to say,
+they are more easily captured by art than by nature. No group of male
+flatterers is ever seen round a woman whose dress is un-stylish or
+otherwise “out-of-date.” She may have the sweetest face in the world,
+the purest nature and the truest heart, but the “dressed” woman, the
+dyed, the artistically “faked” woman will nearly always score a triumph
+over her so far as masculine appreciation and attention are concerned.
+
+The “faked” woman has everything on her side. The Drama supports her.
+The Press encourages her. Whole columns in seemingly sane journals are
+devoted to the description of her attire. Very little space is given to
+the actual criticism of a new play _as_ a play, but any amount of room
+is awarded to glorified “gushers” concerning the actresses’ gowns. Of
+course it has to be borne in mind that the “writing up” of actresses’
+gowns serves a double purpose. First, the “creators” of the gowns are
+advertised, and may in their turn advertise,--which in these days of
+multitudinous rival newspapers, is a point not to be lost sight of.
+Secondly, the actresses themselves are advertised and certain gentlemen
+with big noses who move “behind the scenes,” and are the lineal
+descendants of Moses and Aaron, may thereby be encouraged to speculate
+in theatrical “shares.” Whereas criticism of the play itself does no
+good to anybody nowadays, not even to the dramatic author. For if such
+criticism be unfavourable, the public say it is written by a spiteful
+enemy,--if eulogistic, by a “friend at court,” and they accept neither
+verdict. They go to see the thing for themselves, and if they like it
+they keep on going. If not, they stay away, and there’s an end.
+
+But to the gowns there is no end. The gowns, even in an _un_-successful
+play, are continuously talked of, continuously written about,
+continuously sketched in every sort of pictorial, small and great,
+fashionable or merely provincial. And the florid language,--or shall
+we say the ‘fine writing’?--used to describe clothes generally, on and
+off the stage, is so ravingly sentimental, so bewilderingly turgid,
+that it can only compare with the fervid verbosity of the early
+eighteenth century romancists, or the biting sarcasm of Thackeray’s
+_Book of Snobs_, from which the following passage, descriptive of ‘Miss
+Snobky’s’ presentation gown, may be aptly quoted:--
+
+“_Habit de Cour_ composed of a yellow nankeen illusion dress, over a
+slip of rich pea-green corduroy, trimmed _en tablier_ with bouquets
+of Brussels sprouts, the body and sleeves handsomely trimmed with
+calimanco, and festooned with a pink train and white radishes.
+Head-dress, carrots and lappets.”
+
+By way of a modern pendant to the above grotesque suggestion, one
+extract from a lengthy “clothes” article recently published in a daily
+paper will suffice:
+
+“Among the numerous evening and dinner gowns that the young lady has
+in her _corbeille_, one, _a l’Impératrice Eugénie_, is very lovely.
+The foundation is of white Liberty, with a tulle overdress on which
+are four flounces of Chantilly lace arranged in zig-zags, connected
+together with shaded pink _gloria_ ribbons arranged in waves and
+wreaths. This is repeated on the low corsage and on the long drooping
+sleeves of the high bodice.
+
+“A richer toilette is of white Liberty silk, with a flounce of
+magnificent Brussels lace festooned by leaves of the chestnut, formed
+of white satin wrought in iris beads and silver on white tulle. The
+whole gown is strewn with like leaves of graduating sizes, and the
+low corsage has a _berthe_ of Brussels lace ornamented with smaller
+chestnut leaves as are also the sleeves.” And so on, in unlimited
+bursts of enthusiasm.
+
+I cannot say I am in the least sorry when “modistes” who ‘create’
+costumes at forty, fifty and even one hundred and two hundred guineas
+per gown, are mulcted of some of their unlawful profits by defaulting
+creditors. In nine cases out of ten they richly deserve it. They are
+rightly punished, when they accept, with fulsome flattery and servile
+obsequiousness a “title” as sufficient guarantee for credit, and in
+the end find out that Her Grace the Duchess, or Miladi the Countess is
+perhaps more wickedly reckless and unprincipled than any plain Miss, or
+Mrs. ever born, and that these _grandes dames_ frequently make use of
+both rank and position to cheat their tradespeople systematically. The
+tradespeople are entirely to blame for trusting them, and this is daily
+and continuously proved. But the touching crook-knee’d worship of mere
+social rank still remains an ingredient of the mercantile nature,--it
+is inborn and racial,--a kind of microbe in the blood generated there
+in old feudal times, when, all over the world, pedlars humbly sought
+the patronage and favour of robber chieftains, and unloaded their packs
+in the ‘Castle hall’ for the pleasure of the fair ladies who were
+kept at home in “durance vile” by their rough, unwashen lords. And so
+perhaps it has chanced through long custom and heritage, that at this
+present day there is nothing quite so servile in all creation as the
+spectacle of the ‘modiste’ in attendance on a Duchess, or a ‘ladies’
+tailor’ bending himself double while deferentially presuming to measure
+the hips of a Princess. It is quaint,--it is pitiful,--it is intensely,
+deliciously comic. And when the price of the garment is never clearly
+stated, and the bill never sent in for years lest offence is given to
+‘Her Grace’ or ‘Her Highness’--by firms that will, nevertheless, have
+no scruple in sending dunning letters and legal threats to _un_-titled
+ladies, who may possibly keep them waiting a little for their money,
+but whose position and credit are more firmly established than those of
+any ‘great’ personages with handles to their names, it is not without
+a certain secret satisfaction that one hears of such fawning flunkeys
+of trade getting well burnt in the fires of loss and disaster. For in
+any case, it may be taken for granted that they always charge a double,
+sometimes treble price for a garment or costume, over and above what
+that garment or costume is really worth, and one may safely presume
+they base all their calculations on possible loss. It is no uncommon
+thing to be told that such and such an evening blouse or bodice copied
+‘from the Paris model’ will cost Forty Guineas--“We _might_ possibly do
+it for Thirty Five,”--says the costumier meditatively, studying with
+well-assumed gravity the small, flimsy object he is thus pricing, a
+trifle made up of chiffon, ribbon, and tinsel gew-gaws, knowing all the
+while that everything of which it is composed could be purchased for
+much less than ten pounds. Twenty-five guineas, forty-five guineas,
+sixty-five guineas are quite common prices for gowns at any of the
+fashionable shops to-day. One cannot, of course, blame the modistes
+and outfitting firms for asking these absurd fancy prices if they can
+get them. If women are mad, it is perhaps wise, just, and reasonable
+to take financial advantage of their madness while it lasts. Certainly
+no woman of well-balanced brain would give unlimited prices for gowns
+without most careful inquiry as to the correct value of the material
+and trimming used for them,--and the feminine creature who runs into
+the elaborate show-rooms of Madame Zoë or Berenice, or Faustina, and
+orders frocks by the dozen, saying chirpingly: “Oh, yes! _You_ know
+how they ought to be made! Your taste is always perfect! Make them
+_very_ pretty, won’t you?--_much_ prettier than those you made for Lady
+Claribel! Yes!--thanks! I’ll leave it all in your hands!” this woman, I
+say, is a mere lunatic, gibbering nonsense, who could not, if she were
+asked, tell where twice two making four might possibly lead her in the
+sum-total of a banking account.
+
+Not very long ago there was held a wonderful “symposium” of dress at
+the establishment of a certain modiste. It was intensely diverting,
+entertaining and instructive. A stage was erected at one end of a long
+room, and on that stage, with effective flashes of lime-light played
+from the “wings” at intervals, and the accompaniment of a Hungarian
+band, young ladies wearing “creations” in costume, stood, sat, turned,
+twisted and twirled, and finally walked down the room between rows
+of spectators to show themselves and the gowns they carried, off to
+the best possible advantage. The whole thing was much better than a
+stage comedy. Nothing could surpass the quaint peacock-like vanity
+of the girl _mannequins_ who strutted up and down, moving their arms
+about to exhibit their sleeves and swaying their hips to accentuate
+the fall and flow of flounces and draperies. It was a marvellous sight
+to behold, and it irresistibly reminded one of a party of impudent
+children trying on for fun all their mother’s and elder sisters’ best
+“long dresses” while the unsuspecting owners were out of the way. There
+was a “programme” of the performance fearfully and wonderfully worded,
+the composition, so we were afterwards “with bated breath” informed,
+of Madame la Modiste’s sister, a lady, who by virtue of having written
+two small skits on the manners, customs and modes of society, is, in
+some obliging quarters of the Press called a “novelist.” This programme
+instructed us as to the proper views we were expected to take of the
+costumes paraded before us, as follows:
+
+
+FOR THE DINNER PARTY
+
+
+     Topas
+     Elusive Joy
+     Pleasure’s Thrall
+     Red Mouth of a Venomous Flower
+
+
+The “Red Mouth of a Venomous Flower” was a harmless-looking girl in a
+bright scarlet toilette,--neither the toilette nor the sensational
+title suited her. But perhaps the “Cult of Chiffon” presented the most
+varied and startling phases to a properly receptive mind. Thus it ran:
+
+
+THE CULT OF CHIFFON
+
+
+     The Dirge O’er the Death of Pleasure
+     The Fire Motif
+     The Meaning of Life is Clear
+     Moss and Starlight
+     Incessant Soft Desire
+     A Frenzied Song of Amorous Things
+     A Summer Night Has a Thousand Powers
+
+
+Faint gigglings shook the bosoms of the profane as the “Incessant Soft
+Desire” glided into view, followed by “A Frenzied Song of Amorous
+Things,”--indeed it would have been positively unnatural and inhuman
+had no one laughed. Curious to relate, there were quite a large number
+of “gentlemen” at this remarkable exhibition of feminine clothes,
+many of them well known and easily recognizable. Certain _flaneurs_
+of Bond Street, various loafers familiar to the Carlton “lounge,” and
+celebrated Piccadilly-trotters, formed nearly one half of the audience,
+and stared with easy insolence at the “Red Mouth of a Venomous Flower”
+or smiled suggestively at “Incessant Soft Desire.” They were invited to
+stare and smile, and they did it. But there was something remarkably
+offensive in their way of doing it, and perhaps if a few thick boots
+worn on the feet of rough but honest workmen had come into contact
+with their smooth personalities on their way out of Madame Modiste’s
+establishment, it might have done them good and taught them a useful
+lesson. Needless to say that the prices of the Madame Modiste who could
+set forth such an exhibition of melodramatically designated feminine
+apparel as “The Night has a Thousand Eyes,” or “Spring’s Delirium,”
+were in suitable proportion to a “frenzied song of amorous things.”
+Such amorous things as are “created” in her establishment are likely to
+make husbands and fathers know exactly what “a frenzied song” means.
+When the payment of the bills is concerned, they will probably sing
+that “frenzied song” themselves.
+
+It is quite easy to dress well and tastefully without
+spending a very great deal of money. It certainly requires
+brain--thought--foresight--taste--and comprehension of the harmony
+of colours. But the blind following of a fashion because Madame This
+or That says it is “chic” or “le dernier cri,” or some parrot-like
+recommendation of the sort, is mere stupidity on the part of the
+followers. To run up long credit for dresses, without the least idea
+how the account is ever going to be paid, is nothing less than a
+criminal act. It is simply fraud. And such fraud re-acts on the whole
+community.
+
+Extravagant taste in dress is infectious. Most of us are impressed by
+the King’s sensible and earnest desire that the Press should use its
+influence for good in fostering amity between ourselves and foreign
+countries. If the Press would equally use its efforts to discourage
+florid descriptions of dress in their columns, much of the wild and
+wilful extravagance which is frequently the ruin of otherwise happy
+homes, might be avoided. When Lady A sees her loathëd rival Lady B’s
+dress described in half a column of newspaper “gush” she straightway
+yearns and schemes for a whole column of the same kind. When simple
+country girls read the amazing items of the “toilettes” worn by some
+notorious “demi-mondaine,” they begin to wonder how it is she has
+such things, and to speculate as to whether they will ever be able
+to obtain similar glorified apparel for themselves. And so the evil
+grows, till by and by it becomes a pernicious disease, and women look
+superciliously at one another, not for what they are, but merely
+to estimate the quality and style of what they put on their backs.
+Virtue goes to the wall if it does not wear a fashionable frock.
+Vice is welcomed everywhere if it is clothed in a Paris “creation.”
+Nevertheless, Ben Jonson’s lines still hold good:
+
+
+     Still to be neat, still to be drest,
+     As you were going to a feast;
+     Still to be powder’d, still perfumed:
+     Lady, it is to be presumed,
+     Though art’s hid causes are not found
+     All is not sweet, all is not sound.
+
+
+“All is not sweet, all is not sound,” when women think little or
+nothing of ordering extravagant costumes which they well know they will
+never be able to pay for, unless through some dishonourable means, such
+as gambling at Bridge for example. Madame Modiste is quite prepared
+for such an exigency, for she does not forget to show “creations” in
+clothes which, she softly purrs, are “suitable for Bridge parties.”
+They may possibly be called--“The Tricky Trump”--or “The Dazzling of
+a Glance too long” or “The Deft Impress of a Finger nail”! One never
+knows!
+
+Any amount of fashion papers find their way into the average British
+household, containing rabid nonsense such as the following:
+
+“There were wonderful stories afloat about Miss B’s dresses. Rumour has
+it that a dressmaker came over specially from New York to requisition
+the services of the most important artistes in Paris, and gold lace and
+hand embroidery were used with no frugal hand; yet, _despite this_ and
+the warm welcome accorded her by an English audience, Miss B does not
+seem to have made up her mind to stay with us long, for it is said the
+end of June will see the end of her season. We have sketched her in
+her pink chiffon wrap, which is made in the Empire shape covered with
+chiffon and decorated with bunches of chiffon flowers and green leaves
+held with bows of pink satin--a most dainty affair, full of delicate
+detail and pre-eminently becoming.”
+
+“Despite this,”--is rich indeed! Despite the fact that “gold lace and
+hand-embroidery” were used “with no frugal hand,” Miss B is determined
+to leave “the gay, the gay and glittering scene,” and deprive us of
+her “pink chiffon wrap in the Empire shape”! A positively disastrous
+conclusion! Nay, but hearken to the maudlin murmurs of the crazed
+worshippers of Mumbo-Jumbo “Fashion”--
+
+“Do you yearn for a grey muslin dress? Half my ‘smart girl’
+acquaintances are buying grey muslins as though their lives depended
+on it. I fell in love with one of them that was in bouilloné gathers
+all round the skirt to within eight inches of the hem, while the
+yoke had similar but smaller bouillonés run through, well below the
+shoulder-line, with a wide chiné ribbon knotted low in front. Beneath
+this encircling ribbon the bodice pouched in blouse fashion over a
+chiné waist-ribbon to match, with long pendant ends one side; the
+sleeves were a distinct novelty, being set in a number of small puffs
+below one big one, a chiné ribbon being knotted around the arm between
+each puff.”
+
+“Do you ‘yearn’ for a grey muslin dress?” O ye gods! One is reminded of
+a comic passage in the “Artemus Ward” papers, where it is related how
+a lady of the “Free Love” persuasion rushed at the American humorist,
+brandishing a cotton umbrella and crying out: “Dost thou not yearn
+for me?” to which adjuration Artemus replied, while he “dodged” the
+umbrella--“Not a yearn!”
+
+“I should like,”--says one of the poor imbecile “dress” devotees, “the
+skirt finished off with a wadded hem, or perhaps a few folds of satin,
+but otherwise it should be left severely plain. These satin, brocade,
+or velvet dresses should stand or fall by their own merits, and never
+be over-elaborated.”
+
+True! And is it “a wadded hem” or a padded room that should “finish
+off” these people who spread the madness of clothes far and wide till
+it becomes a positively dangerous and immoral infection? One wonders!
+For there is no more mischievous wickedness in society to-day than the
+flamboyant, exuberant, wilful extravagance of women’s dress. It has far
+exceeded the natural and pretty vanity of permissible charm, good taste
+and elegance. It has become a riotous waste,--an ugly disease of moral
+principle, ending at last in the disgrace and death of many a woman’s
+good name.
+
+
+
+
+THE DECAY OF HOME LIFE IN ENGLAND
+
+
+When people tell the truth they are generally disliked. From Socrates,
+to the latest of his modern philosophic imitators, the bowl of
+death-dealing hemlock has always been mixed by the world and held to
+the lips of those who dare to say uncomfortably plain things. When
+the late W. E. H. Lecky set down the truth of Cecil Rhodes, in his
+book entitled _The Map of Life_, and I, the present writer, ventured
+to quote the passage in “The Vulgarity of Wealth,” when that article
+was first published, a number of uninformed individuals rashly accused
+me of “abusing Cecil Rhodes.” They were naturally afraid to attack
+the greater writer. Inasmuch, said they: “If Mr. Lecky had _really_
+suggested that Cecil Rhodes was not, like Brutus, ‘an honourable man,’
+he, Mr. Lecky, would never have received the King’s new ‘Order of
+Merit,’ nor would Mr. Rhodes have been the subject of so much eulogy.
+For, of course, the King has read _The Map of Life_, and is aware of
+the assertions contained in it.” Now I wish, dear gossips all, you
+would read _The Map of Life_ for yourselves! You will find, if you do,
+not only plain facts concerning Rhodes, and the vulgarity, i.e. the
+ostentation of wealth, but much useful information on sundry other
+matters closely concerning various manners and customs of the present
+day. For one example, consider the following:
+
+“The amount of pure and almost spontaneous malevolence in the world is
+probably far greater than we at first imagine.... No one, for example,
+can study the anonymous press, without perceiving how large a part of
+it is employed _systematically_, _persistently_ and _deliberately_ in
+fostering class, or individual or international hatreds, and often _in
+circulating falsehoods to attain this end_. Many newspapers notoriously
+depend for their existence on such appeals, and more than any other
+instruments, they inflame and perpetuate those permanent animosities
+which most endanger the peace of mankind. The fact that such newspapers
+are becoming in many countries the main and almost exclusive reading of
+the million, forms the most serious deduction from the value of modern
+education.”
+
+Let it be noted, once and for all, that it is not the present writer
+who thus speaks of “the anonymous press,” but the experienced,
+brilliant and unprejudiced scholar who was among the first to hold the
+King’s “Order of Merit.” And so once again to our muttons:--
+
+“Some of the very worst acts of which man can be guilty are acts which
+are commonly untouched by law, and only faintly censured by opinion.
+Political crimes, which a false and sickly sentiment so readily
+condones, are conspicuous among them. Men who have been gambling for
+wealth and power with the lives and fortunes of multitudes; men who
+for their own personal ambition are prepared to sacrifice the most
+vital interests of their country; men, who in time of great national
+danger and excitement deliberately launch falsehood after falsehood
+in the public press, in the well-founded conviction that they will do
+their evil work before they can be contradicted, may be met shameless
+and almost uncensured in Parliaments and drawing-rooms. The amount
+of false statements in the world which cannot be attributed to mere
+carelessness, inaccuracy or exaggeration, but which is plainly both
+deliberate and malevolent, can hardly be overrated. Sometimes it is
+due to a mere desire to create a lucrative sensation, or to gratify
+a personal dislike, or even to an unprovoked malevolence which takes
+pleasure in inflicting pain. * * * Very often it (i.e. the false
+statement in the press) is intended for purposes of stock-jobbing.
+The financial world is percolated with it. It is the common method
+of raising or depreciating securities, attracting investors, preying
+upon the ignorant and credulous, and enabling dishonest men to rise
+rapidly to fortune. When the prospect of speedy wealth is in sight,
+there are always numbers who are perfectly prepared to pursue courses
+involving the utter ruin of multitudes, endangering the most serious
+international interests, perhaps bringing down upon the world all the
+calamities of war.... It is much to be questioned whether the greatest
+criminals are to be found within the walls of prisons. Dishonesty on
+a small scale nearly always finds its punishment. Dishonesty on a
+gigantic scale continually escapes.... In the management of companies,
+in the great fields of industrial enterprise and speculation, gigantic
+fortunes are acquired by the ruin of multitudes; and by methods which
+though they avoid legal penalties are essentially fraudulent. In the
+majority of cases these crimes are perpetrated by educated men who are
+in possession of all the necessaries, of most comforts, and of many
+luxuries of life, and some of the worst of them are powerfully favoured
+by the conditions of modern civilization. There is no greater scandal
+or moral evil in our time than the readiness with which public opinion
+excuses them, and the influence and social position it accords to mere
+wealth, even when it has been acquired by notorious dishonesty, or when
+it is expended with absolute selfishness or in ways that are absolutely
+demoralising. In many respects the moral progress of mankind seems to
+me incontestable, but it is extremely doubtful whether in this respect,
+social morality, especially in England and America, has not seriously
+retrograded.”
+
+               *       *       *       *       *
+                   *       *       *       *
+                       *       *       *
+                           *       *
+
+Now had I written the foregoing lines, some hundred or so of
+pleasant newspaper friends would have accused me of “screaming” out
+a denunciation of wealth, or of “railing” against society. But as
+Lecky,--with the King’s “Order of Merit,” appended to his distinguished
+name,--was the real author of the quotation, I am not without hope
+that his views may be judged worthy of consideration, even though his
+works may not be as thoughtfully studied as their excellence merits.
+It is not I--it was Mr. Lecky, who doubted whether “social morality
+both in England and America, had not seriously retrograded.” But, if
+it has so retrograded, there need be very little difficulty in tracing
+the retrogression to its direct source,--namely, to the carelessness,
+vanity, extravagance, lack of high principle, and entire lapse of
+dignity in the women who constitute and lead what is called the Smart
+Set. These women cannot be termed as of the Aristocracy, for the
+Aristocracy, (by which term I mean those who are lineally entitled
+to be considered the actual British nobility, and not the mushroom
+creations of yesterday), will, more often than not, decline to have
+anything to do with them. True, there are some “great” ladies, who
+have deliberately and voluntarily fallen from their high estate in
+the sight of a scandalised public, and who, by birth and breeding,
+should assuredly have possessed more pride and self-respect, than to
+wilfully descend into the mire. But the very fact that these few have
+so lamentably failed to support the responsibilities of their position,
+makes it all the sadder for the many good and true women of noble
+family who endeavour, as best they may, to stem the tide of harmful
+circumstance, and to show by the retired simplicity and intellectual
+charm of their own lives, that though society is fast becoming a
+disordered wilderness of American and South African “scrub,” there yet
+remains within it a flourishing scion of the brave old English Oak of
+Honour, guarded by the plain device “Noblesse Oblige.”
+
+The influence of women bears perhaps more strongly than any other
+power on the position and supremacy of a country. Corrupt women make
+a corrupt State,--noble, God-fearing women make a noble, God-fearing
+people. It is not too much to say that the prosperity or adversity
+of a nation rests in the hands of its women. They are the mothers of
+the men,--they make and mould the characters of their sons. And the
+centre of their influence should be, as Nature intended it to be, the
+Home. Home is the pivot round which the wheel of a country’s highest
+statesmanship should revolve,--the preservation of Home, its interests,
+its duties and principles, should be the aim of every good citizen. But
+with the “retrogression of social morality,” as Mr. Lecky phrased it,
+and as part and parcel of that backward action and movement, has gone
+the gradual decay of home life, and a growing indifference to home as
+a centre of attraction and influence, together with the undermining
+of family ties and affections, which, rightly used and considered,
+should form the strongest bulwark to our national strength. The love
+of home,--the desire to _make_ a home,--is far stronger in the poorer
+classes nowadays than in the wealthy or even the moderately rich of the
+general community. Women of the “upper ten” are no longer pre-eminent
+as rulers of the home, but are to be seen daily and nightly as noisy
+and pushing frequenters of public restaurants. The great lady is
+seldom or never to be found “at home” on her own domain,--but she may
+be easily met at the Carlton, Prince’s, or the Berkeley (on Sundays).
+The old-world châtelaine of a great house who took pride in looking
+after the comfort of all her retainers,--who displayed an active
+interest in every detail of management,--surrounding herself with
+choice furniture, fine pictures, sweet linen, beautiful flowers, and
+home delicates of her own personal make or supervision, is becoming
+well-nigh obsolete. “It is such a bore being at home!” is quite an
+ordinary phrase with the gawk-girl of the present day, who has no idea
+of the value of rest as an aid to beauty, or of the healthful and
+strengthening influences of a quiet and well-cultivated mind, and who
+has made herself what is sometimes casually termed a “sight” by her
+skill at hockey, her speed in cycling, and her general “rushing about,”
+in order to get anywhere away from the detested “home.” The mother of
+a family now aspires to seem as young as her daughters, and among the
+vanishing graces of society may be noted the grace of old age. Nobody
+is old nowadays. Men of sixty wed girls of sixteen, women of fifty lead
+boys of twenty to the sacrificial altar. Such things are repulsive,
+abominable and unnatural, but they are done every day, and a certain
+“social set,” smirk the usual conventional hypocritical approval, few
+having the courage to protest against what they must inwardly recognize
+as both outrageous and indecent. The real “old” lady, the real “old”
+gentleman will soon be counted among the “rare and curious” specimens
+of the race. The mother who was _not_ “married at sixteen,” will ere
+long be a remarkable prodigy, and the paterfamilias who never explains
+that he “made an unfortunate marriage when quite a boy,” will rank
+beside her as a companion phenomenon. We have only to scan the pages of
+those periodicals which cater specially for fashionable folk, to see
+what a frantic dread of age pervades all classes of pleasure-loving
+society. The innumerable nostrums for removing wrinkles, massaging or
+“steaming” the complexion, the “coverings” for thin hair, the “rays,”
+of gold or copper or auburn, which are cunningly contrived for grey,
+or to use the more polite word, “faded,” tresses, the great army of
+manicurists, masseurs and “beauty-specialists,” who, in the most
+clever way, manage to make comfortable incomes out of the general
+panic which apparently prevails among their patrons at the inflexible,
+unstoppable march of Time,--all these things are striking proofs of
+the constant desperate fight kept up by a large and foolish majority
+against the laws of God and of Nature. Nor is the category confined to
+persons of admittedly weak intellect, as might readily be imagined,
+for just as the sapient Mr. Andrew Lang has almost been convicted
+of a hesitating faith in magic crystals, (God save him!) so are the
+names of many men, eminent in scholarship and politics, “down on the
+list” of the dyer, the steamer, the padder, the muscle-improver, the
+nail-polisher, the wrinkle-remover, and the eye-embellisher. Which
+facts, though apparently trivial, are so many brief hints of a “giving”
+in the masculine stamina. “It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of
+gain-giving as would perhaps trouble a woman.” Vide _Hamlet_. Such it
+may be,--let us hope that such it is.
+
+No doubt much of this fantastic dread of “looking old,” arises from the
+fact that nowadays age, instead of receiving the honour it merits, is
+frequently made the butt of ignorant and vulgar ridicule. One exception
+alone is allowed in the case of our gracious Queen Alexandra, who
+supports her years with so much ease and scarcely diminished beauty.
+But there are hosts of other women beside the Queen whom it would
+seem that “age cannot wither,”--Sarah Bernhardt, for example, whose
+brilliant vitality is the envy of all her feminine compeers; while
+many leading “beauties” who never scored a success in their teens,
+are now trampling triumphantly over men’s hearts in their forties.
+Nevertheless the boorish sections of the Press and of society take a
+special delight, (Mr. Lecky calls it “pure malevolence,”) in making
+the advance of age a subject for coarse jesting, whereas if rightly
+viewed, the decline of the body is merely the natural withering of
+that chrysalis which contains the ever young and immortal Soul. Forced
+asunder by the strength of unfolding wings, the chrysalis _must_ break;
+and its breaking should not cause regret, but joy. Of course if faith
+in God is a mere dead letter, and poor humanity is taught to consider
+this brief life as our sole beginning and end, I can quite imagine that
+the advance of years may be looked upon with dislike and fear,--though
+scarcely with ridicule. But for the happy beings who are conscious that
+while the body grows weaker, the Soul grows stronger,--who feel that
+behind this mere passing “reflection” of Life, the real Life awaits
+them, age has no drawbacks and no forebodings of evil. The prevailing
+dread of it, and the universal fighting against it, betoken an insecure
+and wholly materialistic mental attitude.
+
+Of the feminine indulgence in complexion cures, combined with the
+deplorable lack of common sense, which shows itself in the constant
+consultation of palmists and clairvoyants, while home and family
+duties are completely neglected or forgotten, the less said the better.
+By such conduct women appear to be voluntarily straying back to the
+dark ages when people believed in witches and soothsayers, and would
+pay five shillings or more to see the faces of their future husbands
+in the village well. Happy the man who, at the crucial moment, looked
+over the shoulder of the enquiring maiden! He was sure to be accepted
+on the value of his own mirrored reflection, apart altogether from
+his possible personal merits. To this day in Devonshire, many young
+women believe in the demoniacal abilities of a harmless old gentleman
+who leads a retired life on the moors, and who is supposed to be able
+to “do something to somebody.” It would be a hard task to explain
+the real meaning of this somewhat vague phrase, but the following
+solution can be safely given without any harm accruing. It works
+out in this way: If you know “somebody,” who is unpleasant to you,
+go to this old gentleman and give him five shillings, and he will
+“do something”--never mind what. It may be safely prophesied that
+he will spend the five shillings; the rest is involved in mystery.
+Now, however silly this superstition on the part of poor Devonshire
+maids may be, it is not a whit more so than the behaviour of the
+so-called “cultured” woman of fashion who spends a couple of guineas
+in one of the rooms or “salons,” near Bond Street, on the fraudulent
+rascal of a “palmist,” or “crystal-gazer,” who has the impudence
+and presumption to pretend to know her past and her future. It is a
+wonder that the women who patronize these professional cheats have
+not more self-respect than to enter such dens, where the crime of
+“obtaining money on false pretences” is daily practised without
+the intervention of the law. But all the mischief starts from the
+same source,--neglect of home, indifference to home duties, and the
+constant “gadding-about” which seems to be the principal delight and
+aim of women who are amply supplied with the means of subsistence,
+either through inherited fortune, or through marriage with a wealthy
+partner, and who consider themselves totally exempt from the divine
+necessity of Work. Yet these are truly the very ones whose duty it is
+to work the hardest, because “Unto whom much is given even from him
+(or her) shall much be required.” No woman who has a home need ever
+be idle. If she employs her time properly, she will find no leisure
+for gossiping, scandal-mongering, moping, grumbling, “fadding,”
+fortune-telling or crystal-gazing. Of course, if she “manages” her
+household merely through a paid housekeeper, she cannot be said to
+govern the establishment at all. The housekeeper is the real mistress,
+and very soon secures such a position of authority, that the lady who
+employs and pays her scarcely dare give an order without her. Speaking
+on this subject a few days ago with a distinguished and mild-tempered
+gentleman, who has long ceased to expect any comfort or pleasure in
+the magnificent house his wealth pays for, but which under its present
+government might as well be a hotel where he is sometimes allowed
+to take the head of the table, he said to me, with an air of quiet
+resignation:--“Ladies have so many more interests nowadays than in my
+father’s time. They do so many things. It is really bewildering! My
+wife, for example, is always out. She has so many engagements. She has
+scarcely five minutes to herself, and is often quite knocked up with
+fatigue and excitement. She has no time to attend to housekeeping,
+and of course the children are almost entirely with their nurse
+and governess.” This description applies to most households of a
+fashionable or “smart” character, and shows what a topsy-turveydom of
+the laws of Nature is allowed to pass muster, and to even meet with
+general approval. The “wife” of whom my honourable and distinguished
+friend spoke to me, rises languidly from her bed at eleven, and
+occupies all her time till two o’clock in dressing, manicuring,
+“transforming” and “massaging.” She also receives and sends a few
+telegrams. At two o’clock she goes out in her carriage and lunches with
+some chosen intimates at one or other of the fashionable restaurants.
+Lunch over, she returns home and lies down for an hour. Then she arrays
+herself in an elaborate tea gown and receives a favoured few in her
+boudoir, where over a cup of tea she assists to tear into piecemeal
+portions the characters of her dearest friends. Another “rest” and
+again the business of the toilette is resumed. When _en grande tenue_
+she either goes out to dinner, or entertains a large party of guests at
+her own table. A _tête-à-tête_ meal with her husband would appear to
+her in the light of a positive calamity. She stays up playing “Bridge”
+till two or three o’clock in the morning, and retires to bed more or
+less exhausted, and can only sleep with the aid of narcotics. She
+resumes the same useless existence, and perpetrates the same wicked
+waste of time again the next day and every day. Her children she
+scarcely sees, and the management of her house is entirely removed from
+her hands. The housekeeper takes all the accounts to her husband, who
+meekly pays the same, and lives for the most part at his club, or at
+the houses of his various sporting friends. “Home” is for him a mere
+farce. He knew what it was in his mother’s day, when his grand old
+historical seat was a home indeed, and all the members of the family,
+young and old, looked upon it as the chief centre of attraction, and
+the garnering-point of love and faith and confidence; but since he
+grew up to manhood, and took for his life-partner a rapid lady of the
+new Motor-School of Morals, he stands like Marius among the ruins of
+Carthage, contemplating the complete wreckage of his ship of life, and
+knowing sadly enough that he can never sail the seas of hope again.
+
+The word “Home” has, or used to have, a very sacred meaning, and
+is peculiarly British. The French have no such term. “Chez-moi”
+or “chez-soi” are poor substitutes, and indeed none of the Latin
+races appear to have any expression which properly conveys the real
+sentiment. The Germans have it, and their “Heimweh” is as significant
+as our “home-sickness.” The Germans are essentially a home-loving
+people, and this may be said of all Teutonic, Norse and Scandinavian
+races. By far the strongest blood of the British is inherited from the
+North,--and as a rule the natural tendency in the pure Briton is one
+of scorn for the changeful, vagrant, idle, careless and semi-pagan
+temperament of southern nations. As the last of our real Laureates
+sang in his own matchless way:
+
+
+     Oh, tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each
+     That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,
+     And dark and true and tender is the North!
+
+     Oh, tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown;
+     Say that I do but wanton in the South,
+     But in the North, long since, my nest is made!
+
+
+“My nest is made,” is the ultimatum of the lover,--the “nest” or the
+home being the natural centre of the circle of man’s ambition. A happy
+home is the best and surest safeguard against all evil; and where home
+is not happy, there the devil may freely enter and find his hands
+full. With women, and women only, this happiness in the home must find
+its foundation. They only are responsible; for no matter how wild and
+erring a man may be, if he can always rely on finding somewhere in
+the world a peaceful, well-ordered, and _undishonoured_ home, he will
+feel the saving grace of it sooner or later, and turn to it as the one
+bright beacon in a darkening wilderness. But if he knows that it is a
+mere hostelry,--that his wife has no pride in it,--that other men than
+himself have found the right to enter there,--that his servants mock
+him behind his back as a poor, weak, credulous fool, who has lost all
+claim to mastership or control, he grows to hate the very walls of
+the dwelling, and does his best to lose himself and his miseries in a
+whirlpool of dissipation and folly, which too often ends in premature
+breakdown and death.
+
+One often wonders if the “smart” ladies who cast aside the quiet
+joys of home life, in exchange for a jostling “feed” at the Carlton
+or other similar resorts, have any idea of the opinion entertained of
+their conduct by that Great Majority, the People? The People,--without
+whom their favoured political candidates would stand no chance of
+election,--the People, without whose willing work, performed under
+the heavy strain of cruel and increasing competition, they would be
+unable to enjoy the costly luxuries they deem indispensable to their
+lives,--the People, who, standing in their millions outside “society”
+and its endless intrigues,--outside a complaisant or subsidized
+Press,--outside all, save God and the Right,--pass judgment on the
+events of the day, and entertain their own strong views thereon, which,
+though such views may not find any printed outlet, do nevertheless
+make themselves felt in various unmistakable ways. Latterly, there has
+been a great clamour about servants and the lack of them. It is quite
+true that many ladies find it difficult to secure servants, and that
+even when they do secure them, they often turn out badly, being of an
+untrained and incompetent class. But why is this? No doubt many causes
+work together to make up the sum of deficiency or inefficiency, but
+one reason can be given which is possibly entirely unsuspected. It is
+a reason which will no doubt astonish some, and awaken the tittering
+ridicule of many, but the fact remains unalterable, despite incredulity
+and denial. There is really no lack of competent domestic servants.
+On the contrary, there are plenty of respectable, willing, smart,
+well-instructed girls in the country, who would make what are called
+“treasures” in the way of housemaids, parlourmaids and lady’s-maids,
+but whose parents stubbornly refuse to let them enter any situation
+until they know something of the character of the mistress with whom
+they are expected to reside, and the general reputation of the house
+or “home” they are to enter. I could name dozens of cases where girls,
+on enquiry, have actually declined lucrative situations, and contented
+themselves with work at lower wages, rather than be known as “in
+service” with certain distinguished ladies. “My girl,” says a farmer’s
+wife, “is a clean, wholesome, steady lass; I’d rather keep her by me
+for a bit than see her mixing herself up with the fashionable folk,
+who are always getting into the divorce court.” This may be a bitter
+pill of information for the “smart set” to swallow; but there is no
+exaggeration in the statement that the working classes have very little
+respect left nowadays for the ladies of the “Upper Ten,” and many of
+the wives of honest farmers, mechanics and tradesmen would consider
+that they were voluntarily handing over their daughters to temptation
+and disgrace by allowing them to enter domestic service with certain
+society leaders, who, though bearing well-known names, are branded by
+equally well-known “easy virtue.”
+
+Does any one at this time of day recall a certain chapter in the
+immortal story of _Bleak House_, by Charles Dickens, when Mr.
+Rouncewell, the iron-master, a mere tradesman in the opinion of that
+haughty old aristocrat, Sir Leicester Dedlock, desires to remove the
+pretty girl, Rosa, lady’s-maid to Lady Dedlock, at once from her
+situation, if she is to marry his son? An extract from this scene may
+not here be altogether out of place.
+
+Lady Dedlock has enquired of the iron-master if the love-affair between
+her lady’s-maid and his son is still going on, and receives an answer
+in the affirmative.
+
+
+     “‘If you remember anything so unimportant,’ he says--‘which is not
+     to be expected--you would recollect that my first thought in the
+     affair was directly opposed to her remaining here.’
+
+     “Dismiss the Dedlock patronage from consideration? Oh! Sir
+     Leicester is bound to believe a pair of ears that have been
+     handed down to him through such a family, or he really might have
+     mistrusted their report of the iron-gentleman’s observation!
+
+     “‘It is not necessary,’ observes my Lady, in her coldest manner,
+     before he can do anything but breathe amazedly, ‘to enter into
+     these matters on either side. The girl is a very good girl; I
+     have nothing whatever to say against her; but she is so far
+     insensible to her many advantages and her good fortune, that she
+     is in love--or supposes she is, poor little fool--and unable to
+     appreciate them.’
+
+     “Sir Leicester begs to observe that wholly alters the case. He
+     might have been sure that my Lady had the best grounds and reasons
+     in support of her view. He entirely agrees with my Lady. The young
+     woman had better go.
+
+     “‘As Sir Leicester observed, Mr. Rouncewell, on the last
+     occasion when we were fatigued by this business,’ Lady Dedlock
+     languidly proceeds, ‘we cannot make conditions with you. Without
+     conditions, and under present circumstances, the girl is quite
+     misplaced here and had better go. I have told her so. Would you
+     wish to have her sent back to the village, or would you like to
+     take her with you, or what would you prefer?’
+
+     “‘Lady Dedlock, if I may speak plainly----’
+
+     “‘By all means.’
+
+     “‘I should prefer the course which will the sooner relieve you of
+     the encumbrance, _and remove her from her present position_.’
+
+     “‘And to speak as plainly,’ she returns, with the same studied
+     carelessness, ‘so should I. Do I understand that you will take her
+     with you?’
+
+     “The iron-gentleman makes an iron bow.
+
+                  *       *       *       *       *
+
+     “‘Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock,’ says Mr. Rouncewell, after a
+     pause of a few moments; ‘I beg to take my leave with an apology
+     for having again troubled you. I can very well understand, I
+     assure you, how very tiresome so small a matter must have become
+     to Lady Dedlock. If I am doubtful on my dealing with it, it is
+     only _because I did not at first quietly exert my influence to
+     take my young friend here away_ without troubling you at all.
+     I hope you will excuse my want of acquaintance with the polite
+     world.”
+
+
+As a matter of fact, certain rumours against Lady Dedlock’s reputation,
+and hints as to her “past,” have come to the ears of the honest
+tradesman, and he prefers to remove his son’s betrothed wife from the
+contact of a possible pernicious influence. The very same thing is
+done scores of times over in many similar cases to-day.
+
+No one knows the real character and disposition of the mistress of a
+home better than the servants she employs, and if she is honoured and
+loved by her domestics, she stands on surer ground than the praise or
+flattery of her fashionable friends. It is all a question of “home”
+again. A real home is a home to all connected with it. The very
+kitchen-maid employed in it, the boy who runs errands for the house;
+indeed every servant, from the lowest to the highest, should feel that
+their surroundings are truly “homelike,”--that things are well-ordered,
+peaceful and happy; that the presiding spirit of the place, the
+mistress, is contented with her life, and cheerfully interested in
+the welfare of all around her,--then “all things work together for
+good,” and the house becomes a bulwark against adversity, a harbour
+in storm, a “nest” indeed, where warmth, repose, and mutual trust and
+help make the days sweet and the nights calm. But where the mistress
+is scarcely ever at home,--when she prefers public restaurants to her
+own dining-room,--when with each change of the seasons she is gadding
+about somewhere, and avoiding home as much as possible, how is it to be
+expected that even servants will care to stay with her, or ever learn
+to admire and respect her? Peace and happiness are hers to possess in
+the natural and God-given ways of home life, if she chooses,--but if
+she turns aside from her real sovereignty, throws down her sceptre and
+plays with the sticks and straws of the “half-world,” she has only
+herself to blame if the end should prove but dire confusion and the
+bitterness of strife.
+
+Apart altogether from the individual dignity and self-poise which are
+invariably lacking to the “vagrant,” or home despising human being,
+the decay of home life in England is a serious menace to the Empire’s
+future strength. If our coming race of men have been accustomed to see
+their mothers indulging in a kind of high-class public house feasting,
+combined with public house morals, and have learned from them an
+absolute indifference to home and home ties, they in their turn will do
+likewise and live as “vagrants,”--here, there and everywhere, rather
+than as well-established, self-respecting citizens and patriots, proud
+of their country, and proud of the right to defend their homes. Even as
+it is, there are not wanting signs of a general “wandering,” tendency,
+combined with morbid apathy and sickly inertia. “One place is as good
+as another,” says one section of society, and “anything is better than
+the English climate,” says another, preparing to pack off to Egypt or
+the Riviera at the first snap of winter. These opinions are an exact
+reversion of those expressed by our sturdy, patriotic forefathers,
+who made the glory of Great Britain. “There is no place like England”
+was their sworn conviction, and “no place like home” was the essence
+of their national sentiment. The English climate, too, was quite good
+enough for them, and they made the best of it. When will the “Smart
+Set” grasp the fact that the much-abused weather, whatever it may be,
+is pretty much the same all over Europe? The Riviera is no warmer than
+the Cornish coast, but _certes_ it is better provided with hotels,
+and--chiefest attraction of all--it has a Gambling Hell. The delights
+of Monte Carlo and “Home,” are as far apart as the poles; and those
+who seek the one cannot be expected to appreciate the other. But such
+English women as are met at the foreign gambling-tables, season after
+season, may be looked upon as the deliberate destroyers of all that is
+best and strongest in our national life, in the sanctity of Home, and
+the beauty of home affections. The English Home used to be a model to
+the world;--with a few more scandalous divorce cases in high life, it
+will become a by-word for the mockery of nations. The following from
+the current Press is sufficiently instructive:
+
+
+     “The crowd of well-dressed women who daily throng the court during
+     the hearing of the ... case and follow with such intense eagerness
+     every incident in the dissection of a woman’s honour afford a
+     remarkable object-lesson in contemporary social progress.
+
+     “Ladies, richly garbed, who drive up in smart broughams,
+     emblazoned carriages, and motor-cars, and are representative of
+     the best known families in the land, fight and scramble for a
+     seat, criticize the proceedings in a low monotone, and, without
+     the smallest indication of a blush, balance every point made by
+     counsel, and follow with keen apprehension the most suggestive
+     evidence.
+
+     “Others, no less intensely interested in the sordid details of
+     divorce, come on foot--women of the great well-to-do middle-class,
+     who have all their lives had the advantage of refined and
+     educated surroundings. Some are old, with silvery hair; others
+     are middle-aged women, who bring comely daughters still in their
+     teens; others are in the first flush of womanhood; but they all
+     crowd into the narrow court and struggle to get a glimpse of the
+     chief actors in the drama, and listen to the testimony which would
+     convict them of dishonour.”
+
+
+No one in their sober senses will call any of these women fit to
+rule their homes, or to be examples to their children. Unblushingly
+indecent, and unspeakably vulgar, their brazen effrontery and shameless
+interest in the revolting details of a revolting case, have shown them
+to be beyond the pale of all true womanhood, and utterly unfit to be
+the mothers of our future men, or guardians of the honour of home and
+family. There is no “railing” against society in this assertion; the
+plain facts speak for themselves.
+
+The charm of home depends, of course, entirely on the upbringing
+and character of the inmates. Stupid and illiterate people make a
+dull fireside. Morbid faddists, always talking and thinking about
+themselves, put the fire out altogether. If I were asked my opinion as
+to the chief talent or gift for making a home happy, I should without
+a moment’s hesitation, reply, “Cheerfulness.” A cheerful spirit,
+always looking on the bright side, and determined to make the best of
+everything, is the choicest blessing and the brightest charm of home.
+People with a turn for grumbling should certainly live in hotels and
+dine at restaurants. They will never understand how to make, or to
+keep, a home as it should be. But, given a cheerful, equable, and
+active temperament, there is nothing sweeter, happier or safer for
+the human being than Home, and the life which centres within it, and
+the duties concerning it which demand our attention and care. There
+is no need for women to wander far afield for an outlet to their
+energies. Their work waits for them at their own doors, in the town
+or village where they reside. No end of useful, kind and neighbourly
+things are to hand for their doing,--every day can be filled, like
+a basket of flowers, full of good deeds and gentle words by every
+woman, poor or rich, who has either cottage or mansion which she can
+truly call “Home.” Home is a simple background, against which the star
+of womanhood shines brightest and best. The modern “gad-about” who
+suggests a composition of female chimpanzee and fashionable “Johnny”
+combined, is a kind of sexless creature for whom “Home” would only be a
+cage in the general menagerie. She (or It) would merely occupy the time
+in scrambling about from perch to perch, screaming on the slightest
+provocation, and snapping at such other similar neuter creatures who
+chanced to possess longer or more bushy tails. And it is a pity such
+an example should be thought worthy of imitation by any woman claiming
+to possess the advantage of human reason. But the Chimpanzee type of
+female is just now singularly _en evidence_, having a habit of pushing
+to the front on all occasions, and performing such strange antics as
+call for public protest, and keep the grinding machinery of the law
+only too busy. The Press, too, pays an enormous amount of unnecessary
+attention to the performances of these more or less immodest animals,
+so that it sometimes seems to our Continental neighbours as if we, as
+a nation, had no real women left, but only chimpanzees. There are,
+however, slight stirrings of a movement among the true “ladies” of
+England, those who stand more or less aloof from the “smart set,”--a
+movement indicative of “drawing the line somewhere.” It is possible
+that there may yet be a revival of “Home” and its various lost graces
+and dignities. We may even hear of doors that will not open to
+millionaires simply _because_ they are millionaires. Only the other day
+a very great lady said to her sister in my hearing: “No, I shall not
+‘present’ my two girls at all. Society is perfectly demoralised, and
+I would rather the children remained out of it, so far as London is
+concerned. They are much happier in the country than in town, and much
+healthier, and I want to keep them so. Besides, they love their home!”
+
+Herein is the saving grace of life,--to love one’s home. Love of home
+implies lovable people dwelling in the charmed circle,--tender hearts,
+quick to respond to every word of love, every whisper of confidence,
+every caress. The homeless man is the restless and unhappy man, for
+ever seeking what he cannot find. The homeless woman is still more to
+be pitied, being entirely and hopelessly out of her natural element.
+And the marked tendency which exists nowadays to avoid home life is
+wholly mischievous. Women complain that home is “dull,” “quiet,”
+“monotonous,” “lonely,” and blame it for all sorts of evils which exist
+only in themselves. If a woman cannot be a few hours alone without
+finding her house “dull,” her mind must be on the verge of lunacy.
+The sense of being unable to endure one’s own company augurs ill for
+the moral equilibrium. To preserve good health and sound nerves,
+women should always make it a rule to be quite alone at least for a
+couple of hours in the course of each day. Let them take that space
+to think, to read, to rest, and mentally review their own thoughts,
+words and actions in the light of a quiet conscience-time of pause and
+meditation. Home is the best place so to rest and meditate,--and the
+hours that are spent in thinking how to make that home happier will
+never be wasted. It should be very seriously borne in mind that it is
+only in the home life that marriage can be proved successful or the
+reverse, and, to quote Mr. Lecky once more:
+
+
+     “A moral basis of sterling qualities is of capital importance. A
+     true, honest and trustworthy nature, capable of self-sacrifice and
+     self-restraint, should rank in the first line, and after that, a
+     kindly, equable and contented temper, a power of sympathy, a habit
+     of looking at the better and brighter side of men and things. Of
+     intellectual qualities, judgment, tact and order, are perhaps the
+     most valuable.... Grace and the charm of manner will retain their
+     full attraction to the last. They brighten in innumerable ways
+     the little things of life, and life is mainly made up of little
+     things, exposed to petty frictions, and requiring small decisions
+     and small sacrifices. Wide interests and large appreciations
+     are in the marriage relation more important than any great
+     constructive or creative talent, and the power to soothe, to
+     sympathize, to counsel and to endure than the highest qualities
+     of the hero or the saint. It is by this alone that the married
+     life attains its full perfection.”
+
+
+And when we hear, as we so often do, of the complete failure and
+deplorable disaster attending many marriages, let us look for the
+root of the evil at its foundation,--namely the decay of home life,
+the neglect and avoidance of home and home duties,--the indifference
+to, or scorn of home influence. For whenever any woman, rich or poor,
+high in rank or of humble estate, throws these aside, and turns her
+back on Home, her own natural, beautiful and thrice-blessed sphere of
+action, she performs what would be called the crazed act of a queen,
+who, called to highest sovereignty, casts away her crown, breaks her
+sceptre, tramples on her royal robes, and steps from her throne,
+_down_;--down into the dust of a saddened world’s contempt.
+
+
+
+
+SOCIETY AND SUNDAY
+
+
+According to the latest views publicly expressed by both Christian and
+un-Christian clerics, it would appear that twentieth-century Society is
+not at one with Sunday. It no longer keeps the seventh day “holy.” It
+will not go to church. It declines to listen to dull sermons delivered
+by dull preachers. It openly expresses its general contempt for the
+collection-plate. It reads its ‘up-to-date’ books and magazines, and
+says: “The Sabbath is a Jewish institution. And though the spirit of
+the Jew pervades my whole composition and constitution, and though
+I borrow money of the Jew whenever I find it convenient, there is
+no reason why I should follow the Jew’s religious ritual. The New
+Testament lays no stress whatever upon the necessity of keeping the
+seventh day holy. On the contrary, it tells us that ‘the Sabbath was
+made for man, not man for the Sabbath.’”
+
+This is true enough. It is a difficult point to get over. And despite
+the fact that the sovereign rulers of the realm most strictly set the
+example to all their subjects of attending Divine service at least once
+on Sunday, this example is just the very one among the various leading
+patterns of life offered by the King and Queen which Society blandly
+sets aside with a smile. For, notwithstanding the constant painstaking
+production of exquisitely printed Prayer-books, elegantly bound in
+ivory, silver, morocco leather, and silk velvet, Society is not often
+seen nowadays with these little emblems of piety in its be-ringed and
+be-bangled hands. It prefers a pack of cards. Its ears are more attuned
+to the hissing rush of the motor than to the solemn sound of sacred
+psalmody; and the dust of the high-road, compounded with the oil-stench
+of the newest and fastest automobile, offers a more grateful odour
+to its nostrils than the perfume of virginal lilies on the altar of
+worship. _Autres temps, autres mœurs!_ People who believe in nothing
+have no need of prayer. A social “set” that grabs all it can for itself
+without a thank-you to either God or devil is not moved to praise. Self
+and the Hour! That is the motto and watchword of Society to-day, and
+after Self and the Hour, what then? Why, the Deluge, of course! And,
+as happened in olden time, and will happen again, general drowning,
+stiflement, and silence.
+
+There is certainly much to regret and deplore in the lack of
+serious thought, the neglect of piety, and the scant reverence for
+sacred things which, taken together, make up a spirit of callous
+indifferentism in our modern life, such as is likely to rob the nation
+in future of its backbone and nerve. It is a spirit which is gradually
+transforming the social community from thinking, feeling, reasonable
+human beings into a mere set of gambolling kangaroos, whose chief
+interest would seem to be centred in jumping over each other’s backs,
+or sitting on their haunches, grinning foolishly and waving their short
+fore-paws at one another with antic gestures of animal delight. They
+never get any “forrader,” as it were. They do nothing particularly
+useful. They are amused, annoyed, excited, or angry (according to their
+different qualities of kangaroo nature) when one jumps a little higher
+than the other, or waves its paws a little more attractively; but
+their sentiments are as temporary as their passions. There is nothing
+to be got out of them any way, but the jumping and the paw-waving. At
+the same time it is extremely doubtful as to whether taking them to
+church on Sundays would do them good, or bring them back to the human
+condition. Things are too far gone--the metamorphosis is too nearly
+accomplished. One day is the same as another to the Society kangaroo.
+All days are suitable to his or her “hop, skip, and a jump.” But shall
+there be no “worship”? What should a kangaroo worship? No “rest”? Why
+should a kangaroo rest? “Listen to the Reverend Mr. Soulcure’s sermon,
+and learn how to be good!” Ya-ah! One can hear the animal scream as he
+or she turns a somersault at the mere suggestion and scuttles away!
+
+Society’s neglect of Sunday observance in these early days of the
+new century is due to many things, chiefest among these being the
+incapacity of the clergy to inspire interest in their hearers or to
+fix the attention of the general public. It is unfortunate that this
+should be so, but so it is. The ministers of religion fail to seize the
+problems of the time. They forget, or wilfully ignore, the discoveries
+of the age. Yet in these could be found endless subject-matter for the
+divinest arguments. Religion and science, viewed broadly, do not clash
+so much as they combine. To the devout and deeply studious mind, the
+marvels of science are the truths of religion made manifest. But this
+is what the clergy seem to miss persistently out of all their teaching
+and preaching. Take, for example, the text: “In My Father’s house there
+are many mansions.” What a noble discourse could be made hereon of
+some of the most sublime facts of science!--of the powers of the air,
+of the currents of light, of the magnificent movements of the stars in
+their courses, of the plenitude and glory of innumerable solar systems,
+all upheld and guided by the same Intelligent Force which equally
+upholds and guides the destinies of man! Unhappily for the world in
+general, and for the churches in particular, preachers who select
+texts from Scripture in order to extract therefrom some instructive
+lesson that shall be salutary for their congregations, do not always
+remember the symbolic or allegorical manner in which such texts were
+originally spoken or written. To many of them the “literal” meaning is
+alone apparent, and they see in the “many mansions” merely a glorified
+Park Lane or Piccadilly, adorned with rows of elegantly commonplace
+dwelling-houses built of solid gold. Their conceptions of the “Father’s
+house” are sadly limited. They cannot shake off the material from the
+spiritual, or get away from themselves sufficiently to understand or
+enter into the dumb craving of all human nature for help, for sympathy,
+for love--for sureness in its conceptions of God--such sureness as
+shall not run counter to the proved results of reason. For reason is
+as much the gift of God as speech, and to kill one’s intellectual
+aspiration in order, as some bigots would advise, to serve God more
+completely is the rankest blasphemy. The wilful refusal to use a great
+gift merely insults the Giver.
+
+It is by obstinately declining to watch the branching-out, as it
+were, of the great tree of Christianity in forms which are not narrow
+or limited, but spacious and far-reaching, that the clergy have in
+a great measure lost much that they should have retained. Society
+has slipped altogether from their hold. Society sees for itself that
+too many clerics are either blatant or timorous. Some of them bully;
+others crawl. Some are all softness to the wealthy; all harshness to
+the poor. Others, again, devote themselves to the poor entirely, and
+neglect the wealthy, who are quite as much, if not more, in need of
+a “soul cure” as the most forlorn Lazarus that ever lay in the dust
+of the road of life. None of them seem able to cope with the great
+dark wave of infidelity and atheism which has swept over the modern
+world stealthily, but overwhelmingly, sucking many a struggling soul
+down into the depths of suicidal despair. And Society, making up its
+mind that it is neither edified nor entertained by going to church on
+Sunday, stays away, and turns Sunday generally to other uses. It is
+not particular as to what these uses are, provided they prove amusing.
+The old-fashioned notion of a “day of rest” or a “good” Sunday can be
+set aside with the church and the clergyman; the one desirable object
+of existence is “not to be bored.” The spectre of “boredom” is always
+gliding in at every modern function, like the ghost of Banquo at
+Macbeth’s feast. To pacify and quash this terrible bogie is the chief
+aim and end of all the social kangaroos. The Sunday’s observance used
+to be the bogie’s great “innings”; but, with an advance in manners and
+morals, _nous avons changé tout cela_! And Society spends its Sundays
+now in a fashion which, if its great-grandmamma of the early Victorian
+era could only see its ways and doings, would so shock the dear,
+virtuous old lady that she would yearn to whip it and shut it up in a
+room for years on bread and water. And there is no doubt that such a
+wholesome régime would do it a power of good!
+
+At the present interesting period of English history, Sunday appears
+to be devoutly recognized among the Upper Ten as the great “bridge”
+day. It is quite the fashion--the “swagger” thing--to play bridge
+all and every Sunday, when and whenever possible. During the London
+“season,” the Thames serves as a picturesque setting for many of these
+seventh-day revelries. Little gambling-parties are organized “up the
+river,” and houses are taken from Saturday to Monday by noted ladies of
+the half-world, desirous of “rooking” young men, in the sweet seclusion
+of their “country cots by the flowing stream”--an ambition fully
+realized in the results of the Sunday’s steady play at bridge from noon
+till midnight. At a certain military centre not far from London, too,
+the Sunday “gaming” might possibly call for comment. It is privately
+carried on, of course, but--tell it not in Gath!--there is an officer’s
+wife--there are so many officers’ wives!--but this one in particular,
+more than the others, moves me to the presumption of a parody on the
+Immortal Bard, thus:
+
+
+     An officer’s wife had play-cards in her lap--
+     And dealt and dealt. “What tricks!” quoth I!
+     “They’re tricks, you bet!” the smiling cheat replied--
+     “My husband is ‘on duty’ gone,
+     And ‘green’ young subalterns are all my game,
+     And till they’re drained of gold and silver, too,
+     I’ll do, I’ll do, I’ll do!”
+
+
+And she does “do.” She has found out the way to make those “green young
+subalterns” pay her bills and ruin themselves. It is a thoroughly
+up-to-date manner of spending the Sunday.
+
+Country-house “week-end” parties are generally all bridge-parties.
+They are all carefully selected, with an eye to the main chance. The
+“play” generally begins on Saturday evening, and goes on all through
+Sunday up to midnight. One woman, notorious for her insensate love of
+gambling, lately took lessons in “cheating” at bridge before joining
+her country-house friends. She came away heavier in purse by five
+hundred pounds, but of that five hundred, one hundred and fifty had
+been won from a foolish little girl of eighteen, known to be the
+daughter of a very wealthy, but strict father. When the poor child
+was made to understand the extent of her losses at bridge, she was
+afraid to go home. So she purchased some laudanum “for the toothache,”
+and tried to poison herself by swallowing it. Fortunately, she was
+rescued before it was too late, and her Spartan “dad,” with tears of
+joy in his eyes, paid the money she had lost at cards thankfully, as
+a kind of ransom to Death. But she was never again allowed to visit
+at that “swagger” house where she had been “rooked” so unmercifully.
+And when we remember how fond Society is of bragging of its little
+philanthropies, its “bazaars” and carefully-calculated “charities,” we
+may, perhaps, wonder whether, among the list of good and noble deeds
+it declares itself capable of, it would set its face against bridge,
+and make “gambling-parties” once for all unfashionable and in “bad
+form”? This would be true philanthropy, and would be more productive
+of good than any amount of regular church attendance. For there is no
+doubt that very general sympathy is accorded to people who find that
+going to church is rather an irksome business. It is not as if they
+were often taught anything wonderfully inspiring or helpful there. They
+seldom have even the satisfaction of hearing the service read properly.
+The majority of the clergy are innocent of all elocutionary art. They
+read the finest passages of Scripture in the sing-song tone of a clerk
+detailing the items of a bill. It is a soothing style, and quickly
+induces sleep; but that is its only recommendation.
+
+When not playing bridge, Society’s “Sunday observance” is motoring.
+Flashing and fizzling all over the place, it rushes here, there, and
+everywhere, creating infinite dust, smelling abominably, and looking
+uglier than the worst demons in Dante’s “Inferno.” Beauty certainly
+goes to the wall in a motor. The hideous masks, goggles, and caps
+which help to make up the woman motorist’s driving gear, are enough
+to scare the staunchest believer in the eternal attractiveness of the
+fair sex, while the general get-up of the men is on a par with that of
+the professional stoker or engine-driver. Nevertheless, no reasonable
+woman ought to mind other women looking ugly if they like; while men,
+of course, are always men, and “masters of the planet,” whether dirty
+or clean. And no one should really object to the “motor craze,” seeing
+that it takes so many useless people out of one’s immediate horizon
+and scatters them far and wide over the surface of the earth. Society
+uses Sunday as a special day for this “scattering,” and perhaps it
+is doing itself no very great harm. It is getting fresh air, which
+it needs; it is “going the pace,” which, in its fevered condition of
+living fast, so as to die more quickly, is natural to it; and it is
+seeing persons and places it never saw before in the way of country
+nooks and old-fashioned roadside inns, and rustic people, who stare at
+it with unfeigned amusement, and wonder “what the world’s a’-comin’
+to!” Possibly it learns more in a motor drive through the heart of
+rural England than many sermons in church could teach it. The only
+thing one would venture to suggest is that in passing its Sundays in
+this fashion, Society should respect the Sundays of those who still
+elect to keep the seventh day as a day of rest. Fashionable motorists
+might avoid dashing recklessly through groups of country people who
+are peacefully wending their way to and from church. They might “slow
+down.” They might take thoughtful heed of the little children who play
+unguardedly about in many a village street. They might have some little
+consideration for the uncertain steps of feeble and old persons who
+are perchance blind or deaf, and who neither see the “motor” nor hear
+the warning blast of its discordant horn. In brief, it would not hurt
+Society to spend its Sundays with more thought for others than Itself.
+For the bulk and mass of the British people--the people who _are_
+Great Britain--still adhere to the sacred and blessed institution of a
+“day of rest,” even if it be not a day of sermons. To thousands upon
+thousands of toiling men and women, Sunday is still a veritable God’s
+day, and we may thank God for it! Nay, more; we should do our very
+best to keep it as “holy” as we can, if not by listening to sermons,
+at least by a pause in our worldly concerns, wherein we may put a stop
+on the wheels of work and consider within ourselves as to how and why
+we are working. Sunday is a day when we should ask Nature to speak to
+us and teach us such things as may only be mastered in silence and
+solitude--when the book of poems, the beautiful prose idyll, or the
+tender romance, may be our companion in summer under the trees, or
+in winter by a bright fire--and when we may stand, as it were, for a
+moment and take breath on the threshold of another week, bracing our
+energies to meet with whatever that week may hold in store for us,
+whether joy or sorrow. Few nations, however, view Sunday in this light.
+On the Continent it has long been a day of mere frivolous pleasure--and
+in America I know not what it is, never having experienced it. But the
+British Sunday, apart from all the mockery and innuendo heaped upon it
+by the wits and satirists of the present time and of bygone years, used
+to be a strong and spiritually saving force in the national existence.
+Dinner-parties, with a string band in attendance, and a Parisian
+singer of the “café chantant” to entertain the company afterwards, were
+once unknown in England on a Sunday. But such “Sabbath” entertainments
+are quite ordinary now. The private house copies the public
+restaurant--more’s the pity!
+
+Nevertheless, though Society’s Sunday has degenerated into a day of
+gambling, guzzling, and motoring in Great Britain, it is well to
+remember that Society in itself is so limited as to be a mere bubble
+on the waters of life--froth and scum, as it were, that rises to the
+top, merely to be skimmed off and thrown aside in any serious national
+crisis. The People are the life and blood of the nation, and to them
+Sunday remains still a “day of rest,” though, perhaps, not so much as
+in old time a day of religion. And that it is not so much a day of
+religion is because so many preachers have failed in their mission.
+They have lost grip. There is no cause whatever for their so losing it,
+save such as lies within themselves. There has been no diminution in
+the outflow of truth from the sources of Divine instruction, but rather
+an increase. The wonders of the universe have been unfolded in every
+direction by the Creator to His creature. There is everything for the
+minister of God to say. Yet how little is said! “Feed my sheep!” was
+the command of the Master. But the sheep have cropped all the old ways
+of thought down to the bare ground, and their inefficient shepherds
+now know not where to lead them, though their Lord’s command is as
+imperative as ever. So the flock, being hungry, have broken down the
+fences of tradition, and are scampering away in disorder to fresh
+fields and pastures new. Society may be, and is, undoubtedly to blame
+for its lax manner of treating religion and religious observances; but,
+with all its faults, it is not so blameworthy as those teachers of the
+Christian faith, whose lack of attention to its needs and perplexities
+help to make it the heaven-scorning, God-denying, heart-sore, weary,
+and always dissatisfied thing it is. Society’s Sunday is merely a
+reflex of Society’s own immediate mood--the mood of killing time at all
+costs, even to the degradation of its own honour, for want of something
+better to do!
+
+
+
+
+THE “STRONG” BOOK OF THE ISHBOSHETH
+
+
+There are two trite sayings in common use with us all--one is:
+“Circumstances alter cases,” which is English; the other is: “Autres
+temps, autres mœurs,” which is French. But there lacks any similar
+epigrammatic expression to convey the complete and curious change of
+meaning, which by a certain occult literary process becomes gradually
+attached to quite ordinary words of our daily speech. “Strong,” for
+instance, used to mean strength. It means it still, I believe, in the
+gymnasium. But in very choice literary circles it means “unclean.”
+This is strange, but true. For some time past the gentle and credulous
+public has remained in childlike doubt as to what was really implied
+by a “strong” book. The gentle and credulous public has been under the
+impression that the word “strong” used by the guides, philosophers, and
+friends who review current fiction in the daily Press, meant a powerful
+style, a vigorous grip, a brilliant way of telling a captivating and
+noble story. But they have, by slow and painful degrees, found out
+their mistake in this direction, and they know now that a “strong”
+book means a nasty subject indelicately treated. Whereupon they are
+beginning to “sheer off” any book labelled by the inner critical
+faculty as “strong.” This must be admitted as a most unfortunate
+fact for those who are bending all their energies upon the writing
+of “strong” books, and who are wasting their powers on discussing
+what they euphoniously term “delicate and burning subjects”; but it
+is a hopeful and blessed sign of increasing education and widening
+intellectual perception in the masses, who will soon by their sturdy
+common sense win a position which is not to be “frighted with false
+fire.” Congratulating the proprietors of _Great Thoughts_ on its
+thousandth number, the sapient _Westminster Gazette_ lately chortled
+forth the following lines: “A career such as our contemporary has
+enjoyed, shows that the taste for good reading is wider than some
+would have us believe. We wish _Great Thoughts_ continued success.”
+O wise judge! O learned judge! The public taste for good reading is
+only questioned when writers whom Thou dislikest are read by the base
+million!
+
+“Art,” says a certain M.A., “if it be genuine and sincere, tends ever
+to the lofty and the beautiful. There is no rule of art more important
+than the sense of modesty. Vice grows not a little by immodesty of
+thought.” True. And immodesty of thought fulfils its mission in
+the “strong” book, which alone succeeds in winning the applause of
+that “Exclusive Set of Degenerates” known as the E.S.D. under the
+Masonic Scriptural sign of ISHBOSHETH (laying particular emphasis on
+the syllable between the “Ish” and the “eth,”) who manage to obtain
+temporary posts on the ever-changeful twirling treadmill of the daily
+press. The Ishbosheth singular is the man who praises the “strong”
+book--the Ishbosheth in the plural are the Exclusive Set who are sworn
+to put down Virtue and extol Vice. Hence the “strong” cult, also the
+“virile.” This last excellent and expressive word has become seriously
+maltreated in the hands of the Ishbosheth, and is now made answerable
+for many sins which it did not originally represent. “Virile” is from
+the Latin _virilis_, a male--virility is the state and characteristic
+of the adult male. Applied to certain books, however, by the Ishbosheth
+it will be found by the discerning public to mean coarse--rough--with
+a literary “style” obtained by sprinkling several pages of prose with
+the lowest tavern-oaths, together with the name of God, pronounced
+“Gawd.” Anything written in that fashion is at once pronounced “virile”
+and commands wide admiration from the Ishbosheth, particularly if it
+should be a story in which women are depicted at the lowest kickable
+depth of drab-ism to which men can drag them, while men are represented
+as the suffering victims of their wickedness. This peculiar kind of
+turncoat morality was, according to Genesis, instituted by Adam in
+his cowardly utterance: “The woman tempted me,” as an excuse for his
+own base greed; and it has apparently continued to sprout forth in
+various of his descendants ever since that time, especially in the
+community of the Ishbosheth. “Virility,” therefore, being the state and
+characteristic of the adult male, or the adult Adam, means, according
+to the Ishbosheth, men’s proper scorn for the sex of their mothers, and
+an egotistical delight in themselves, united to a barbarous rejoicing
+in bad language and abandoned morals. It does not mean this in decent
+every-day life, of course; but it does in books--such books as are
+praised by the Ishbosheth.
+
+“I don’t want one of your ‘strong’ books,” said a customer at one of
+the circulating libraries the other day. “Give me something I can read
+to my wife without being ashamed.” This puts the case in a nutshell.
+No clean-minded man can read the modern “strong” book praised by the
+Ishbosheth and feel quite safe, or even quite manly in his wife’s
+presence. He will find himself before he knows it mumbling something
+about the gross and fleshly temptations of a deformed gentleman with
+short legs; or he will grow hot-faced and awkward over the narrative
+of a betrayed milkmaid who enters into all the precise details of her
+wrongs with a more than pernicious gusto. It is true that he will
+probably chance upon no worse or more revolting circumstances of human
+life than are dished up for the general Improvement of Public Morals in
+our halfpenny dailies; but he will realize, if he be a man of sense,
+that whereas the divorce court and police cases in the newspaper are
+very soon forgotten, the impression of a “strong” book, particularly if
+the “strong” parts are elaborately and excruciatingly insisted upon,
+lasts, and sometimes leaves tracks of indelible mischief on minds
+which, but for its loathsome influence, would have remained upright
+and innocent. Thought creates action. An idea is the mainspring of an
+epoch. Therefore the corrupters of thought are responsible for corrupt
+deeds in an individual or a nation. From a noble thought--from a
+selfless pure ideal--what great actions spring! Herein should the
+responsibility of Literature be realized. The Ishbosheth, with their
+“strong” books, have their criminal part in the visible putrescence
+of a certain section of society known as the “swagger set.” Perhaps
+no more forcible illustration of the repulsion exercised by nature
+itself to spiritual and literary disease could be furnished than by
+the death of the French “realist” Zola. Capable of fine artistic work,
+he prostituted his powers to the lowest grade of thought. From the
+dust-hole of the frail world’s ignorance and crime he selected his
+olla-podrida of dirty scrapings, potato-peelings, candle-ends, rank
+fat, and cabbage water, and set them all to seethe in the fire of
+his brain, till they emitted noxious poison, and suffocating vapours
+calculated to choke the channels of every aspiring mind and idealistic
+soul. Nature revenged herself upon him by permitting him to be likewise
+asphyxiated--only in the most prosy and “realistic” manner. It was one
+of those terribly grim jests which she is fond of playing off on those
+who blaspheme her sacred altars. A certain literary aspirant hovering
+on the verge of the circle of the Ishbosheth, complained the other day
+of a great omission in the biography of one of his dead comrades of the
+pen. “They should have mentioned,” he said, “that he allowed his body
+to _swarm with vermin_!” This is true Ishbosheth art. Suppress the fact
+that the dead man had good in him, that he might have been famous had
+he lived, that he had some notably strong points in his character, but
+_don’t_ forget, for Heaven’s sake, to mention the “vermin”! For the
+Ishbosheth “cult” see nothing in a sunset, but much in a flea.
+
+Hence when we read the criticism of a “strong” book, over the signature
+of one of the Ishbosheth, we know what to expect. All the bad, low,
+villainous and soiled side of sickly or insane human nature will be in
+it, and nothing of the healthful or sound. For, to be vicious is to
+be ill--to commit crime is to be mentally deformed--and the “strong”
+book of the Ishbosheth only deals with phases of sickness and lunacy.
+There are other “strong” books in the world, thank Heaven--strong
+books which treat strongly of noble examples of human life, love
+and endeavour--books like those of Scott and Dickens and Brontë and
+Eliot--books which make the world all the better for reading them. But
+they are not books admired of the Ishbosheth. And as the Ishbosheth
+have their centres in the current press, they are not praised in the
+newspapers. Binding as the union of the Printers is all over the
+world, I suppose they cannot take arms against the Ishbosheth and
+decline to print anything under this Masonic sign? If they could,
+what a purification there would be--what a clean, refreshing world
+of books--and perhaps of men and women! No more vicious heroes with
+short legs; no more painfully-injured milkmaids; no more “twins,”
+earthly or heavenly--while possibly a new _Villette_ might bud and
+blossom forth--another _Fortunes of Nigel_, another brilliant _Vanity
+Fair_--and books which contain wit without nastiness, tenderness
+without erotics, simplicity without affectation, and good English
+without slang, might once again give glory to literature. But this
+millennium will not be till the “strong” book of the Ishbosheth ceases
+to find a publisher, and the Ishbosheth themselves are seen in their
+true colours, and fully recognized by the public to be no more than
+they are--a mere group of low sensualists, who haunt Fleet Street
+bars and restaurants, and who out of that sodden daily and nightly
+experience get a few temporary jobs on the Press, and “pose” as a cult
+and censorship of art. And fortunately the very phrase “strong book”
+has become so much their own that it has now only to be used in order
+to warn off the public from mere pot-house opinion.
+
+
+
+
+ON THE MAKING OF LITTLE POETS
+
+
+Great Poets discover themselves. Little Poets have to be “discovered”
+by somebody else. Otherwise they would live and die in the shadow
+of decent obscurity, unheard, unseen, unknown. And it is seriously
+open to question whether their so living and dying would not be an
+advantage to society in the abating of a certain measure of boredom.
+Looking back upon the motley crowd of Little Poets who had their day of
+“discovery” and “boom” at the very period when the thunderous voice of
+the Muse at her grandest was shaking the air through the inspired lips
+of Byron, Shelley and Keats, and noting to what dusty oblivion their
+little names and lesser works are now relegated without regret, it is
+difficult to understand why they were ever dragged from the respectable
+retirement of common-place mediocrity by their critic-contemporaries.
+Byron was scorned, Shelley neglected, and Keats killed by these same
+critics;--neither of the three were “discovered” or “made.” Their
+creation was not of man, but of their own innate God-given genius,
+and, according to the usual fate attending such divine things, the
+fastidious human _dilettante_ of their day would have none of them. He
+set up his own verse-making Mumbo-Jumbo; and one Pye was Laureate. Pye
+was Laureate,--yet Byron lived, and there was a reigning monarch in
+England, strange as these assorted facts will seem to all intellectual
+posterity. For a monarch’s word,--even a prince’s word,--must always
+carry a certain weight of influence, and one asks wonderingly how,
+under such circumstances, that word came to be left unsaid? No voice
+from the Throne called the three greatest geniuses of the era to
+receive any honour due to their rare gifts and quality. On the contrary
+they were cast out as unvalued rubbish from their native land, and
+the Little Poets had their way. Pye continued to write maudlin rhymes
+unmolested, never dreaming that the only memory we should keep of him
+or of his twaddle, would be the one scathing line of the banished Byron:
+
+
+     Better to err with Pope than shine with Pye!
+
+
+And feeble penny whistles played trumpery tunes to the languid votaries
+of “cultchaw” in those days, and pennywhistle verse was voted “classic”
+and supreme; but ever and anon the Nation turned a listening ear across
+the seas and caught the music made by its outlawed singers,--music
+it valued even then, and treasures now among its priceless and
+imperishable glories. For the Nation knows what true Poetry is,--and no
+“discoverer” will ever force it to accept a tallow candle for a star.
+
+The gulf between Great Poets and Little is a wide one,--wider than
+that which yawned between Lazarus in heaven and Dives in hell. The
+Great Poet is moved by an inspiration which he himself cannot analyse,
+and in which neither the desire of money nor the latent hope of fame
+have the chiefest part. He sings simply because he must sing. He does
+not labour at it, piecing his thoughts and words together with the
+tardy and tame patience of a worker in mosaics, for though such exact
+execution be admirable in mosaic-work, it is dull and lifeless in
+poetry. Colour, fire, music, passion, and intense, glowing vitality are
+the heritage of the Great Poet; and when the torrent of unpremeditated
+love-song, battle-chant, dirge and prophecy pours from his lips, the
+tired world slackens its pace to listen, and listening, silently crowns
+him Laureate in its heart of hearts, regardless of Prime Minister or
+Court Chamberlain. But the Little Poet is not able so to win attention;
+he cannot sing thus “wildly well” because he lacks original voice.
+He can only trim a sorry pipe of reed and play weak echoes thereon;
+derivative twists of thought and borrowed fancies caught up from the
+greater songs already ringing through the centuries. And when he
+first begins piping in this lilliputian fashion he is generally very
+miserable. He pipes “for pence; Ay me, how few!” Nobody listens; people
+are too much engrossed with their own concerns to care about echoes.
+Their attention can only be secured by singing them new songs that will
+stir their pulses to new delights. The too-tootling of the Little Poet,
+therefore, would never be noticed at all, even by way of derision,
+unless he went down on all-fours and begged somebody to “discover” him.
+The “discoverer” in most cases is a Superannuated-literary-gentleman,
+who has tried his own hand at poetry and failed ignominiously.
+Incapacity to do any good work of one’s own frequently creates a
+thirsty desire to criticize the work of other people; thus, in the
+intervals of his impotent rage at the success of the deserving, the
+Superannuated, resolved to push himself into notice somehow, takes to
+“discovering” Little Poets. It is his poor last bid for fame; a final
+forlorn effort to get his half-ounce of talent to the front by tacking
+it on to some new name which he thinks (and he is quite alone in the
+idea) may by the merest chance in the world, like a second-rate horse,
+win a doubtful race. To admire any Great Poet who may happen to exist
+among us, is no part of the Superannuated’s programme. He ignores Great
+Poets generally, fearing lest the mere mention of their names should
+eclipse his dwarfish nurslings.
+
+Now the public, mistakenly called fools, are perfectly aware of the
+Superannuated. They see his signature affixed to many of the Little
+Poets Booms, and ask each other with smiling tolerance, “What has he
+done?” Nothing. “Oh! Then how does he know?” Ah, that is his secret! He
+thinks he knows; and he wants you, excellent Fool-Public, to believe he
+thinks he knows! And, under the pleasing delusion that you always have
+your Fool’s Cap on, and never take it off under any circumstances, he
+“discovers” Mr. Podgers for you. Who is Mr. Podgers? A poet. If we are
+to credit the Superannuated, he is “a new star on the literary horizon,
+of the first magnitude.” The “first magnitude”!--the public shakes its
+caps and bells in amused scepticism. Another Shelley? Another Byron?
+These were of the “first magnitude,” and shall we thank a bounteous
+heaven for one more such as these? No, no, nothing of the sort, says
+the Superannuated with indignation, for it is high time you put this
+sort of Shelley-Byron stuff behind you. Mr. Swinburne has distinctly
+said that “Byron was no poet.” Learn wisdom, therefore, and turn from
+Byron to Podgers. He has written a little book, has Podgers, for which
+those who desire to possess it must pay a sum out of all proportion to
+its size. What shall we find in this so-little book? Anything to make
+our hearts beat in more healthful and harmonious tune? No. Nothing
+of this in Podgers. Nothing, in fact, of any kind in Podgers which
+we have not heard before. There are a few lines that we remember as
+derived from Wordsworth, and one stanza seems to us like a carefully
+transposed bit of Tennyson;--but for anything absolutely new in thought
+or in treatment we search in vain. Unless we make exception for a
+set of verses which are a tribute to the art of Log-Rolling, namely
+Podgers’s “Ode” to Podgers’s favouring critic. We confess this to be
+somewhat of a novelty, and we begin to pity Podgers. He must have
+fallen very low to write (and publish) an “Ode” to the Superannuated,
+his chief flatterer on the Press, and he must be very short-sighted if
+he imagines that action is a millstone _without_ a hole in it. And so,
+despite the loud eulogies of the Superannuated (who is naturally proud
+to be made the subject of any “Ode” however feeble) we do not purchase
+Podgers’s book, though it is urged upon us as being a “limited”
+edition. But the Superannuated is not herein baffled. If, he says,
+if you are so asinine, so crass, so dull and dense of comprehension
+as to reject this marvellous, this classic Podgers, what say you to
+Stodgers? Stodgers is a “young” poet (forty-five last birthday),
+entirely free from “manner” and manners. He has resorted to the last
+and lowest method employed by Little Poets for obtaining temporary
+notoriety, namely,--outraging decency. Coarseness and blasphemy are
+the prevailing themes of his verse, but to the Superannuated these
+grave blemishes constitute “power.” A “strong” line is a lewd line; a
+“masterful” stanza contains a prurient suggestion. It suits the purpose
+of the Superannuated to compare his two “discoveries,” Podgers and
+Stodgers, and to work them against each other in those quarters of the
+Press he controls, like the “toy millers” one buys for children. It is
+a case of “Podgers come up and Stodgers come down,” as fits his humour
+and digestion. Meanwhile the vital test of the whole matter is that
+notwithstanding all this energetic “hawking about” of the Little Poets
+by the Superannuated, neither Podgers nor Stodgers _sell_. Everything
+is done to secure for them this desired result; unavailingly. And it
+is not as if they came out in a “common” way, Podgers and Stodgers. No
+publishing-firm with a simple name such as Messrs. Smith or Brown would
+suit the Little Poets. They must come out singularly, and apart from
+others. So they elect a publisher who, as it were, puts up a sign, as
+though he were a Tavern. “Published at the Dragon’s Mouth” or “At the
+Sign of the Flagon” would seem to be more convincing than “Published by
+Messrs. So and So.” Now Podgers’s little book has a fanciful title-page
+stating that it is published at the “Goose and Gridiron.” Stodgers,
+we find, bursts upon the world at “The Blue Boar.” There is something
+very delusive about all this. A flavour of ale and mulled wine
+creeps insidiously into the air, and we are moved to yearn for good
+warm drinks, whereas we only get indifferent cold verse. Now if the
+proprietors of the “Goose and Gridiron” and the “Blue Boar” would only
+sell inspiring liquids instead of uninspired rhymes, how their trade
+would improve! No longer would they bend, lean and furrowed, over their
+account-books--no longer would they have to scheme and puzzle over the
+“making” of Little Poets; because it must not be imagined that the
+Superannuated “discoverer” is the only one concerned in the business.
+“Goose and Gridiron” and “Blue Boar” have to deal in many small tricks
+of trade to compass it. Of course it is understood that the Little
+Poets get no money out of their productions. What they stipulate for
+with “Blue Boar” and likewise with “Goose and Gridiron” is a “hearing.”
+This “hearing” is obtained variously. Podgers got it in this way, as
+followeth: His verses, which had appeared from time to time in Sunday
+papers and magazines, were issued in a “limited edition.” Such “limited
+edition” was at once dispersed among booksellers in different parts of
+the country “on sale or return,” and while thus doubtfully awaiting
+purchasers, “Goose and Gridiron” tipped the trade-wink and perhaps
+something else more substantial besides, to the Superannuated,--who
+straightway seized his pen and wrote: “We hear that the first edition
+of Mr. Podgers’s poems is exhausted, and that original copies are
+already at a premium.” This done, and “passed” through many papers,
+the publisher followed it up with an advertisement to the effect that
+“The first edition of Mr. Podgers’s poems being exhausted, a Second
+will be ready in a few days.” And here, it may as well be said for
+the rectitude of “Goose and Gridiron,” things came to a standstill.
+Because the Little Poets seldom get beyond a second edition. When
+Podgers’s first editions came back unsold from the provinces (as they
+did), attempts were made to dispose of them at fancy prices as a last
+resource,--such attempts naturally ending in disaster. The times are
+too hard, and people have too much to do with their money to part with
+any of it for first editions of Podgers or Stodgers. The public is a
+very shrewd one, moreover, and is not to be “taken in” by gnat-rhymers
+dancing up and down for an hour in the “discoverer’s” artificial
+sunbeams. And the Superannuated, in his eager desire to assert himself
+as an oracular personage, forgets one very important fact, and this is,
+that being a Nobody he cannot be accepted as warrant for a Somebody.
+The public is not his child; he cannot whip it into admiring Mr.
+Podgers, or coerce its judgment respecting Mr. Stodgers. Its ways
+are wilful, and it has a ridiculous habit (considering what a Fool
+the critic imagines it to be) of preferring its own opinion to that
+of the Superannuated. It is capable, it thinks, what with Compulsory
+Education and the rest of it, of making its own choice. And on the
+whole it prefers the Great Poet,--the man who scorns to be “discovered”
+by an inferior intellect, and who makes his own way independently and
+with a grand indifference to the squabbling of Log-rollers. He is not
+“made”; he forms part of the country’s blood and life; he chants the
+national thought in haunting rhythm as did the prophet bards of old;
+he, careless of “pence,” praise or fame, does so mix himself with his
+land’s history, that he becomes, as it were the very voice of the age
+in which he lives, and the Superannuated may ignore him as he will,
+he cannot get him out of the nation’s heart when he has once got in.
+But of the feeble, absurdly conceited tribe of Little Poets who come
+jostling one upon another nowadays in such a puling crowd, piping out
+their wretchedly small personalities in versed pessimism or coarse
+metaphor,--men “made” by the Tavern-publisher and the Superannuated
+Failure;--we have had enough of these, and more than enough. Too much
+good paper, good ink and good binding are wasted on their totally
+undesired productions. Life with us now is lived at too hard and too
+difficult a pace for any one to need poetry that is _only_ verse.
+Hearts break every day in the truest sense of that sentimental phrase;
+brains reel into insanity and the darkness of suicide; and it is no
+Little Poet’s personal pangs about “pence” and such trifles, that can,
+like David’s harp of old, soothe or dismiss the dark spirit brooding
+over the latter-day Saul. It is the Great Poet we care for, whose
+singing-soul mystically comprehends our unuttered thoughts of love or
+glory; who chants not only his pains, but ours; not his joy, so much as
+the whole world’s joy. Such a man needs no “discoverer” to prove his
+existence; he is self-evident. When we grow so purblind as to need a
+still blinder Mole to point us out the sun, then, but not till then
+shall we require the assistance of the Superannuated to “discover” what
+we understand by a Poet. At present we are actively conscious both of
+the orb of day, and the true quality of genius; and though the Poet we
+choose for ourselves and silently acknowledge as worthy of all honour,
+may not be, and seldom is, the recommended favourite of a clique, we
+are fully aware of him, and show our love and appreciation by setting
+his book among our household gods. No “limited edition” will suffice
+for such a man; we need to have his poems singing about us wherever we
+go. For the oft-repeated truth is to-day as true as ever,--that the
+Great Poet is “born,” and never has been and never will be “made.”
+
+
+
+
+THE PRAYER OF THE SMALL COUNTRY M.P.
+
+WHICH HE PRAYETH DAILY
+
+
+O thou Especial Little God of Parliaments and Electors, with whom the
+greater God of the Universe has nothing whatever to do!--I beseech Thee
+to look upon me, Thy chosen servant, with a tolerant and favourable Eye!
+
+Consider with Leniency the singular and capricious Chance which has
+enabled me to become a Member of the Government, and grant me Thy
+protection, so that my utter Incapacity for the Post may never be
+discovered! Enable me, I implore Thee, to altogether dispense with
+the assistance of a certain Journalist and Press-Reporter in the
+composition of my Speeches! His Terms are high, and I am not sure of
+his Discretion!
+
+Impart unto me by spiritual telegraphy such Knowledge of the general
+Situation of Affairs that I may be able to furnish forth an occasional
+Intelligent Remark to the farmers of this Constituency, whose Loyalty
+to the Government is as firm as their Trust in the Power of Beer!
+Give me the grace of such shallow Profundity and Pretension as
+shall convince Rustic minds of my complete Superiority to them in
+matters concerning their Interest and Welfare; and teach me to use
+their Simplicity for the convenient furtherance of my own Cunning!
+Fill me with such necessary and becoming Arrogance as shall make me
+overbearingly insolent to Persons of Intellect, while yet retaining
+that sleek Affability which shall cause me to appear a Fawning Flunkey
+to Persons of Rank! Enable me to so condescendingly patronize the
+Electors who gave me their Majority that it shall seem I was returned
+through Merit only, and not through Bribes and Beer! And mercifully
+defend me, O Beneficent little Deity, from all possibility of ever
+being called upon to address the House! I am no speaker,--and even if I
+were, I have no Ideas whereon to hang a fustian sentence! Thou Knowest,
+All-Knowing-One, that I have not so much as an Opinion, save that it
+is good for me, in respect of Social Advantage, to write M.P. after
+my name! And surely Thou dost also know that I have paid Two Thousand
+Pounds for the purchase of this small portion of the Alphabet, making
+One Thousand Pounds per letter, which may humbly be submitted to Thee,
+O Calculating Ruler of Parliamentary Elections, as somewhat dear!
+
+But I have accepted these Conditions and paid the Sum without
+murmuring; therefore of Thy goodness, be pleased to spare me from the
+utterance of even one word in the presence of my peers, concerning any
+Matter for the Advancement of Which I have been elected! For lo,--if
+I said as much as “Yea,” it might be ill-advised; and yet again, if I
+said “Nay,” it might be ill-timed! Inasmuch as I am compelled to rely
+on the Journalist and Press-Reporter before mentioned, for whatsoever
+knowledge of matters political I possess, and it is just possible
+that he might,--through an extra dose of whisky-soda,--mislead me
+by erroneous information! O Lord of Press-Agencies and Grub Street
+Eating-Houses, if it be possible unto Thee, relieve me of this Man!
+He charges more, so I am credibly informed, per Hundred Words than
+any other Inventor of Original Eloquence in the pay of the Unlettered
+and Inarticulate of the House! And it is much to be feared that he
+does not always keep his own Counsel! Wherefore, gracious Deity, I
+would be Released with all convenient Speed from the Exercise of
+his Power! Rather than be constantly compelled to rely upon this
+Journalistic Wretch for Advice and Instruction, it will more conduce
+to my Comfort,--though possibly to my Fatigue,--to commit to Memory
+such portions of long-forgotten speeches spoken by Defunct Members of
+the House in the Past, as may be found suitable to the present needs
+of the Rural Population. The Corn-growing and Cattle-breeding Electors
+will not know from what Sources I derive my Inspiration, and the Editor
+of the Local Newspaper has not yet taken a degree in Scholarship.
+Moreover, the Dead are happily unable to send in any Claim for Damages
+against the Theft of their Ideas, which are as free to Independent
+Pilferers as the Original Plots of New and Successful Romances are
+free to the Dramatizing Robbers in the Stage-Purlieus, thanks to the
+Admirable Attitude of Dignified Indolence assumed by that Government to
+which I, one Fool out of Many, have the honour to belong!
+
+Finally, O Beneficent Lilliputian Deity which governeth matters
+Parliamentary,--grant me such a sufficient amount of highly-respectable
+Mendacity as shall enable me to pass successfully for what I am not, at
+least, so far as Society in the Country is concerned! Fully aware am I,
+O Lord, that a Simulation of Ability will not always meet with approval
+in Town, though it has been occasionally known to do so! Therefore I am
+well content to sit in the House as one MUM, thus representing through
+myself an inaudible County! But in the County itself it shall seem
+to the Uninitiated that my thoughts are too deep for speech; while I
+retain in my own mind the knowledge of the Fact that my Humbug is too
+great for Expression!
+
+To Thee, gentle yet capricious Deity, I commend all my Desires,
+praying Thee to keep the people whom I represent as Dumb and Inert as
+myself in matters concerning their own Welfare, for if they should
+chance to consider the Situation by the light of Common Sense,
+and me by the shrewd Appreciation of a Native Wit, it might occur
+to them to prefer a Man rather than a Wooden-headed Nonentity to
+Proclaim their Existence to the King’s faithful Commons! Wherefore,
+at the next General Election I should lose my Seat,--which would
+be Disagreeable to me personally, as well as a Cause of Rage in my
+Wife, to whom my present Condition of a Parliamentary Microbe is
+much more important and advantageous than it is to the Country! And
+Thou knowest, O Lord, that when my Wife is moved by the Impetuous
+Persuasion of a difficult Temper, it is necessary for me, by reason
+of her Superior Height, Size, and Aggressiveness, to retire from the
+domestic Fighting-ground, considerably worsted in the unequal Combat.
+Protect me, merciful Deity, from her Tongue!--which is as a Sword to
+slay all thoughts of Peace! And, concerning the accursed, ubiquitous
+Journalist-Reporter-Paragraphist-Correspondent-Attached-to-all-Newspapers
+Man, who, for my sins, wrote my “speech to the Electors” at a high
+charge, and agreed,--and therefore expects,--to write all my other
+public utterances on the same terms, I beseech Thee, when he next waits
+upon me with his Bill, ready to Counsel or to Command, grant me the
+Strength and Courage to tell a more barefaced Lie than is habitual to
+me, and to boldly say that I can do Without him!
+
+
+AMEN!
+
+
+
+
+THE THANKSGIVING OF THE SMALL COUNTRY M.P’s WIFE,
+
+WHICH SHE OFFERETH WEEK-END-LY
+
+
+To Thee, O Bland and Blessëd Deity of Surplus Cash and Social
+Advancement, whose favours are never bestowed upon the Poor or the
+Wise, but only on the Rich and the Foolish, I give praise, honour and
+glory!
+
+I thank Thee that Thou hast made of that Supreme Ass, my Husband, a
+Member of the Government, so that, despite his utter Lack of Wit and
+Hopeless Incompetency, he may at least pass muster for having Brains in
+a particularly Brainless Constituency!
+
+I acknowledge Thy mercy and goodness in permitting that for the
+moderate cost of Two Thousand Pounds and upwards,--a sum not greatly
+in excess of my dressmaker’s annual bill,--I may set my foot on the
+two dumb and prostrate Letters of the Alphabet now attached to my said
+Husband’s new calling and Election, and may mount thereon to those
+heights of County Society where, ever since I was born I have eagerly
+thirsted to be! For though County Society be often duller than the
+fabled Styx, nevertheless the leaden weight of its Approval is as
+necessary to my special comfort and welfare as the Gilded chain of
+Office is to the swelling chest of a Provincial Mayor. Thou knowest,
+O little Lord of Communities Narrow, Parochial and Politic, that I am
+called, even by the Profanest of Press-Reporters, “a fine figure of a
+woman,” and that I am deserving of Public Notice and Commendation, not
+only for my Physical Attractions, but for my Social Qualifications,
+which, despite the fact that Fate has wedded me to a Fool, have enabled
+me to successfully represent the said Fool to his bovine Electors as
+an Intelligent Personality! Great is the Tact which is needed to palm
+off a Sparrow for an Eagle, a Mouse for an Elephant, or a Donkey for
+a Statesman! But I swear to Thee, O Thou gracious Little Neptune who
+ruleth that Limited Ocean called the “Society Swim” that I am equal
+to all this and more! Thou seest me as I am, a Fashionable Feminine
+Insincerity! Thou beholdest the subtle cleverness of my Social Smile,
+which radiates sweetly upon the faces of such persons as I conceive
+may be useful in Election times, but which fades into a Supercilious
+Sneer when I discover, as I often do, that many of these persons are
+unblushingly “of no political party,” and have no interest whatever in
+keeping my Husband in His Seat! Now if my Husband were not in His Seat,
+I should become that most deplorable of human beings, a Provincial
+Nonentity! Hence arises my natural and lawful Desire that in His Seat
+my Husband shall remain, inasmuch as were he left without a Seat, I
+should be left without a “Set”!
+
+But thanks be unto Thee, O Thou amiable and complaisant God of the
+British Social Status, there seems to be at present no cause for
+alarm that the Rustics whom my Husband, with unintelligent dumbness
+represents in the House of Commons will ever Rise! Chiefly inspired
+as they are by Drugged Beer, it is safe to presume that they will
+not easily awaken from their Public-House Torpor, or in a species of
+vulgar “horse-play” pull my Husband’s seat from under him,--even as
+a lubberly child pulls away a chair from the Unsuspecting Visitor
+who would fain sit down upon it,--and so precipitate my Husband
+into the unenviable rank of Unimportant Provincials! I myself am
+ready to guarantee,--always with Thy support, O Favourer of Paid
+Parliamentary Press-Puffery,--that so dire a Catastrophe as this shall
+not happen! For My weight,--which is both materially and mentally
+Considerable,--would have to be thrown into the Balance,--whereby
+the tottering Seat, even if partially overthrown, would, and
+needs Must,--under the force of my impetuous Clutch,--regain the
+Perpendicular!
+
+Being by unredeemed nature a Stupid Woman, I acknowledge freely and
+with gratitude Thy Omnipotent Guidance in Matters purely Snobbish! I
+praise and bless Thee for showing me the quickest way out of Things
+Intellectual into Things Conventional! I thank Thee for Thy unfailing
+assistance afforded to me in the beaten paths of County Flunkeydom,
+wherein I walk with virtuous circumspection, taking care to leave my
+impressive Visiting-Cards and likewise those of my Husband, on Houses
+only, and never on People! For People may be dangerous acquaintances,
+while Houses never are. A Family Residence is always more respectable
+than a Family!
+
+I give Thee glory that I am made of such stubborn Flesh and Quality as
+never to recognize that any other Woman exists who, by the Inconvenient
+Attributes of Either Beauty, Wit or Intelligence, deserves to be
+considered my Superior, and that when any such Intrusive and Obtrusive
+Female is accidentally forced upon my Notice, I have the good sense
+to diplomatically ignore Her. I am gratefully conscious that the
+Meaningless Insipidity of my Manner has favourably impressed the
+Uneducated Majority of my Husband’s Constituents. And also, that having
+once obtained their Unreasoning Votes, their Bucolic Lethargy is such,
+that I need do little further to retain their Credulous Admiration save
+to put in an Occasional Well-Dressed Appearance at a “local” Bazaar,
+or Charity Ball. Concerning any aims or hopes they may, in their
+blundering Dulness, have ever entertained towards the Betterment of
+their Condition, and the Representation of these Addle-pated desires to
+His Majesty’s Government, I am as Profoundly Indifferent as my Husband
+is Voluntarily Ignorant. For, as the larger number of the Faithful
+Commons are aware, no Act is more fatal to the Social Prestige and
+County Influence of a Member of the House, than that he should, when in
+office, fulfil the Rash Promises made to his Electors during a Critical
+state of the Poll! Inasmuch as the only Reasonable object to be
+attained by the Purchase of the Letters M. and P. is the Betterment of
+One’s Self and One’s Social Position on the lines of such Conventional
+Hypocrisies as are agreeable to the Best County Houses. For the taking
+of any bold or conspicuous part in any National Matter of Interest or
+Importance has long been sagaciously avoided by every County Member
+who desires to retain His Seat. And that one Man should do what his
+Colleagues dare not attempt, would be a Heroism which, thanks unto
+Thee, O Prudent Presiding Deity of Grandmotherly Westminster, is
+fortunately not to be expected of my Husband!
+
+Finally I thank Thee, O Wise and All-Discerning, for the Gracious
+Consolation which Thou hast imparted unto me in the fact that though my
+Husband is the Embodiment of county Vacuity, the Majority of the King’s
+Faithful Commons are as Vacuous as He! For, as in the multitude of Ants
+in an Anthill, One insect more industrious or intelligent than the
+rest is not easily discovered, even so, in the goodly array of Stupid
+Members, the Stupidest of them all may conveniently sit in his Seat
+without public Comment.
+
+And for the Constant Enjoyment of my own Admitted Position
+among the Tea-Drinking, Fox-Hunting and Bucolic _élite_ of the
+Neighbourhood,--for the graceful Ease with which I assume to be what
+I am not, by reason of the Two Letters attached to my Husband’s
+Name, which gives much more importance to Me than to Him,--and for
+the general comfortable Self-Assertiveness in which I live and
+move and have my being, I bless Thee, O Potent little Deity of the
+Polling-Booth, and acknowledge Thy Manifold Mercies! May the Seat of my
+Husband continue firm in Thy Sight, unmoved by any Popular Caprice of
+the Vulgar, until such time as my eldest Hopeful Son, the very pattern
+of His Father, shall slip into it Unopposed after Him, and so preserve
+in those Unsophisticated Rural Districts whereby we are surrounded, the
+Unblemished Honour of a Unique Reputation for Highly Educated Political
+Incompetence in this Advanced and Enlightened Age!
+
+
+AMEN!
+
+
+
+
+THE VANISHING GIFT
+
+
+The unseen rulers of human destiny are, on the whole, very kindly
+Fates. They appear beneficently prone to give us mortals much more
+than we deserve. Gifts of various grace and value are showered upon
+us incessantly through our life’s progress,--gifts for which we are
+too often ungrateful, or which we fail to appreciate at their true
+worth. Apart from the pleasures of the material senses which we share
+in common with our friends and fellows of the brute creation, the more
+delicate and exquisite emotions of the mind are ministered to with
+unfailing and fostering care. Music--Poetry, Art in all its brilliant
+and changeful phases,--these things are offered for the delectation of
+our thoughts and the refinement of our tastes; but the most priceless
+boon of the Immortals is the talisman which alone enables us to
+understand the beauty of life at its highest, and the perfection of
+ideals at their best. I mean Imagination,--that wonderful spiritual
+faculty which is the source of all great creative work in Art and
+Literature. Some call it “Inspiration”; others, the Divine Fire; but
+whatever its nature or quality, there is good cause to think--and to
+fear--that it is gradually dwindling down and disappearing altogether
+from the world of to-day.
+
+The reasons for this are not very far to seek. We are living in
+an age of feverish unrest and agitation. If we could picture a
+twentieth century Satan appearing before the Almighty under the
+circumstances described in the Book of Job, to answer the question,
+“Whence comest thou?”--the same reply would suit not only his, but
+our condition--“From going to and fro in the earth, and wandering up
+and down within it.” We are always going to and fro in these days. We
+are forever wandering up and down. Few of us are satisfied to remain
+long in the same place, among the same surroundings--and in this way
+the foundations of home life,--formerly so noble and firm a part of
+our national strength--are being shaken and disorganized. A very
+great majority of us appear to be afflicted with the chronic disease
+of Hurry, which generally breeds a twin ailment--Worry. We have no
+time for anything somehow. We seem to be always under the thrall of
+an invisible policeman, commanding us to “Move on!” And we do move
+on, like the tramps we are becoming. Moreover, we have decided that
+we cannot get over the ground quickly enough on the limbs with which
+Nature originally provided us--so we spin along on cycles, and dash
+about on motor cars. And it is confidently expected that by-and-by
+the mere earth will not be good enough for us, and that we shall
+“scorch” through the air--when a great change may be looked for in
+house accommodation. People will return, it is said, to the early
+cave dwellings, in order to avoid the massacre likely to be caused by
+tumbling air-ships over which the captains have lost control.
+
+There is something humourous in all this modern hurry-skurry; something
+almost grotesque in this desire for swift movement--this wish to save
+time and to stint work;--but there is something infinitely pathetic
+about it as well. It is as if the present Period of the world’s
+civilization felt itself growing old--as if, like an individual human
+unit, it knew itself to be past its prime and drawing nigh to death,
+as if,--with the feeble restlessness of advancing age, it were seeking
+to cram as much change and amusement as possible into the little time
+of existence left to it. Two of the most notable signs of such mental
+and moral decay are, a morbid craving for incessant excitement, and a
+disinclination to think. It is quite a common thing nowadays to hear
+people say, “Oh, I have no time to think!”--and they seem to be more
+proud than ashamed of their loss of mental equilibrium. But it is very
+certain that where there is no time to think, there is less time to
+imagine--and where there is neither thought nor imagination, creative
+work of a high and lasting quality is not possible.
+
+We, in our day, are fortunate in so far that we are the inheritors
+of the splendid work accomplished in the youth and prime of all that
+we know of civilization. No doubt there were immense periods beyond
+our ken, in which the entire round of birth, youth, maturity, age and
+death, was fulfilled by countless civilizations whose histories are
+unrecorded--but we can only form the faintest guess at this, through
+the study of old dynasties which, ancient as they are, may perhaps be
+almost modern compared to the unknown empires which have utterly passed
+away beyond human recovery. But if we care to examine the matter, we
+shall find among all nations, that as soon as a form of civilization
+has emerged from barbarism, like a youth emerging from childhood, it
+has entered on its career with a glad heart and a poetic soul,--full of
+ideals, and richly endowed with that gift of the gods--Imagination. It
+has invariably expressed itself as being reverently conscious of the
+Highest source of all creation; and its utterance through all its best
+work and achievement can be aptly summed up in Wordsworth’s glorious
+lines:--
+
+
+     Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting--
+       The Soul that rises with us, our life’s star
+     Hath had elsewhere its setting,
+       And cometh from afar,--
+          Not in entire forgetfulness,
+          And not in utter nakedness,
+          But trailing clouds of glory do we come,
+          From God who is our home!
+
+
+While these “trailing clouds of glory” still cling to the soul, the
+limits of this world,--the mere dust and grime of material things,--do
+not and cannot satisfy it; it must penetrate into a realm which is
+of its own idea and innate perception. There it must itself create a
+universe, and find expression for its higher thought. To this resentful
+attitude of the soul against mere materialism, we owe all art, all
+poetry, all music. Every great artistic work performed outside the
+needs of material and physical life may be looked upon as a spiritual
+attempt to break open the close walls of our earthly prison-house and
+let a glimpse of God’s light through.
+
+As a matter of fact, everything we possess or know of to-day, is
+the visible outcome of a once imagined possibility. It has been
+very grandly said that “the Universe itself was once a dream in the
+mind of God.” So may we say that every scientific law, every canon
+of beauty--every great discovery--every splendid accomplishment was
+once a dream in the mind of man. All the religions of the world, with
+their deep, beautiful, grand or terrific symbols of life, death and
+immortality, have had their origin in the instinctive effort of the
+Soul to detach itself from the mere earthly, and to imagine something
+better. In the early days, this strong aspiration of humanity towards
+a greater and more lasting good than its own immediate interest,
+was displayed in the loftiest and purest conceptions of art. The
+thoughts of the “old-world” period are written in well-nigh indelible
+characters. The colossal architecture of the temples of ancient
+Egypt--and that marvellous imaginative creation, the Sphinx, with its
+immutable face of mingled scorn and pity--the beautiful classic forms
+of old Greece and Rome--these are all visible evidences of spiritual
+aspiration and endeavour,--moreover, they are the expression of a
+broad, reposeful strength,--a dignified consciousness of power. The
+glorious poetry of the Hebrew Scriptures--the swing and rush of Homer’s
+Iliad,--the stately simplicity and profundity of Plato,--these also
+belong to what we know of the youth of the world. And they are still
+a part of the world’s most precious possessions. We, in our day, can
+do nothing so great. We have neither the imagination to conceive such
+work, nor the calm force necessary to execute it. The artists of a
+former time laboured with sustained and tireless, yet tranquil energy;
+we can only produce imitations of the greater models with a vast amount
+of spasmodic hurry and clamour. So, perchance, we shall leave to future
+generations little more than an echo of “much ado about nothing.” For,
+truly, we live at present under a veritable scourge of mere noise. No
+king, no statesman, no general, no thinker, no writer, is allowed to
+follow the course of his duty or work without the shrieking comments
+of all sorts and conditions of uninstructed and misguided persons, and
+under such circumstances it is well to remember the strong lines of our
+last great poet Laureate:--
+
+
+     Step by step we gain’d a freedom, known to Europe, known to all,--
+     Step by step we rose to greatness,--through the _tonguesters_
+       we may fall!
+
+
+But our chief disablement for high creative work,--and one that is
+particularly noticeable at this immediate period of our history, is, as
+I have said, the “vanishing of the gift”--the lack of Imagination. To
+be wanting in this, is to be wanting in the first element of artistic
+greatness. The poet, the painter, the sculptor, or the musician must
+be able to make a world of his own and live in it, before he can make
+one for others. When he has evolved such a world out of his individual
+consciousness, and has peopled it with the creations of his fancy,
+he can turn its “airy substance” into reality for all time. For the
+things we call “imaginative” are often far more real than what we call
+“realism.” All that we touch, taste and see, we call “real.” Now we
+cannot touch, taste or see Honour--but surely it is real! We cannot
+weigh out Courage in a solidified parcel--yet it is an actual thing.
+So with Imagination--it shows us what we may, if we choose, consider
+“the baseless fabric of a vision”--but which often proves as real and
+practical in its results as Honour and Courage. Shakespeare’s world is
+real;--so real that there are not wanting certain literary imposters
+who grudge him its reality and strive to dispossess him of his own.
+Walter Scott’s world is real--so real, that a shrine has been built for
+him in Edinburgh, crowded with sculptured figures of men and women,
+most of whom never existed, save in his teeming fancy. What a tribute
+to the power of Imagination is the beautiful monument in the centre of
+Princes Street, with all the forms evoked from one great mind, lifted
+high above us, who consider ourselves “real” people! And now the lesser
+world of thought is waiting for the discovery of a Cryptogram in the
+Waverley Novels, which shall prove that King George the Fourth wrote
+them with the assistance of Scott’s game-keeper, Tom Purdie,--and that
+his Majesty gave Scott a baronetcy on condition that he should never
+divulge the true authorship! For, according to the narrow material
+limits of some latter-day minds, no one man could possibly have written
+Shakespeare’s Plays. Therefore it may be equally argued that, as there
+is as much actual work, and quite as many characters in the Waverley
+Novels as in the plays of Shakespeare, they could not all have emanated
+from the one brain of Sir Walter Scott. Come forward then with a
+“Waverley cryptogram,” little mean starvelings of literature who would
+fain attempt to prove a man’s work is not his own! There are sure to be
+some envious fools always ready to believe that the great are not so
+great,--the heroic not so heroic, and that after all, they, the fools,
+may be wiser than the wisest men!
+
+In very truth, one of the worst signs of the vanishing of the gift of
+Imagination in these days is the utter inability of the majority of
+modern folk to understand its value. The creative ease and exquisite
+happiness of an imaginative soul which builds up grand ideals of life
+and love and immortality with less effort than is required for the
+act of breathing, seems to be quite beyond their comprehension. And
+so--unfortunately it often follows that what is above them they try to
+pull down,--and what is too large for them to grasp, they endeavour
+to bind within their own narrow ring of experience. The attempt is
+of course useless. We cannot get the planet Venus to serve us as a
+lamp on our dinner table. We cannot fit the eagle into a sparrow’s
+nest. But some people are always trying to do this sort of thing.
+And when they find they cannot succeed, they fall into a fit of the
+spleen, and revile what they cannot emulate. There is no surer sign of
+mental and moral decadence than this grudging envy of a great fame.
+For the healthy mind rejoices in the recognition of genius wherever
+or whenever it may be discovered, and has a keen sense of personal
+delight in giving to merit all its due. Hero-worship is a much finer
+and more invigorating emotion than hero-slander. The insatiate
+desire which is shown by certain writers nowadays, to pull down the
+great reputations of the past, destroy old traditions, and cheapen
+noble attainment, resembles a sudden outbreak of insane persons who
+strive to smash everything within their reach. It is in its way a
+form of Imagination,--but Imagination diseased and demoralized. For
+Imagination, like all other faculties of the brain, can become sickly
+and perverted. When it is about to die it shows--in common with
+everything else in that condition,--signs of its dissolution. Such
+signs of feebleness and decay are everywhere visible in the world at
+the present time. They are shown in the constant output of decadent
+and atheistical literature--in the decline of music and the drama from
+noble and classic forms to the repulsive “problem” play and the comic
+opera--in the splashy daubing of good canvas called “impressionist”
+painting--in the acceptance, or passive toleration, of the vilest
+doggerel verse as “poetry”--and in the wretched return to the lowest
+forms of ignorance displayed in the “fashionable” craze for palmistry,
+clairvoyance, crystal-gazing, and sundry other quite contemptible
+evidences of foolish credulity concerning the grave issues of life and
+death,--combined with a most sorrowful, most deplorable indifference
+to the simple and pure teachings of the Christian Faith. Even in the
+Christian Faith itself, its chosen ministers seem unable to serve their
+Divine Master without quarrelling over trifles,--which is surely no
+part of their calling and election.
+
+Everywhere there is a lack of high ideals,--and all the arts suffer
+severely in consequence. Modern education itself checks and cramps the
+growth of imaginative originality. The general tendency is unhappily
+towards the basest forms of materialism, and a large majority of people
+appear to be smitten with a paralysing apathy concerning everything
+but the making of money. That art is pursued with a horrible avidity,
+to the exclusion of every higher and nobler pursuit. Yet it needs
+very little “imagination” to prophesy what the end of a nation is
+bound to be when the unbridled fever of avarice once sets in. History
+has chronicled the ruin of empires from this one cause over and over
+again for our warning; and as Carlyle said in his stern and strenuous
+way--“One thing I do know: Never on this earth was the relation of
+man to man long carried on by cash payment alone. If at any time a
+philosophy of Laissez-faire, Competition and Supply-and-Demand start up
+as the exponent of human relations, expect that it will soon end.”
+
+Perhaps some will say that Imagination is not a “vanishing gift”--and
+that Idealism and Romance still exist, at any rate among the Celtic
+races, and in countries such as Scotland, for instance, the home of
+so much noble tradition, song and story. I wish I could believe this.
+But unhappily the proofs are all against it. If the Imaginative Spirit
+were not decaying in Scotland as elsewhere, should we have seen the
+wanton and wicked destruction of one of its fairest scenes of natural
+beauty--the Glen and Fall of Foyers? There, where once the clear
+beautiful cascade whose praises were sung by Robert Burns, dashed down
+in its thundering glory among the heather and bracken, there are now
+felled trees, sorrowful blackened stumps, withering ferns and trampled
+flowers, dirty car-tracks, and all the indescribable muck which follows
+in the wake of the merely money-grubbing human microbe. And where once
+the pulse was quickened to a sane and healthy delight in the grandeur
+of unspoilt Nature, and the mind was uplifted from sordid cares to
+high contemplation, we are now asked to buy an aluminium paper-knife
+for a shilling! Human absurdity can no further go than this. There can
+be little imagination left in the minds that could have tolerated the
+building of aluminium works where Foyers once poured music through
+the glen. And it is instructive to recall the action taken by the
+Belgian people--who are generally supposed to be very prosaic,--when
+some of their beautiful scenery on the river Amblève, was threatened
+with similar destruction. Mustering together, three to four thousand
+strong, they took a reduced model of the intended factory, burnt it
+on the spot, and threw its ashes into the river; performing such a
+terror-striking “carmagnole” of revolt, that the authorities were
+compelled to prohibit the erection of the proposed works, for fear of
+a general rising throughout the country. Would that such a protest
+had been offered by the people of Scotland against the destruction of
+Foyers!
+
+And what of the pitiful ruin of Loch Katrine?--once an unspoilt gem of
+Highland scenery, doubly beloved for the sake of Sir Walter Scott’s
+“Lady of the Lake”? What of the submerging of “Ellen’s Isle”?--the
+ruthless uprooting of that “entangled wood”--
+
+
+     Where Nature scattered, free and wild.
+     Each plant or flower, the mountain’s child,--
+     Here eglantine embalmed the air,
+     Heather and hazel mingled there.
+
+         *       *       *       *       *
+
+     The wanderer’s eye could barely view
+     The summer heaven’s delicious blue--
+     So wondrous wild!--the whole might seem
+     The scenery of a fairy dream!
+
+
+I have been assured on the very best authority that all the beauty of
+Loch Katrine could have been left undisturbed, had the Scottish people
+taken any actively determined measures towards preserving it. The
+increasing water-supply necessary for Glasgow could have been procured
+from Loch Vennachar, which is a larger loch, and quite as good for the
+purpose. Only it would have cost more money, and that extra cash was
+not forthcoming, even for Sir Walter’s sake! It is a poor return to
+make to the memory of him who did so much for the fame of Scotland,
+to mutilate the scene he loved and immortalized! The struggles and
+disasters of the Jacobite Cause, and the defeat at Culloden brought
+more gain than loss to Scotland, by filling the land with glorious song
+and heroic tradition,--the result of the noble idealistic spirit which
+made even failure honourable,--but the defacement of Loch Katrine, the
+scene of “The Lady of the Lake” is nothing but a disgrace to those who
+authorized it, and to those who kept silence while the deed was done.
+
+But there are yet other signs and tokens of the disappearance of
+that idealistic and romantic spirit in Scotland, which has more than
+anything, helped to make its history such a brilliant chronicle of
+heroism and honour. There are “a certain class” of Scottish people who
+are ashamed of the Scotch accent, and who affect to be unable to read
+anything written in the Scotch dialect. I am told--though I would hope
+it is not true--that the larger majority of Scottish ladies object to
+Scotch music, and do not know any Scotch songs. If this _is_ true of
+any “certain class” of Scottish people, I am sorry for them. They have
+fallen down a long way from the height where birth and country placed
+them! I should like to talk to any Scot, man or woman, who is ashamed
+of the Scotch accent. As well be ashamed of the mountain heather! I
+should like to interview any renegade son or daughter of the Celtic
+race, who is not proud of every drop of Celtic blood, every word and
+line of Celtic tradition,--every sweet song that expresses the Celtic
+character. Nothing that is purely national should be set aside or
+allowed to perish. It is a thousand pities that the old Gaelic speech
+is dying out in the Highlands, along with the picturesque “plaid” and
+“bonnet” of the Highland shepherds. The Gaelic language is a rich
+and copious one, and should be kept up in every Scottish school and
+University. Some of the Gaelic music, too, is the most beautiful in the
+world,--and many a so-called “original” composer has taken the theme
+for an overture or a symphony from an ancient, long-forgotten Gaelic
+tune. A fine spirit of romance and idealism is the natural heritage of
+the Celtic race;--far too precious a birthright to be exchanged for
+the languid indifferentism of latter-day London fashion, which too
+often makes a jest of noble enthusiasm, and which would, no doubt, call
+Sir Walter Scott’s fine novel of _The Heart of Midlothian_, “kailyard
+literature”--if it dared!
+
+And who that understands anything about music is so foolish and
+ignorant as to despise a Scottish song? Where can we match, in all
+song literature, the songs of Robert Burns? What German “lied”--what
+French or Italian “canzonet” or “chansonette” expresses such real human
+tenderness as “Of a’ the airts” or “My Nannie O!”? And it should be
+remembered that the imaginative pathos of the Scottish song has its
+other side of imaginative humour--sly, dry humour, such as cannot be
+rivalled in any language or dialect of the world. And in spite of the
+incredible assertion that they are beginning to despise their native
+Doric, there are surely few real Scotsmen who, even at this time of day
+fail to understand the whimsical satire of the famous old Jacobite song:
+
+
+     Wha the deil hae we gotten for a king
+        But a wee, wee German lairdie,
+     An’ he’s brought fouth o’ foreign trash
+        An’ dibbled it in his yairdie,--
+     He’s pu’d the rose o’ England loons
+     An’ broken the harp o’ Irish clowns--
+     But our Scotch thistle will jag his thumbs!
+        The wee, wee German lairdie!
+
+
+We shall not find anything of a bilious nature in a Scottish love-song.
+We shall not hear the swain asking his lady-love to meet him “in some
+sky,” or “when the hay is in the mow,” or any other vaguely indefinite
+place or period. The Scottish lover appears,--if we may judge him
+by his native song,--to be supremely healthy in his sentiments, and
+gratefully conscious of the excellence of both life and love. He takes
+even poverty with a light heart, and does not grizzle over it in
+trickling tears of dismal melody. No; he says simply and cheerily:
+
+
+     My riches a’ my penny fee,
+       An’ I maun guide it cannie O,--
+     But this world’s gear ne’er fashes me,--
+         My thoughts are a’ my Nannie O!
+
+
+It will be a sad day indeed when this spirit of wholesome, tender and
+poetic imagination drifts away altogether from Scotland. We must not
+forget that the Scottish race has taken a very firm root in the New
+World Beyond Seas,--and that out in Canada and Australia and South
+Africa the memories and the traditions of home are dear to the hearts
+of thousands who call Scotland their mother. Surely they should be
+privileged to feel that in their beautiful ancestral land, the old
+proud spirit is still kept up,--the old legends, the old language,
+the old songs,--all the old associations, which--far away as they
+are forced to dwell--they can still hand down to their children and
+their children’s children. No king,--no statesman, can do for a
+country what its romancists and poets can,--for the sovereignty of the
+truly inspired and imaginative soul is supreme, and as far above all
+other earthly dominion as the fame of Homer is above the conquests
+of Alexander. And when the last touch of idealistic fancy and poetic
+sentiment has been crushed out of us, and only the dry husks of
+realism are left to feed swine withal, then may we look for the end
+of everything that is worth cherishing and fighting for in our much
+boasted civilization.
+
+For with the vanishing gift, vanish many other things, which may be
+called in the quaint phrasing of an Elizabethan writer, “a bundle of
+good graces.” The chivalrous spirit of man towards woman is one of
+those “good graces” which is rapidly disappearing. Hospitality is
+another “good grace” which is on the wane. The art of conversation
+is almost a lost one. People talk as they ride bicycles--at a
+rush--without pausing to consider their surroundings. Elegant manners
+are also at a discount. The “scorching,” steaming, spasmodic motor
+man-animal does not inspire reverence. The smoking, slangy horsey,
+betting, woman-animal is not a graceful object. In the days of classic
+Greece and Rome, men and women “imagined” themselves to be descended
+from the gods;--and however extravagant the idea, it was likely to
+breed more dignity and beauty of conduct than if they had “imagined”
+themselves descended from apes. A nation rounds itself to an Ideal, as
+the clay forms into shape on a potter’s wheel. It is well, therefore,
+to see that the Ideal be pure and lofty, and not a mere Golden Image
+like that set up by King Nebuchadnezzar, who ended his days by eating
+grass,--possibly thistles. Some of our public men might perhaps be
+better for a little more Imagination, and a little less red tape. It
+might take them healthfully out of themselves. For most of them seem
+burdened with an absurd self-consciousness, which is apt to limit the
+extent of their view out on public affairs. Others again are afflicted
+by the hedge-hog quality of “stand-offishness” which they unfortunately
+mistake for dignity. And others affect to despise public opinion, and
+have a curious habit of overlooking the fact that it is the much-abused
+public which sets them in office and pays to keep them there. Their
+Ideal of public life and service partakes too much of Self to be nobly
+National.
+
+What, after all, is Imagination? It is a great many things. It is
+a sense of beauty and harmony. It is an instinct of poetry and of
+prophecy. A Persian poet describes it as an immortal sense of memory
+which is always striving to recall the beautiful things the Soul has
+lost. Another fancy, also from the East, is that it is “an instinctive
+premonition of beautiful things to come.” Another, which is perhaps
+the most accurate description of all, is that it is “the Sun-dial of
+the Soul on which God flashes the true time of day.” This is true, if
+we bear in mind that Imagination is always ahead of Science, pointing
+out in advance the great discovery to come. Shakespeare foretold the
+whole science of geology in three words--“Sermons in stones,”--and
+the vast business of the electric telegraph in one line--“I’ll put a
+girdle round the earth in forty minutes.” One of the Hebrew prophets
+“imagined” the phonograph when he wrote “Declare unto me the image
+of a voice.” As we all know, the marks on the wax cylinder in a
+phonograph are “the image of a voice.” The air-ship may prove a very
+marvellous invention, but the imagination which saw Aladdin’s palace
+flying from one country to another was long before it. All the genii
+in the Arabian Nights stories were only the symbols of the elements
+which man might control if he but rubbed the lamp of his intelligence
+smartly enough. Every fairy tale has a meaning; every legend a lesson.
+The submarine boat in perfection has been “imagined” by Jules Verne.
+Wireless telegraphy appears to have been known in the very remote days
+of Egypt, for in a rare old book called _The History of the Pyramids_,
+translated from the Arabic, and published in France in 1672, we find
+an account of a certain high priest of Memphis named Saurid,--who, so
+says the ancient Arabian chronicler, “prepared for himself a casket
+wherein he put magic fire, and shutting himself up with the casket, he
+sent messages with the fire day and night, over land and sea, to all
+those priests over whom he had command, so that all the people should
+be made subject to his will. And he received answers to his messages
+without stop or stay, and none could hold or see the running fire, so
+that all the land was in fear by reason of the knowledge of Saurid.” In
+the same volume we find that a priestess named Borsa evidently used the
+telephone. For, according to her history, “She applied her mouth and
+ears unto pipes in the wall of her dwelling, and so heard and answered
+the requests of the people in the distant city.”
+
+Thus it would seem that there is nothing new under the sun to that
+“dainty Ariel” of the mind, Imagination. It sees all present things
+at a glance, and foretells what is yet to come. It may well be called
+the Sun-dial of the Soul; but it is a Dial that must be kept sound
+and clean. There must be no crack in it,--it must not be allowed to
+get overgrown with the slimy mosses and rank weeds of selfishness and
+personal prejudice,--the index hand must be firmly set,--and none
+of the numeral figures must be missing! So, perchance, shall God
+flash the true time of day upon it, for such as will hold themselves
+free to mark the Hour according to His will. And for those who do
+thus hold themselves free,--for those who care to keep this precious
+Sun-dial clear and clean in their souls, there shall always be light
+and love,--and such clear reflections of divine beauty and peace as
+are described by the “Ettrick Shepherd” in his story of _Kilmeny in
+Fairyland_:
+
+
+     For Kilmeny had been, she knew not where,
+     And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare;
+     But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung,
+     And the airs of heaven played round her tongue!
+
+
+
+
+THE POWER OF THE PEN
+
+
+The dignity of Literature is, or used to be, something more than a
+mere phrase. Days there were in the long-ago, when the thinkers and
+writers of a nation were held to be worthy of higher honour than
+trade-kings and stock-jobbers,--when each one that shone out was “a
+bright particular star” of genius, as frankly owned as an object
+of admiration in the literary firmament. At that time there was
+no “syndicated” press. The followers and disciples of Literature
+were not all herded together, as it were, in a kind of scribbling
+trades-union. The poet, the novelist, the essayist,--each one of
+these moved in his or her own appointed orbit, and their differing
+special ways of handling the topics of their time served to interest,
+charm and stimulate the intelligences of people who were cultured and
+appreciative enough to understand and honour their efforts. But now
+things are greatly changed. What has been generally understood as
+“cultured” society is rapidly deteriorating into baseness and voluntary
+ignorance. The profession of letters is so little understood, and
+so far from being seriously appreciated, that responsible editors
+will accept and publish magazine articles by women of “title” and
+“fashion,” who prove themselves as ignorant of grammar as they are of
+spelling. The printer’s reader corrects the spelling, but the grammar
+is generally left as its “aristocratic” writer penned it, in majestic
+incompleteness. The newspapers are full, not of thoughtful, honestly
+expressed public opinion on the affairs of the nation, but of vapid
+“personalities,” interesting to none save gossips and busy-bodies. A
+lamentable lack of strength is apparent in the whole “tone” of modern
+Literature, together with a still more lamentable lack of wit. All
+topics, say the pessimists, are exhausted. The quarrels of politicians
+have exhausted earth,--the recriminations of the Churches have
+exhausted Heaven,--and the bold immoralities of society have, almost,
+if not quite, exhausted Hell. Yet the topic which holds in itself a
+great many of the pleasures of earth and heaven--with perhaps a touch
+of the other nameless place also, is still the Power of the Pen. It
+remains, even in these days, the greatest power for good or evil in
+the world. With the little instrument which rests so lightly in the
+hand, whole nations can be moved. It is nothing to look at; generally
+speaking it is a mere bit of wood with a nib at the end of it--but when
+it is poised between thumb and finger, it becomes a living thing--it
+moves with the pulsations of the loving heart and thinking brain, and
+writes down, almost unconsciously, the thoughts that live--the words
+that burn.
+
+To the power of the Pen we owe our laws, our government, our
+civilization, our very religion. For without it we should have no
+Bible--no New Testament. Our histories, our classics, our philosophies,
+our poetry, would all be lost with their originators. We should not
+know that Julius Cæsar ever walked on the shores of Britain, or that
+Nero fiddled while Rome was burning. In fact we should still be in
+the dark ages, without so much as a dream of the magnificent era of
+progress through which we have come, and in which we, of this present
+generation, have our glorious share. And so I think and venture to
+say that the power of the Pen is one which commands more millions of
+human beings than any monarch’s rule, and that the profession of the
+pen, called Literature, is the greatest, the highest, and the noblest
+that is open to aspiring ambition. Empires, thrones, commerce, war,
+politics, society--these things last but their brief hour--the Power of
+the Pen takes note of them as they pass--but outlives them all!
+
+We should know nothing to-day of the grandeurs of old Egypt, or the
+histories of her forgotten kings, if it were not for the Rosetta
+stone--on which the engraver’s instrument, serving as a pen, wrote the
+Egyptian hieroglyphics beside the Greek characters, thus giving us
+the clue to the buried secrets of a long past great civilization. The
+classic land of Greece, once foremost in all things which make nations
+great, particularly in the valour and victorious deeds of her military
+heroes, has almost forgotten her ancient glory--she might perhaps be
+forgotten by other nations altogether in the constant springing up of
+new countries and peoples if it were not for Homer! The blind, despised
+old man, who sang her golden days of pride and conquest, still keeps
+her memory green. And let us not forget that other glorious poet, who
+laid his laurel-wreath and life upon her shrine--our own immortal
+Byron--whose splendid lyric, “The Isles of Greece” may stand beside
+the finest lines of Homer, and not be shamed.
+
+What does all Italy, and particularly Florence, make chief boast of
+to-day? Not commerce, not wealth--simply Dante! In his lifetime he was
+made a subject for hatred and derision--he was scorned, cast out, and
+exiled by his fellow-townsfolk--yet now he is the great glory of his
+native city which claims respect from all the world for having been the
+birthplace of so supreme a soul. So, even after death, the Power of the
+Pen takes its revenge, and ensures its just recognition.
+
+Yet there are many workers in Literature who say that the Power of
+the Pen gives them no joy at all,--that it is a “grind,”--that it is
+full of disappointment and bitterness, and that they never get paid
+enough for what they do. This last is always a very sore point with
+them. They brood on it, and consider it so often, that by and by the
+question of how much or how little payment they get, becomes the only
+way in which they regard their profession. It is the wrong way. It is
+the way that leads straight to biliousness and chronic dyspepsia. It is
+not my way. To me, what little power of the pen I possess, is a magic
+talisman which I would not exchange for millions of money. It makes
+life beautiful for me--it intensifies and transfigures all events and
+incidents--it shows me a whole history in the face of a child--a whole
+volume of poetry and philosophy in the cup of a flower. It enables
+me to see the loveliness of nature with keener and more appreciative
+gratitude--and it fills me with an inward happiness which no outward
+circumstance can destroy.
+
+Of course just payment is to be demanded and expected for every kind
+of work. The rule of “give and take” holds good in all classes of
+employment. Each author’s power of the pen commands its price according
+to the value set upon it by the public. But I, personally, have refused
+many considerable sums of money offered to me if I would consent to
+“work up” or “bring forward” certain schemes and subjects with which
+I have no sympathy. The largest cheque would never tempt me to write
+against my own inclination. If I were given such a choice as this--to
+write something entirely opposed to my own feeling and conscience for
+a thousand pounds, or to write my honest thought for nothing, I would
+write my honest thought, and let the thousand pounds go. I am glad to
+say that some of my contemporaries are with me in this particular form
+of literary faith--but not as many as, for the honour of our calling, I
+could desire.
+
+Then again, there is that vexed question of--the Public! I have often
+noticed, with a humility too deep for words, that all the great modern
+writers, or, I should say, all those who consider themselves the
+greatest, have a lofty contempt for the public. “‘He,’ or ‘she’ writes
+for the Public,” is a remark which, when spoken with a withering sneer,
+is supposed to have the effect of completely crushing the ambitious
+scribbler whose Power of the Pen has attracted some little attention.
+Now if authors are not to write for the Public, who are they to write
+for? Certain of the “superior” folk among them will say that they write
+“for posterity.” But then, Posterity is also the Public! I really
+do not see how either the great or the small author is to get away
+from the Public anyhow! There is only one means of escape, and that
+is--not to write at all. But if those to whom the Power of the Pen is
+given, wish to claim and use their highest privileges, they will work
+always for the public, and try to win their laurels from the public
+alone. Not by the voice of any “clique,” “club,” or “set” will Time
+accept the final verdict of an author’s greatness, but by the love and
+honour of an entire people. Because, whatever passing surface fancies
+may for awhile affect the public humour, the central soul of a nation
+always strives for Right, for Justice, and for final Good, and the
+author whose Power of the Pen helps strongly, boldly, and faithfully on
+towards these great ends, is not, and shall not be, easily forgotten.
+
+I hope and I believe, that it is only a few shallow, ignorant and
+unsuccessful persons--fancying perhaps that they have the Power of the
+Pen when they have it not--who, in their disappointment, take a sort
+of doleful comfort in “posing” as unrecognized geniuses, whose quality
+of thought is too fine,--they would say too “subtle”--for the public
+taste. For, in my humble opinion, nothing is too good for the Public.
+They deserve the very best they can get. No “scamp” work should ever
+be offered to them. If a poet sings, let him sing his sweetest for
+them; if a painter paints pictures, let him give them his finest skill;
+if an author writes stories, essays or romances, let him do his very
+utmost to charm, to instruct, to awaken their thought and excite their
+interest. It is not a wise thing to start writing for “posterity.”
+Because, if the present Public will have nothing to do with you, it is
+ten to one whether the future will. All our great authors have worked
+for the public of their own immediate time, without any egotistical
+calculations as to their possible wider appreciation after death.
+
+The greatest poet in the world, William Shakespeare, was, from all we
+can gather, an unaffected, cheery, straightforward Warwickshire man,
+who wrote plays to please the Public who went to the Globe Theatre.
+He did not say he was too good for the Public; he worked _for_ the
+Public. He attached so little importance to his own genius, that he
+made no mention of his work in his will. So we may fairly judge that he
+never dreamed of the future splendour of his fame--when, three hundred
+years after his death, every civilized country in the world would have
+societies founded in his name; when, year after year, new discussions
+would be opened up concerning his Plays, new actors would be busy
+working hard to represent his characters, and, strangest compliment of
+all, when envious persons would turn up to say his work was not his
+own! For when genius is so varying and brilliant that a certain section
+of the narrow-minded cannot understand its many-sided points of view,
+and will not believe that it is the inheritance of one human brain,
+then it is great indeed! Three hundred years hence there will, no
+doubt, be other people to announce to the world that Walter Scott did
+not write, and could not have written, the Waverley Novels. For they
+are--in their own special way--as great as the plays of Shakespeare.
+He, too, was one of those who wrote for the Public. With his magic
+wand he touched the wild mountains, lakes and glens of his native
+land, and transfigured them with the light of romance and beauty for
+ever. Can we imagine Scotland without Walter Scott and Robert Burns?
+No! Their power of the pen rules the whole country, and gives it over
+the heads of monarchs a free fairy kingdom to all classes and peoples
+who have the wish and will to possess it. There are certain superior
+people nowadays who declare that Walter Scott is “old-fashioned,” and
+that they, for their parts, cannot read his novels. Well, I grant that
+Walter Scott _is_ old-fashioned--as old-fashioned as the sunshine--and
+just as wholesome. He lived in a time when men still reverenced women,
+and when women gave men cause for reverence. I think if he could be
+among us now, and see the change that has come over society since his
+day, he would scarcely have the heart to write at all. The idolatry
+of wealth--the servile worship of the newest millionaire--would
+hardly inspire his pen, save perhaps to sorrow and indignation. But
+if he were with us and did write for us, I am sure he would employ
+some of his great power to protest against the lack of fine feeling,
+gentleness, forbearance and courtesy which unfortunately marks much of
+our latter-day society. I think he would have something to say about
+the school-girl who smokes,--I fancy his mind might revolt against the
+skirt-dancing peeress! I think he would implore women not to part with
+their chief charm--womanliness--and I am sure he would be very sorry to
+see children of ten and eleven so deplorably “advanced” as to be unable
+to appreciate a fairy tale.
+
+And what of dear Charles Dickens--he, whom certain superfine persons
+who read Yellow Journalism presume to call “vulgar”? Is love, is pity,
+is tenderness, is faith “vulgar”? Is kindness to the poor, patience
+with the suffering, tolerance for all men and all creeds “vulgar”?
+If so, then Charles Dickens _was_ vulgar!--not a doubt of it! Few
+authors have ever been so blessedly, gloriously “vulgar” as he! What
+marvellous pictures his “power of the pen” conjures up at once before
+our eyes!--pathetic, playful, humourous, thrilling--rising to grandeur
+in such scenes as the shipwreck in _David Copperfield_; or that
+wonderful piece of description in the _Tale of Two Cities_, when the
+tramping feet of the Spirit of the French Revolution sweep past in the
+silence of the night! Match us such a passage in any literature past or
+present! It is unique in its own way--as unique as all great work must
+be. There is nothing quite like it, and never will be anything quite
+like it. And when we “go” with such great authors as these--and by this
+I mean, when we are determined to be one with them--we shall win such
+victories over our hearts and minds, our passions and desires, as shall
+make us better and stronger men and women.
+
+And this brings me to a point which I have often earnestly considered.
+One cannot help noticing that the present system of education is fast
+doing away with two great ingredients for the thorough enjoyment of
+life, and especially the enjoyment of Literature--Imagination and
+Appreciation. On the school-boy or school-girl who is “coached” or
+“crammed,” the gates of fairyland and romance are shut with a bang. I
+had once the pleasure of entertaining at my house a small gentleman
+of eleven, fresh from his London College--he was indifferent to, or
+weary of life; things generally, were a “bore,” and he expressed his
+opinion of fairy tales in one brief word, “Rot!” Now altogether apart
+from that most revolting expression, which is becoming of frequent use,
+especially in the “upper circles,” it seemed to me a real misfortune
+to consider, that for this child, Hans Andersen was a sealed book, and
+the wonders and beauties of the _Arabian Nights_ a lost world. And in
+the same way I pity the older children--the grown men and women, who
+cannot give themselves up to the charm or terror of a book completely
+and ungrudgingly--who approach their authors with a carping hesitation
+and a doubtful preparatory sneer. By so doing they shut against
+themselves the gate of a whole garden of delights. Imagination is the
+supreme endowment of the poet and romancist. It is a kind of second
+sight, which conveys the owner of it to places he has never seen,
+and surrounds him with strange circumstances of which he is merely
+the spiritual eyewitness. One of the most foolish notions prevalent
+nowadays is that an author must personally go and visit the place he
+intends to describe. Nothing is more fatal. For accuracy of detail,
+we can consult a guide book--but for a complete picture which shall
+impress us all our lives long, we must go to the inspired author whose
+prescience or second-sight enables him to be something more than a mere
+Baedeker. Endless examples of this second-sight faculty could be given.
+Take Shakespeare as the best of them. He could never have personally
+known Antony and Cleopatra. He did not live in the time of Julius
+Cæsar. He was not guilty of murder because he described a murder in
+_Macbeth_. He could not have been a “fellow-student” of Hamlet’s. And
+where do you suppose, among the grim realities of life, he could have
+met those exquisite creations, Ariel and Puck, if not in the heaven
+of his own peerless imagination, borne to him on the brilliant wings
+of his own thought, to take shape and form, and stay with us in our
+English language for ever! Walter Scott had never seen Switzerland when
+he wrote _Anne of Geierstein_. Thomas Moore never visited the East,
+yet he wrote _Lalla Rookh_. Charles Dickens never fought a duel, and
+never saw one fought, yet the duel between Mr. Chester and Haredale in
+_Barnaby Rudge_ is one of the finest scenes ever written. Because an
+author is able to describe a certain circumstance, it does not follow
+that he or she has experienced that very circumstance personally. Very
+often it may be quite the contrary. The most romantic descriptions
+in novels have often been written by people leading very hum-drum,
+quiet lives of their own. We have only to think of _Jane Eyre_, and to
+remember the prosy, dull days passed by its author, Charlotte Brontë.
+
+To refer once more to Hans Andersen--we all know that he never
+could have seen a Dresden China shepherdess eloping up the chimney
+with a Dresden China sweep. We know he never saw that dainty little
+shepherdess weeping on the top of a chimney because the world was so
+large, and because all her gilding was coming off. But when we are
+reading that fantastic little story, we feel he _must_ have seen it
+somehow, and we are conscious of a slight vexation that we never see
+such a curious and delightful elopement ourselves. This is a phase of
+the power of the pen--to make the beautiful, the quaint, the terrible,
+or the wonderful things of imagination seem an absolute reality.
+
+But to get all the enjoyment out of an author’s imagination, we, who
+read his books, must ourselves “imagine” with him. We must let him take
+us where he will; we must not draw back and refuse to go with him.
+We must not approach him in a carping spirit, or make up our minds
+before opening his book, that we shall not like it. We should not
+allow our particular views of life, or our pet prejudices to intervene
+between ourselves and the writer whose power of the pen may teach us
+something new. And above all things, we should prepare ourselves to
+appreciate--not to depreciate. Nothing is easier than to find fault.
+The cheapest sort of mind can do that. The dirty little street-boy can
+enter the British Museum and find fault with the Pallas Athene. But
+the Pallas Athene remains the same. To be Pallas Athene is sufficient.
+The power of appreciation is a great test of character. To appreciate
+warmly, even enthusiastically, is generally the proof of a kind and
+sunny disposition; to depreciate is to be in yourself but a sad soul at
+best! For depreciation in one thing leads to depreciation in another;
+and by and by the daily depreciator finds himself depreciating his
+Maker, and wondering why he was ever born! And he will never find
+an answer to that question till he changes his humour and begins to
+appreciate; then, and only then, will life explain its brightest
+meaning.
+
+Of course, when vulgarity, coarseness, slang, and ribaldry are set
+forward as “attractions” in certain books and newspapers, it is
+necessary to depreciate what is not the power of the pen, but the abuse
+of the pen. Such abuse is easily recognizable. The libellous paragraph,
+the personal sneer, the society scandal--there is no need to enumerate
+them. But we do not call the writers of these things authors, or even
+journalists. They are merely on a par with the anonymous letter-writer
+whom all classes of society agree in regarding as the most contemptible
+creature alive. And they do not come at all under the heading of the
+power of the pen, their only strength being weakness.
+
+I have already said that I believe the Power of the Pen to be the
+greatest power for good or evil in the world. And I may add that this
+power is never more apparent than in the Press. The Press nowadays is
+not a literary press; classic diction and brilliancy of style do not
+distinguish it by any means. It would be difficult to find a single
+newspaper or magazine to which we could turn for a lesson in pure and
+elegant English, such as that of Addison, Steele or Macaulay. But in
+the Scott or Byron days, the Press was literary to a very great extent,
+and as a natural consequence it had a powerful influence on the success
+or failure of an author’s work. That influence is past. Its work to-day
+deals, not with books, but with nations.
+
+National education, progressing steadily for years, has taught the
+Public to make up its own mind more quickly than ever it did before, as
+regards the books it reads. It will take what it wants and leave the
+rest; and the Press can neither persuade it nor repel it against its
+own inclination. So that the author in these days has more difficulties
+and responsibilities than in the past. He has to fight his battle
+alone. He has many more rivals to compete with, and many more readers
+to please. And the Press cannot help him. The Press may recommend, may
+even “boom” his work; but several instances have occurred lately where
+such recommendation has not been accepted. For, sometimes the Public
+fight shy of a “boom.” They think it has been worked up by the author’s
+friends, and they are not always mistaken. And they silently express
+the fact that they are quite capable of choosing the books they wish
+to read, without advice or assistance. This being the case, the Press
+is beginning to leave books and authors alone to shift for themselves
+as best they may, and is turning to other pastime. Nations, peoples,
+governments! These are the great footballs it occasionally kicks in
+the struggle for journalistic pre-eminence. And I hope I shall not be
+misunderstood if I venture to say that it is a somewhat dangerous game!
+Because, however powerful the Press may be, it is not the People. It is
+the printed opinion of certain editors and their staff. The People are
+outside it altogether. And if some one on the Press insults a monarch
+or a nation, that insult should not be taken as a People’s insult. It
+is the insult of the editor or proprietor who deliberately allows it to
+be printed in the particular journal he controls.
+
+It is a thousand pities, for example, that a section of the lower
+_boulevard_ press in Paris should be accepted in any quarter, as being
+representative of the feeling of the whole French people. When flippant
+and irresponsible newspaper scribes resort to calumny for the sake
+of notoriety, they prove themselves unworthy to be trusted with the
+Power of the Pen. In any case it can only be a God-forsaken creature
+who seeks to earn his living by scurrility. Such an one may excite
+individual contempt, but does not merit the notice of a great nation.
+
+As an author and as a lover of literature, I care very much for the
+honour and dignity of the British Press, and I cannot but earnestly
+deprecate the too free exchange of petty or malicious innuendo between
+foreign and English writers on their various respective journals.
+Bismarck used to say, “The windows which our Press breaks we shall have
+to pay for.” The power of the pen is abused when _such_ windows are
+broken as can only be mended by the sufferings of nations. If France
+or Germany sneers at us, or misreads our intentions, I do not see that
+we are called upon to sneer at them in return. That is mere schoolboy
+conduct. Our dignity should shame their flippancy. The Press of such an
+empire as Great Britain can afford to be magnanimous and dignified. It
+is too big and strong a boy to throw stones at its little brothers.
+
+On such a subject as the Power of the Pen, one might speak endless
+discourses, and write endless volumes, for it is practically
+inexhaustible. It is a power for good and evil--as I have said--but the
+author wrongs his vocation if he does not always, most steadfastly and
+honestly, use it for Good. The Power of the Pen should define Right
+from Wrong with absolute certainty,--it should not so mix the two
+together that the reader cannot tell one from the other. In what is
+called the “problem” novel or the “problem” play, the authors manage so
+to befuddle the brains of their readers, that they hardly know whether
+virtue is vice or vice virtue. This is putting the power of the pen to
+unfair and harmful uses. And when a writer--any writer--employs his
+or her power to promote the spirit of Atheism and Materialism, the
+pen is turned into a merely murderous tool of the utmost iniquity.
+And whosoever uses it in this sense will have to answer at a Higher
+Tribunal for much mischief and cruelty wrought in the world.
+
+Many people are familiar with Shakespeare’s town, Stratford-on-Avon,
+quaint and peaceful and beautiful in itself, and in all its
+surroundings. Outside it, many roads lead to many lovely glimpses of
+landscape; but there is one road in particular which winds uphill,
+and from which, at certain times, the town itself is lost sight of,
+and only the tapering spire of Holy Trinity Church--Shakespeare’s
+Church--can be seen. Frequently at sunset, when the rosy hue of the
+low clouds mingles with the silvery mist of the river Avon, all the
+houses, bridges and streets are veiled in an opaque glow of colour--and
+look like “mirage,” or a picture in a dream. And then, the spire
+of Shakespeare’s Church, seen by itself, rising clear up from the
+surrounding haze, puts on the distinct appearance of a Pen,--pointing
+upwards, as though prepared to write upon the sky!
+
+Often and often have I seen it so, and others have seen it with me,
+glittering against clouds, or lit up by a flashing sunbeam. I have
+always thought it a true symbol of what the Power of the Pen should
+be--to point upwards. To point to the highest aims of life, the best,
+the greatest things; to rise clear out of the darkness and point
+straight to the sunshine! For, if so uplifted, the Power of the Pen
+becomes truly invincible. It can do almost anything. It can shame the
+knave--it can abash the fool. It can lower the proud,--it can raise the
+humble. It can assist the march of Science,--it can crush opposition.
+Armed with truth and justice, its authority is greater than that of
+governments,--for it can upset governments. It would seem impossible to
+dethrone an unworthy king; but it has been done--by the Power of the
+Pen! It is difficult to put down the arrogance of a county snob,--but
+it _can_ be done!--by the Power of the Pen! It may seem a terrible
+task to root up lies, to destroy hypocrisies, shams, false things of
+every kind, and make havoc among rogues, sensualists, and scoundrels
+of both high and low degree,--but it can be done, by the Power of the
+Pen! And to those who are given this power in its truest sense, is also
+added the gift of prophecy--the quick prescience of things To Be--the
+spiritual hearing which catches the first sound of the approaching
+time. And beyond the things of time this spiritual sense projects
+itself, and hears, and almost _sees_, all that shall be found most
+glorious after death!
+
+With the Power of the Pen we can uphold all noble things; we can
+denounce all vile things. May all who have that power so deal with
+it--and point us on--and upward! For as our great poet, Tennyson,
+says:--
+
+
+         What is true at last will tell;
+         Few at first will place thee well;
+     Some too low would have thee shine,
+     Some too high--no fault of thine!
+         Hold thine own and work thy will!
+
+
+
+
+THE GLORY OF WORK
+
+
+Very commonplace and familiar--perhaps too commonplace and familiar
+is the subject of Work. Every one worthy the name of man or woman is,
+or desires to be a Worker, and none surely would voluntarily swell
+the distressed ranks of the Unemployed. For to be unemployed is to be
+miserable. To find nothing to do,--to be of no use to ourselves or to
+our fellow-creatures is to be more or less set aside and cast out from
+the ever-working Divine scheme of labour and fruition, ambition and
+accomplishment. Among all the blessings which the Creator showers so
+liberally upon us, there is none greater than WORK. And amid all the
+evils which Man wilfully accumulates on his own head through ignorance
+and obstinacy, there is none so blighting and disastrous as Idleness.
+
+There are, however, certain people who have persuaded themselves to
+look upon Work as a curse. Many of these pin their theories on the
+Third Chapter of the Book of Genesis. There they read:
+
+“Cursëd is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all
+the days of thy life.
+
+“In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread till thou return unto
+the ground.”
+
+But we may take comfort in the fact that the Book of Genesis shows some
+curious discrepancies. For in the Second Chapter God is represented as
+making _one_ single man out of the dust of the ground, yet in the very
+First Chapter of the same Book we read that,--
+
+“God created man in His own image; male and female created he _them_.
+
+“And God blessed _them_ and said unto _them_ ... Be fruitful and
+multiply, and replenish the earth and _subdue_ it: and have _dominion_
+over the fish of the sea and over the fowl of the air, and over every
+living thing that moveth upon the earth.”
+
+Thus we find that the story of Adam and Eve and the Serpent does
+not occur till _after_ the creation of mankind (in the plural) and
+_after_ the Divine order that this same mankind (in the plural) should
+“replenish the earth and subdue it.” No “curse” accompanied this
+command. On the contrary, it was sanctified by a blessing. “God blessed
+them.” And whether Genesis be taken seriously, or only read as poetic
+legend founded on some substratum of actual events, the fact remains
+that “to replenish the earth and subdue it,” literally means,--to WORK.
+The “dominion” of man over the planet he inhabits is not to be gained
+by sitting down with folded hands and waiting for food to drop into the
+mouth. It is evident that he was intended to earn his right to live. It
+is also evident that the blessing of God will be his, if from the first
+beginnings of conscious intelligence and aptitude he resolutely and
+honestly sets his shoulder to the wheel.
+
+It is only when we are at work that we are vitally and essentially a
+part of God’s great creative scheme. Idleness is an abnormal condition.
+It is not to be found in nature. There everything works, and in the
+special task allotted to it, each conscious atom finds its life and
+joy. The smallest seed _works_, as it slowly but surely pushes its
+way up through the soil;--the bird _works_, as it builds its nest and
+forages the earth and air to find food for its young. We cannot point
+to the minutest portion of God’s magnificent creation and say that it
+is idle. Nothing is absolutely at rest. There is--strictly speaking--no
+rest in the whole Universe. All things are working; all things are
+moving. Man clamours for rest,--but rest is what he will never
+get,--not even in the grave. For though he may seem dead, new forms
+of life germinate from his body, and go on working in their appointed
+way,--while, with the immortal part of himself which is his Soul, he
+enters at once into fresh fields of labour. Rest is no more possible
+than death, in the Divine scheme of everlasting progress where all is
+Life.
+
+Nature is our mother, from whose gentle or severe lessons we must learn
+the problems of our own lives. And whenever we go to her for help or
+for instruction, we always find her working. She never sleeps. She
+never has a spare moment. “Without haste, without rest” is her eternal
+motto. When we, like fretful children, complain of long hours of toil,
+scant wages and short holidays, she silently points us to the Universe
+around us of which we are a part, and bids us set our minds “in tune
+with the Infinite.” The Sun never takes holiday. With steady regularity
+it performs its task. For countless ages it has worked without any
+attempt to swerve from its monotonous round of duty. It shines on the
+just and on the unjust alike; it gives life and joy equally to the gnat
+dancing in its beams, as to the human being who hails its glory and
+warmth as the simple expression of “a fine day.” It gets no wages. It
+receives very little in the way of thanks. Its duty is so evident and
+is always so well done, that by the very perfection of its performance
+it has exhausted the far too easily exhausted sense of human gratitude.
+Like a visible lamp of God’s love for us it generates beauty and
+brightness about us wherever we go,--and it invites us to look beyond
+the veil of creation to the Creator, who alone sustains the majestic
+fabric of life.
+
+In some ways God Himself may be resembled to the Sun, seeing that He
+receives very little of our gratitude. We are so wonderfully guided
+by His wisdom that we sometimes think ourselves wiser than He. Of our
+own accord we give Him scarcely any of our real working powers, and
+were it not that we are all, in the mass, unconsciously swayed by His
+command, the little we do give would be less. Our ideas of serving Him
+too often consist in attending various sectarian places of worship
+where quarrelling is far more common than brotherly love and unity.
+In these places of worship we pray to Him for Ourselves and our own
+concerns. We ask Him for all we can possibly think of, and we seldom
+pause to consider that He has already given us more than we deserve.
+It very rarely enters into our heads to realize that we are required
+to show Him some return--that we are bound to work--no matter in how
+small a degree--towards something in His vast design which has, or
+shall have, its place in the world’s progress. We continue to implore
+Him to work for Us,--just as if He needed our urging! We petition Him
+to give us food and other material comforts,--yet if we study the laws
+of Nature we shall learn that we are intended to Work for our food and
+for all the things we want. We must Work for them in common with the
+rest of all our fellows in the animal, bird, and insect kingdoms. What
+a man does, that he has. We have no need to ask God for what He has
+already given us. He has provided all that is necessary for our health
+and sustenance on the earth,--but we must earn it,--deserve it,--and
+take a little intelligent trouble to understand the value of it, as
+well as to learn the laws by which we may gain and hold our own in
+life. We must, in fact, Work. All Creation visibly shows us that God
+Himself has worked and is still working. He, who has made us in “His
+own Image” must have from each one of us a strong and faithful effort
+to follow His Divine pre-ordained order of Labour and Progress. It may
+be asked--To what does the Labour and Progress tend? The answer of our
+last great Poet Laureate, Tennyson, is the best--the
+
+
+        One far off divine event
+     To which the whole creation moves.
+
+
+Whether it be work with the hands, or work with the brain, it is work
+of some kind that we must do if we would prove ourselves worthy to be
+a part of the ever-working Universe. And if by disinclination,--or
+by lethargy of mind and spirit, we decline to share in the splendid
+“onward and upward” march of toil, the time comes when great Mother
+Nature will accept us exactly at our own valuation. If we choose to
+be no more than clods of clay, then as clods of clay she will use
+us, to make soil for braver feet than our own. If, on the contrary,
+we strive to be active intelligences, she will equally use us for
+nobler purposes. The formation of our condition rests absolutely with
+ourselves. No one person can shape the life of another. The father
+cannot ensure the fortunes of his son. The mother cannot guarantee the
+happiness of her daughter. Both mother and father may do their best on
+these lines, but sooner or later the son and daughter will take their
+own way and make their own lives. Each individual man or woman must
+work out his or her own salvation. For this is the Law,--and it is a
+Law divine and eternal against which there is no appeal.
+
+Let us realize, therefore, the Divine Necessity of Work,--and having
+realized it let us take an honest joy in being able to do any sort of
+work ourselves, no matter how humble or monotonous such work may be.
+There is nothing really common even in what is called “common” work.
+There is nothing undignified in the roughest labour. It is only the
+“loafer” who loses both self-respect and dignity. The peasant who
+turns the soil with his spade all day long is a noble and primeval
+figure in the landscape, and deserves our consideration and respect.
+The countless thousands of men, working in huge factories, patiently
+guiding the machinery of giant looms, sweltering their very lives out
+in the fiery heat of huge furnaces where iron and steel are shaped
+for the uses of the world--these are the actual body of mankind--the
+nerves, the muscles, the sinews of humanity. They represent the
+nobility, the worth, the movement of the age. They are the Working
+People. And the Working People of this, or of any other nation are the
+People indeed--the People whose word--if they will only utter it--must
+inevitably become Law.
+
+Sometimes, however, when we work,--when we perform some special round
+of duty more or less monotonous, we are unlike the rest of the working
+Universe. The Universe works without any grumbling at its work--but
+we--well!--we rather like to grumble. We want every one to know how
+hard our work is, and how badly paid we are. Many of us, who are
+men, would like to pass entire days, loafing about, our hands in our
+pockets, our pipes in our mouths, serving no purpose whatever in the
+world save that of replenishing the till of the nearest public-house.
+Others of us who are women, would love to dress up for all we are worth
+and meander through the streets, staring into shop-windows and coveting
+goods we have no money to buy. We forget that while we are wasting time
+in this fashion, we are consuming some of the very energy that should
+be at work to obtain for us whatever we desire. And we are also apt to
+forget that very often those who possess what we envy,--who hold all
+that we would win--have worked for it.
+
+It is of course quite true that some workers are well rewarded while
+others get little if any reward at all. But to understand the cause
+of this inequality we must examine the character of the work implied,
+and the spirit in which that work is done. Is it undertaken with
+cheerfulness and zeal? Or is it merely accepted as a “grind,” to be
+shirked whenever possible and only half accomplished? I venture to
+think that the man who loves his work,--who is content to begin at the
+lowest rung of the ladder in order to master all the minutest details
+of his particular trade or profession--whose Work is dearer to him
+than either his wages or his dinner--is bound to be rewarded, bound to
+succeed in whatever calling of life he may be. It is the half-hearted
+worker who fails. It is the “scamp” worker who sticks in the rut. Every
+man should do his utmost best. When he does only his half or quarter
+best, he wrongs his own capability and intelligence even more than he
+wrongs his employer. To “scamp” even the simplest kind of work proves
+him to be out of tune with Nature. For in the natural world we find no
+“scamping.” Each tiny leaf, each humble insect is as perfect in its way
+as the planet itself. A midge’s wing seen through the microscope is
+as brilliant and beautiful as that of a butterfly. And so,--“looking
+up through Nature unto Nature’s God” we hear everywhere the Divine
+command--“Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy Might.”
+
+I hardly think the love of Work, for Work’s own sake, is a leading
+characteristic of the workers of the present day. There is a tendency
+to “rush” everything,--to get it done and over. It is a rare thing to
+meet a man who is so fond of his work that he can hardly be persuaded
+to leave it. Yet in him is the real germ of success, and with him are
+the true possibilities of power. For the conscientious and painstaking
+worker more often than not may become the great discoverer. In the
+very earnestness with which he bends over his daily toil which may
+often seem the merest monotonous drudgery, it frequently chances that a
+little hint,--an unexpected clue,--is given out from the great factory
+of nature, which may revolutionize a whole handicraft, or quicken a
+failing industry. Nothing of value in science or art is ever vouchsafed
+to the mere “hustler.” And there is by far too much “hustling,”
+nowadays. I am an ardent lover of steady toil and continuous progress,
+provided the progress is accompanied by the growth of beauty, goodness
+and happiness, but I am no advocate of “rush” or “speed.” Nothing is
+well done that is done in a hurry. Every scrap of time should be used
+as a precious gift,--not snatched up and devoured. For with haste
+comes carelessness and what is called “slop work.” “As long as it’s
+done never mind how it’s done,” is a kind of humour that is common
+enough and easily fostered. Haste by no means implies real swiftness
+or attention to details. We need not draw comparisons between the
+foreign workman and his British brother, because there is a maxim which
+says “Comparisons are odious.” But in justice to the foreign workman,
+it must be said that he often shows great intelligence and artistic
+ability. Moreover that he sometimes works twelve hours a day against
+the British eight, at half the British workman’s wages.
+
+But my own love for everything British is so deep and hearty that I
+should like to see British handicraft, British art, British work of all
+kinds at the head of creation. And I do most distinctly think it the
+duty of every British employer of labour to provide work for British
+workers first. Let the men who live in the land find means to live.
+It is surely the right of the British working man to have the first
+chance with a British employer. But this does not always happen. It is
+a “consummation devoutly to be wished,” but it is not to be at once
+realized even by schemes of fiscal policy. It is only to be attained
+by the British working people themselves,--by the quality of the work
+they do and the spirit in which they do it. We talk a great deal about
+Education, technical and otherwise. What are the results? The fact
+seems to be that when there was no compulsory Education much better
+work was done. Houses were better built,--furniture was more strongly
+made. Compare the brick-and-a-half “modern villa” architecture, with
+its lath and plaster doors and window-frames, with the warm thick
+walls and stout oak timbers of a farm or manor-house of the sixteenth
+century! Put side by side the flimsy modern chair, and the serviceable
+oak one, hand made in the time of our forefathers! Connoisseurs and
+collectors of bric-à-brac are supposed to have a craze for “old”
+things, merely because they _are_ “old.” This is not altogether true.
+Old things are appreciated because they are good,--because they show
+evidences of painstaking and careful Work. An old oak staircase in
+a house is valued as a treasure, not only for its age, but for its
+artistic construction, which our best workers can only imitate and
+never surpass. It must, I think, be conceded that our forefathers
+had better conceptions of the fitting and the beautiful in some ways
+of work than we have. We have only to compare the Cathedrals which
+they built for the worship of God, with our uninspired ugly modern
+Churches and chapels. We know that they appreciated the beauties of the
+landscape, and that they loved the grand old English trees, which our
+short-sighted County Councils are destroying every year. Nothing can be
+more pitiful to see than the ruthless and stupid cutting down of noble
+trees all over the country, under the rule that their branches shall
+not hang over the road. Thus, every grateful place of shade is ruined,
+as well as much natural beauty. Our ancestors, more individually free,
+showed finer taste. The roofs of their houses were picturesquely
+thatched or tiled, and gabled,--their eyes were never affronted by
+the dull appearance of cheap slate and corrugated iron. They left us
+a heritage of many lovely and lasting things; but it is greatly to be
+feared that we shall not do likewise to those that come after us. We
+are destroying far more than we are creating.
+
+And when we come to the higher phases of intellectual work, we find
+that though we have plenty of “schools of art” we have no great
+British artists such as Gainsborough, Reynolds or Romney. And though
+every one is supposed to know how to read and write, we have no great
+literature such as that of Shakespeare, Scott, Thackeray or Dickens.
+These belonged to the days of non-compulsory Education. Poetry, too,
+the divinest of the arts, is well-nigh dead. The great poets were born
+in so-called “uneducated” times. Our present system of Education is
+absolutely disastrous in one respect--that of its tendency to depress
+and cramp rather than to encourage the aspiring student. Its mechanical
+routine works on the line of flattening all human creatures down to one
+level. Originality is often “quashed.” Yet in all educational schemes
+there should be plenty of room left for the natural ability of the
+student or worker to expand and declare itself in some entirely new
+form wherever possible.
+
+But despite our perpetual talk of the advantages of Education, here
+we are to-day with plenty of schools both before and behind us, but
+no very great men. And looking a long way back in history we see that
+when there was no Compulsory Education at all, there _were_ very great
+men,--men who made the glory of England. Shall we leave anything after
+us, to match their heritage? It is open to doubt. Much of our modern
+work is “scamped” and badly done. And a great deal of the mischief
+arises from our way of “rushing” things. We are so anxious to catch
+Time by the forelock that we almost tear that forelock off. But why
+such haste? What is our object? Well,--we want to make money before
+we die. We want to make it, and then spend it on ourselves, or else
+leave it to our children, who will no doubt get rid of it all for us
+with the most cheerful rapidity. Or we want to have enough to “sit
+down and do nothing.” This is some people’s idea of perfect bliss.
+A servant of mine once very kindly reproached me for sticking at my
+desk so long. “If I were a lady,” said she--“I would sit down and do
+nothing.” No more cruel torture can be imagined than this. We read in
+history of prisoners who, condemned to such a life, went mad with the
+misery of it. The only way to live happily and healthfully is to try
+with every moment of our time to accomplish something--even if it be
+only a thought. Thought, as we know, crystallizes into action. Yet
+very few people really think. Many get no further than to think they
+are thinking. To think is a kind of Work--too hard for many folks. In
+politics, for instance, some people let the Press think for them. They
+cannot be bothered to do it for themselves. And when the Press makes
+what is called a “corner” in any particular policy, they sometimes
+submit to be “cornered.” There have been of late a great many rumours
+concerning a gigantic Press “combine” which is to be formed for the
+purpose of swaying the opinion of the British public and particularly
+the opinion of the British working man. In other words, opinion is no
+longer to be “free,” but coerced by something like a Press “Trust”
+Company. Now if we are to believe this, we must likewise believe the
+British public fools. And we should surely be sorry to be forced to
+such a conclusion. Let us hope the British public has an opinion
+of its own entirely apart from the Press, and that it will declare
+that opinion bravely and openly. It is hard to imagine that it will
+allow its fondness for “prize-competitions” and “puzzle-pictures”
+to interfere with its common sense and honesty. I may say, however,
+that I have often marvelled at the generosity with which a large
+majority of people will insist on filling the pockets of newspaper
+capitalists, by purchasing such quantities of the particular journals
+which contain these puzzles and competitions. The guileless innocence
+of childhood in the nursery is not more touching than the faith of the
+great British public in what is called a “Picture” or “Word” puzzle.
+Over this kind of thing I have seen otherwise sane though indolent
+people actually _work_! Once I made a calculation of the hours spent by
+a friend of mine in deciphering one of these newspaper problems, and
+found that he could certainly have obtained a very fair knowledge of
+French or Italian in the time, or he could have learned shorthand and
+typewriting. He was successful in the competition, and received for his
+pains the splendid sum of three-halfpence. It was explained to him that
+there were so many successful competitors that the hundred--or thousand
+pounds reward had to be divided among the crowd. Three half-pence
+therefore was his legitimate share.
+
+I am no politician. I am simply a Worker--and I do such work as I
+can, quite independently of sect or party. But _as_ a Worker, and
+looker-on at the events taking place around me, I cannot help feeling
+that this dear land of ours is on the verge of a great crisis in her
+history. We hear much of failing trade,--depression in this or that
+quarter,--yet apart from political agitators, it seems to me that Great
+Britain stands where she has always stood--at the top of the world!
+Whatever influences have set her there, surely there she is. And it
+is for all true workers to keep her there. It is not by what parties
+or Governments will do for us that her position will be sustained
+and strengthened,--it is by what we, in the skill and excellence of
+our Work in all trades and professions, will do for Her. It is by our
+determination to excel in all kinds of Work that she will hold her
+own,--by our unstinted time, our ungrudging labour, our zeal, our
+cheerfulness, our love for her glory that she--and ourselves--will
+exist. It is necessary to “protect” her, and all things that may help
+to make her stronger and greater--but sometimes the word “Protection”
+may be made to apply chiefly to capitalists and “cornerers” of trade.
+Herein comes the hard work of Thinking. We must Think for ourselves.
+God has given us brains to work with. There is never any good reason
+why we should hastily adopt the political views of certain newspaper
+proprietors, who are perhaps under the impression that we have no
+brains at all, and that being thus sadly deficient, we are willing
+to buy their brains for a penny or a halfpenny! It is by the workers
+of the land that the land lives. And more than this,--it is from the
+workers that must come the great battle of Right against Might. It is
+for the Workers to put to shame by their own faith and honour, the
+wicked Atheism and open immorality which are disgracing some of our
+so-called “upper” classes to-day--and it is for the Workers to show by
+their upright, temperate lives, and their steady downright Work, that
+they are determined to keep the foundations of the Home secure, and the
+heart of England warm and true. What says brave Thomas Carlyle?
+
+“All true Work is sacred; in all true Work, were it but true
+hand-labour, there is something of divineness. Labour, wide as the
+Earth, has its summit in Heaven. Sweat of the brow, and up from that
+to sweat of the brain, sweat of the heart--which includes all Kepler
+calculations, Newton meditations, all Sciences, all spoken Epics, all
+acted Heroisms, and Martyrdoms, up to that ‘Agony of bloody sweat’
+which all men have called divine! O brother, if this is not ‘worship,’
+then I say the more pity for worship, for this is the noblest thing yet
+discovered under God’s sky. Who art thou that complainest of thy life
+of toil? Complain not. Look up, my wearied brother!--see thy fellow
+Workmen there in God’s eternity, surviving there, they alone surviving;
+sacred Band of the Immortals, celestial Bodyguard of the Empire of
+Mankind. Even in the weak Human memory they survive so long, as saints,
+as heroes, as gods, they alone surviving--peopling, they alone, the
+measured solitudes of Time. To thee, Heaven, though severe, is _not_
+unkind; Heaven is kind as a noble Mother--as that Spartan mother,
+saying while she gave her son his shield--“With it, my son, or upon
+it!” Thou too shalt return home in honour, brother Worker!--to thy far
+distant Home, in honour, doubt it not, if in the battle thou keep thy
+shield!”
+
+
+
+
+THE HAPPY LIFE
+
+
+Most people want to be happy if they can. I suppose it may be safely
+set down without fear of contradiction that no one who is sane and
+healthy wilfully elects to be miserable. Yet the secret of happiness
+seems to be solved by very few. People try to be happy in all sorts of
+queer ways--in speculation, land-grabbing, dram-drinking, horse-racing,
+bridge-playing, newspaper-running, and various other methods which
+are more or less suited to their constitutional abilities--but in
+many cases these channels, carefully dug out for the reception of
+a perpetual inflowing of the stream of happiness, appear very soon
+to run dry. I have been asked scores of times what I consider to be
+the happiest life in the world, and I have always answered without
+the least hesitation--the Life Literary. In all respects it answers
+perfectly to the description of the “Happy Life” portrayed by that
+gentle sixteenth-century poet, Sir Henry Wotton:--
+
+
+     How happy is he born and taught
+       That serveth not another’s will,
+     Whose armour is his honest thought,
+       And simple truth his utmost skill.
+
+
+Herein we have the vital essence of all delight--honest thought
+and simple truth--and in the “serveth not another’s will,” glorious
+liberty. For chiefest among the joys of the Life Literary are its
+splendid independence, its right of free opinion, and its ability to
+express that opinion. An author is bound to no person, no place, and no
+party, unless he or she wilfully elects to be so bound. To him, or to
+her, all the realms of Nature and imagination are entrance-free--the
+pen unlocks every closed door--and not only is the present period of
+time set out like a stage-scene for contemplation and criticism, but
+all the past ages, with their histories, and the rise and fall of their
+civilizations, arrange themselves to command in a series of pictures
+for the pleasure of the literary eye and brain; and it is just as easy
+to converse in one’s own library with Plato on the immortality of the
+soul as it is good-humouredly to tolerate Mr. Mallock and his little
+drawing-room philosophies. For a book is more or less the expression
+of the mind, or a part of the mind, of its writer, and, inasmuch
+as it is only with the moral and intellectual personalities of our
+friends and enemies that we care to deal, it matters little whether
+such personalities be three or four thousand years old, or only of
+yesterday. And to live the Life Literary means that we can always
+choose our own company. We can reject commoners and receive kings, or
+_vice versâ_. The author who is careful to hold and to maintain all the
+real privileges and rights of authorship is a ruler of millions, and
+under subjection to none. The position is unique and, to my thinking,
+unequalled.
+
+There are many, of course, who will by no means agree with me as to
+the superior charm of the Life Literary over all other lives--and such
+objectors will be found mostly in the literary profession itself.
+Unsuccessful authors--particularly those who are in any way troubled
+with dyspepsia--will be among them. “Tied” authors also--and by “tied”
+authors I mean the unhappy wretches who have signed contracts with
+publishers several years ahead, and are, so to speak, dancing in
+fetters. Authors who count the number of words they write per day,
+like potatoes, and anxiously calculate how much a publisher will
+possibly give for them per bushel, are not likely to experience any
+very particular “happiness” while they are measuring out halfpence in
+this fashion. And authors who run after “society” and want to be seen
+here, there, and everywhere, are bound to lose the gifts of the gods
+one by one as they scamper helter-skelter through the world’s Vanity
+Fair, while they may be perfectly sure that the “great” or swagger
+persons with whom they seek to associate will be the first to despise
+and neglect them in any time of need or trouble, as well as the last to
+support or help them in any urgent cause which might be benefited by
+their assistance.
+
+On this point we have only to remember the melancholy experience of
+Robert Burns, who, after having been flattered and feasted by certain
+individuals who were, in an ephemeral sense, influential for the time
+being, either through their rank or their wealth, was afterwards
+shamefully neglected by them, and finally, notwithstanding the various
+social attentions and courtesy he had at one time received, he was
+left, when ill and dying, in such extremity as to be compelled to
+implore his publisher for the loan of five pounds! What had become of
+all his wealthy and “influential” friends? Why they were exactly where
+all “influential” persons would be now in a similar case--“otherwise
+engaged” when their help is needed. Nothing can well be more deplorable
+than the position of any author who depends for success on a clique
+of “distinguished” or “society” persons. He or she has exchanged
+independence for slavery--the nectar of the gods for a base mess of
+pottage--and the true “happiness” of the Life Literary for a mere
+miserable restlessness and constant craving after fresh excitement,
+which gradually breeds nervous troubles, and disturbs that fine and
+even balance of brain without which no clear or convincing thought is
+possible. Again, authors who deliberately prostitute their talents to
+the writing of lewd matter unfit to be handled by cleanly-minded men
+and women need never hope to possess that happy and studious peace
+which comes from the
+
+
+     Pure intent to do the best
+     Purely--and leave to God the rest.
+
+
+For the highest satisfaction in the Life Literary is to think that
+perhaps, in a fortunate or inspired moment, one may have written at
+least a sentence, a line, a verse, that may carry comfort and a sense
+of beauty to the sorrowful, or hope to the forlorn; while surely the
+greatest pang would be to know that one had cast the already despairing
+soul into a lower depth of degradation, or caused the sinner to revel
+more consciously in his sin.
+
+But are there no drawbacks, no disappointments, no sufferings in the
+Life Literary? Why, of course there are! Who would be such a useless
+block of stone, such a senseless lump of unvalued clay, as not to
+ardently wish for drawbacks, disappointments, and sufferings? Who
+that has a soul at all does not pray that it may be laid like glowing
+iron on the anvil of endurance, there to be beaten and hammered by
+destiny till it is of a strong and shapely mould, fit for combat,
+nerved to victory? And I maintain that such drawbacks, disappointments,
+difficulties, and sufferings as the profession of Literature entails
+are sweeter and nobler than the cares besetting other professions,
+inasmuch as they are always accompanied by never-failing consolations.
+If the pinch be poverty, the true servant of Literature can do with
+less of this world’s goods than most people. Luxury is not called for
+when one is rich in idealism and fancy. Heavy feeding will not make a
+clear, quick brain. Extravagant apparel is a necessity for no one--and
+genius was never yet born of a millionaire.
+
+If the “thorn in the flesh” is the petty abuse of one’s envious
+contemporaries, that is surely a matter for rejoicing rather than
+grief, as it is merely the continuance of an apparently “natural law in
+the spiritual world” acting from the Inferior upon the Superior, which
+may be worded thus: “Whosoever will be great, let him be flayed alive!”
+Virgil was declared by Pliny to be destitute of invention; Aristotle
+was styled “ignorant, vain, and ambitious” by both Cicero and Plutarch;
+Plato was so jealous of Democritus that he proposed to burn up all his
+works; Sophocles was brought to trial by his own children as a lunatic;
+Horace was accused of stealing from all the minor Greek poets; and so
+on in the same way down to our own times.
+
+Pope went so far as to make a collection of all the libels passed upon
+him, and had them preserved and bound with singular care, though I
+believe no one now knows where to find these scandalous splutterings
+of Grub Street. Swift is reported to have said to the irate author of
+the “Dunciad”: “Give me a shilling and I will ensure you that posterity
+shall never know one single enemy against you excepting those whose
+memory you _yourself_ have preserved.” Herein is a profound truth. The
+malicious enemies of a great author only become known to the public
+through the mistaken condescension of the great author’s notice.
+
+Milton’s life was embittered by the contemptible spite of one
+Salmasius. Who was Salmasius? we ask nowadays. We do not task who was
+Milton. Salmasius was the author of the “Defensio Regi” or Defence
+of Kings, a poor piece of work long ago forgotten, and he was the
+procurer of foul libel against the author of “Paradise Lost,” one
+of England’s greatest and noblest men. What small claim he has to
+the world’s memory arises merely from his viciousness, for not only
+did he make use of the lowest tools to aid him in conspiring against
+Milton’s reputation, but he spread the grossest lies broadcast, even
+accusing the poet of having a hideous personal appearance--“a puny
+piece of man; a homunculus; a dwarf deprived of the human figure; a
+contemptible pedagogue.” When the despicable slanderer learned the
+fact that Milton, so far from answering to this description, was of a
+pleasing and attractive appearance, he immediately changed his tactics
+and began to attack his moral character--which, as even Milton’s
+bitterest political enemies knew, was austerely above the very shadow
+of suspicion. It was said that the poet’s over-zealousness in answering
+the calumnies of Salmasius cost him his eye-sight, which, if true, was
+surely regrettable. Salmasius died dishonoured and disgraced, as such a
+cowardly brute deserved to die; Milton still holds his glorious place
+in England’s literary history. So it was, so it is, so it ever will be.
+
+Greatness is always envied--it is only mediocrity that can boast of a
+host of friends. “When you have resolved to be great,” says Emerson,
+“abide by yourself, and do not weakly try to reconcile yourself with
+the world.” It is impossible to quote one single instance of a truly
+great man existing without calumniators. And the Life Literary without
+any enemies would be a shabby go-cart; or, as our American cousins put
+it, a “one-horse concern.” Some lines that were taught to me when I was
+a child seem apposite to this subject, and I quote them here for the
+benefit of any struggling units of the Life Literary who may haply be
+in need:--
+
+
+     You have no enemies, you say?
+       Alas! my friend, the boast is poor--
+     He who has mingled in the fray
+       Of duty, that the brave endure,
+     _Must_ have made foes! If you have none,
+     Small is the work that you have done;
+     You’ve hit no traitor on the hip,
+     You’ve dashed no cup from perjured lip,
+     You’ve never turned the wrong to right--
+     You’ve been a coward in the fight![5]
+
+
+But it is perhaps time that I should drop the masculine personal
+pronoun for the feminine, and, being a woman, treat of the Life
+Literary from the woman’s point of view. In olden days the profession
+of literature was looked upon as a terrible thing for a woman to
+engage in, and the observations of some very kindly and chivalrous
+writers on this subject are not without pathos. To quote one example
+only, can anything be more quaintly droll at this time of day than the
+following:--
+
+“Of all the sorrows in which the female character may participate there
+are few more affecting than those of an Authoress--often insulated
+and unprotected in society--with all the sensibility of the sex,
+encountering miseries which break the spirits of men!”
+
+This delicate expression of sympathy for a woman’s literary struggles
+was written by the elder Disraeli as late as 1840. Truly we have
+raced along the rails of progress since then at express speed--and
+the “affecting” sorrows of an “Authoress” (with a capital A) now
+affect nobody except in so far as they make “copy” for the callow
+journalist to hang a string of cheap sneers upon. The Authoress must
+take part with the Author in the general rough-and-tumble of life--and
+she cannot too quickly learn the truth that when once she enters
+the literary arena, where men are already fisticuffing and elbowing
+each other remorselessly, she will be met chiefly with “kicks and
+no ha’pence.” She must fight like the rest, unless she prefers to
+lie down and be walked over. If she elects to try for a first place,
+it will take her all her time to win it, and, when won, to hold it;
+and, in the event of her securing success, she must not expect any
+chivalrous consideration from the opposite sex, or any special kindness
+and sympathy from her own. For the men will consider her “out of her
+sphere” if she writes books instead of producing babies, and the
+women will, in nine cases out of ten, begrudge her the freedom and
+independence she enjoys, particularly if such freedom and independence
+be allied to fortune and fame. This all goes without saying. It has to
+be understood and accepted uncomplainingly. The “old-fashioned” grace
+of chivalry to women, once so proudly lauded by poets and essayists
+as the distinguishing trait of all manly men, is not to be relied on
+in the Life Literary--for there it is as dead as door-nails. Men can
+be found in the literary profession who will do anything to “down” a
+woman in the same calling, and, if they cannot for shame’s sake do it
+openly, they will do it behind her back. “’Tis pitiful, ’tis wondrous
+pitiful”--for the men! But if the woman concerned has studied her art
+to any purpose she will accept calumny as a compliment, slander as
+a votive wreath, and “envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness” (from
+which, with pious hypocrisy, the most envious and uncharitable persons
+pray “Good Lord deliver us” every Sunday) as so many tokens and
+proofs of her admitted power. And none of these things need disturb
+the equanimity of the Life Literary. “Can any man cast me out of the
+Universe? He cannot; but whithersoever I may go there will be the
+sun and the moon, and the stars and visions, and communion with the
+gods!”[6]
+
+Speaking as a woman, I can quite understand and appreciate all the
+little difficulties, irritations, and trials incident to a woman’s
+career in literature; and though I myself welcome such difficulties
+as so many incentives to fresh effort, I know that there are many of
+my sex who, growing weary and discouraged, are not able to adopt this
+attitude. And looking back into the past, one is bound to see a host of
+brilliant women done to death by cruel injustice and misrepresentation,
+a state of things which is quite likely to be continued as long as
+humanity endures.
+
+But no useful object is served by brooding over this apparently
+incurable evil. “The noble army of martyrs” who praise the Lord in the
+“Te Deum” are likely to be of the sex feminine. But what does that
+matter? It is more glorious to be martyred than to die of over-eating
+and general plethora. Moreover mental or intellectual martyrdom is a
+necessary ingredient for the “happy” life--a touch of it is like the
+toothache, helping one to be duly thankful when the pain ceases. For,
+if we never understood trouble, we should never taste the full measure
+of joy.
+
+One thing can be very well dispensed with by both men and women who
+look for happiness in the Life Literary, and that is the uneasy
+hankering after what is called “Fame.” Fame has a habit of setting its
+halo on the elected brows without any outside advice or assistance.
+Those authors who are destined for it will assuredly win it, though
+all the world should intervene; those for whom it is not intended must
+content themselves with the temporary notoriety of pretty newspaper
+puffs and “stock” compliments, such as “the renowned” or “well-known”
+or “admired” author or authoress, and be glad and grateful for these
+meaningless terms, inasmuch as the higher Fame itself at its utmost is
+only a brief and very often inaccurate “line in history.”
+
+The rewards and emoluments of the happy life, such as I have always
+found the Life Literary to be, are manifold and frequently incongruous.
+They may be considered in two sections--the outward or apparent and the
+interior or invisible. Concerning these I can only, of course, speak
+from my own experience. The outward or apparent occur (so far as I
+myself am concerned) as follows:--
+
+1. Certain payments, small or large, made by publishers who undertake
+to present one’s brain work to the world in print, and who do the best
+they can for their authors, as well as for themselves.
+
+2. Public appreciation and condemnation, about equally divided.
+
+3. Critical praise and censure, six of one and half-a-dozen of the
+other.
+
+4. Endless requests for autographs.
+
+5. Innumerable begging letters.
+
+6. Imperative, sometimes threatening, demands for “interviews.”
+
+7. Hundreds of love-letters.
+
+8. Continual offers of marriage.
+
+9. Shoals of MSS. sent by literary aspirants to be “placed” or
+“recommended.”
+
+10. Free circulation of lies, caricatures, and slanders concerning
+oneself, one’s personality, friends, ways of work, and general
+surroundings.
+
+11. The grudging and bitter animosity of rival contemporaries.
+
+12. Persistent public and private mis-representation of one’s
+character, aims, and intentions.
+
+But all these things taken together weigh very little when compared
+with the other side of the medal--the interior and invisible delight
+and charm of the Life Literary--the unpurchasable and never-failing
+happiness which no external advantage can give, no inimical influence
+take away. It is well-nigh impossible to enumerate the pleasures that
+attend the lover and servant of Literature; they are multitudinous,
+and, like all things spiritual, outweigh all things temporal. Here are
+just a few among the kindly and constant favours of the gods:--
+
+1. The power and affluence of creative thought.
+
+2. A perpetual sense of intimate participation in the wonders of Nature
+and Art.
+
+3. A keen perception of the beautiful.
+
+4. Intense delight in the genius of all great men and women.
+
+5. A cheerful and contented spirit.
+
+6. Constant variety of occupation.
+
+7. Joy in simple things.
+
+8. The love of friends that are tried and true.
+
+9. The never-wearying interest of working to try and give pleasure to
+one’s reading public.
+
+10. The gifts and glories of Imagination.
+
+11. Tranquillity of mind.
+
+12. Firm faith in noble ideals.
+
+And, to quote from Walt Whitman what the inward sense of the
+“happiness” of the Life Literary really is, the disciple of Literature
+may say:--
+
+“I will show that there is no imperfection in the present and can be
+none in the future. And I will show that, whatever happens to anybody,
+it may be turned to beautiful results.”
+
+Were all the lives in the world offered to me for my choice, from the
+estate of queens to that of commoners, I would choose the Life Literary
+in preference to any other, as ensuring the greatest happiness. It
+is full of the most lasting pleasure, it offers the most varied
+entertainment, all the arts and sciences group themselves naturally
+around it as with it and of it--for the literary student is, or should
+be, as devout a lover of music as of poetry, as ardent an admirer
+of painting and sculpture as of history and philosophy--that is, if
+complete enjoyment of the literary gift is to be possessed completely.
+
+I take it, of course, for granted, in this matter of the “happy” life,
+that the individual concerned, whether male or female, is neither
+dyspeptic nor bilious, nor afflicted with the incurable _ennui_ of
+utter selfishness, nor addicted to dram or drug drinking. Because under
+unnatural conditions the mind itself becomes unnatural, and the Life
+Literary is no more productive of happiness than any other life that is
+self-poisoned at its source. But, given a sane mind in a sound body, a
+clear brain, a quick perception, a keen imagination, a warm heart, and
+a never-to-be-parted-with ideal of humanity at its best, noblest and
+purest, then the Life Literary, with all the advantages it bestows, the
+continuous education it fosters, the refinement of taste it engenders,
+the love and sympathy of unknown thousands of one’s fellow-creatures
+which it brings, is the sweetest, most satisfying, most healthful
+and happy life in the world. Moreover it is a life of power and
+responsibility--a life that forms character and tests courage. We
+soon learn to know the force of a Thinker in our midst, whether man
+or woman. We soon realize who it is that sends the lightning of
+truth across our murky sky, when we see a sudden swarm of cowards
+scurrying away from the storm and trying to shelter themselves under a
+haystack of lies; and we invariably respect whosoever has the valour
+of his or her opinions, and the strength to enunciate them boldly and
+convincingly with a supreme indifference to conventional conveniences.
+For “To know the truth,” says an Arabian sage, “is a great thing for
+thyself; but to tell the truth to others is a greater thing for the
+world!”
+
+FOOTNOTES:
+
+[5] The late Charles Mackay, LL.D.
+
+[6] Epictetus.
+
+
+
+
+THE SOUL OF THE NATION
+
+
+At the present time, and during the present time’s singularly loose
+notions of manners, morals, and dignity of behaviour, it was perhaps
+to be expected that some one or other of the daily newspapers would,
+in sagacious appreciation of free “copy,” start a public discussion on
+the religious faith of this Christian Empire. It was perhaps as equally
+probable that considering the remarkable laxity of certain bishops
+and ordained ministers of the gospel generally, a “press” question
+should be put to the House of Tom, Dick and Harry--“Do We Believe?”
+Granting the premises, it was hardly to be wondered at that Tom, Dick
+and Harry should straightway arise in their strength and reply to the
+question,--and not only Tom, Dick and Harry of the laity, but Tom,
+Dick and Harry of the clergy likewise. Great was the discussion,--fast
+and furious waged the war of words, and the Penny Daily which provoked
+the combat was thus conveniently supplied with material for which
+the proprietors,--most of them Sons of Israel,--had nothing to pay.
+And now, the arguments being heard and ended, nobody is a whit the
+wiser, though some few may be several whits the sadder. For to speak
+honestly, nothing more reprehensible has ever smirched the career of
+an English journal than the fact that it should have lent itself to the
+advertized questioning of the nation’s religious faith. It was an open
+flaunting of infidelity in the face of the civilized world. To talk
+of the “conversion” of India, China or Japan, while a leading British
+newspaper openly invites the notoriety-hunting section of the British
+public to air their opinions of the Christian Faith in its columns,
+just as if the Faith itself were on public trial in a Christian
+country, is only one example of the many forms of utter Humbug in which
+we are nowadays so unfortunately prone to indulge. Our sometimes-called
+“heathen” ally, Japan, has lately taught us many lessons which perhaps
+we knew once and have forgotten, and which perhaps we need to learn
+again,--such as valour without conceit, strength without roughness,
+and endurance without complaint,--but one of the greatest lessons of
+all she has given us is that of her people’s pious reverence for the
+Unseen and Eternal, and their belief in the ever-present “Spirits
+of the Dead” whom they honour and will not shame. What a deplorable
+contrast we make in our pandering to the lowest tastes of the mob when,
+without a word of protest, we permit _our_ “Spirits of the Dead,”--the
+spirits of our gallant forefathers who fought for the pure Faith of
+England and sealed it with their blood,--to be degraded and insulted by
+a cheap newspaper discussion on the most private and sacred emotions
+of the soul, as though such a discussion were of a character suited to
+take its place among police-cases and quack medical advertisements!
+True, we are constantly being made aware that the British Press is no
+longer the clean, sane, strong and reliable institution it once was,
+when “personalities” were deemed vulgar, and lies dishonourable,--and
+therefore we perhaps ought not to feel very greatly surprised when
+the name and possible attributes of the Almighty Creator Himself are
+dragged through the purlieus of “up-to-date” journalism,--but surely
+there is something very deplorable and disgraceful in the fact that
+any one professing to be a follower of the Christian Faith should have
+replied to what can only be termed, considering the quarter from whence
+it came, an ironical demand, “Do We Believe?” The best and wisest
+answer would have been complete silence on the part of the public. No
+more effectual “snubbing” to the non-Christian faction could have been
+given. But unfortunately there are a certain class of persons whose
+prime passion is to see themselves in print, and to this end they will
+commit any folly and write any letter to the newspapers, even if it
+be only to state that primroses were seen somewhat early in bloom in
+their back yards. And such, chiefly, were the kind of men and women who
+poured themselves into the channels of the “Do We Believe?” discussion,
+like water running down the streets into gutters and mains,--never
+seeming to realize that to the thinking and intellectual world, their
+foolish letters, addressed to such a public quarter, merely proved
+their utter loss of respect for themselves, not only as professing
+Christians and subjects of a Christian Empire, but as men and women. No
+real follower of a Faith--any Faith--would be so lost to every sense of
+decency as to discuss it in a daily newspaper. As for the clergy who
+took part in the boresome palaver, one can only marvel at them and
+ask why they did not “veto” the whole thing at once? A penny paper is
+not the Hall of Pontius Pilate. As ministers of Christ they might have
+protested against a modern-vulgar “mock” trial of their Master. It was
+in their power to do so, and such a protest would have redounded to
+their honour. At any rate, they might themselves have abstained from
+joining in the foolish and unnecessary gabble. For gabble it was, and
+gabble it is. No useful cause has been served thereby and no advantage
+gained. The Sons of Israel have asked a question,--and some of the
+unwise among professing Christians, being caught in the Israelitish
+trap, have answered it. The manner in which both question was put and
+answer given, was unworthy of a country where the Christian Faith is
+the guiding light of the realm. Matters of religion are of course
+open to discussion in the treatise or book intended for quiet library
+reading, or even in the better-class magazines, but to hawk sacred
+subjects of personal sentiment and national creed about in the daily
+wear of newspaper columns which equally include murders, divorces,
+bigamies, stocks and shares, and the general _débris_ cast off as
+flotsam and jetsam in the turgid waves of Mankind’s ever-recurring
+mischief against itself, was to the last degree reprehensible and
+regrettable. And this, if only for the possible impression likely to
+be created by such an action among the peoples of those countries to
+whom, with ridiculous inconsistency, we presume to send missionaries
+for the purpose of “converting” them to a Creed we ourselves drag
+through the mire of doubt in our daily press. Fortunately, however, the
+matter, deplorably as it has exhibited our “religion” to the eyes of
+“heathen” nations, has now come to an end. It has worked no change,--it
+has strengthened no weak places,--it has helped no struggling effort
+towards good. The Soul of the Nation has not been moved thereby, and
+it is the Soul of the Nation--that great, silent patient and labouring
+Soul with which all religion has to do,--that Soul, which the Christian
+Creed, ever since it was first preached in Britain, has raised to such
+a height of supremacy and power, that it needs all its reserve of sober
+courage and devout humility to help it bear its honours greatly. For
+has it not been said--“Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed
+lest he fall!”
+
+One may look upon the innate spirit of Revivalism, exemplified in the
+hysteric wave of preaching, praying and psalm-singing that has recently
+spread over Wales and other districts, as so much instinctive and
+natural popular rebellion against the insidious flood of atheism which
+has for the past ten years been striving to poison all the channels
+of man’s better health and saner condition,--rebellion too against
+the apathetic coldness and shameless indifference of the ordained
+clergy to the clamorous needs of those neglected “flocks” which
+they are elected to serve. “Enough,” say the People, “of shams and
+shows!--enough of ministers who only minister to themselves and their
+own convenience!--enough of the preaching of the Gospel by men who do
+not and will not fulfil a single one of its commands in their own lives
+and actions! Let us have something forcible and earnest,--let us be
+permitted to _feel_, even though we shout and sing ourselves hoarse
+with the emotion which has been seething in us for years,--an emotion
+which we cannot explain to ourselves, but which craves, with a passion
+beyond all speech, for some touch of Heaven, some closer comprehension
+of that ‘After-Death,’ which God keeps back from us like a prize or a
+punishment for His obedient or rebellious children! Anything is better
+than the cold dead inertia of the Churches, sunk as they are in a blind
+lethargy from which they only bestir themselves dully when a chance
+is offered to them of engaging in some petty personal quarrel. We are
+weary of priestly humbug, selfishness and inefficiency--we will gather
+ourselves together and re-assert our faith in the world to come, as
+true disciples of the Lord!” And whether such Revivalists elect to
+march under the banner of Cocoa Cadbury, (an excellent advertisement
+for Cadbury,) or any other emblazoned device of a successful trading
+concern, is not a matter of much moment. Starving folk will march
+anywhere,--under anything or anybody,--if they are promised nourishment
+at the end of the journey. And the Soul of the Nation is, at this
+present period of time, starving to the point of inanition in all forms
+of spiritual food. The Good Shepherd gave His life for the sheep, but
+the underlings who care not for the flock have let the wolves into the
+fold.
+
+A thing which would appear to be frequently forgotten by those who hold
+Governmental authority, is that the most vital, most powerful and most
+active principle of a Nation is this spark of the Divine which for
+want of any clearer mode of description we call the Soul. The Soul of
+a single individual man or woman is the mere copy in miniature of the
+Soul of a race, or the Soul of a world. An involuntary, half-conscious,
+but nevertheless resistless impetus towards ultimate Good is the Soul’s
+original quality and inborn Ideal. For, if the human weakness of the
+fleshly creature impel it towards temporary phases of evil, sooner
+or later the Soul will set to work to pull it out of the stifling
+quagmire. Material Nature is, as we all know, a remedial agent, and
+wherever mischief is wrought she seeks to amend it. Spiritual Nature
+is a still stronger healer. For every injury self-inflicted or wrought
+by others on the immortal Soul she has a saving balm,--and for every
+inch of progress which the Soul essays to make along the lines leading
+to good, she helps it forward a mile. Individuals find this out very
+soon in their own personal experience,--Nations discover it more
+slowly, first, because they have a longer time to live and learn than
+the individual unit,--and secondly because, moving in great masses,
+their periods of transit from one epoch of civilization to another
+must necessarily be more laborious and difficult. But in all epochs,
+in all eras, the Soul wins. The fiery leaven which is of God, works
+through the lump in various strange and complex forms till the whole is
+leavened. And those nations in which the Soul, or Spirit of the Ideal,
+is crushed and kept down by the iron hand of Materialism, are very soon
+seen to fall back in the rear of progress,--so far back indeed that
+we are fain to speak of them as “decaying nations,” though of a truth
+no decay is possible to them, but only temporary retrogression, which
+will in due course revert to progress again when the Soul is once more
+allowed to have its way. But Governments whose common law of procedure
+is to put this Soul or “spirit of the Ideal,” in the background as a
+kind of myth or chimera, and who seek to settle everything pertaining
+to the interests of the people by what they term “practical” methods,
+(which often prove wholly _un_practical,) are naturally prone to forget
+that whatever they do, whatever they say, the busy Soul of the Nation
+is altogether outside and above them, fighting for itself, often
+desperately and piteously, and struggling to make use of its wings and
+rise higher and ever higher despite its hobbles of iron and feet of
+clay. Religion is supposed to give it this, its demanded freedom of
+noble flight, and the Christian religion, above all religions in the
+world, with its consoling teaching that out of sorrow cometh joy, and
+out of Death is born Life, should make for the happiness and peace of
+every living creature. But when the very ministers of that glorious
+Faith cast doubt upon it, and live their own lives in direct opposition
+to it,--when undevout and therefore limited scientists dissect a midge
+of truth in order to launch a leviathan of fallacious theory,--when
+there is no ONE pure and simple Church of Christ where all may meet in
+honest worship of His perfect Creed, but only a million Sects which
+blaspheme His Divine memory by their outrageous and petty quarrels one
+with the other,--it is no matter for surprise that a strong revulsion
+of feeling should set in, or that the Soul of the Nation, conceiving
+itself grievously wronged and neglected, should try to find some
+fresh path of its own heavenward,--some way out of mere Sham--in the
+belief that if it obeys its own instinctive desire towards the Highest
+Ideal, God will not suffer it to go far astray. For the quarrels of
+the Churches are the second crucifixion of Christ. The apathy of
+the priesthood is the deliberate casting away to sin of the people.
+Where there is no unity, there is no force; and the divine founder of
+Christianity Himself has told us that a house divided against itself
+shall not stand.
+
+Yet when one comes to think of it, it is the strangest thing in the
+world that Christians should quarrel, seeing how plain and clear
+are the instructions left to them for their guidance by the Master
+whom they profess to serve. The New Testament is easy reading. Its
+commands are brief and concise enough. There would seem to be no
+room for discussion or difference. Why should there be followers of
+Luther, Wesley, or any other limited human preacher or teacher, when
+all that is necessary is that we should be followers of Christ? The
+Soul of the Nation asks no more than this Gospel of Love, lovingly
+imparted,--it seeks but for the one firm faith in the eternal things
+which are its birthright,--a faith held purely, and wholly undoubted
+by those whose high mission is to teach it to each generation in
+turn,--it craves no more than that touch of heavenly sympathy which
+makes the whole world kin--that holy link which binds all mankind
+together in one strong knot of indissoluble spiritual belief in the
+love and justice; the Unseen Force behind Creation, which will surely,
+out of the verities of that same love and justice, grant us a future
+life wherein will be made clear to us the reason and necessity of
+our strange sufferings, martyrdoms, disappointments and losses in
+this present mere brief episode of living. The Soul of the Nation
+does not in itself ask reward for its good deeds,--nor does it weakly
+complain if punishment be inflicted upon it for its evil ones,--but
+it does demand justice,--it does ask why, for no conscious fault of
+its own, it should be born, only to die. Were this question never to
+be answered, then the mathematical exactitude with which everything,
+small or great, is balanced in the universe would be a merely elaborate
+scheme of unnecessary fallacy, irrationally designed for the delusion
+of creatures who are not worth the trouble of deluding. No one who
+is sane and morally healthy can contemplate such an idea as this for
+a moment,--it follows therefore that Man, living as he does between
+two Infinities, and endowed with a brain which can spiritually
+consider both without reeling, must be guided by some great and
+illimitably wise destiny towards ends he knows not, but which he
+may be reverently permitted to believe are for his better progress,
+greater happiness and higher understanding, and that he needs, out
+of all things in the world, a Faith, by which his soul shall be kept
+strong and pure, his mind steady, and his sympathies active. No mockery
+of Christianity, such as that of Servian priests who have publicly
+blessed regicides,--no cruel tyranny, such as that of the Greek Church
+which dares to appeal to a God of Love while the mighty masses of the
+Russian people remain steeped in misery, and are, by very wretchedness,
+driven to crime,--no cold Conventionality of Form and Custom, such as
+is practised in fashionable London “West End” churches where society
+humbugs gather together to listen smirkingly to the civil cant of other
+society humbugs in surplices, who, passing for ministers of Christ,
+almost fear to preach the Gospel as it was written, lest its plain
+blunt truths should offend some highly-placed personage,--none of this
+kind of “religion” at all is of use,--but faith,--real faith--real
+aspiration--real uplifting to the Ideal of all things noble, all
+things great, wise, helpful and true. This, at the present crucial
+moment of time, is what the Soul of the Nation demands,--and not only
+the Soul of our own beloved and glorious Nation, but the Souls of
+all nations whatsoever on the globe. They stand up,--each in place,
+each on its own spiritual plane,--stern, strong and beautiful;--like
+the fabled statue of Memnon they face the sunrise, and at the first
+touch of the first ray of glory they speak. Their voices are as
+thunder among the spheres,--they demand what they deserve,--justice,
+hope, comfort, uplifting! To the mystic High Altar of the Infinite
+and Eternal they lift their praying hands, and to the priests of all
+religions they appeal. “Give us the Way, the Truth and the Life! Cease
+your own wranglings and petty disputations,--have done with mere
+human dogma concerning the matters of life and death,--let us see the
+MAN, Christ,--He who suffered our sorrows, and knew our need,--the
+Brother, the Friend, the Helper, for whom, in braver days than these,
+men gladly gave their lives to sword and fire and the jaws of wild
+beasts,--is there no manhood left now of such undaunted mettle?--is
+there not one who will think of US, the Nations, who hunger for the
+glorious vitality of Faith, which, like the blood in our veins, keeps
+us warm and young and vigorous? Or must we perish in the devil-clutch
+of Materialism, and go down to the depths, thrust there by the very men
+who have been elected to hold us close to God? We demand our rights
+in the Divine and Eternal Love!--and these rights, born in us from
+the beginning, we will have, even if all present-existing human forms
+and fabrics of creed go down in our struggle for the one pure faith
+under whose holy influence we shall become stronger and wiser, and
+better able to understand our work and place in creation! The gates of
+Life shall not be shut upon us;--we will not accept the materialist’s
+latter-day testimony that death shall be the end of all. For if there
+be an Eternal Good we are part of its being and share in its Eternal
+attributes. And we say,--we Souls of the Nations,--to all our preachers
+and teachers and representatives of the Divine on earth--Lift us up! Do
+not cast us down! Be yourselves the models of what you would have US
+become!--so shall we be willing and ready to learn from you,--so shall
+we honour, love and patiently follow you. But if you, as ministers of
+religion, show yourselves worse hypocrites than the very sinners whom
+the law condemns, then beware of us and our just vengeance! For you
+take from us our very life-blood, when you cheat us of the hope of
+Heaven!”
+
+This is true. A Nation robbed of its faith, is like a human body robbed
+of its heart--it has neither pulse nor motion,--it is the mere corpse
+of itself lying prone in the dust of perishable waste things. And the
+fact that grave retribution will follow the steps of those who assist
+in bringing it to this doom cannot be doubted. Such retribution has
+then been visited heavily on over-prosperous peoples, who, misled by
+special pleaders in the cause of Materialism have set God aside out
+of their countings as a non-proven quantity. The “non-proven” has
+always proved itself with crushing swiftness and authority in the
+fall of great powers, the shaking of great thrones, and the ruin and
+degradation of great names,--while very often a calamitous climax of
+misery and disaster has befallen an entire civilization and brought it
+to utter decay. Such occurrences are traceable through all history,
+and always appear to result from the same cause,--the crushing out of
+the vital principle, the spiritual starving of the Soul of a Nation.
+Heaven has not denied or diminished its bounteous nourishment and
+blessing,--for, in our own day, the wonders of Science have opened out
+to our view such infinite reaches of the Ideal as should double and
+treble our perception of the glories yet to be unfolded to us when we
+have “shuffled off this mortal coil”--while at the same time, nothing
+in all our changing phases of progress has yet occurred to alter the
+simple and noble teaching of Christ, or to make such instruction
+otherwise than sane, pure and helpful for every man, woman and child
+ever born. Indeed, it would seem with the marvellous new penetration
+we have gained into the secrets of the earth, air and light, that the
+Infinite Creator is approaching His creature even more nearly, with
+fresh pledges of help and promise such as His Messenger brought in the
+words: “Fear not, little flock,--it is your Father’s good pleasure to
+give you the Kingdom.” And to the Soul of the Nation that “Kingdom” is
+everything. In that kingdom it hopes to find all it has loved and lost,
+all it has striven for and failed to win, all that it has prayed for,
+wept for, worked for. Yet to-day between that aspiring Soul and its
+immortal Inheritance stand two deadly enemies,--a contentious Churchdom
+and a capitalized Press,--the one hypocrite, the other materialist.
+And the satirical demand “Do we Believe?” is but an echo of Pilate’s
+question “What is truth?”--a question immediately followed by Truth’s
+crucifixion. Nevertheless the Soul of the Nation--our nation, our
+empire--is becoming aware of its enemies. It is instinctively conscious
+of threatening evil, and is on the alert to save Itself if others
+will not save it. But its way out of the labyrinth of difficulty will
+probably be neither through Church nor Press,--nor will it be aided
+by “revival” meetings or Salvationist assemblies. Its path will be
+cloven straight,--not crookedly; for the British Nation, above all
+other nations in the world, does most easily sicken of priestly Sham
+and subsidized Journalism. And the sane, strong Soul of it--that Soul
+which in its native intrinsic virtue, is devoutly God-fearing, pure and
+true, will find means to shake off its pressing foes and stand free.
+For priestcraft and dogma are like prison chains fastened upon the
+progressive spirit of humanity, and they have nothing in common with
+the simple teaching of Christ, which is the only real Christianity.
+
+
+BUTLER & TANNER, THE SELWOOD PRINTING WORKS, FROME, AND LONDON.
+
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diff --git a/66079-0.zip b/66079-0.zip
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+    <meta http-equiv="Content-Type" content="text/html;charset=utf-8" />
+    <title>
+      The Project Gutenberg eBook of Free Opinions Freely Expressed, by Marie Corelli.
+    </title>
+    <link rel="coverpage" href="images/cover.jpg" />
+    <style type="text/css">
+
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+    .space-above {margin-top: 3em;}
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+    .poem div        {margin: 0; padding-left: 3em; text-indent: -3em;}
+    .poem div.i1     {margin-left: 1em;}
+    .poem div.i2     {margin-left: 2em;}
+    .poem div.i3     {margin-left: 3em;}
+    .poem div.i4     {margin-left: 4em;}
+    .poem div.i6     {margin-left: 6em;}
+    .poem div.i8     {margin-left: 8em;}
+
+    </style>
+  </head>
+<body>
+
+<div style='text-align:center; font-size:1.2em; font-weight:bold'>The Project Gutenberg eBook of Free Opinions, by Marie Corelli</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>
+This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and
+most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions
+whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms
+of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online
+at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you
+are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the
+country where you are located before using this eBook.
+</div>
+
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: Free Opinions</p>
+<p style='display:block; margin-top:0; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:0;'>Freely Expressed on Certain Phases of Modern Social Life and Conduct</p>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: Marie Corelli</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: August 18, 2021 [eBook #66079]</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'>Character set encoding: UTF-8</div>
+
+<div style='display:block; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Produced by: Tim Lindell, Martin Pettit and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file was produced from images generously made available by The Internet Archive/American Libraries.)</div>
+
+<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK FREE OPINIONS ***</div>
+
+<div class="mynote"><p class="center">Transcriber&#8217;s Note:<br /><br />
+Obvious typographic errors have been corrected.<br /></p></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/front.jpg" alt="front" /></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_i" id="Page_i">[Pg i]</a></span></p>
+
+<h1>FREE OPINIONS<br />FREELY EXPRESSED</h1>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ii" id="Page_ii">[Pg ii]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/books.jpg" alt="CONSTABLES NEW 6/- NOVELS" /></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<div class="center"><img src="images/title.jpg" alt="title page" /></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iii" id="Page_iii">[Pg iii]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="bold2">FREE OPINIONS</p>
+
+<p class="bold">FREELY EXPRESSED</p>
+
+<p class="bold">ON</p>
+
+<p class="bold">Certain Phases of Modern Social<br />Life and Conduct</p>
+
+<p class="bold space-above">By</p>
+
+<p class="bold2">MARIE CORELLI</p>
+
+<p class="bold">AUTHOR OF &#8220;GOD&#8217;S GOOD MAN&#8221; &#8220;TEMPORAL POWER&#8221;<br />
+&#8220;BARABBAS&#8221; &#8220;THE MASTER CHRISTIAN&#8221; ETC</p>
+
+<p class="bold space-above">LONDON<br />ARCHIBALD CONSTABLE &amp; CO <span class="smcap">Ltd</span><br />1905</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_iv" id="Page_iv">[Pg iv]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Butler &amp; Tanner,<br />
+The Selwood Printing Works,<br />Frome, and London.</span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_v" id="Page_v">[Pg v]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>A Toi, <br />Sauvage!</h2>
+
+<hr class="smler" />
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>&#8220;Si vous voulez combattre,</div>
+<div class="i2">Il faut croire d&#8217;abord;</div>
+<div>Il faut que le lutteur</div>
+<div class="i2">Affirme la justice;</div>
+<div>Il faut, pour le devoir</div>
+<div class="i2">Qu&#8217;il s&#8217;offre au sacrifice,</div>
+<div>Et qu&#8217;il soit le plus pur,</div>
+<div class="i2">S&#8217;il n&#8217;est pas le plus fort.&#8221;</div>
+<div class="i8"><span class="smcap">Eugène Manuel.</span></div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_vii" id="Page_vii">[Pg vii]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>CONTENTS</h2>
+
+<table summary="CONTENTS">
+  <tr>
+    <td></td>
+    <td><span class="smaller">PAGE</span></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">A Vital Point of Education</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_1">1</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Responsibility of the Press</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_14">14</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Pagan London</span>&#8221;</td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_29">29</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">A Question of Faith</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_38">38</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Unchristian Clerics</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_68">68</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Social Blight</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_79">79</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Death of Hospitality</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_89">89</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Vulgarity of Wealth</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_98">98</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">American Women in England</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_117">117</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The American Bounder</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_128">128</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Coward Adam</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_143">143</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">Accursëd Eve</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_152">152</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">&#8220;Imaginary&#8221; Love</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_162">162</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Advance of Woman</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_169">169</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Palm of Beauty</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_185">185</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Madness of Clothes</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_195">195</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Decay of Home Life in England</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_207">207</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_viii" id="Page_viii">[Pg viii]</a></span><span class="smcap">Society and Sunday</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_233">233</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The &#8220;Strong&#8221; Book of the Ishbosheth</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_245">245</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Making of Little Poets</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_252">252</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Prayer of the Small Country M.P.</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_262">262</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Thanksgiving of the Small Country M.P.&#8217;s Wife</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_267">267</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Vanishing Gift</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_273">273</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Power of the Pen</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_292">292</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Glory of Work</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_310">310</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Happy Life</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_326">326</a></td>
+  </tr>
+  <tr>
+    <td class="left"><span class="smcap">The Soul of the Nation</span></td>
+    <td><a href="#Page_340">340</a></td>
+  </tr>
+</table>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_ix" id="Page_ix">[Pg ix]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>AUTHOR&#8217;S NOTE</h2>
+
+<p>Some of these social papers which are now collected together for the
+first time, have appeared before in various periodicals enjoying
+a simultaneous circulation in this country and the United States.
+Eleven of them were written for an American syndicate, which (for the
+purpose of copyright in Great Britain) sold them to a London weekly
+journal, wherein they were duly issued. &#8220;Pagan London,&#8221; however, which
+caused some little public discussion, was not included among those
+supplied to the American syndicated press, that article having been
+written specially for readers in this country as a protest against
+Archdeacon Sinclair&#8217;s sweeping condemnation of the lax morality and
+neglect of religion among the teeming millions that populate our
+great English metropolis,&mdash;a condemnation which I ventured, and still
+venture to think unfair, in the face of the open worldliness, and gross
+inattention to the spiritual needs of their congregations on the part
+of a very large majority of the clergy themselves. Certain people,
+whose brains must be of that peculiar density which is incapable
+of receiving even the impression of a shadow of common sense, have
+since accused me of attacking &#8220;all&#8221; the clergy. Such an accusation is
+unwarranted and unwarrantable, for no one appreciates more than I<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_x" id="Page_x">[Pg x]</a></span> do
+the brave, patient, self-denying and silent work of the true ministers
+of the Gospel, who, seeking nothing for themselves, sacrifice all for
+their Master. But it is just these noble clergy whose high profession
+is degraded by the ever-increasing tribe of the false hypocrites of
+their order, such as those mentioned in &#8220;Unchristian Clerics,&#8221; all
+of whom have come within the radius of my own personal experience. I
+readily admit that I have little patience with humbug of any kind,
+and that &#8220;religious&#8221; humbug does always seem to me more like open
+blasphemy than what is commonly called by that name. I equally confess
+that I have no sympathy with any form of faith which needs continuous
+blatant public advertisement in the press of a so-called &#8220;Christian&#8221;
+country&mdash;nor do I believe in a Brass-band &#8220;revival&#8221; of what, if our
+religion is religion at all, should never need &#8220;reviving.&#8221; I have put
+forward these views plainly in &#8220;The Soul of the Nation,&#8221; which appears
+for the first time in the present volume.</p>
+
+<p>I have only to add that I attach no other merit to such &#8220;opinions&#8221; as
+will be found in the following pages, than that they are honest, and
+that they are honestly expressed, without fear or favour. This is their
+only claim upon the attention of the public.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Stratford-on-Avon</span>,<br />
+<span class="s4">&nbsp;</span><i>March, 1905</i>.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_1" id="Page_1">[Pg 1]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>A VITAL POINT OF EDUCATION</h2>
+
+<p>In days like these, when the necessity of Education, technical or
+otherwise, is strenuously insisted upon by all the learned, worshipful,
+governmental and dictatorial personages who &#8220;sit&#8221; on County Councils,
+or talk the precious time recklessly away in Parliament without
+apparently arriving at any decision of definite workable good for the
+nation, it will not perhaps be considered obtrusive or intrusive if a
+suggestion be put forward as to the importance of one point,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">The Necessity of Teaching People to Read.</span></p>
+
+<p>This essential of education is sadly lacking among the general majority
+of &#8220;educated&#8221; persons in Great Britain, and I think I may say America.
+Especially among those of the &#8220;upper&#8221; classes, in both countries.
+When we speak of these &#8220;upper&#8221; classes, we mean of course those, who
+by chance or fortune have been born either to such rank or to such
+sufficient wealth as to be lifted above the toiling million, and
+who may be presumed to have had all the physical, mental and social
+advantages that tuition, training and general surroundings can give
+them. Yet it is precisely among these that we find the ones who cannot
+read, who frequently cannot spell, and whose handwriting is so bad as
+to be well-nigh illegible. When it is said<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_2" id="Page_2">[Pg 2]</a></span> that they cannot read,
+that statement is not intended to convey the idea that if a book or
+newspaper be given to them they do not understand the letters or the
+print in which the reading matter is presented to their eyes. They
+do. But such letters and such print impress no meaning upon their
+minds. Anyone can prove this by merely asking them what they have been
+reading. In nine cases out of ten they &#8220;don&#8217;t know.&#8221; And if they ever
+did know, during one unusual moment of brain-activity, they &#8220;forget.&#8221;
+The thinking faculty is, with them, like a worn-out sieve, through
+which everything runs easily and drops to waste. The news of the day,
+be it set forth never so boldly in no matter what startlingly stout
+headlines, barely excites their interest for more than a second.
+They may perhaps glance at a couple of newspaper placards and lazily
+observe, &#8220;Russia at it again,&#8221; but of the ins and outs of policy, the
+difficulties of Government, the work of nations, they grasp absolutely
+nothing. Thus it happens that when they are asked their opinion on
+any such events of the hour as may be making history in the future,
+they display their utter ignorance in such a frankly stupid fashion
+that any intelligent enquirer is bound to be stunned by their lack
+of knowledge, and will perhaps murmur feebly: &#8220;Have you not read the
+news?&#8221; to which will come the vague reply: &#8220;Oh, yes, I read all the
+newspapers! But I really don&#8217;t remember the particulars just now!&#8221; What
+they do remember&mdash;these &#8220;cultured&#8221; persons, (and the more highly they
+are cultured, the more tenacious appears to be their memory in this
+respect)&mdash;is a divorce case. They always read that carefully over and
+over<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_3" id="Page_3">[Pg 3]</a></span> again. They comment upon it afterwards with such gusto as to make
+it quite evident to the merest tyro, that they have learned all its
+worst details by heart. If they can only revel in the published shame
+and disgrace of one or two of their very &#8220;dearest&#8221; friends, they enjoy
+and appreciate that kind of mental fare more than all the beautiful
+poems and idyllic romances ever written.</p>
+
+<p>The &#8220;million&#8221; have long ago learned to read,&mdash;and are reading. The last
+is the most important fact, and one which those who seek to govern them
+would do well to remember. For their reading is of a most strange,
+mixed, and desultory order&mdash;and who can say what wondrous new notions
+and disturbing theories may not leap out sprite-like from the witch&#8217;s
+cauldron of seething ideas round which they gather, watching the
+literary &#8220;bubble, bubble, toil and trouble,&#8221; wherein the &#8220;eye of newt
+and toe of frog&#8221; in the book line may contrast with something which is
+altogether outside the boiling hotch-potch,&mdash;namely that &#8220;sick eagle
+looking at the sky&#8221; which is the true symbol of the highest literary
+art. But the highest literary art, particularly in its poetic form, is
+at a discount nowadays. And why? Simply because even the million do
+not know &#8220;how&#8221; to read. Moreover, it is very difficult to make them
+learn. They have neither the skill nor the patience to study beautiful
+thoughts expressed in beautiful language. They want to &#8220;rush&#8221; something
+through. Whether poem, play, or novel, it must be &#8220;rushed through&#8221; and
+done with. Very few authors&#8217; work, if any, can be sure of an honest and
+unprejudiced reading, either by those whose business it is to review
+it for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_4" id="Page_4">[Pg 4]</a></span> press, or those whose pleasure it is to &#8220;skim&#8221; it for
+themselves. &#8220;They have no time.&#8221; They have time for motoring, cycling,
+card-playing, racing, betting, hockey and golf,&mdash;anything in short
+which does not directly appeal to the intellectual faculties,&mdash;but for
+real reading, they can neither make leisure, nor acquire aptitude.</p>
+
+<p>This vague, sieve-like quality of brain and general inability to
+comprehend or retain impressions of character or events, which is
+becoming so common among modern so-called &#8220;readers&#8221; of books, can but
+make things very difficult for authors who seek to contribute something
+of their utmost and best to the world of literature. Most men and
+women who feel the &#8220;divine afflatus,&#8221; and who are able to write in a
+style above the average, must be conscious of a desire to rise yet
+higher than any of their own attempted efforts, and to do something
+new, strong, and true enough to hold life and lasting in it when other
+contemporary work is forgotten. It is the craving of the &#8220;sick eagle
+looking at the sky&#8221; perhaps, nevertheless it is a noble craving. In
+taking an aim, it is as well to let fly at the moon, even if one only
+hits a tree. But when fiery-footed Pegasus would fain gallop away with
+its rider into the realms of imagination and enchantment,&mdash;when the
+aspiring disciple of literature, all aglow with freshness and fervour,
+strives to catch some new spirit of thought as it rushes past on its
+swift wings, or seeks to create some fair consoling idyll of human
+circumstance, then all the publishers stand massed in the way and cry
+&#8220;Halt!&#8221; &#8220;Don&#8217;t let us have any great ideas!&#8221; they say&mdash;&#8220;They are above
+the heads of the public. Be domestic&mdash;be <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_5" id="Page_5">[Pg 5]</a></span>matrimonially iniquitous,&mdash;be
+anything in the line of fiction but &#8216;great.&#8217; Don&#8217;t give us new things
+to think about,&mdash;the public have no time to think. What they want is
+just something to glance at between tea and dinner.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Now this condition of affairs, which is positively disastrous to all
+literary art, is brought about by the lack of the one vital point in
+the modern education of the British and American people,&mdash;namely, that
+they have not been taught &#8220;how&#8221; to read. As a result of this, they
+frequently pronounce a book &#8220;too long&#8221; or &#8220;too dull,&#8221;&mdash;too this, or too
+that, without having looked at more than perhaps twenty pages of its
+contents. They will skim over any amount of cheap newspapers and trashy
+society &#8220;weeklies&#8221; full of the unimportant movements and doings of he
+and she and they, but to take up a book with any serious intention of
+reading it thoroughly, is a task which only the thoughtful few will
+be found ready to undertake. What is called the appreciation of the
+&#8220;belles lettres&#8221; is indeed &#8220;caviare to the general.&#8221; Knowledge brings
+confidence; and if it were made as much the fashion to read as it is to
+ride in motor-cars, some improvement in manners and conduct might be
+the happy result of such a prevailing taste. But as matters stand at
+the present day, there are a large majority of the &#8220;educated&#8221; class,
+who actually do not know the beginnings of &#8220;how&#8221; to read. They have
+never learned&mdash;and some of them will never learn. They cannot realize
+the unspeakable delight and charm of giving one&#8217;s self up to one&#8217;s
+author, <i>sans</i> prejudice, <i>sans</i> criticism, <i>sans</i> everything that
+could possibly break or mar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_6" id="Page_6">[Pg 6]</a></span> the spell, and being carried on the wings
+of gentle romance away from Self, away from the everyday cares and
+petty personalities of social convention, and observance, and living
+&#8220;with&#8221; the characters which have been created by the man or woman whose
+fertile brain and toiling pen have unitedly done their best to give
+this little respite and holiday to those who will take it and rejoice
+in it with gratitude.</p>
+
+<p>Few there are nowadays who will so permit themselves to be carried
+away. Far larger is the class of people who take up a novel or a
+volume of essays, merely to find fault with it and fling it aside half
+unread. The attitude of the bad-tempered child who does not know what
+toy to break next, is the attitude of many modern readers. Nothing is
+more manifestly unfair to an author than to judge a book by the mere
+&#8220;skimming&#8221; of its pages, and this injustice becomes almost felonious
+when the merits or demerits of the work are decided without reading it
+at all. For instance, Smith meets Jones in the train which is taking
+them out to their respective &#8220;little places&#8221; in the country, and says:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Have you read So-and-So&#8217;s latest book? If not, don&#8217;t!&#8221; Whereupon
+Jones murmurs: &#8220;Really! So bad as all that! Have <i>you</i> read it?&#8221;
+To which Smith rejoins rudely: &#8220;No! And don&#8217;t intend! I&#8217;ve <i>heard</i>
+all about it!&#8221; And Jones, acquiescing feebly, decides that he must
+&#8220;taboo&#8221; that book, also its author, lest perhaps Mrs. Jones&#8217; virtue
+be put to the blush at the mention of either. Now if Smith dared to
+condemn a tradesman in this way, and depreciated his goods to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">[Pg 7]</a></span> Jones
+in such wise that the latter should be led to avoid him altogether,
+that tradesman could claim damages for injuring his character and
+depriving him of custom. Should not the same rule apply to authors when
+they are condemned on mere hearsay? Or when their work is wilfully
+misrepresented and misquoted in the press?</p>
+
+<p>It may not, perhaps, be considered out of place here to recall a
+&#8220;personal reminiscence&#8221; of the wilful misrepresentation made to a
+certain section of the public of a novel of mine entitled &#8220;Temporal
+Power.&#8221; That book had scarcely left the printer&#8217;s hands when W. T.
+Stead, of the <i>Review of Reviews</i>, wrote me a most cordial letter,
+congratulating me on the work, and averring that it was &#8220;the best&#8221;
+of all I had done. But in his letter he set forth the startling
+proposition that I &#8220;must have meant&#8221; King Edward, our own gracious
+Sovereign, for my &#8220;fictional&#8221; King, Queen Alexandra for the Queen,
+the Prince of Wales for my &#8220;Prince Humphry,&#8221; and Mr. Chamberlain for
+the defaulting Secretary of State, who figures in the story as &#8220;Carl
+Perousse.&#8221; I was so amazed at this curious free translation of my
+ideas, that at first I thought it was &#8220;Julia&#8221; who had thus persuaded
+Mr. Stead to see things upside down. But as his criticism of the book
+had not yet appeared in the <i>Review of Reviews</i>, I wrote to him at
+once, and earnestly assured him of the complete misapprehension he
+had made of my whole scope and intention. Despite this explanation on
+my part, however, Mr. Stead wrote and published a review of the book
+maintaining his own fabricated &#8220;case&#8221; against me, notwithstanding
+the fact that he held my<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">[Pg 8]</a></span> denial of his assertions in his possession
+<i>before</i> the publication of his criticism! And though a dealer in
+meat, groceries, and other food stuffs may obtain compensation if his
+wares are wilfully misrepresented to the buying public, the purveyor
+of thoughts or ideas has no remedy when such thoughts or ideas are
+deliberately and purposefully falsified to the world through the press.
+Yet the damage is surely as great,&mdash;and the injury done to one&#8217;s honest
+intention quite as gratuitous. From this little incident occurring to
+myself, I venture to say in reference to the assertion that people do
+not know how to read, that if those who &#8220;rushed&#8221; through the misleading
+criticism of &#8220;Temporal Power&#8221; had honestly read the book so criticized
+for themselves, they would have seen at once how distorted was Mr.
+Stead&#8217;s view of the whole story. But,&mdash;while many who had read the book
+and <i>not</i> the review, laughed at the bare notion of there being any
+resemblance between my fictional hero-king of romance and the Sovereign
+of the British Empire, others, reading the review only, foolishly
+decided that I must have written some &#8220;travesty&#8221; upon English royalty,
+and condemned the book <i>without reading it</i>. This is what all authors
+have a right to complain of,&mdash;the condemnation or censure of their
+books by persons who have not read them. For though there never was so
+much reading matter put before the public, there was never less actual
+&#8220;reading&#8221; in the truest and highest sense of the term than there is at
+present.</p>
+
+<p>To read, as I take it, means to sit down quietly and enjoy a book in
+its every line and expression. Whether it be tragic or humourous,
+simple or ornate,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">[Pg 9]</a></span> it has been written to beguile us from our daily
+routine of life, and to give us a little change of thought or mood.
+It may please us, or it may make us sad&mdash;it may even anger us by
+upsetting our pet theories and contradicting us on our own lines of
+argument; but if it has taken us away for a time from ourselves, it
+has fulfilled the greater part of its mission, and done us a good
+turn. Those who have really learned to read, are no encouragers of the
+Free Library craze. The true lover of books will never want to peruse
+volumes that are thumbed and soiled by hundreds of other hands&mdash;he or
+she will manage to buy them and keep them as friends in the private
+household. Any book, save the most expensive &#8220;édition de luxe,&#8221; can
+be purchased for a few shillings,&mdash;a little saving on drugged beer
+and betting would enable the most ordinary mechanic to stock himself
+with a very decent library of his own. To borrow one&#8217;s mental fare
+from Free Libraries is a dirty habit to begin with. It is rather like
+picking up eatables dropped by some one else in the road, and making
+one&#8217;s dinner off another&#8217;s leavings. One book, clean and fresh from the
+bookseller&#8217;s counter, is worth half a dozen of the soiled and messy
+knock-about volumes, which many of our medical men assure us carry
+disease-germs in their too-frequently fingered pages. Free Libraries
+are undoubtedly very useful resorts for betting men. They can run in,
+glance at the newspapers for the latest &#8220;Sporting Items&#8221; and run out
+again. But why ratepayers should support such houses of call for these
+gentry remains a mystery which one would have to pierce through all
+the Wool and Wobble of Municipal Corporations<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">[Pg 10]</a></span> to solve. An American
+&#8220;professor&#8221;&mdash;(there are so many of them) spoke to me the other day in
+glowing terms of Andrew Carnegie. &#8220;He&#8217;s cute, you bet!&#8221; he remarked,
+&#8220;he goes one better than Pears&#8217; Soap! Pears has got to pay for the
+upkeep of his hoardings, but Carnegie plants his down in the shape of
+libraries and gets the British ratepayer to keep them all going! Ain&#8217;t
+he spry!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Poor British ratepayer! It is to be feared he is easily gulled!
+But,&mdash;to return to the old argument&mdash;if he knew &#8220;how&#8221; to read&mdash;really
+knew,&mdash;he would not be so easily taken in, even by the schemes of
+philanthropy. He would buy his books himself, and among them he might
+even manage to secure a copy of a very interesting volume published in
+America, so I am given to understand, which tells us how Carnegie made
+his millions, and how he sanctioned the action of the Pinkerton police
+force in firing on his men when they &#8220;struck&#8221; for higher wages.</p>
+
+<p>Apropos of America and things American, there is just now a pretty
+little story started in the press on both sides of the water, about
+British novels and British authors no longer being wanted in the United
+States. The Children of the Eagle are going to make their fiction
+themselves. All power to their elbows! But British authors will do
+themselves no harm by enquiring carefully into this report. It may
+even pay some of them to send over a private agent on their own behalf
+to study the American book stores, and take count of the thousands of
+volumes of British fiction which are selling there &#8220;like hot cakes,&#8221; to
+quote a choice expression of Transatlantic slang. It is quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">[Pg 11]</a></span> evident
+that the Children of the Eagle purchase British fiction. It is equally
+evident that the publishers who cater for the Children of the Eagle
+are anxious to get British fiction cheap, and are doing this little
+deal of the &#8220;No demand&#8221; business from an acute sense of urgency. It is
+all right, of course! If I were an American publisher and had to pay
+large prices to popular British authors for popular British fiction
+(now that &#8220;piracy&#8221; is no longer possible), I should naturally tell
+those British authors that they are not wanted in America, and that it
+is very good and condescending of me to consider their wares at all.
+I should give a well-known British author from £100 to £500 for the
+sole American rights of his or her newest production, and proceed to
+make £5,000 or £7,000 profit out of it. That kind of thing is called
+&#8220;business.&#8221; I should never suspect the British author of being so base
+as to send over and get legal statements as to how his or her book was
+selling, or to take note of the thousands of copies stacked up every
+day in the stores, to be melted away as soon as stacked, in the hands
+of eager purchasers. No! As a strictly honourable person, I should
+hope that the British author would stay at home and mind his or her
+own business. But let us suppose that the American publisher&#8217;s latest
+delicate &#8220;feeler&#8221; respecting the &#8220;No demand for British literature&#8221;
+were true, it would seem that Americans, even more than the British,
+require to be taught &#8220;how&#8221; to read. If one may judge from their own
+output of literature, the lesson is badly needed. Ralph Waldo Emerson
+remains, as yet, their biggest literary man. He<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">[Pg 12]</a></span> knew &#8220;how&#8221; to read,
+and from that knowledge learned &#8220;how&#8221; to write. But no American author
+has come after him that can be called greater than he, or as great.
+Concerning the art of fiction, the present American &#8220;make&#8221; is, whatever
+the immediate &#8220;catching on&#8221; of it may be, distinctly ephemera of the
+utmost ephemeral. Such &#8220;literature&#8221; would not exist even in America, if
+Americans knew &#8220;how&#8221; to read. What is called the &#8220;Yellow Journalism&#8221;
+would not exist either. Why? Because a really educated reader of things
+worth reading would not read it&mdash;and it would therefore be a case of
+the wicked ceasing to trouble and the weary being at rest.</p>
+
+<p>There is a general complaint nowadays&mdash;especially among authors&mdash;of
+the &#8220;decadence&#8221; of literature. It is true enough. But the cause of the
+&#8220;decadence&#8221; is the same&mdash;simply and solely that people cannot and will
+not read. They do not know &#8220;how&#8221; to do it. If they ever did know in the
+bygone days of Dickens and Thackeray, they have forgotten. Every book
+is &#8220;too long&#8221; for them. Yet scarcely any novel is published now as long
+as the novels of Dickens, which were so eagerly devoured at one time by
+tens of thousands of admiring readers. A short, risky, rather &#8220;nasty&#8221;
+book, (reviewers would call it strong, but that is only a little joke
+of theirs,&mdash;they speak of this kind of literature as though it were
+cheese) finds most favour with the &#8220;upper&#8221; circles of society in Great
+Britain and America. Not so with the &#8220;million&#8221; though. The million
+prefer simpler fare&mdash;and they read a good deal&mdash;though scarcely in the
+right way. It is always more a case of &#8220;skimming&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">[Pg 13]</a></span> than reading. If
+they are ever taught the right way to read, they may become wiser than
+any political government would like them to be. For right reading makes
+right thinking&mdash;and right thinking makes right living&mdash;and right living
+would result in what? Well! For one thing, members of councils and
+other &#8220;ruling&#8221; bodies would be lazier than ever, with less to do&mdash;and
+the Education Act would no longer be necessary, as the fact of simply
+knowing &#8220;how&#8221; to read, would educate everybody without further trouble.</p>
+
+<p>Dear Sir or Madam,&mdash;read! Don&#8217;t &#8220;skim&#8221;! Learn your letters! Study the
+pronunciation and meaning of words thoroughly first, and then you may
+proceed to sentences. Gradually you will be able to master a whole
+passage of prose or poetry in such a manner as actually to understand
+it. That will be a great thing! And once you understand it, you may
+even possibly remember it! And then,&mdash;no matter how much you may have
+previously been educated,&mdash;your education will only have just begun.</p>
+
+<div class="center space-above"><img src="images/dec.jpg" alt="Decoration" /></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">[Pg 14]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE RESPONSIBILITY OF THE PRESS</h2>
+
+<p>Not very long ago a Royal hint was given by one of the wisest and most
+tactful among the great throned Rulers of the world, to that other
+ruling power which is frequently alluded to as &#8220;the Fourth Estate.&#8221;
+Edward the Seventh, King by the Grace of God over Great Britain and
+all the dependencies which flourish under the sign of the Rose,
+Shamrock and Thistle, using that courteous and diplomatic manner which
+particularly belongs to him, expressed his &#8220;hope&#8221; that the Gentlemen
+of the Press would do their best to foster amity and goodwill between
+the British Empire and other nations. Now amongst the many kindly,
+thoughtful, sagacious and farsighted things which His Majesty has done
+since he ascended the English Throne, that highest seat of honour in
+the world&mdash;perhaps this mild and friendly suggestion to the Press is
+one of the most pointed, necessary and admirable. It is a suggestion
+which, if accepted in the frank, manly and magnanimous spirit in
+which it has been conveyed, would make for the peace of Europe. Petty
+insult often begets serious strife, and the cheap sneer of a would-be
+&#8220;smart&#8221; journalist at another country&#8217;s governmental mistakes may lead
+to consequences undreamt of in newspaper-office philosophy. Yet the
+journalist, as journalist, is scarcely to blame if, in a praiseworthy
+desire to give a &#8220;selling&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">[Pg 15]</a></span> impetus to the paper on which he is
+employed, he gets up a little bit of speculative melodrama, such as
+&#8220;German Malignity,&#8221; &#8220;Russian Trickery,&#8221; &#8220;Mysterious Movements of the
+Fleet,&#8221; &#8220;French Insult to the King,&#8221; &#8220;America&#8217;s Secret Treaty,&#8221; or
+&#8220;Alarming Eastern Rumours.&#8221; He is perhaps not in any way departing
+from his own special line of business if he counts on the general
+gullibility of the public, though in this matter he is often liable to
+be himself gulled. For the public have been so frequently taken in by
+mere &#8220;sensationalism&#8221; in war news and the like, that they are beginning
+to view all such rumours with more contempt than credence. Nevertheless
+the ambitious little Press boys (for they are only boys in their lack
+of discernment, whatever may be their external appearance as grown
+men) do not deserve so much reproof for their hot-headed, impulsive
+and thoughtless ways as the personages set in authority over them,
+whose business it is to edit their &#8220;copy&#8221; before passing it on to the
+printers. <i>They</i> are the responsible parties,&mdash;and when they forget the
+dignity of their position so much as to allow a merely jejune view of
+the political situation to appear in their journals, under flamboyant
+headlines which catch the eye and ensnare the attention of the more
+or less uninstructed crowd, one naturally deplores the lapse of their
+honourable duty. For in this way a great deal of harm may be done and
+endless misunderstanding and mischief created. It is quite wrong and
+wholly unpatriotic that the newspapers of any country should strive to
+foster ill-feeling between conflicting nations or political parties.
+When they engage in this kind of petty strife one<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">[Pg 16]</a></span> is irresistibly
+reminded of the bad child in the nursery who, seeing his two little
+brothers quarrelling, cries out: &#8220;Go it, Tom! Go it, Jack! Hit him in
+the eye!&#8221; and then, when the hit is given and mutual screams follow,
+runs to his mother with the news&mdash;&#8220;Ma! Tom and Jack are fighting!&#8221;
+carefully suppressing the fact that he helped to set them at it. And
+when the trouble begins to be serious, and national recriminations are
+freely exchanged, it is curious to note how quickly the Press, on both
+sides, assumes the attitude of an almost matronly remonstrance. One
+hears in every leading article the &#8220;How can you behave so, Jack? What a
+naughty boy you are, Tom! Positively, I am ashamed of you both!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>There would be no greater force existing in the world as an aid to
+civilization and human fraternity than the Press, if its vast powers
+were employed to the noblest purposes. It ought to resemble a mighty
+ship, which, with brave, true men at the helm, moves ever on a straight
+course, cleaving the waters of darkness and error, and making direct
+for the highest shores of peace and promise. But it must be a ship
+indeed,&mdash;grandly built, nobly manned, and steadily steered,&mdash;not a
+crazy, water-logged vessel, creaking with the thud of every wave, or
+bobbing backwards and forwards uncertainly in a gale. Its position
+at the present day is, or appears to be, rather the latter than the
+former. Unquestionably the people, taken in the mass, do not rely
+upon it. They read the newspapers&mdash;but they almost immediately forget
+everything in them except the headlines and one or two unpleasant
+police cases. And why do they forget? Simply because first<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">[Pg 17]</a></span> of all they
+are not sufficiently interested; and, secondly, because they do not
+believe the news they read. A working man told me the other day that he
+had been saving sixpence a week on two halfpenny papers which he had
+been accustomed to take in for the past year. &#8220;I found &#8217;em out in ten
+lies, all on top of one another, in two weeks,&#8221; he candidly explained;
+&#8220;and so I thought I might as well keep my money for something more
+useful. So I started putting the halfpence by for my little kiddie, and
+I&#8217;m going to stick to it. There&#8217;s five shillings in the Savings Bank
+already!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Glancing back to the early journalism of the past century, when Dickens
+and Thackeray wrote for the newspapers (&#8220;there were giants in those
+days&#8221;), one cannot help being struck by the great deterioration in the
+whole &#8220;tone&#8221; of the press at the present time, as contrasted with that
+which prevailed in the dawn of the Victorian era. There is dignity,
+refinement, and power in the leading articles of the <i>Times</i> and other
+journals then in vogue, such as must needs have compelled people not
+only to read, but to think. The vulgar &#8220;personal&#8221; note, the flippant
+sneer at this, that, or t&#8217;other personage,&mdash;the monkey-like mockery of
+women,&mdash;the senseless gibes flung at poets and poetry,&mdash;the clownish
+kick at sentiment,&mdash;were all apparently unknown.</p>
+
+<p>True it is that the <i>Times</i> still holds its own as a journal in
+which one may look in vain for &#8220;sensationalism&#8221; but its position is
+rather like that of a grim old lion surrounded by cubs of all sizes
+and ages, that yap and snap at its whiskers and take liberties with
+its tail. It can be said, however, that all the better, higher-class
+periodicals<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">[Pg 18]</a></span> are in the same situation&mdash;the yapping and snapping goes
+on around them precisely in the same way&mdash;&#8220;Circulation Five Times as
+Large as that of any Penny Morning Journal,&#8221; etcetera, etcetera. And
+the question of the circulation of any particular newspaper resolves
+itself into two points,&mdash;first, the amount of money it puts into the
+pockets of its proprietors or proprietor,&mdash;and secondly, the influence
+it has, or is likely to have, on the manners and morals of the public.
+The last is by far the most important matter, though the first is
+naturally the leading motive of its publication. Herein we touch the
+keynote of responsibility. How, and in what way are the majority of
+people swayed or affected by the statements and opinions of some one
+man or several men employed on the world&#8217;s press? On this point it
+may perhaps be asked whether any newspaper is really justified in
+setting before readers of all ages and temperaments, a daily fare of
+suicides, murders, divorce-cases, sudden deaths, or abnormal &#8220;horrors&#8221;
+of every kind to startle, depress or warp the mind away from a sane
+and healthful outlook upon life and the things of life in general? A
+very brilliant and able journalist tells me that &#8220;if we don&#8217;t put these
+things in, we are so deadly dull!&#8221; One can but smile at this candid
+statement of inefficiency. The idea that there can be any &#8220;lively&#8221;
+reading in the sorrowful details of sickness, crime or mania, leaves
+much room for doubt. And when it is remembered how powerfully the human
+mind is affected by suggestion, it is surely worth while enquiring
+as to whether the newspapers could not manage to offer their readers
+noble and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">[Pg 19]</a></span> instructive subjects of thought, rather than morbid or
+degrading ones. Fortunately for all classes, the bulk of what may be
+called &#8220;magazine literature&#8221; makes distinctly for the instruction and
+enlightenment of the public, and though a &#8220;gutter press&#8221; exists in
+Great Britain, as in America, a great portion of the public are now
+educated enough to recognize its type and to treat it with the contempt
+it merits. I quote here part of a letter which recently appeared in the
+<i>Westminster Gazette</i> signed &#8220;Observer,&#8221; and entitled:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="center">&#8220;<span class="smcap">A Press-governed Empire.</span></p>
+
+<p class="center">&#8220;To the Editor of the <i>Westminster Gazette</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">Sir</span>,&mdash;We have it on the highest authority that the
+Government acts on the same information as is at the disposal
+of &#8216;the man in the street&#8217; (<i>vide</i> Mr. Balfour at Manchester).
+The man in the street obviously must depend on the Press for his
+information. How has the Press served him?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Let me take a recent illustration. A great experiment was
+to be made by the Navy. A battleship with all its tremendous
+armament was to pound a battleship. Naturally the Press was well
+represented, and the public was eager for its report.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In due course a narrative appeared describing the terrible havoc
+wrought. The greatest stress was laid upon the instant ignition
+and complete destruction by fire of all the woodwork on the doomed
+ship. Elaborate leading articles appeared enforcing the lesson
+that wood was no longer a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">[Pg 20]</a></span> possible material for the accessory
+furniture of a battleship.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A day or two after, a quiet answer in the House of Commons from
+Mr. Goschen informed the limited public who read it, that no fire
+whatever had occurred on the occasion so graphically described by
+the host of Press correspondents.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The events dealt with on these occasions took place in our own
+country, and under our own eyes, so to speak. If such untrue
+reports are set forth with the verisimilitude of accurate and
+detailed personal description of eye-witnesses, what are we to say
+of the truth in the reports of events occurring at a distance?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Special knowledge, special experience long continued, speaking
+under a sense of responsibility, are set at nought. The regular
+channels of information are neglected, and the conduct of affairs
+is based on newspaper reports. Any private business conducted
+and managed on these lines would be immediately ruined. The
+business of the Empire is more important, and the results of its
+mismanagement are more serious. For how long will it be possible
+to continue its management, trusting to the light thrown on events
+by an irresponsible Press?&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p class="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</p>
+
+<p>The &#8220;irresponsibility&#8221; here complained of comes out perhaps more often
+and most glaringly in those papers which profess to chronicle the
+sayings and doings of kings and queens, prime ministers, and personages
+more or less well known in the world of art, letters and society. In
+nine cases out of ten,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">[Pg 21]</a></span> the journalist who reports these sayings and
+doings has never set eyes on the people about whom he writes with such
+a free and easy flippancy. Even if he has, his authority to make their
+conversation public may be questioned. It is surely not too much to ask
+of the editors of newspapers that they should, by applying directly to
+the individuals concerned, ascertain whether such and such a statement
+made to them is true before giving it currency. A couple of penny
+stamps expended in private correspondence would settle the matter to
+the satisfaction of both parties.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Personalities,&#8221; however, would seem to be greatly in vogue. Note the
+following:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;At seven o&#8217;clock the King left the hotel and walked to the spring to
+drink more of the water. Altogether, His Majesty has to drink about a
+quart of the water every morning, before breakfast.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Standing among the throng, in which every type and nationality of
+humanity was represented, the King sipped his second pint glass of
+water.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;After drinking the quart of water, the regulations laid down for the
+&#8216;cure&#8217; further require the King to walk for two hours before eating a
+morsel of food.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This His Majesty performed by pacing up and down the promenade from
+the Kruez spring at one end, to the Ferdinand spring at the other.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Notwithstanding all the appeals of the local authorities to the
+visitors, King Edward was <a name="FNanchor_1_1" id="FNanchor_1_1"></a><a href="#Footnote_1_1" >[1]</a><i>much greatly</i> inconvenienced by the
+snobbish curiosity of the crowd.&#8221; </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">[Pg 22]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>One may query whether &#8220;the snobbish curiosity of the crowd&#8221; or the
+snobbish information as to how &#8220;the King sipped his second pint glass
+of water&#8221; was the more reprehensible. Of course there are both men and
+women who delight in the personalities of the Press, especially when
+they concern themselves. Many ladies of rank and title are only too
+happy to have their dresses described to the man in the street, and
+their physical charms discussed by Tom, Dick and Harry. And when the
+Press is amiable enough to oblige them in these little yearnings for
+personal publicity, let us hope that the labourer, being worthy of his
+hire, hath his reward.</p>
+
+<p>The following extract, taken from a daily journal boasting a large
+circulation, can be called little less than a pandering to the lowest
+tastes of the abandoned feminine snob, as well as a flagrant example
+of the positively criminal recklessness with which irresponsible
+journalists permit themselves to incite, by their flamboyant praise
+of the <i>demi-mondaine</i>, the envy and cupidity of thoughtless girls
+and women, who perhaps but for the perusal of such tawdry stuff,
+would never have known of, or half-unconsciously coveted the
+dress-and-diamond gew-gaws which are the common reward of female
+degradation and dishonesty:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>&#8220;Miss W., a young American actress, has burst upon London. She has
+brought back from Paris to the Savoy Hotel, along with her golden
+hair and lovely brown eyes, an enormous jewel-case, innumerable
+dress-baskets&mdash;and a story. It concerns herself and how she
+made a fortune on the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">[Pg 23]</a></span> Paris Bourse, and she told it to our
+representative yesterday.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;She is an American, and was eating candy when she met M. J&mdash;&mdash;
+L&mdash;&mdash;. &#8216;Ah!&#8217; said he, &#8216;give up stick and buy stock.&#8217; She &#8216;took
+the tip,&#8217; she says, and staked her fortune&mdash;every penny&mdash;on the
+deal. A fortnight later she came back one night to her flat in the
+Avenue du Bois de Boulogne, from the Olympia, where she plays a
+leading part. A telegram from her bankers was waiting. It said:
+&#8216;You have been successful.&#8217; &#8216;Next day,&#8217; says Miss W., &#8216;I called on
+those bankers and picked up the £20,000 I had made.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p class="center">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Inveterate Gambler.</span></p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Wonderful, wasn&#8217;t it?&#8217; said Miss W., and our representative
+agreed that it was. &#8216;Oh, but it was a mere nothing!&#8217; she said. &#8216;I
+have gambled since I was seven. Then I used to bet in pop-corn and
+always won. At seventeen I was quite &#8216;a dab&#8217; at spotting winners
+on the Turf.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Monte Carlo? Oh, yes. I won a trifle there this year&mdash;£800 or
+so. And Trouville! Why, you may not believe it, but I won £4,000
+there this year in a few weeks.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Of course, I don&#8217;t know the tricks of the Stock Exchange, though
+I was once chased by a bull,&#8217; observed Miss W., with a smile.
+&#8216;Still, I think I&#8217;ll stick to it.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Opposite the Bourse is a shop where fashionable Parisians buy
+their furs. She spent £1,600 in a sable coat and hat on the day
+that the Bourse made her. Her other purchases include:&mdash; </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">[Pg 24]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p>Paris hats to the value of £200.<br />A robe of baby lamb, £150.<br />
+Fifteen Paquin gowns.<br />Two long fur coats.<br />
+Five short fur coats.<br />Three sets of furs.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>&#8220;She also admits that she bought such trifles in the way of
+jewellery as:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>A corsage with thirteen large diamonds.<br />Eighteen rows of pearls.<br />
+Eighteen diamond rings.<br />Two diamond butterflies.<br />
+One emerald ring.<br />Several pendants.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>&#8220;Diamonds, says Miss W., are the joy of her life. Each night on
+the stage of the Olympia she wears between £30,000 and £40,000
+worth of jewellery.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The woman who confides her wardrobe list and the prices of her clothes
+to a Fleet Street hack of the pen is far gone past recall, but her
+manner of misdemeaning herself should not be proclaimed in the Press
+under &#8220;headings&#8221; as if it were news of importance to the country; and
+it would not be so proclaimed were the Press entirely, instead of only
+partially, in the hands of educated men.</p>
+
+<p>In olden days it would seem that a great part of the responsibility
+of the Press lay in its criticism of art and literature. That burden,
+however, no longer lies upon its shoulders. Since the people began
+to read for themselves, newspaper criticism, so far as books are
+concerned, carries little weight. When some particular book secures
+a great success, we read this kind of thing about it: &#8220;In argument,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">[Pg 25]</a></span>
+intrigue and style it captures the fancy of the masses without
+attracting the slightest attention from the critical and discriminating
+few whose approval alone gives any chance of permanence to work.&#8221; This
+is, of course, very old hearing. &#8220;The critical and discriminating few&#8221;
+in Italy long ago condemned Dante as a &#8220;vulgar&#8221; rhymer, who used the
+&#8220;people&#8217;s vernacular.&#8221; Now the much-abused Florentine is the great
+Italian classic. The same &#8220;critical and discriminating few&#8221; condemned
+John Keats, who is now enrolled among the chiefest of English poets.
+Onslaughts of the bitterest kind were hurled at the novels of Charles
+Dickens by the &#8220;critical and discriminating few&#8221;&mdash;in the great writer&#8217;s
+time&mdash;but he &#8220;captured the fancy of the masses&#8221; and lives in the hearts
+and homes of thousands for whom the &#8220;critical and discriminating few&#8221;
+might just as well never have existed. And when we look up the names
+of the &#8220;critical and discriminating few&#8221; in our own day, we find,
+strange to say, that they are all disappointed authors! All of them
+have-written poems or novels, which are failures. So we must needs pity
+their &#8220;criticism&#8221; and &#8220;discrimination&#8221; equally, knowing the secret
+fount of gall from which these delicate emotions spring. At the same
+time, the &#8220;responsibility&#8221; of the Press might still be appealed to in
+literary, dramatic and artistic matters as, for example:</p>
+
+<p>Why allow an unsuccessful artist to criticize a successful picture?</p>
+
+<p>Why ask an unlucky playwright who cannot get even a farce accepted by
+the managers, to criticize a brilliant play?</p>
+
+<p>Why depute a gentleman or lady who has <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">[Pg 26]</a></span>&#8220;essayed&#8221; a little unsuccessful
+fiction to &#8220;review&#8221; a novel which has &#8220;captured the fancy of the
+masses&#8221; and is selling well?</p>
+
+<p>These be weighty matters! Common human nature is common human nature
+all the world over, and it is not in common human nature to give
+praise to another for qualities we ourselves envy. Every one has
+not the same fine endowment of generosity as Sir Walter Scott, who
+wrote an anonymous review of Lord Byron&#8217;s poems, giving them the most
+enthusiastic praise, and frankly stating that after the appearance of
+so brilliant a luminary of genius, Walter Scott could no longer be
+considered worthy of attention as a poet. What rhymer of to-day would
+thus nobly condemn himself in order to give praise to a rival?</p>
+
+<p>May it not, with due respect, be suggested to those who have the
+handling of such matters that neither the avowed friends nor the avowed
+foes of authors be permitted to review their books?&mdash;the same rule
+of criticism to apply equally to the works of musicians, painters,
+sculptors and playwrights? Neither personal prejudice nor personal
+favouritism should be allowed to interfere with the impression produced
+on the mind by a work of art. Vulgar abuse and fervid eulogy are
+alike out of place. In the productions of the human brain nothing
+is wholly bad and nothing is wholly good. Perfection is impossible
+of attainment on our present plane of existence. We do not find it
+in Nature,&mdash;still less shall we find it in ourselves. The critic
+can show good in everything if he himself is of a good mind. Or he
+can show bad in everything as easily, should his digestion be out
+of order. <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">[Pg 27]</a></span>Unfortunately the &#8220;wear and tear of life&#8221;&mdash;to quote the
+patent medicine advertisements, wreaks natural havoc on the physical
+composition of the gentleman who is perhaps set down to review twenty
+novels in one column of print for the trifling sum of a guinea. All
+sorts of difficulties beset him. For instance, he may be employed on
+a certain &#8220;literary&#8221; paper which, being the property of the relatives
+of a novelist, exists chiefly to praise that novelist, even though it
+be curiously called an &#8220;organ of English literature,&#8221;&mdash;and woe betide
+the miserable man who dares to praise anyone else! Knowing much of the
+ins and outs of the literary grind, I tender my salutations to all
+reviewers of books, together with my respectful sympathy. I am truly
+sorry for them, and I do not in the least wonder that they hate with
+a deadly hatred every scribbling creature who writes a &#8220;long&#8221; novel.
+Because the &#8220;pay&#8221; for reviewing such a book is never in proportion to
+its length, as of course it ought to be. But anyway it doesn&#8217;t matter
+how much or how little of it is criticized. The bulk of the public do
+not read reviews. That is left to the &#8220;discriminating few.&#8221; And oh,
+how that &#8220;discriminating few&#8221; would love to &#8220;capture the fancy of the
+masses&#8221; if they could only manage to do it! Yet&mdash;&#8220;Never mind!&#8221; they
+say, with the tragedian&#8217;s glare and scowl&mdash;&#8220;Our names will be inscribed
+upon the scroll of fame when all ye are forgotten!&#8221; Dear things! Heaven
+grant them this poor comfort in their graves!</p>
+
+<p>One cannot but regret that in these days of wonderful research,
+discovery and invention, so little is done to popularize science in the
+columns<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">[Pg 28]</a></span> of the daily Press. The majority of the public are appallingly
+ignorant of astronomy for instance. Would it not be as interesting to
+instruct them in a simple and easy style as to the actual wonders of
+the heavens about us, as to fill their minds with the details of a
+murder? I hardly like to touch on the subject of geography, for out of
+fifteen &#8220;educated&#8221; persons I asked the question of recently, not one
+knew the actual situation on the map, of Tibet. Now it seems to me that
+the Press could work wonders in the way of education,&mdash;much more than
+the &#8220;Bill&#8221; will ever do. Books on science and learning are often sadly
+dull and generally expensive, and the public cannot afford to buy them
+largely, nor do they ask for them much at the libraries. If the daily
+journals made it a rule to give bright picturesque articles on some
+grand old truths or great new discoveries of science, such a course
+of procedure would be far more productive of good than any amount of
+&#8220;Short Sermons&#8221; such as we have lately heard discussed in various
+quarters. For the Press is a greater educational force than the Pulpit.
+In its hands it has the social moulding of a people, and the dignity
+of a nation as represented to other nations. There could hardly be a
+nobler task,&mdash;there can certainly never be a higher responsibility.</p>
+
+<h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_1_1" id="Footnote_1_1"></a><a href="#FNanchor_1_1">[1]</a> Copied <i>verbatim</i> from the Press report.</p>
+
+<div class="center space-above"><img src="images/dec.jpg" alt="Decoration" /></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">[Pg 29]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>&#8220;PAGAN LONDON&#8221;</h2>
+
+<p>London is &#8220;a pagan city.&#8221; Such was the uncompromising verdict lately
+pronounced upon it by the Venerable Archdeacon Sinclair, of great
+St. Paul&#8217;s. &#8220;A pagan city&#8221;&mdash;he said, or was reported to say&mdash;&#8220;with
+churches glimmering here and there like fairy lamps twinkling in the
+spaces of darkness upon a lawn. Like fairy lamps, they serve to show
+the darkness rather than to illuminate it.&#8221; It was in a manner striking
+and curious that the Archdeacon should have chosen such a simile as
+&#8220;fairy lamps&#8221; for the Churches. It was an unconsciously happy hit&mdash;no
+doubt absolutely unintentional. But it described the Churches of to-day
+with marvellous exactitude. They are &#8220;fairy lamps&#8221;&mdash;no more!&mdash;only
+fit for show&mdash;of no use in a storm&mdash;and quenched easily with a
+strong puff of wind. Fairy lamps!&mdash;not strong or steady beacons&mdash;not
+lighthouses in the rough sea of life, planted bravely on impregnable
+rocks of faith to which the drowning sailor may cling for rescue and
+haply find life again. Fairy lamps! Multiply them by scores, good
+Archdeacon!&mdash;quadruple them in every corner of this &#8220;pagan&#8221; city of
+ours, over which the heart of every earnest thinker must yearn with a
+passion of love and pity, and they shall be no use whatever to light
+the blackness of one soul&#8217;s midnight of despair! &#8220;Pagan London!&#8221; The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">[Pg 30]</a></span>
+roaring, rushing crowd&mdash;the broad deep river of suffering, working,
+loving, struggling humanity, sweeping on, despite itself, to the
+limitless sea of Death,&mdash;every unit in the mass craving for sympathy,
+praying for guidance, longing for comfort, trying to discover ways out
+of pain and grief, and hoping to find God somehow and somewhere&mdash;and
+naught but &#8220;fairy lamps&#8221;&mdash;twinkling doubtfully, making the gloom more
+visible, the uncertainty of the gathering shadows more confusing and
+misleading!&mdash;&#8220;fairy lamps&#8221; of which the &#8220;Church of the Laodiceans,&#8221; so
+strongly reproved by the &#8220;Spirit&#8221; in the Revelation of St. John the
+Divine, must have been the originator and precursor&mdash;&#8220;I know thy works,
+that thou art neither cold nor hot; I would thou wert cold or hot. So,
+because thou art lukewarm, and neither cold nor hot, I will spue thee
+out of my mouth!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It is perhaps to be doubted whether any Churchman, no matter how
+distinguished, learned, fashionable or popular, has the right to call
+London or any city which is under the Christian dispensation &#8220;pagan.&#8221;
+No one man can honestly say he has probed the heart of another,&mdash;and
+if this be true, as it undoubtedly is, still less can one man assume
+to judge the faith or the emotions of six million hearts&mdash;six million
+striving, working and struggling souls. That even a handful of the
+six million should still wander towards &#8220;fairy lamp&#8221; Churches, in
+the hope to find warmth and luminance for their poor lives in such
+flickering and easily quenched sparks of life, speaks volumes for the
+touching faith, the craving hope, the desire of ultimate good, which
+animates our &#8220;pagan&#8221; citizens. For, if after two thousand years of
+Christianity, some of them are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">[Pg 31]</a></span> still passionately asking to be taught
+and guided, still praying for strength and courage to fight against
+many natural besetting sins, and still seeking after such pure ideals
+of work and attainment as can alone make life worth living, it is not
+they, surely, who merit the term &#8220;pagan.&#8221; They should not be so much
+blamed as compassionated, if, when searching for God&#8217;s fair and open
+sunshine, they only stumble at the &#8220;fairy lamps,&#8221; and, angered thereby,
+turn altogether away into the outer darkness. Such a term as &#8220;pagan&#8221;
+can be applied with far more justice to their teachers and preachers,
+who, having all the means of help and consolation at their disposal,
+fail to perform their high duties with either power, conviction or
+effect. It is quite easy to say &#8220;Pagan London,&#8221; but what if one spoke
+of &#8220;pagan clergy&#8221;? What of certain ecclesiastics who do not believe
+one word of the creed they profess, and who daily play the part of
+Judas Iscariot over again in taking money for a new betrayal of Christ?
+What of the ordained ministers of Christianity who are un-Christian
+in every word and act of their daily lives? What of the surpliced
+hypocrites who preach to others what they never even try to practise?
+What of certain vicious and worldly clerical <i>bon-vivants</i>, who may
+constantly be met with in the houses of wealthy and titled persons,
+&#8220;clothed in fine linen and faring sumptuously every day,&#8221; talking
+unsavoury society scandal with as much easy glibness as any dissolute
+&#8220;lay&#8221; decadent that ever cozened another man&#8217;s wife away from the path
+of honour in the tricky disguise of a &#8220;Soul&#8221;? What of the spiteful,
+small-minded, quarrelsome &#8220;local&#8221; parsons, who,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">[Pg 32]</a></span> instead of fostering
+kindness, neighbourliness, goodwill and unity among their parishioners,
+set them all by the ears, and play the petty tyrant with a domineering
+obstinacy which is rather worse than pagan, being purely barbarous?
+Many cases could easily be quoted where the childish, not to say
+querulous, pettiness of the ruling vicar of a country parish has helped
+to narrow, coarsen, and deteriorate the spirit of a whole community,
+spreading mean jealousies, fostering cheap rivalries, and making every
+soul in the place, from Sunday school children up to poor workhouse
+octogenarians, irritable, discontented and unhappy. And if the word
+&#8220;pagan&#8221; be used at all, should it not be particularly and specially
+applied to those theatrical dignitaries of the Church whose following
+of the simple and beautiful doctrine of Christ consists in sheer
+disobedience to His commands&mdash;disobedience openly displayed in the
+ornate ritual and &#8220;vain repetitions&#8221; which Christ expressly forbade.
+&#8220;For all their works they do to be seen of men; they make broad their
+phylacteries, and enlarge the borders of their garments.&#8221; And while
+&#8220;enlarging the borders of their garments&#8221; they institute &#8220;processional&#8221;
+services and promenades round the &#8220;fairy lamp&#8221; churches, with various
+altar-bobbings and other foolish ceremonies, caring nothing for the
+<i>Spirit</i> of the faith, if only all forms and observances, imported
+from Rome, or from still older &#8220;pagan&#8221; rites than the Roman, namely,
+the Græco-Egyptian, may be in some way introduced into the simple and
+unaffected form of prayer authorized by the Church of England. Disloyal
+to both God and the King, the &#8220;pagan<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">[Pg 33]</a></span> clergy&#8221; are doing more at this
+present day to injure the cause of true religion among the masses than
+is any lack of zeal or want of faith that may exist in the people
+themselves. Who can blame sensible men and women for staying away from
+church, when in nine cases out of ten they know that the officiating
+minister is less Christian, less enlightened, less charitable and
+kind-hearted than themselves? Canon Allen Edwards, in an admirable
+letter addressed to the Press, put the case of &#8220;pagan London&#8221; very
+clearly. He says: &#8220;We do not want new churches.&#8221; True. No more &#8220;fairy
+lamps&#8221; are required for the general misleading of the straying sheep.
+He adds: &#8220;We want new men.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This is the real need&mdash;men! Men of thought&mdash;men of heart,&mdash;men of
+true conviction, ardent faith, passionate exaltation, and unceasing
+devotion,&mdash;men who will not play about with &#8220;show&#8221; services, like
+amateur actors in a charity performance,&mdash;but who will sincerely care
+for and sympathize with their fellow-creatures, and will offer up the
+prayer and praise of humanity to an all-wise Omnipotence with that deep
+heartfelt fervour which is always expressed in the utmost simplicity
+of form and language,&mdash;men who have the intelligence to understand
+intelligent people, and who are as able to deal sympathetically
+with the spiritual troubles and perplexities of an educated person
+as with those of the ill-taught and frequently ill-fed rustic,&mdash;men
+who, if they preach, can find something to say of the marvels of this
+God-born creation of which we are a part&mdash;who will teach as well as
+admonish,&mdash;and who will take reverent care not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">[Pg 34]</a></span> to set the Almighty
+Creator within a small circle of their own special form of orthodoxy,
+and condemn every creature that wanders outside that exclusive &#8220;fairy
+lamp&#8221; enclosure. Canon Allen Edwards further remarked that &#8220;The reason
+why the working classes do not go to church is the same reason why I
+do not go to the Derby, not because I think it wrong, for I have no
+opinion on the subject, but because I have no interest in the things
+that go on there. And this is the reason, and no other, why many men
+do not go to church. They are not interested in what is done there....
+A large number of those who are going into the ministry to-day are,
+for one most essential part of their work, entirely without the first
+elements of equipment. They cannot preach, and they are not helped to
+try and learn, and yet preaching is that very part of their work for
+which the people expect, and have a right to expect, equipment of the
+highest order.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The Canon says: &#8220;they cannot preach.&#8221; That is true enough, but why?
+I maintain that if they <i>felt</i> their mission, they could preach it.
+If they loved their fellow-creatures a thousand times better than
+themselves, as they should do, they would find much of greatness,
+beauty and truth to say! If they honoured and worshipped their Divine
+Master as they profess to honour and worship Him, there would be little
+lack of spirit or of eloquence! People always know when a speaker or a
+preacher is <i>in earnest</i>. He may have a faulty utterance&mdash;his elocution
+may be far from perfect, but if the <i>heart</i> attunes the voice, the
+voice carries. There are many hundreds of noble clergy&mdash;but they are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">[Pg 35]</a></span>
+fewer than the ignoble of the same calling. And many there are, not
+only ignoble in themselves, but who attempt to pervert their very
+churches to illegitimate uses. I quote the following from a letter
+addressed to me on one occasion by a notorious &#8220;minister&#8221; of the Gospel.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;As the vicar of one of the largest parishes in England, I am often
+put to it how best to attract to the church the careless and the
+indifferent. Though a very strong High Anglican, I am an intense
+believer in the Priesthood of the Laity. It is the one weak spot in
+the Church&#8217;s system that she does not, as do the non-conformists, make
+sufficient use of and properly appreciate the services of her lay
+members. It has occurred to me therefore this year that by way of a
+start in this direction I should ask the help of certain leading people
+in the Literary, Dramatic and Artistic worlds. My friend, Mrs. X.,
+has already made a beginning by reciting two poems in my Church, and
+thereby moving intensely a congregation of upwards of 3,000 people.&#8221;
+Now Mrs. X. was, and is, a well-known actress, and she recited the
+two poems in question <i>from the chancel steps at the conclusion of
+the Sunday evening service</i>. I am told, (though for this I will not
+vouch,) that money was taken at the church doors, and seats reserved
+and paid for, precisely as if the sacred building had been suddenly
+metamorphosed into a theatre or music hall. It never seemed to occur to
+the reverend gentleman who is the proprietor of this once &#8220;consecrated&#8221;
+building, that if he could not attract to his church &#8220;the careless
+and indifferent,&#8221; the fault probably lay in himself and his general
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">[Pg 36]</a></span>unfitness. As a &#8220;very strong High Anglican&#8221; he would naturally have
+leanings towards the theatre and its lime-light effects, and <i>certes</i>,
+the &#8220;Priesthood of the Laity,&#8221; whatever may be meant by that term, is
+more to be believed in than the Priesthood of this particular ordained
+&#8220;priest&#8221; who instituted and encouraged a kind of stage recital from the
+steps of a sacred chancel, where the actor or actress concerned was
+invited to declaim his or her lines, with back turned to the Altar, the
+Communion-table serving as the &#8220;scenery.&#8221; Such men as these are the
+real &#8220;pagans,&#8221; and they do infinite harm to the dignity and purity of
+the Christian doctrine by their unworthy and debasing example. Churches
+under their dominance are less than &#8220;fairy lamps&#8221; in their influence
+for good,&mdash;they are the mere flare of stage footlights, showing up the
+grease-paint and powder of the clerical mime.</p>
+
+<p>A deep religious sentiment lies at the hearts of the British people,
+as indeed of all peoples in the world. No nation, small or great,
+was ever entirely given over to atheism. If atheism and indifference
+affect a few, or even a majority of persons, the fault is assuredly
+with those who are elected to teach &#8220;the Way, the Truth, and the Life.&#8221;
+They are chosen and solemnly ordained to be the friends, lovers and
+guides of humanity,&mdash;not to be selfish pedants, quarrelsome quidnuncs,
+and bigoted despots, exposing themselves, as they often do, to the
+righteous scorn, as well as to the careless contempt of the more honest
+laity. When they show themselves unworthy, the people fall away. When
+even one minister of religion appears as <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">[Pg 37]</a></span>co-respondent in a divorce
+case, tens of thousands of men and women turn their backs on the
+Church. When anything low, mean, despicable or treacherous is said or
+done by a professing &#8220;servant of Christ,&#8221; the evil word or deed from
+such a source makes Christianity a byword to many more than the merely
+profane. When certain great dignitaries of the Church sit wine-bibbing
+at &#8220;swagger&#8221; dinner-parties, relating questionable or &#8220;spicy&#8221; anecdotes
+unfitting for the ears of decent women, they lose not only caste
+themselves, but they lay all the brethren of their order open to
+doubt. &#8220;Example is better than precept.&#8221; We have all written that in
+our school copy-books,&mdash;and nothing has ever happened, or ever will
+happen, that is likely to contradict the statement. If London is indeed
+a &#8220;pagan&#8221; city, as Archdeacon Sinclair has solemnly declared from
+under the shadowy luminance of his own big &#8220;fairy lamp,&#8221; St. Paul&#8217;s
+Cathedral, then the clergy, and the clergy alone are responsible. On
+their &#8220;ordained&#8221; heads be it! For &#8220;pagan&#8221; people are merely the natural
+outcome of a &#8220;pagan&#8221; priesthood.</p>
+
+<div class="center space-above"><img src="images/dec.jpg" alt="Decoration" /></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">[Pg 38]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>A QUESTION OF FAITH</h2>
+
+<p class="bold">PROPOUNDED TO ALL WHOM IT MAY CONCERN</p>
+
+<p>Before fully entering on this paper, I should like those who may be
+inclined to read it to understand very distinctly, once and for all,
+that I am a Christian. I am sorry that the too-hasty misjudgment of
+others compels me to assert the fact. The term &#8220;Atheist&#8221; has been
+applied to me by several persons who should know better,&mdash;for it is an
+absolutely false, and I may add, libellous accusation. That it has been
+uttered unthinkingly and at random, by idle chatterers who have never
+read a line I have written I can well believe,&mdash;nevertheless it is a
+mischievous rumour, as senseless as wicked. Poor and inadequate as my
+service is, and must ever be, still I am a follower of the Christian
+Faith, as expounded in Christ&#8217;s own words to His disciples. I believe
+that Christian Faith to be the grandest and purest in the world,&mdash;the
+most hopeful, the most strengthening, the most soul-supporting and
+ennobling religion ever taught to humanity. To me, in hours of the
+bitterest trial, it has proved not &#8220;a reed shaken by the wind,&#8221;&mdash;but
+a rock firmer than the foundations of the world, against which the
+waves of tribulation break in vain and disperse<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">[Pg 39]</a></span> to naught,&mdash;and when
+brought face to face with imminent death as I have been, it has kept me
+fearless and calm. I know&mdash;because I have experienced,&mdash;its priceless
+worth, its truth, its grand uplifting power; and it is because this
+simple Christian Faith is so dear to me, and so much a part of my
+every-day life, that I venture to ask a few straight questions of
+those who, calling themselves Christians, seem to have lost sight
+altogether of their Master and His commands. I like people who are
+consistent. Inconsistency of mind is like uncleanliness of body; it
+breeds discomfort and disease. And in this wonderful age of ours, in
+which there is so little real &#8220;greatness,&#8221;&mdash;when even the tried heroism
+of our leading statesmen and generals is sullied by contemptible
+jealousies and petty discussions of a quarrelsome nature,&mdash;when the
+minds of men are bent chiefly on money-making and mechanical inventions
+to save labour (labour being most unfortunately estimated as a curse
+instead of the blessing it indubitably is), I find inconsistency the
+chief ingredient of all modern thought. Things are jumbled up in a
+heterogeneous mass, without order, distinction or merit. And the
+principal subject on which men and women are most wildly, glaringly
+inconsistent, is that which is supposed to be the guiding rule of
+life&mdash;Religion. I should like to try and help to settle this vexed
+question. I want to find out what the Christian Empire means by its
+&#8220;faith.&#8221; I venture to lift up my voice as the voice of one alone in
+the wilderness, and to send it with as clear a pitch and true a tone
+as I can across the sea of discussion,&mdash;the stormy ocean of angry and
+contradictory tongues,&mdash;and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">[Pg 40]</a></span> I ask bluntly and straightly, &#8220;What is it
+all about? <span class="smcap">Do you believe your religion, or do you not?</span>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It is an honest question, and demands an honest answer. Put it to
+yourselves plainly. <span class="smcap">Do you believe with all your heart and soul in
+the faith you profess to follow?</span></p>
+
+<p>Again&mdash;put it with equal plainness&mdash;<span class="smcap">Do you not believe one iota
+of it all? And are you only following it as a matter of custom and
+form?</span></p>
+
+<p>Let us, my reader or readers, be round and frank with each other. If
+you are a Christian, your religion is to believe that Christ was a
+human Incarnation or Manifestation of an Eternal God, born miraculously
+of the Virgin Mary; that He was crucified in the flesh as a criminal,
+died, was buried, rose again from the dead, and ascended to heaven as
+God and Man in one, and there perpetually acts as Mediator between
+mankind and Divine Justice. Remember, that if you believe this, you
+believe in the <span class="smaller">PURELY SUPERNATURAL</span>. But let any one talk or
+write of the purely supernatural as existent in any other form save
+this one of the Christian Faith, and you will probably be the first
+to scout the idea of the supernatural altogether. Why? Where is your
+consistency? If you believe in one thing which is supernatural, why not
+in others?</p>
+
+<p>Now let us consider the other side of the question. You who do
+not believe, but still pretend to do so, for the sake of form and
+conventional custom, do you realize what you are? You consider yourself
+virtuous and respectable, no doubt; but facts are facts, and you, in
+your pretence at faith, are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">[Pg 41]</a></span> nothing but a Liar. The honest sunshiny
+face of day looks on you, and knows you for a hypocrite&mdash;a miserable
+unit who is trying in a vague, mad fashion to cheat the Eternal Forces.
+Be ashamed of lying, man or woman, whichever you be! Stand out of the
+press and say openly that you do not believe; so at least shall you be
+respected. Do not show any religious leanings either to one side or
+the other &#8220;for the sake of custom&#8221;&mdash;and then we shall see you as you
+are, and refrain from branding you &#8220;liar.&#8221; I would say to all, clergy
+and laity, who do not in their hearts believe in the Christian Faith,
+&#8220;Go out of all churches; stand aside and let us see who is who. Let us
+have space in which to count up those who are willing to sacrifice all
+their earthly well-being for Christ&#8217;s sake (for it amounts to nothing
+less than this), and those who prefer this world to the next.&#8221; I will
+not presume to calculate as to which will form the larger majority.
+I only say it is absurd to keep up churches, and an enormous staff
+of clergy, archbishops, bishops, popes, cardinals, and the like,
+for a faith in which we do not <span class="smaller">TRULY, ABSOLUTELY, AND ENTIRELY
+BELIEVE</span>. It is a mere pageant of inflated Falsehood, and as such
+must be loathsome in the sight of God,&mdash;this always with the modern
+proviso, &#8220;if there indeed be a God.&#8221; Yet, apart from a God altogether,
+it is degrading to ourselves to play the hypocrite with the serious
+facts of life and death. Therefore, I ask you again&mdash;Do you believe,
+or do you not believe? My object in proposing the question at all
+is to endeavour to show the spiritual and symbolic basis upon which
+the Christian Faith<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">[Pg 42]</a></span> rests, and the paramount necessity there is for
+accepting it in its pristine purity and beauty, if we would be wise.
+To grasp it thoroughly, we must view it, not as it now seems to look
+to us through the darkening shadows of sectarianism, <span class="smaller">BUT AS IT WAS
+ORIGINALLY FOUNDED</span>. The time has come upon us that is spoken of
+in the New Testament, when &#8220;one shall be taken and the other left,&#8221;
+and the sorting of the sheep from the goats has already commenced. It
+can be said with truth that most of our Churches, as they now exist,
+are diametrically opposed to the actual teachings of their Divine
+Founder. It can be proved that in our daily lives we live exactly in
+the manner which Christ Himself would have most sternly condemned. And
+when all the proofs are put before you plainly, and without disguise or
+hyperbole, in the simplest and straightest language possible, I shall
+again ask you, &#8220;<span class="smcap">Do you believe, or do you not believe?</span>&#8221; If
+you do believe, declare it openly and live accordingly; if you do not
+believe, in God&#8217;s name leave off lying!</p>
+
+<p>The Symbolism of the Christian Faith has been, and is still, very much
+lost sight of, owing to the manner in which the unimaginative and
+unthinking majority of people will persist in looking at things from a
+directly physical, materialistic and worldly point of view. But if we
+take the life and character of Christ as a Symbolic representation of
+that Perfect Manhood which alone can be pleasing to God,&mdash;which alone
+can be worthy to call the Divine Source of Creation &#8220;Father!&#8221;&mdash;some of
+our difficulties may possibly be removed. Christ&#8217;s Gospel was first
+proclaimed in the East,&mdash;and the Eastern<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">[Pg 43]</a></span> peoples were accustomed to
+learn the great truths of religion by a &#8220;symbolic,&#8221; or allegorical
+method of instruction. Christ Himself knew this,&mdash;for &#8220;He taught them
+many things by parables.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>We shall do well to keep this spirit of Eastern symbolism in mind when
+considering the &#8220;miraculous&#8221; manner of Christ&#8217;s birth. Note the extreme
+poverty, humility, well-nigh shame attending it! Joseph doubted Mary,
+and was &#8220;minded to put her away privily.&#8221; Mary herself doubted the
+Angelic Annunciation, and said, &#8220;How shall this be?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thus, even with those most closely concerned, a cloud of complete
+disbelief and distrust environed the very thought, suggestion, and
+announcement of the God-in-Man.</p>
+
+<p>It should be remembered that the Evangelists, Mark and John, have no
+account of a &#8220;miraculous&#8221; birth at all. John, supreme as a Symbolist,
+the &#8220;disciple whom Jesus loved,&#8221; wrote, &#8220;The <span class="smaller">WORD</span> was made
+flesh and dwelt among us.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Securing this symbolic statement for ourselves, we find that two of
+the chief things to which we attach importance in this world&mdash;namely,
+birth and position&mdash;are altogether set aside in this humanizing of the
+<span class="smaller">WORD</span>, and are of no account whatever. And, that the helpless
+Child lying in a manger on that first Christmas morning of the world,
+was,&mdash;despite poverty and humility,&mdash;fore-destined to possess more
+power than all the kings and emperors ever born in the purple.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, the first lessons we get from the birth of Christ are&mdash;Faith and
+Humility&mdash;these are indeed the whole spirit of His Divine doctrine. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">[Pg 44]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Now,&mdash;How does this spirit pervade our social community to-day, after
+nearly two thousand years of constant preaching and teaching?</p>
+
+<p>Look round on the proud array of the self-important, pugnacious,
+quarrelsome, sectarian and intolerant so-called &#8220;servants of the Lord.&#8221;
+The Pope of Rome, and his Cardinals and his Monsignori! The Archbishop
+of Canterbury, and <i>his</i> Bishops, Deacons, Deans and Chapters and the
+like! The million &#8220;sects&#8221;&mdash;and all the cumbrous paraphernalia of the
+wealthy and worldly, &#8220;ordained&#8221; to preach the Gospel! Ask them for
+&#8220;proofs&#8221; of faith! For signs of &#8220;humility&#8221;! For evidences of any kind
+to show that they are in very soul and life and truth, the followers of
+that Master who never knew luxury, and had not where to lay His head!</p>
+
+<p>And you, among the laity, how can you pray, or pretend to pray to a
+poor and despised &#8220;Man of Sorrows,&#8221; in these days, when with every act
+and word of your life you show your neighbours that you love Money
+better than anything else in earth or in heaven!&mdash;when even you who are
+millionaires only give and do just as much as will bring you notoriety,
+or purchase you a &#8220;handle&#8221; to your names! Why do you bend your
+hypocritical heads on Sundays to the Name of &#8220;Jesus,&#8221; who (so far as
+visible worldly position admitted) was merely the son of a carpenter,
+and followed the carpenter&#8217;s trade, while on week-days you make no
+secret of your scorn of, or indifference to the &#8220;working-man,&#8221; and more
+often than not spurn the beggar from your gates!</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">[Pg 45]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Be consistent, friends!&mdash;be consistent! <span class="smcap">If you
+believe in Christianity</span>, you must also believe in these three
+things:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>1. The virtue of poverty.</p>
+
+<p>2. The dignity of labour.</p>
+
+<p>3. The excellence of simplicity.</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Rank, wealth, and all kinds of ostentation should be to you
+pitiable&mdash;not enviable.</p>
+
+<p><span class="smcap">Is it so?</span> Do you prefer poverty, with a pure conscience, to
+ill-gotten riches? Would you rather be a faithful servant of Christ
+or a slave of Mammon? Give the answer to your own soul,&mdash;but give it
+honestly&mdash;if you can!</p>
+
+<p>If you find, on close self-examination, that you love yourself, your
+own importance, your position, your money, your household goods and
+clothes, your place in what you call &#8220;society,&#8221; more than the steady
+working for and following of Christ,&mdash;<span class="smcap">you are not a Christian</span>.
+That being the case, be brave about it! Say what you are, and do not
+pretend to be what you are not!</p>
+
+<p>It ought to be quite easy for you to come to a clear understanding
+with yourselves. Take down the New Testament and read it. Read it as
+closely and carefully as you read your cheap newspapers, and with
+as much eagerness to find out &#8220;news.&#8221; For news there is in it, and
+of grave import. Not news affecting the things of this world, which
+pass like a breath of wind and are no more,&mdash;but news which treats of
+Eternal Facts, outlasting the creation and re-creation of countless
+worlds. Read this book for yourselves, I say, rather than take it in
+portions on Sundays only from your clergy,&mdash;and devote your earnest
+attention to the simple precepts uttered by Christ Himself. If you
+are a Christian, you<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">[Pg 46]</a></span> believe Christ was an Incarnation of God,&mdash;then
+does it not behove you to listen when God speaks? Or is it a matter
+of indifference to you that the Maker and Upholder of millions of
+universes should have condescended to come and teach you how to live?
+If it is, then stand forth and let us see you! Do not attend places of
+worship merely to be noticed by your neighbours. For,&mdash;apart from such
+conduct being strictly forbidden by Christ,&mdash;you insult other persons
+by your presence as a liar and hypocrite. This is what you may call a
+&#8220;rude&#8221; statement;&mdash;plain-speaking and truth-telling are always called
+&#8220;rude.&#8221; You will find the utmost plain-speaking in the Gospels upon
+which you profess to pin your faith. If you have any &#8220;fancy Ritualism&#8221;
+lurking about you, you will discover that &#8220;forms&#8221; are not tolerated by
+the Saviour of mankind.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All their works they do for to be seen of men; they make broad their
+phylacteries and enlarge the borders of their garments.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Shows&#8221; of religion are severely censured and condemned by Him whose
+commands we assume to try and obey&mdash;we can scarcely find even a peg
+whereon to hang an excuse for our practice of praying in public, while
+&#8220;vain repetitions&#8221; of prayer are expressly prohibited. I repeat&mdash;Read
+the Four Gospels; they are very much mis-read in these days, and even
+in the Churches are only gabbled. See if your private and personal
+lives are in keeping with the commands there set down. If not, cease to
+play Humbug with the Eternities;&mdash;they will avenge themselves upon your
+hypocrisy in a way you dream not of! &#8220;Whosoever excuses himself accuses
+himself.&#8221; </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">[Pg 47]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The true Christian faith has no dogma,&mdash;no form,&mdash;no sect. It starts
+with Christ as God-in-Man, in an all-embracing love for God and His
+whole Creation, with an explicit and clear understanding (as symbolized
+so emphatically in the Crucifixion and Resurrection), that each
+individual Soul is an immortal germ of life, in process of eternal
+development, to which each new &#8220;experience&#8221; of thought, whether on
+this planet or others, adds larger powers, wider intelligence, and
+intensified consciousness. There are no &#8220;isms&#8221; in this faith&mdash;no
+bigotry, and no intolerance. It leaves no ground for discussion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;This is my commandment,&mdash;That ye love one another as I have loved you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It is all there,&mdash;simple, straight and pure&mdash;no more, no less than this.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Love feels no burden, thinks nothing of trouble, attempts what
+is above its strength, pleads no excuse of impossibility. It is,
+therefore, able to undertake all things, and it completes many things
+and warrants them to take effect where he who does not love would faint
+and lie down. Love is watchful, and, sleeping, slumbereth not. Though
+weary, it is not tired; though alarmed, it is not confounded, but, as a
+lively flame and burning torch, it forces its way upwards, and securely
+passes all.... Love is born of God and cannot rest but in God, above
+all created things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Is our Gospel of modern life and society to-day one of love or of hate?
+Do we help each other more readily than we kick each other down? Do we
+prefer to praise or to slander our neighbours? Is it not absolutely
+true that &#8220;a cruel story runs on wheels, and every hand oils the wheels
+as they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">[Pg 48]</a></span> run&#8221;? Can we leave anybody alone without covert or open
+detraction from his or her merits? Even in the most ordinary, every-day
+life do we not see people taking a malicious, insane delight in making
+their next-door neighbours as uncomfortable as possible in every petty
+way they can? These persons, by the way, are generally the class who go
+to Church most regularly, and are constant Communicants. Do they not by
+their profane attempt to assimilate the malignity of their dispositions
+with the gospel of Christ, deserve to be considered as mere blasphemers
+of the Faith?</p>
+
+<p>Yet, as a matter of fact, it is much easier to love than to hate. Love
+is the natural and native air of the immortal soul. &#8220;While we fulfil
+the law of love in all our thoughts and actions, we cannot fail to
+grow.&#8221; Hatred, discontent, envy, and pessimism, cramp all the higher
+faculties of the mind and very often actually breed disease in the
+body. To love all creation is to draw the responsive health and life of
+creation into one&#8217;s own immortal cognizance. &#8220;Love easily loosens all
+our bonds. There is no discomfort that will not yield to its sovereign
+power.&#8221; But it must not be a selfish love. It must be a Love which is
+the keynote of the Christian Faith&mdash;&#8220;Love one another as I have loved
+you.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>It follows very plainly that if we truly loved one another there would
+be no wars, no envyings, no racial hatreds, no over-reaching of our
+brethren for either wealth, place or power. There would be no such
+hells as the Lancashire factories, for example, where, as Allen Clarke
+graphically tells us,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">[Pg 49]</a></span><a name="FNanchor_2_2" id="FNanchor_2_2"></a><a href="#Footnote_2_2" >[2]</a> &#8220;Amidst that sickening jerry-jumble of cheap
+bricks and cheaper British industry, over a hundred thousand men,
+women and children, toil and exist, sweating in the vast, hot, stuffy
+mills and sweltering forges&mdash;going, when young, to the smut-surrounded
+schools to improve their minds, and trying to commune with the living
+God in the dreary, dead, besmirched churches and grimy puritanical
+chapels; growing up stunted, breeding thoughtlessly, dying prematurely,
+knowing not, nor dreaming, except for here and there a solitary one
+cursed with keen sight and sensitive soul, of aught better and brighter
+than this sickening, steaming sphere of slime and sorrow.&#8221; Contrast
+this picture with a crowded &#8220;supper-night&#8221; at the Carlton or any other
+fashionable Feeding-place of London, and then maintain, if you dare,
+that the men and women who are responsible for two such differing sides
+of life are &#8220;Christians&#8221;!</p>
+
+<p>England is, we are told, in danger of becoming &#8220;Romanized.&#8221; Priests
+and nuns of various &#8220;orders&#8221; who have been thrust out of France and
+Spain for intermeddling, are seeking refuge here, in company with the
+organ-grinders and other folk who have been found unnecessary in their
+own countries. From Paris official news was cabled on September 11,
+1902, as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="center">&#8220;JESUIT EXODUS FROM FRANCE.</p>
+
+<p class="center">&#8220;<span class="smcap">Paris</span>, <i>Wednesday, September 11</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is announced officially that by the 1st of next month
+not a single Jesuit will be left in France. Most of them
+are emigrating to England, and will make Canterbury their
+headquarters.&mdash;<span class="smcap">Dalziel.</span>&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">[Pg 50]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>France will not have the Jesuits; may it be asked why <i>we</i> are to have
+them? It is England&#8217;s proud privilege to be an international workhouse
+for all the decrepit of the world, and for this cause a happy hunting
+ground is open to Rome among these same decrepit. There is no creed in
+the world which is better adapted for those who are morally weak, and
+frightened of themselves. All the millionaires who have gotten their
+goods by fraud, can, by leaving the greater part of these goods to
+Rome, secure a reserved seat in Rome&#8217;s Heaven, with a special harp and
+crown. All the women with &#8220;soul-affinities&#8221; other than lawful, can,
+after a considerable wallow in social mire, enter the Church of Rome,
+and, after confession, be &#8220;cleansed&#8221; sufficiently to begin again a new
+life, approved of the saints. All the spiritualists and faith-healers
+can find support for their theories with Rome,&mdash;and the Roman hell,
+full of large snakes and much brimstone, is a satisfactory place
+to consign one&#8217;s enemies to, when we have quite put aside Christ&#8217;s
+command, &#8220;Love one another.&#8221; Altogether Romanism is calculated to
+appeal to a very large majority of persons through the sensuous and
+emotional beauty of its ritual;&mdash;it is a kind of heavenly narcotic
+which persuades the believer to resign his own will into the hypnotic
+management of the priests. The church is made gorgeous with soft lights
+and colours,&mdash;glorious music resounds through the building, and the
+mind drowses gently under the influence of the Latin chanting, which
+we need not follow unless we like,&mdash;we are permitted to believe that
+a large number of saints and angels are specially looking after us,
+and that the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">[Pg 51]</a></span> sweet Virgin Mary is ever ready with outstretched hands
+to listen to all our little griefs and vexations. It is a beautiful
+and fascinating Creed, hallowed by long antiquity, graced by deeds
+of romance and chivalry, sanctified by the memories of great martyrs
+and pure saints, and even in these degenerate days, glorified by
+the noble-hearted men and women who follow it without bigotry or
+intolerance, doing good everywhere, tending the sick, comforting the
+sorrowful, and gathering up the little children into their protecting
+arms, even as Jesus Himself gathered them. It would need an angel&#8217;s pen
+dipped in fire, to record the true history of a faithful, self-denying
+priest of the Roman Church, who gives up his own advantage for the sake
+of serving others,&mdash;who walks fearlessly into squalid dens reeking
+with fever, and sets the pure Host between the infected lips of the
+dying,&mdash;who combats with the Demon of Drink, and drags up the almost
+lost reprobate out of that horrible chasm of vice and destruction.
+No one could ever give sufficient honour to such a man for all the
+immense amount of good he does, unostentatiously and without hope of
+reward. But many men like himself exist equally in the English Church
+as the Roman,&mdash;in the Presbyterian Church, in the Greek Church, in the
+Buddhist temples, among the Quakers, &#8220;Plymouth Brethren,&#8221; and other
+sects&mdash;among the followers of Mahomet or of Confucius. For there are
+good men and good women in every Church, faithful to the <span class="smcap">spirit
+of Christ</span>, and, therefore, &#8220;Christians,&#8221; even if called Jews or
+Hindoos.</p>
+
+<p>Personally, I have no more objection or dislike to Romanism than I
+have to any other &#8220;ism&#8221; ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">[Pg 52]</a></span> formulated. From a student&#8217;s point of
+view I admire the Roman Catholic priesthood, because they understand
+their business, and thoroughly know the material with which they have
+to deal. Wise as their Egyptian prototypes of old, they decline to
+unveil &#8220;mysteries&#8221; to the uninitiated vulgar&mdash;therefore the laity are
+not expected to read the Bible for themselves. Knowing the terrors
+of a guilty conscience, they are able to intimidate the uneducated
+ruffian of both sexes more successfully than all the majesty of the
+law. Thoroughly aware of the popular delight in &#8220;shows,&#8221; they organize
+public processions on feast days, just as the &#8220;Masters of the Stars&#8221;
+used to do in Memphis, where, by the way (as those who take the
+trouble to study ancient Egyptian records will discover), our latest
+inventions, such as the electric light, the telephone, the phonograph,
+and many other modern conveniences, were used by the priests for
+&#8220;miraculous&#8221; effects. From the Egyptian priesthood we derive the
+beginnings of scientific discovery;&mdash;to the early Roman Catholic
+priesthood we owe the preservation of much history and learning. The
+one is, intellectually speaking, a lineal descendant of the other, and
+both deserve the utmost respect for their immense capacity as Rulers of
+the Ignorant.</p>
+
+<p>The greater majority of persons have no force of will and no decided
+opinions, but only an under-sense of coward fear or vexation at the
+possible unsuccessful or damaging result of their own ill-doings. Hence
+the power of the Roman Catholic dogma. It is not Christianity; it has
+not the delicate subtlety of Greek mythology; it is simply<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">[Pg 53]</a></span> pagan Rome
+engrafted on the conversion and repentance of the Jew, Peter, who, in
+the time of trial, &#8220;knew not the Man.&#8221; Curiously enough, it is just the
+&#8220;Man,&#8221; the real typical Christ, the pure, strong God-in-humanity who
+is still &#8220;not known&#8221; in the Roman Catholic ritual. There are prayers
+to the &#8220;Sacred Heart&#8221; and to other physical attributes of Jesus,&mdash;just
+as in old Rome there were prayers to the physical attributes of
+the various deities, but of the perfect &#8220;Man,&#8221; as seen in Christ&#8217;s
+dauntless love of truth and exposure of shams, His scourging of the
+thieves out of the holy temple, His grand indifference to the world&#8217;s
+malice and hatred, and His conquest over death and the grave,&mdash;of
+these things we are given no clear or helpful image. Nevertheless, it
+is the &#8220;Man&#8221; we most need,&mdash;the &#8220;Man&#8221; who came to us to teach us how
+to live;&mdash;the brother, the friend, the close sympathizer,&mdash;the great
+Creator of all life mingling Himself with His human creation in a
+beautiful, tender, loving, wise and all-pitiful Spirit, wherein is no
+hate, no revenge, and no intolerance! This is the Christ;&mdash;this is His
+Christianity. Romanism, on the contrary, allows plenty of space for
+those who want to hate as well as to love, and it is as helpful or as
+useless as any of the thousand and one dogmas built up around Christ,
+dogmas which include bad passions as well as divine aspirations. The
+danger of such a creed gaining too much ground in England, the land
+where our forefathers fought against it and trampled it out with
+their own blood and tears, is not because it is a particular form of
+religious Faith, but because it is an intolerant system of secret
+Government. This has been<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">[Pg 54]</a></span> proved over and over again throughout
+history. Its leaders have not shown themselves as gentle pagans by any
+means, either now or in the past;&mdash;and intolerance in any form, from
+any sect, is no part of the Constitution of a free country.</p>
+
+<p>Hence the real cause of the objection which has been entertained by
+millions of persons in the Empire to the suggested alteration of
+the King&#8217;s Coronation oath. The British King is a Constitutional
+monarch,&mdash;and the words &#8220;Defender of the Faith&#8221; imply that he is
+equally Defender of the Constitution. He agrees, when he is crowned
+King of England, to uphold that Constitution,&mdash;he therefore tacitly
+rejects all that might tend to undermine it,&mdash;all secret methods of
+tampering with political, governmental or financial matters relating
+to the State. The wording of the Coronation Oath is, and must be
+distinctly offensive to thousands of excellent persons who are Roman
+Catholics,&mdash;nevertheless, in the times when it was so worded, the
+offending terms were made necessary by the conduct of the Roman
+Catholics themselves. Those times, we are assured, are past. We have
+made progress in education,&mdash;we are now broad-minded enough to be
+fair to foes, as well as to friends. We should, therefore, in common
+courtesy to a rival Church, consent to have this irritating formula
+altered. Perhaps we should,&mdash;but is it too much to ask our Roman
+Catholic brethren that they also should, if they wish for tolerance,
+exhibit it on their own side? When Queen Victoria died, was it not
+quite as offensive on the part of Pope Leo to publicly state that he
+&#8220;could not be represented at the funeral of a Protestant Queen&#8221;&mdash;as it
+may<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">[Pg 55]</a></span> be for our King to publicly repudiate the service of the Mass?
+Nothing could have been more calculated to gratuitously wound the
+feelings of a great People than that most unnecessary announcement
+made from an historical religious centre like the Vatican, at a time
+of universal grief for the death of a good Monarch. If the Pope&#8217;s act
+was according to the rule of his Church, the King&#8217;s oath is according
+to the rule of the British Constitution. No one could accuse the Pope
+of any particularly &#8220;Christian&#8221; feeling in declining to be represented
+at the last obsequies of the best Queen that ever reigned&mdash;no one can
+or would ever conscientiously accuse an English King of &#8220;religious
+intolerance&#8221; when he takes the oath as it is set down for him. Both
+acts are matters of policy. We have seen the foremost peer of England,
+the Duke of Norfolk, forgetting himself so far on one occasion as
+to drag his religious creed into the political arena, and publicly
+expressing the hope on behalf of all English Catholics that the Pope
+may soon regain temporal power (which means, to put it quite plainly,
+that the British Constitution should be disintegrated and laid under
+subjection to Rome): the natural consequence of such conduct is that
+an enormous majority of perfectly sensible broad-minded people doubt
+whether it is wise to leave an entirely loose rein on the neck of
+the papal Pegasus. Tolerance and equity on the one side must be met
+by tolerance and equity on the other, if a fair understanding is to
+be arrived at. And when the professors of any religious Creed still
+persecute heroism and intellect, or refuse reverence to the last
+rite of a noble Queen, whose<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">[Pg 56]</a></span> long reign was a blessing to the whole
+world, one may be permitted to question their fitness for the task
+of elevating and refining the minds and morals of those whom their
+teachings help to influence. And having, as a man of intellectual
+and keen perception, the full consciousness that such unuttered
+&#8220;questioning&#8221; was burning the hearts and minds of thousands, the late
+Cardinal Vaughan showed himself a master of the art of Roman Catholic
+diplomacy in his speech at Newcastle-on-Tyne on September 9, 1902.
+Speaking of the inrush of Roman Catholic priests into England, he
+said:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A statement from a London paper has been running through the
+provincial Press to the effect that I have deliberately outraged
+public feeling by inviting to England certain French religieux, some
+of those <i>confrères</i> who have made themselves particularly obnoxious
+by their constant attacks upon this country. The fact is that, upon
+the passing of the iniquitous law against the religious congregations,
+I gave a general invitation to any religieux who might wish, to come
+to my diocese until they could return to France. Among those who
+applied were three or four fathers, some of those <i>confrères</i> who do
+not love England. My invitation being general, I was not, and am not
+going to make distinctions. None will come who do not intend to obey
+the laws and follow my direction. And if there be any who have not
+been sufficiently enlightened to appreciate this country while living
+in France, they are the very people who had best come and make our
+acquaintance. This is the surest way to change their views. But while<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">[Pg 57]</a></span>
+England boasts of her generous hospitality to every kind of refugee, I
+shall certainly offer whatever hospitality I can to the men and women
+who have suffered for Christ&#8217;s sake. <i>I am too broad an Englishman to
+know any other policy.</i>&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Broad Englishman&#8221; as the Cardinal professed to be, he had no pity on
+the aged Dr. St. George Mivart, the circumstances of whose treatment
+are not yet forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>Speaking of the Coronation oath, the Cardinal said: &#8220;I entirely and
+frankly accept the decision of the country that the King must be
+a Protestant. They believe that this is in some way bound up with
+the welfare of the Empire. <span class="smcap">Without going this length</span>, I
+am convinced that in the present condition of the English people,
+<span class="smaller">HAUNTED AS THEY ARE BY FEARS AND SUSPICIONS</span>, it is expedient
+that the King should be of the religion of the overwhelming majority.
+Besides, the King being, in virtue of Royal supremacy, head of
+the State Church, it is impossible that he should be other than
+a Protestant. Catholics have no difficulty in paying most loyal
+allegiance to a Protestant Sovereign. In this they seem to be of more
+liberal and confiding temper than those who would refuse allegiance to
+a King unless he professed their creed. The Catholic has no difficulty,
+because he gives his allegiance and his life, when needed, primarily to
+the civil power ordained of God.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>(The Cardinal did not pause here to try and explain why God has thus
+&#8220;ordained&#8221; a Protestant sovereign instead of a Roman Catholic one! Yet
+no doubt he will admit that God knows best.)</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The Sovereign <span class="smaller">REPRESENTS THIS POWER</span>, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">[Pg 58]</a></span>whatever be his
+religion. Was it not Catholic Belgium that placed the Protestant King
+Leopold upon the Throne, and gave to him at least as hearty a devotion
+as ever has been shown to his Catholic successor? Other Catholic
+States are ruled by Protestant Sovereigns. And who can say that the
+16,000,000 of German Catholics are a whit less loyal to their German
+Protestant Emperor than the millions who are of the Protestant or of
+no religion? There are people, I believe, pursued by the conviction
+that we Catholics would do anything in the world to get a Catholic King
+upon the Throne; that the Pope would give us leave to tell lies, commit
+perjury, plot, scheme, and kill to any extent for such a purpose; that
+there is no crime we should stick at if the certainty, or even the
+probability of accomplishing such an end were in view. Now let me put
+it to our Protestant friends in this way. If the King of England were
+an absolute Monarch, the dictator of the laws to be enacted, and his
+own executive, there might be something of vital importance to our
+interests and to those of religion to excite in us an intense desire
+to have a Catholic King. Though even then the end could never, even
+remotely, justify the means suggested. But how do matters really stand?
+We have a Constitutional Monarch who is subject to the laws, and in
+practice bound to follow the advice of his Ministers. A Catholic King,
+under present circumstances, would be a cause of weakness, of perpetual
+difficulty, and of untold anxiety. We are far better off as we are.
+Our dangers and grievances, our hopes and our happiness, <span class="smcap">lie in
+the working of the Constitution</span>, not in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">[Pg 59]</a></span> favour or power of
+any Sovereign. <span class="smcap">It is the Parliament, the House of Commons, that we
+must convert</span>, or at least strive to retain within the influence of
+Christianity. For the well-being of this country and the salvation of
+its people depend, above all other human things, <span class="smcap">upon the view that
+the House of Commons can be got to take of its duty</span>&mdash;to respect
+and obey the law of Christ. What we want is to get the House of Commons
+to maintain the Christian laws of marriage as the basis of society,
+and to secure to parents and their children a true and proper liberty
+in the matter of Christian education. And in this, remember well,
+<span class="smcap">that the House of Commons depends not upon the King, whatever his
+religion, but upon ourselves</span>. The people of this country must work
+out their own salvation. And here let me point out to you, in passing,
+that the next Session of Parliament may settle for ever the position of
+Christianity in this country. Secondary and middle-class education will
+be thrown into the melting-pot. In the process of the devolution of
+educational authority upon county councils, Christianity will run the
+risk of losing rights which it seems to have almost secured under the
+working of the Education Department. The adoption of a single clause or
+principle will have far-reaching and most vital results. There will be
+another educational struggle. Struggles will be inevitable until the
+Christian cause which is becoming more and more openly the cause of the
+majority has permanently triumphed.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Here we have four distinct &#8220;moves&#8221; on the plan of campaign. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">[Pg 60]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p>1. &#8220;It is the Parliament, the House of Commons, that we must
+convert.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>This means, that wherever influence can be brought to bear on the
+return of Roman Catholic members to the House, that influence will not
+be lacking.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>2. &#8220;The next Session of Parliament may settle for ever the
+position of Christianity in this country.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Not <span class="smcap">Christianity</span>, for that is above all &#8220;settling,&#8221;&mdash;save with
+its Founder&mdash;but that the next or other Sessions may open the way to a
+more complete Roman Catholic domination is what is here hoped for.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>3. &#8220;The adoption of a <i>single clause</i> or principle will have
+far-reaching and most vital results.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Precisely;&mdash;so far-reaching and vital that England must be on her guard
+against even a &#8220;single clause or principle&#8221; which endangers the liberty
+of the subject.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>4. &#8220;Struggles will be inevitable until the Christian cause which
+is becoming more and more openly the cause of the majority has
+permanently triumphed.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>For Cardinal Vaughan there was only one &#8220;Christian&#8221; cause&mdash;viz., the
+Roman Catholic, and he who runs may read the meaning of the above
+phrase without much difficulty.</p>
+
+<p>Concerning the King&#8217;s Declaration Oath, said the Cardinal:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;It is not the King who is responsible for the drafting or the
+retention of this detestable Declaration. It is the Ministry, the
+Legislature, the <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">[Pg 61]</a></span>Constitution that are responsible for its retention,
+and for forcing its acceptance upon the Sovereign. The gravamen,
+therefore, lies against the State, not against the person of the King.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Quite true; and it is therefore against the State that the Vatican
+powers must, and possibly may, in time, be directed.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And,&#8221; went on the Cardinal, &#8220;do not devout clergymen swear every day
+in good faith to teach the Thirty-nine Articles, and find every day
+that conscience and good faith compel them to break their engagement by
+submitting to the Catholic Church? When a man fully realizes that by a
+promise or an oath he has pledged himself to something that is unjust,
+immoral, untrue, the engagement ceases to bind.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p><i>Ergo</i>, the English Church, the particular &#8220;Faith&#8221; which our King
+undertakes to <span class="smaller">DEFEND</span>, is &#8220;unjust, immoral and untrue.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And, &#8220;Could Englishmen see themselves as others see them, they would be
+more chary than they are of provoking hatred by such wanton contempt
+for the feelings of other nations.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Well, Englishmen have every chance of seeing themselves as others see
+them, when they have to chronicle a &#8220;Christian&#8221; Cardinal&#8217;s indictment
+accusing them of &#8220;wanton contempt for the feelings of other nations.&#8221;
+To whom do other nations turn in want or distress but England? From
+whom do the famine and fever-stricken in all corners of the world
+obtain relief? England! Where is there any Roman Catholic country that
+has poured out such limitless charity and pity to all in sorrow as
+England? And why should the &#8220;conversion<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">[Pg 62]</a></span> of England&#8221; be so valuable to
+the Roman Church? Merely because of England&#8217;s incalculable wealth and
+power!</p>
+
+<p>Again, concerning the Declaration Oath, the Cardinal continued:&mdash;&#8220;Now,
+should it ever happen that the King became convinced, by God&#8217;s grace,
+of the truth of the doctrines that he abjured, of what value would be
+the Declaration? Absolutely none!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Of course not!&mdash;he would simply cease to be King, and would enjoy the
+complete liberty of the subject.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;By all means,&#8221; went on his Eminence, warming with his theme, &#8220;let the
+majority, if it please, stand by the law, which exists apart from the
+Declaration, declaring that to reign over England the Sovereign must be
+a Protestant. Retain this law and enforce it; but respect our creed, at
+least just so far as to ignore it, and to leave us alone. This, surely,
+is not a heavy demand to make upon the spirit of modern toleration.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Then why did not the Cardinal and all his followers &#8220;respect the
+creed&#8221; established in this country,&mdash;the religion of the State,&mdash;&#8220;just
+so far as to ignore it,&#8221; and to leave those who honour it &#8220;alone&#8221;?
+&#8220;This, surely, is not a heavy demand to make upon the spirit of
+modern toleration.&#8221; It was not the Church of England which started
+any discussion on the Coronation Oath at the time of King Edward the
+Seventh&#8217;s crowning,&mdash;the quarrel emanated entirely from the Roman
+Catholic side. And the Cardinal&#8217;s speech was intended to be more
+aggressive than pacifying.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;But if,&#8221; he continued, &#8220;after all, there must<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">[Pg 63]</a></span> be a Declaration <i>as
+a sop to certain fears and passions</i>, let there be one to the effect
+that the King is a Protestant&mdash;and stop there. Should, however, a
+denunciation of the Catholic religion be added to a profession of
+Protestantism, the whole world will understand it; it will understand
+it as a pitiable <i>confession of English fear and weakness</i>. And as to
+ourselves; well, we shall take it as a complimentary acknowledgment
+by our Protestant fellow-countrymen of the importance and power of
+faith&mdash;that it can not only remove mountains, but is capable of <i>moving
+even the fabric of the British Empire itself</i>. But I should like to
+conclude in another strain, and add to these observations a resolution
+to this effect:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;That the Sovereign of this Empire ought to be raised high above the
+strife of all political and religious controversies, the more easily to
+draw to himself and to retain the unabated loyalty of all creeds and
+races within his Empire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>With the latter part of the Cardinal&#8217;s harangue every one of every
+creed and class will agree, but &#8220;a pitiable confession of English fear
+and weakness&#8221; is a phrase that should never have been uttered by an
+Englishman, whether &#8220;broad&#8221; or narrow, cardinal or layman. &#8220;English
+fear and weakness&#8221; has never yet been known in the world&#8217;s history.
+And as for &#8220;moving the fabric of the British Empire,&#8221; that can only
+be done through the possible incompetence or demoralization of its
+own statesmen,&mdash;by shiftiness, treachery and corruption in State
+affairs&mdash;and even at this utmost worst, though England might be bent,
+she would never be broken. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">[Pg 64]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>All this, however, has nothing to do with the Christian faith as Christ
+Himself expounded it in His own commands. Quarrels and dissensions are
+as far from the teaching of the Divine Master as an earth&#8217;s dusthole
+is from the centre of the sun. Differences of dogma are not approved
+in His eyes. Whether candles shall, or shall not, be set on the altar,
+whether incense shall, or shall not, be burnt, may be said to relegate
+to the &#8220;cleansing of the outside of the cup and platter,&#8221; and are not
+a vital part of His intention&mdash;for He has nothing but condemnation
+for &#8220;forms&#8221; and &#8220;ceremonies.&#8221; There is something both strange and
+unnatural in the provocative spirit which is at present being exercised
+by professing rulers of the Church of England against one another;
+and another matter too for deep regret is the attitude of favour
+maintained by certain political ministers, towards the practice of an
+almost theatrical display in the form of English Christian services.
+The various appointments of High Churchmen to important bishoprics
+shows the tendency towards extravagant ritualism; certainly the more
+simple and unaffected men of pure taste and dignity in Church ritual
+get little chance of encouragement; and that the path is being prepared
+for a second Cromwell is only too evident. It is lamentable indeed that
+any discussions should arise between the different sects as to &#8220;forms
+and ceremonies,&#8221; and those who excite fanatical hatreds by their petty
+quarrels over unimportant &#8220;shows&#8221; and observances, are criminally to
+blame for any evils that are likely to ensue. What Christ commands is
+&#8220;Love one another&#8221;;&mdash;what He desires is that all mankind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">[Pg 65]</a></span> should be
+friends and brothers in His Name. And it is from this point of view
+that I again ask the question of those who may have glanced through
+this paper&mdash;<span class="smcap">Do you believe, or do you not believe?</span> Are you a
+<span class="smcap">Christian</span>? Or a <span class="smaller">SECTARIAN?</span> The one is not the other.</p>
+
+<p>For my own part I would desire to see all the Sects cease their long
+quarrel,&mdash;all &#8220;dogmas&#8221; dropped&mdash;and all creeds amalgamated into one
+great loving family under the name of Christ. I should like to see
+an end to all bigotry, whether of Protestantism against Romanism, or
+Romanism against Protestantism,&mdash;a conclusion to all differences&mdash;and
+one Universal Church of simple Love and Thanksgiving, and obedience
+to Christ&#8217;s own commands. &#8220;Temporal power&#8221; should be held as the poor
+thing which it is, compared to Spiritual power,&mdash;for Spiritual power,
+according to the Founder of the Christian Faith, is the transcendent
+force of Love&mdash;love to God and love to man,&mdash;&#8220;that perfect love which
+casteth out fear,&#8221; and which, being &#8220;born of God, cannot rest but in
+God above all created things.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thus it follows&mdash;That if we hate or envy or slander any person, <span class="smcap">we
+are not Christians</span>.</p>
+
+<p>If we prefer outward forms of religious ceremonial to the every-day
+practice of a life lived as closely as possible in accordance with the
+commands laid down for us in the Gospel, <span class="smcap">we are not Christians</span>.</p>
+
+<p>If we love ourselves more than our neighbours, <span class="smcap">we are not
+Christians</span>.</p>
+
+<p>If we care for money, position, and the ostentation attending these
+things, more than truth, simplicity and plain dealing, <span class="smcap">we are not
+Christians</span>. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">[Pg 66]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>These ordinary tests of our daily conduct are quite enough to enable
+us to decide whether we are or are not of the faith. If we are <i>not</i>,
+we should cease to &#8220;sham&#8221; that we <i>are</i>. It will be far better for
+all those with whom we are brought in contact. For, thank God, there
+exist thousands of very real &#8220;Christians&#8221;&mdash;(&#8220;by their fruits ye shall
+know them&#8221;), doing unostentatious good everywhere, rescuing the lost,
+aiding the poor, comforting the sick, and helping the world to grow
+happier and better. They may be <i>called</i> Jews, or Baptists, Papists,
+or Buddhists,&mdash;but I hold them all as &#8220;Christians&#8221; if they perform
+those good deeds and live those good lives which are acceptable to
+Christ,&mdash;while many church-going hypocrites called &#8220;Christians&#8221; whose
+social existence is a scandal, whose dissipations, gross immoralities
+and pernicious example of living are open dangers to the whole
+community, do not deserve even such a complimentary term as &#8220;pagan&#8221;
+applied to them. For the pagans&mdash;aye, the earliest savages, believed
+in Something higher than themselves,&mdash;but these sort of people believe
+in nothing but the necessity of getting what they want at all costs,
+and are mere human cancers of evil, breeding infection and pestilence.
+And it is particularly incumbent on the clergy of all denominations
+at the present juncture to sift Themselves as to their calling and
+election while sifting others,&mdash;to ask Themselves whether they may
+not be in a great measure to blame for much of the infamy which reeks
+from our great cities&mdash;for much of the apathy and indifference to that
+bitter poverty, that neglected suffering which often gives birth to
+Anarchy,&mdash;for much of the open atheism<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">[Pg 67]</a></span> which shames the upper classes
+of society. Let them live such lives as may liberate them from all
+fear or hesitation in speaking out boldly to the souls they have in
+charge&mdash;let them &#8220;preach the Gospel&#8221; as they were commanded, rather
+than expound human dogmas. Sympathy, tenderness, patience, love for
+all living creatures, rejection of everything that is mean and cruel,
+false and cowardly,&mdash;a broad mind, open to all the beautiful and
+gracious influences of Nature&mdash;a spirit uplifted in thanksgiving to
+the loving God of all worlds, who is brought close to us and made the
+friend of man in the Divine Personality of Christ,&mdash;this surely is
+<span class="smcap">Christianity</span>,&mdash;a Faith which leaves no corner anywhere for the
+admission of hate, dissension or despair. Such is the Faith the Master
+taught, saying:</p>
+
+<p><a name="FNanchor_3_3" id="FNanchor_3_3"></a><a href="#Footnote_3_3" >[3]</a>&#8220;I have not spoken of myself, but of the Father which sent me; He
+gave me a commandment what I should say, and what I should speak.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And I know that His commandment is life everlasting&mdash;whatsoever I
+speak, therefore, even as the Father taught me, so I speak.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So He speaks&mdash;but do we listen? And if we listen,&mdash;and believe,&mdash;why do
+we not obey?</p>
+
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_2_2" id="Footnote_2_2"></a><a href="#FNanchor_2_2">[2]</a> &#8220;Effects of the Factory System.&#8221;&mdash;Allen Clarke.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_3_3" id="Footnote_3_3"></a><a href="#FNanchor_3_3">[3]</a> John xii. 49.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">[Pg 68]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>UNCHRISTIAN CLERICS</h2>
+
+<p>It is generally supposed that an ordained minister of the Gospel is a
+Christian. Whatever the faults, negligences and shortcomings of other
+people in other conditions of life, it is tacitly expected that the
+professing disciples of Christ, the priests, teachers and exponents of
+holy and spiritual things, should be more or less holy and spiritual
+in themselves. They are at any rate accredited with honest effort to
+practise, as well as to preach, the divine ethics of their Divine
+Master. Their position in the social community is one which, through
+old-time tradition, historical sentiment, and inborn national piety, is
+bound to command a certain respect from the laity. Any public disgrace
+befalling a clergyman is always accompanied by a strong public sense of
+shame, disappointment and regret. And when we meet (as most unhappily
+we often do), with men in &#8220;holy orders&#8221; who,&mdash;instead of furnishing
+the noble and pure examples of life and character which we have a
+distinct right to look for in them,&mdash;degrade themselves and their high
+profession by conduct unworthy of the lowest untutored barbarian, we
+are moved by amazement as well as sorrow to think that such wolves in
+sheep&#8217;s clothing should dare to masquerade as the sacredly ordained
+helpers and instructors of the struggling human soul. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">[Pg 69]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>During the past few years there have been many examples of men
+belonging to the hierarchy of the Church, who have wantonly and
+knowingly outraged every canon of honour and virtue, and their sins
+appear all the blacker because of the whiteness of the faith they
+profess to serve. A criminal is twice a criminal when he adds hypocrisy
+to his crime. The clergyman of a parish, who has all doors thrown open
+to him,&mdash;who invites and receives the trust of his parishioners,&mdash;who
+is set among them to guide, help and comfort them in the devious
+and difficult ways of life, is a thousand times more to blame than
+any other man in a less responsible position, when he knowingly and
+deliberately consents to sin. Unless he is able to govern his own
+passions, and eschew every base, mean and petty motive of action,
+he is not fit to influence his fellow men, nor should he presume to
+instruct them in matters which he makes it evident he does not himself
+understand.</p>
+
+<p>Quite recently a case was chronicled in the daily press of a clergyman
+who went to visit a dying woman at her own request. She wished to make
+a last confession to him, and so unburden her soul of its secret misery
+before she passed away, trusting in God&#8217;s mercy for pardon and peace.
+The clergyman went accordingly, and heard what she had to say. When the
+unhappy creature was dead, however, he refused her poor body the sacred
+rites of burial! Now it surely may be asked what authority had he or
+any man calling himself a Christian minister to refuse the rites of
+burial even to the worst of sinners? Whatever the woman&#8217;s faults might
+have been, vengeance wreaked on a corpse is both<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">[Pg 70]</a></span> futile and barbarous.
+There is nothing in Christ&#8217;s pure and noble teaching that can endorse
+so unholy a spirit of intolerance,&mdash;one too, which is calculated to
+give the bitterest pain to the living friends and relations of the so
+coarsely-insulted dead, and to breed in them a relentless hostility
+to the Church and its representatives. For the poorest erring human
+creature that ever turned over the pages of the New Testament, knows
+that such conduct is not Christ-like, inasmuch as Christ had nothing
+but the tenderest pity, pardon and peace for the worst sinner at the
+last moment. When death steps in to close all accounts, it behoves man
+to be more than merciful to his brother man. &#8220;For if ye forgive not men
+their trespasses neither will your Father forgive you your trespasses.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Still fresh in the minds of many must be the un-Christian conduct of
+the late Cardinal Vaughan in denying the rites of Christian burial
+to the venerable Dr. St. George Mivart. Dr. St. George Mivart was a
+man of science whose theories did not agree with the tenets of the
+Roman Catholic Church, and as he belonged ostensibly to that form of
+faith, one may call him, if one so chooses, a bad Catholic. But when
+it is remembered that within quite recent days, so-called &#8220;Christian&#8221;
+priests in Servia have given their solemn benediction to the assassins
+of the late King and Queen of that country, it is somewhat difficult
+to understand or appreciate the kind of &#8220;religion&#8221; that blesses
+murderers and regicides, yet refuses burial to a modern scientist who,
+as far as his intellectual powers allowed him, was working for the
+good and the wider instruction of the human race. At the time of the
+&#8220;inhibition&#8221; and <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">[Pg 71]</a></span>subsequent death of Dr. Mivart, I ventured to address
+an &#8220;Open Letter&#8221; to Cardinal Vaughan on the subject. This Letter was
+published in March 1900, and though no doubt the great &#8220;Prince of the
+Church&#8221; never deigned to read it, a large majority of the public did,
+and I have had much cause to rejoice that in the timorously silent
+acquiescence of the Christian world in a deed which shames the very
+name of Christ, I, at least, as one of the humblest among the followers
+of the Christian faith, did have sufficient courage to speak out openly
+against the wicked intolerance which made the Church itself seem mere
+&#8220;sounding brass or a tinkling cymbal,&#8221; because lacking in that holy
+charity &#8220;which suffereth long and is kind.&#8221; It was a barbarous act
+to &#8220;inhibit&#8221; Dr. Mivart,&mdash;it was still more barbarous to refuse his
+body the sacred burial-rites,&mdash;and though the great Cardinal has now
+followed his victim to that world where all the secrets of the soul are
+made manifest, his cruelty remains as a blot on his mortal career,&mdash;a
+black smirch, ugly to look upon in the chronicle of his various virtues
+and excellencies. No ordained minister of the Gospel has the right
+to be intolerant. He has not the slightest excuse for arrogating to
+himself any other code of ethics or conduct than that which is set out
+plainly for him in the New Testament. Away from that he should not dare
+to go, if he truly believes what he elects to preach,&mdash;and if he does
+not believe, he should at once resign his office and not live on the
+proceeds of what in his own private conscience he considers untrue.</p>
+
+<p>Most of us have met with many a mean little curate,&mdash;many a sly,
+spiteful, scandal-mongering<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">[Pg 72]</a></span> hypocritical parson,&mdash;in the daily
+round of our common lives and duties. Most of us know the &#8220;salad&#8221;
+cleric,&mdash;the gentleman who is a doubtful compound of oil and vinegar,
+with a good deal of tough green vegetable matter growing where
+the brain should be,&mdash;coarse weed of bigotry, prejudice, and rank
+obstinacy. None of us are entirely ignorant of the sedately amorous
+parson who is either looking out for a wife on his own account, or
+attempting a &#8220;Christianly&#8221; conversion of the wife of somebody else. In
+country towns we can scarcely fail to have come across the domineering
+vicar,&mdash;the small and petty tyrant, who whips the souls committed to
+his charge with rods steeped in his own particular pickle of arrogance,
+austerity and coercion, playing the part of a little despot over
+terrorized Sunday-school children, and laying down the law for his
+parishioners by way of a &#8220;new dispensation&#8221; wherein the Gospel has no
+part. One such petty martinet, well known in a certain rural parish,
+plays regular &#8220;ogre&#8221; to his choir boys. It is always a case of &#8220;Fee,
+fi, fa, fo, fum, I smell the blood of a chorister,&#8221; with him. Should
+one of these unfortunate minstrels chance to sneeze during service,
+this vicar straightway imposes a penny fine (sometimes more) on the
+unlucky little wretch for yielding to an irresistible nasal impulse!
+This kind of thing is, of course, ridiculous, and would merit nothing
+but laughter, were it not for the dislike, distrust and contempt
+engendered in the minds of the boys by the display of such a peevish
+spirit of trumpery oppression on the part of a man who is placed in
+the position he holds to be an <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">[Pg 73]</a></span>example of kindness, good temper,
+cheerfulness and amiability to all. True, the vicar in question is
+what may be called &#8220;liverish,&#8221; and a small boy&#8217;s sneeze may seem, to
+a mind perverted by bilious bodily secretions, like the collapse of a
+universe. But there are various ways of conquering even one&#8217;s physical
+ills,&mdash;at least to the extent of sparing poor children the infliction
+of fines because they have noses which occasionally give them trouble.</p>
+
+<p>The begging cleric is of all sacerdotal figures the one most familiar
+to the general community. One can seldom attend a church without
+hearing the mendicant&#8217;s plea. If the collection taken were indeed for
+the poor, and one felt that it was really and truly going to help
+feed the starving and nourish the sick, how gladly most of us would
+contribute, to the very best of our ability! But sad experience teaches
+us that this is not so. There are &#8220;Funds&#8221; of other mettle than for
+the sick and poor,&mdash;&#8220;restoration&#8221; funds especially. For many years a
+famous church was in debt owing to &#8220;restorations,&#8221; and Sunday after
+Sunday the vicar implored his congregation to lift &#8220;the burden&#8221; off its
+time-honoured walls&mdash;in vain! At last one parishioner paid the amount
+required in full. The vicar acknowledged the cheque,&mdash;put a recording
+line in the &#8220;Parish Magazine,&#8221;&mdash;wrote a formal letter of thanks
+regretting that the donor did not &#8220;show a good example by attending
+public worship on Sundays,&#8221;&mdash;after which, <i>for more than a year he did
+not speak to that parishioner again</i>! This is a fact. Neither he nor
+his wife during that time ever showed the slightest common civility
+to the one individual who, out of all the parish, had &#8220;lifted the
+burden,&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">[Pg 74]</a></span> concerning which so many pious exordiums had been preached.
+<i>Till</i> the debt was paid, the vicar showed every friendliness to the
+person in question&mdash;but afterwards&mdash;well!&mdash;one can only suppose it
+was a case of &#8220;Othello&#8217;s occupation gone!&#8221; He could beg no more,&mdash;not
+for that particular object. But I understand he has started fresh
+&#8220;restorations&#8221; lately, so till he finds another trusting sheep in the
+way of a too sympathetic parishioner, he will be quite happy.</p>
+
+<p>There are some clerics who, to their sacred duties add &#8220;a little
+literary work.&#8221; They are not literary men,&mdash;indeed very frequently
+they have no idea whatever of literature&mdash;they are what may be called
+&#8220;literary jobbers.&#8221; Many clergymen have been, and are still, greatly
+distinguished in the literary calling&mdash;but I am not alluding to
+past or future Kingsleys. The men I mean are those who &#8220;do a bit of
+writing&#8221;&mdash;and help in compiling books of reference to which few ever
+refer. They are apt to be the most pertinacious beggars of their
+class,&mdash;beggars, not for others&#8217; needs, but for their own. They want
+introductions to &#8220;useful&#8221; people&mdash;people of &#8220;influence&#8221;&mdash;and they ask
+for letters to publishers, which they sometimes get. The publishers
+are not grateful. They are over-run, they say, with clergymen who want
+to write guide-books, books of travel, books of reference, books of
+reminiscence. One of these &#8220;reverend&#8221; individuals, pleading stress of
+poverty, was employed by a lady to do some copying work, for which,
+in a well-meant wish to satisfy the immediate needs of his wife and
+children, she paid him in advance the sum of Fifty Pounds. He sent her
+a signed receipt for the money with the following gushing epistle: </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">[Pg 75]</a></span></p>
+
+<blockquote><p>&#8220;<span class="smcap">Dear</span> &mdash;&mdash;,</p>
+
+<p>Could I write as you do, I might find words to express in part
+some of my feelings of gratitude to you for all your kindness.
+My little daughter owes to you untold happiness, and I believe
+the goodness you ever show her will brighten her whole future
+life. My dear wife you help to bear her many burdens of health
+and loneliness as no other has ever attempted to do; and my
+very mediocre self owes to you, a recognition, after many long
+struggles, I will not say of merit, for no one knows better than
+myself, my own shortcomings, but of &#8216;effort.&#8217; In fact, you come to
+us as Amenhotep sung of the sun:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Thou art very beautiful, brilliant and exalted above earth,</div>
+<div>Thy beams encompass all lands, which thou hast made.</div>
+<div>Thou art our sun.</div>
+<div>Thou bindest us with thy love.</div>
+<div>Thou art on high, but the day passes with thy going!</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>Even so, your kindly heart has shone upon our life, and made us
+feel the springs of life within us. May the Great Master of all
+things for ever bless you and yours!&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>After this poetical effusion,<a name="FNanchor_4_4" id="FNanchor_4_4"></a><a href="#Footnote_4_4" >[4]</a> it is difficult to believe that
+this same &#8220;Christian&#8221; minister, in order to gratify the private
+jealousy, spite and malice of a few common persons whom he fancied
+might be useful to him on account of their &#8220;local&#8221; influence, wrote
+and published a scurrilous lampoon<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">[Pg 76]</a></span> on the very friend who had tried
+to benefit him and his wife and family, and to whom he had expressed
+himself in the above terms of unmeasured gratitude! But such,
+nevertheless, was the case. Report says that he was handsomely paid
+for his trouble, which may perhaps serve as his excuse,&mdash;for in many
+cases, as we know, money outweighs principle, even with a disciple of
+Christ. It did so in the case of Judas Iscariot, who, however, &#8220;went
+out and hanged himself&#8221; promptly. Perhaps the &#8220;very mediocre&#8221; cleric
+who owed to the woman he afterwards insulted, &#8220;a recognition after many
+long struggles,&#8221; will do the same morally and socially in due course.
+For it would be as great a wrong to the Church to call such a man a
+&#8220;Christian&#8221; as it would be to canonize Judas. Even the untutored savage
+will not injure one with whom he has broken bread. And to bite the hand
+that has supplied a need, is scarcely the act of a mongrel cur,&mdash;let us
+hope it is a sufficiently rare performance among mongrel clerics.</p>
+
+<p>Among other such &#8220;trifling&#8221; instances of the <i>un</i>-Christianity of
+Christian ministers may be quoted a recent instance of a letter
+addressed to a country newspaper by a clergyman who complained of
+the small fees allowed him for the burial of paupers! &#8220;The game,&#8221; so
+he expressed it, &#8220;was not worth the candle.&#8221; Christian charity was
+no part of the business. Unless one can make a margin of profit, by
+committing paupers to the hope of a joyful resurrection, why do it
+at all? Such appeared to be the sum and substance of the reverend
+gentleman&#8217;s argument. Another case in point is the following: A poor
+man of seventy-five years old, getting the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">[Pg 77]</a></span> impression that Death was
+too long in coming to fetch him, committed suicide by hanging himself
+in a coal-shed. His widow, nearly as aged as he was, went tottering
+feebly along to the clergyman of the parish, to relate the disaster and
+seek for help. The first thing the good minister told her was, that
+her husband, by committing suicide, had gone to hell. He then relaxed
+his sternness somewhat, and kindly said that, considering her age,
+infirmity and trouble, she &#8220;might call at the rectory every afternoon
+for the tea-leaves.&#8221; This gracious invitation meant that the bereaved
+old creature could have, for her consolation, the refuse of the
+afternoon tea-pot after it had been well drained by this &#8220;Christian&#8221;
+gentleman, his wife and family! Of other help she got none, and life
+having become too hard for her to manage alone, despite the assistance
+of the clergyman&#8217;s tea-leaves, she very soon, fortunately for herself,
+died of grief and starvation. &#8220;He that giveth to the poor&#8221; in this
+fashion, truly &#8220;lendeth to the Lord.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Christianity&#8221; and &#8220;Christian&#8221; are beautiful words, emblematic of
+beautiful thoughts and beautiful deeds. The men who profess to teach
+the value of those thoughts, the influence of those deeds, should
+be capable in themselves of practically illustrating what they mean
+by their faith, in their own lives and actions. Inspired by the
+purest Creed that was ever taught to mankind for its better hope and
+enlightenment, they should express in their attitude to the world, a
+confident and constant joy and belief in God&#8217;s goodness, and should
+remember that if He, their divine Master &#8220;so loved us,&#8221; equally should
+they, His ordained <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">[Pg 78]</a></span>ministers, love us, ay, even the worst of us, in
+their turn. When, on the contrary, they do things for which the poorest
+peasant or dockyard labourer would have the right, and the honest
+right too, to despise them,&mdash;when they commit base actions for money
+or advancement,&mdash;when they are harsh, unyielding, discourteous and
+obstinate to the degree of even declining to aid a good cause or assist
+in some benefit to the nation at large, merely because <i>they</i> have not
+been consulted as to ways and methods, they do not deserve to be called
+&#8220;Christian&#8221; at all. They are of that class, unhappily increasing in
+number, who cry out: &#8220;Lord, Lord, have we not prophesied in Thy name?&#8221;
+to whom will be given the answer: &#8220;I never knew you; depart from Me,
+ye that work iniquity!&#8221; Great and noble beyond all praise are true
+&#8220;Christian&#8221; ministers,&mdash;and thousands of them are to be found in all
+parts of the world, working silently and bravely for the rescue of
+bodies as well as souls, giving practical as well as spiritual help and
+sympathy to their fellow-men in trouble. But just because their labours
+are so valuable, one resents all the more deeply the conduct of certain
+members of the clergy who cast dishonour upon their whole calling,&mdash;and
+just because the vocation of &#8220;priest&#8221; is so high, we intensely deplore
+every action that tends to debase it. The un-Christian cleric belongs
+to no spiritual form of faith whatsoever, and should not be allowed
+to pretend that he does. He has but one religion,&mdash;Self. And from the
+professor of Self, no man need ask either help or instruction.</p>
+
+<h3>FOOTNOTE:</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_4_4" id="Footnote_4_4"></a><a href="#FNanchor_4_4">[4]</a> As some doubt has been expressed as to whether this
+incident is a true one, the author wishes it to be known that she holds
+the original letter written and signed by the reverend lampooner in question.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">[Pg 79]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE SOCIAL BLIGHT</h2>
+
+<p>People who live in the country know what is meant by a &#8220;blight&#8221;&mdash;a
+thing which is neither mist nor storm, neither cloud nor rain,&mdash;a
+fever of the atmosphere, without any freshening or cleansing force
+in its composition. Like a dull stretch of smoky fog, it hangs for
+hours and often for days over the face of the landscape, poisoning
+the wholesome fruit and grain in the orchards and fields, and leaving
+trails of noxious insect pests behind it upon trees and flowers,
+withering their foliage, and blackening all buds of promise with a
+destroying canker to their very core. It is a suffocating, malodorous
+miasma, clinging to the air, for which there is no remedy but a
+strong, ay, even a tempestuous wind,&mdash;a wind which vigorously pierces
+through the humid vapour and disperses it, tearing it to shreds, and
+finally working up such a storm as shall drown it out of existence in
+torrents of purifying rain. Then all nature is relieved,&mdash;the air is
+cleared,&mdash;health and gladness re-assert their beneficent influences,
+and the land lies open to renewed life and easy breathing once more.</p>
+
+<p>Even as &#8220;blight&#8221; is known in things natural, so is it known and easily
+recognizable in things moral and social. It occurs periodically and
+with more or less regularity, between certain changing,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">[Pg 80]</a></span> and not always
+progressive phases or epochs of human civilization. It visited Sodom
+and Gomorrah, Tyre and Sidon; it loomed over Nineveh and Babylon,&mdash;and
+in our day it is steadily spreading its pall over Europe and America.
+Its gloom is heavy and pronounced,&mdash;it would seem to be darkening
+into the true sable or death colour, for there is no light of faith
+to illumine it. It is the outcome of the infected breath of peoples
+who are deliberately setting God aside out of their countings, and
+living for Self and the Hour alone. So-called &#8220;scientists,&#8221; scraping
+at the crust-covering of the mine of knowledge, and learning of its
+hidden treasure about as much as might be measured with a finger-nail,
+have boldly asserted that there is no God, no Supreme Intelligent
+Force back of the universe,&mdash;no future life,&mdash;nothing but death and
+destruction for the aspiring, fighting, working human soul,&mdash;and that,
+therefore, having been created out of caprice, a &#8220;sport&#8221; of chance
+and the elements, and having nothing to exist for but to make chance
+and the elements as agreeable as possible during his brief conscious
+experience of them, the best thing for man to do is to &#8220;eat, drink,
+and be merry all the days of his life,&#8221; though even this, according to
+Solomon, is &#8220;also vanity.&#8221; For of eating comes indigestion, of drink
+stupefaction, and of merriment satiety. Strange it is that if there
+is no higher destiny for man than this world and its uses, he should
+always be thrown back upon himself dissatisfied! Give him millions of
+money, and when he has them, he cares little for what they can bring;
+grant him unlimited power and a few years suffice to weary him of its
+use.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">[Pg 81]</a></span> And stranger still it is to realize, that while those who do not
+admit God&#8217;s existence, strut forth like bantams on a dunghill, crowing
+their little opinions about the sun-rise, we are all held fast and
+guided, not only in our physical, but in our moral lives by immutable
+laws, invisible in their working, but sooner or later made openly
+manifest. Crime meets with punishment as surely as night follows day.
+If the retribution is not of man&#8217;s making,&mdash;if human law, often so
+vicious and one-sided in itself, fails to give justice to the innocent,
+then Something or Someone steps in to supply man&#8217;s lack of truth and
+courage, and executes a judgment from which there is no appeal. What
+it is or Who it is, we may not presume to declare,&mdash;the Romans called
+it Jove or Jupiter;&mdash;we call it God, while denying, with precisely the
+same easy flippancy as the Romans did just before their downfall, that
+such a Force exists. It is convenient and satisfying to Mammonites
+and sensualists generally, to believe in nothing but themselves, and
+the present day. It would be very unpleasant for them to have to
+contemplate with any certainty a future life where neither Money nor
+Sex prevail. And because it would be unpleasant, they naturally do not
+admit its possibility. Nevertheless, without belief in the Creator and
+Ruler of all things,&mdash;without faith in the higher spiritual destiny of
+man as an immortal and individual soul, capable of progressing ever
+onwards to wider and grander spheres of action, life in this world
+appears but a poor and farcical futility.</p>
+
+<p>Yet it is precisely the poor, farcical and futile view of life that
+is taken by thousands of European<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">[Pg 82]</a></span> and American people in our present
+period. Both press and pulpit reflect it; it is openly shown in the
+decadence of the drama, of art, of literature, of politics, and of
+social conduct. The &#8220;blight&#8221; is over all. The blight of atheism,
+infidelity, callousness and indifference to honourable principle,&mdash;the
+blight of moral cowardice, self-indulgence, vanity and want of heart.
+Without mincing matters, it can be fairly stated that the aristocratic
+Jezebel is the fashionable woman of the hour, while the men vie with
+one another as to who shall best screen her from her amours with
+themselves. And so far as the sterner sex are personally concerned,
+the moneyed man is the one most sought after, most tolerated, most
+appreciated and flattered in that swarm of drones called &#8220;society&#8221;
+where each buzzing insect tries to sting the other, or crawl over it
+in such wise as to be the first to steal whatever honey may be within
+reach. And worst of all things is the selfish apathy which pervades
+the majority of the well-to-do classes. As little sympathy is shown
+among them for the living, as regret for the dead. The misfortunes of
+friends are far more often made subject for ill-natured mockery than
+for compassion,&mdash;the deaths of parents and relations are accepted
+with a kind of dull pleasure, as making way for the inheritance of
+money or estates. No real delight is shown in the arts which foster
+peace, progress and wisdom; and equally little enthusiasm is stirred
+for such considerations of diplomacy or government which help to
+keep nations secure. A great man dies one day, and is forgotten the
+next,&mdash;unless some clumsy and scandalous &#8220;biography&#8221; which rakes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">[Pg 83]</a></span> up
+all his faults and mistakes in life, and publishes private letters of
+the most intimate and sacred character, can be hawked to the front
+by certain literary vultures who get their living by tearing out the
+heart of a corpse. Say that a dire tragedy is enacted,&mdash;such as the
+assassination of the Empress Elizabeth of Austria, or the atrocious
+murder of the late King and Queen of Servia,&mdash;or, what is to many minds
+almost as bad,&mdash;the heartless and un-Christian conduct of Leopold,
+King of the Belgians, to his unhappy daughter Stéphanie,&mdash;and though
+each event may be as painful and terrible as any that ever occupied
+the attention of the historian, they appear to excite no more human
+emotion than a few cold expressions of civil surprise or indifference.
+Feeling,&mdash;warm, honest, active, passionate feeling for any cause, is
+more difficult to rouse than the Sloth from its slumbers. It would,
+in truth, seem to be dead. The Church cannot move it. The Drama fails
+to stir it. Patriotism,&mdash;National Honour,&mdash;have no power to lift it
+from the quagmire of inertia. But let there be a sudden panic on the
+Stock Exchange,&mdash;let the Paris Bourse be shaken,&mdash;let Wall Street be
+ablaze with sinister rumour&mdash;and then hey and halloo for a reckless,
+degrading, humiliating, miserable human stampede! Like infuriated
+maniacs men shriek and stamp and wrestle;&mdash;with brains on fire,
+they forget that they were born to be reasoning creatures capable
+of self-control;&mdash;their much boasted-of &#8220;education&#8221; avails them
+nothing,&mdash;and they offer to the gods a spectacle of frantic fear and
+ignominy of which even an untaught savage might well be ashamed. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">[Pg 84]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But perhaps the most noxious sign of the blight in the social
+atmosphere is the openly increasing laxity of morals, and the frankly
+disgraceful disregard of the marriage tie. Herein the British
+aristocracy take the lead as the choicest examples of the age. Whatever
+Europe or America may show in the way of godless and dissolute living,
+we are unhappily forced to realize that there are men in Great Britain,
+renowned for their historic names and exclusive positions, who are
+content to stand by, the tame witnesses of their own marital dishonour,
+accepting, with a cowardice too contemptible for horsewhipping,
+other men&#8217;s children as their own, all the time knowing them to be
+bastards. We have heard of a certain &#8220;nobleman&#8221; who,&mdash;to quote Holy
+Writ,&mdash;&#8220;neighed after&#8221; another man&#8217;s wife to such an extent, that to
+stop the noise, the obliging husband accepted £60,000, a trifling sum,
+which was duly handed over. Whether the gentleman who neighed, or the
+gentleman who paid, was the worst rascal, must be left to others to
+determine. It was all hushed up quite nicely,&mdash;and both parties are
+received &#8220;in the best society,&#8221; with even more attention than would be
+shown to them if they were clean and honest, instead of being soiled
+and disreputable. The portrait of the lady whose damaged virtue was
+plastered up for £60,000 is often seen in pictorials, with appended
+letterpress suitably describing her as a lily-white dove of sweet
+purity and peace. One blames the sinners in this sordid comedy less
+than the &#8220;fashionable&#8221; folk who tolerate and excuse their conduct.
+Sinners there are, and sinners there always will be,&mdash;modern Davids
+will always exist who seek<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">[Pg 85]</a></span> after Bathsheba, and do their level best to
+get Uriah the Hittite comfortably out of the way,&mdash;but that they should
+be encouraged in their sins and commended for them, is quite another
+story. Apart from the pernicious influence they exercise on their own
+particular &#8220;set,&#8221; the example of conduct they give to the nation at
+large, not only arouses national contempt, but in some cases, where
+certain notable politicians are concerned, may breed national disaster.</p>
+
+<p>With looseness of morals naturally comes looseness of conversation.
+The conversation of many of the Upper Ten, in England at least, shows
+a remarkable tendency towards repulsive subjects and objectionable
+details. It is becoming quite a common thing to hear men and women
+talking about their &#8220;Little Marys,&#8221; a phrase which, though invented
+by Mr. J. M. Barrie, is not without considerable vulgarity and
+offence. Before the brilliant Scottish novelist chose this title
+for a play dealing with the digestive apparatus, it would have done
+him no harm to pause and reflect that with a very large portion of
+the Christian world, namely the Roman Catholic, the name of Mary is
+held to be the most sacred of all names, second to none save that of
+the Divine Founder of the Faith. I am told on good authority that
+Americans,&mdash;especially the best of the American women,&mdash;have been
+amazed and more or less scandalized at the idea that any portion of the
+&#8220;cultured&#8221; British public should be found willing to attend a dramatic
+representation dealing with matters pertaining to the human stomach.
+I hope this report is true. My admiration for some American women is
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">[Pg 86]</a></span>considerable, but it would go up several points higher if I were made
+quite sure that their objection to this form of theatrical enterprise
+was genuine, permanent, and unconquerable. I like Mr. Barrie very much,
+and his Scottish stories delight me as they delight everybody, but I
+want him to draw the line at the unbeautiful details of dyspepsia.
+People are already too fond of talking about the various diseases
+afflicting various parts of their bodies to need any spur in that way
+from the romantic drama. One of the most notorious women of the day has
+attained her doubtful celebrity partially by conversing about her own
+inner mechanism and other people&#8217;s inner mechanisms in a style which
+is not only &#8220;free,&#8221; but frankly disgusting. But,&mdash;&#8220;she is so amusing!&#8221;
+say the Smart Set,&mdash;&#8220;One cannot repeat her stories, of course&mdash;they go
+<i>rather</i> far!&mdash;but&mdash;but&mdash;you really ought to hear her tell them!&#8221; This
+kind of thing is on a par with certain lewd fiction lately advertised
+by certain enterprising publishers who announce&mdash;&#8220;You must have this
+book! The booksellers will not show it on their bookstalls. They say
+you ought NOT to read it. GET IT!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>All homage to the booksellers who draw the line at printed garbage! One
+must needs admire and respect them for refusing to take percentages
+on the sale of corrupt matter. For business is always business,&mdash;and
+when business men see that the tendency of a certain portion of the
+reading public is towards prurient literature, they might, were they
+less honourable and conscientious than they are, avail themselves
+financially of this morbid and depraved taste. Especially as there are
+a large<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">[Pg 87]</a></span> number of self-called &#8220;stylists&#8221; who can always be relied
+upon to praise the indecent in literature. They call it &#8220;strong,&#8221; or
+&#8220;virile,&#8221; and reck nothing of the fact that the &#8220;strong&#8221; stench of it
+may poison previously healthy minds, and corrupt otherwise innocent
+souls. Prurient literature is always a never-failing accompaniment
+of social &#8220;blight.&#8221; The fancy for it arises when wholesome literary
+fare has become too simple for the diseased and capricious mental
+appetite, and when the ideal conceptions of great imaginative minds,
+such as the romances of Scott and Dickens, are voted &#8220;too long and
+boresome!&mdash;there&#8217;s really no time to read such stories nowadays!&#8221;
+No,&mdash;there is no time! There&#8217;s plenty of time to play Bridge though!</p>
+
+<p>Poetry&mdash;the greatest of the arts&mdash;is neglected at the present day,
+because nobody will read it. Among the most highly &#8220;educated&#8221; persons,
+many can be met with who prattle glibly about Shakespeare, but who
+neither know the names of his plays nor have read a line of his work.
+With the decline of Poesy comes as a matter of course the decline of
+Sculpture, Painting, Architecture and Music. For Poesy is the parent
+stem from which all these arts have sprung. The proofs of their decline
+are visible enough amongst us to-day. Neither Great Britain, nor
+Europe, nor America, can show a really great Poet. England&#8217;s last great
+poet was Tennyson,&mdash;since his death we have had no other. Similarly
+there is no great sculptor, no great painter, no great novelist,
+no great architect, no great musician. I use the word &#8220;great,&#8221; of
+course, in its largest sense, in the sense wherein we speak of Michael
+Angelo, Raffaelle, or Beethoven. There<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">[Pg 88]</a></span> are plenty of clever &#8220;sketchy&#8221;
+artists,&mdash;&#8220;impressionist&#8221; painters and fictionists, &#8220;rococo&#8221; sculptors,
+and melodious drawing-room song-writers,&mdash;but we wait in vain for a new
+&#8220;grand&#8221; opera, a nobly-inspired statue, a novel like &#8220;Guy Mannering,&#8221;
+or a Cathedral, such as the devout old monks designed in the intervals
+between prayer and praise. The beautiful and poetic ideals that made
+such work possible are, if not quite dead, slowly dying, under the
+influence of the &#8220;blight&#8221; which infects the social atmosphere,&mdash;the
+blight which is thick with Self and Sensuality,&mdash;which looms between
+man and his Maker, shutting out every hopeful glimpse of the sun of
+faith, whose life-giving rays invigorate the soul. And those who see
+it slowly darkening&mdash;those who have been and are students of history,
+and are thereby able to recognize its appearance, its meaning, and its
+mission, and who know the mischief wrought by the poison it exhales,
+will pray for a Storm!</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>&#8220;Come but the direst storm and stress that Fate</div>
+<div>Can bring upon us in its darkest hour,</div>
+<div>Then will the realm awake, however late,</div>
+<div>From the warm sloth in which we yawn and cower,</div>
+<div>And pass our sordid lives in greed, or mate</div>
+<div>With animal delights in luxury&#8217;s bower;</div>
+<div>Then will the ancient virtues bloom anew,</div>
+<div>And love of country quench the love of gold;</div>
+<div>Then will the mocking spirits that imbue</div>
+<div>Our daily converse fade like misty cold</div>
+<div>When the clear sunshine permeates the blue;</div>
+<div>Men will be manly as in days of old,</div>
+<div>And scorn the base delights that sink them down</div>
+<div>Into the languid waters where they drown!&#8221;</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">[Pg 89]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE DEATH OF HOSPITALITY</h2>
+
+<p>There is an old song, a very old song, the refrain of which runs
+thus: &#8220;&#8217;Twas merry in the hall, when the beards wagged all, We shall
+never see the like again, again!&mdash;We shall never see the like again!&#8221;
+Whether there was anything particularly hilarious in the wagging of
+beards we may not feel able to determine, but there is unquestionably
+a vague sense of something festive and social conveyed in the quaint
+lines. We feel, without knowing why, that it was, it <i>must</i> have
+been, &#8220;merry in the hall,&#8221; at the distant period alluded to,&mdash;while
+at the present time we are daily and hourly made painfully aware
+that whether it be in hall, drawing-room or extensive &#8220;reception
+gallery,&#8221; the merriment formerly so well sung and spoken of exists
+no longer. The Harp that once through Tara&#8217;s Halls&mdash;no!&mdash;I mean the
+Beards that once wagged in the Hall, wag no more. Honest laughter has
+given place to the nanny-goat sniggering bleat now common to polite
+society, and understood to be the elegantly trained and &#8220;cultured&#8221;
+expression of mirth. The warm hand-shake has, in a very great measure,
+degenerated into the timorous offer of two or three clammy fingers
+extended dubiously, as with a fear of microbes. And Hospitality,
+large-hearted, smiling, gracious Hospitality, is dead and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">[Pg 90]</a></span> wrapped in
+its grave-clothes, waiting in stiff corpse-like state for its final
+burial. Public dinners, public functions of all kinds,&mdash;in England at
+any rate,&mdash;are merely so many funeral feasts in memory of the great
+defunct virtue. Its spirit has fled,&mdash;and there is no calling it
+back again. The art of entertaining is lost,&mdash;together with the art
+of conversation. And when our so-called &#8220;friends&#8221; are &#8220;at home,&#8221; we
+are often more anxious to find reasons for declining rather than for
+accepting their invitations, simply because we know that there is no
+real &#8220;at home&#8221; in it, but merely an &#8220;out-of-home&#8221; arrangement, in which
+a mixed crowd of people are asked to stand and swelter in an uneasy
+crush on staircases and in drawing-rooms, pretending to listen to music
+which they can scarcely hear, and scrambling for tea which is generally
+too badly made to drink. Indeed, it may be doubted whether, of all
+the various ludicrous social observances in which our progressive
+day takes part, there is anything quite so sublimely idiotic as a
+smart &#8220;At Home&#8221; in London during the height of the season. Nothing
+certainly presents men and women in such a singularly unintelligent
+aspect. Their faces all wear more or less the same expression of forced
+amiability,&mdash;the same civil grin distorts their poor mouths&mdash;the same
+wondering and weary stare afflicts their tired straining eyeballs&mdash;and
+the same automatic arm-movement and hand-jerk works every unit, as
+each approaches the hostess in the conventional manner enjoined by the
+usages of that &#8220;cultured&#8221; hypocrisy which covers a multitude of lies.
+Sheep, herding in a field and cropping the herbage in the comfortable
+unconsciousness<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">[Pg 91]</a></span> that they are eating merely to be eaten, are often
+stated to be the silliest of animals,&mdash;but whether they are sillier
+than the human beings who consent to be squashed together in stuffy
+rooms where they can scarcely move, under the sham impression that they
+are &#8220;at home&#8221; with a friend, is a matter open to question. Of course
+to some minds it may be, and no doubt is, extremely edifying to learn
+by the society papers that Mrs. So-and-So, or Lord and Lady Thingummy
+will &#8220;entertain a great deal this season.&#8221; People who have no idea
+what this kind of &#8220;entertaining&#8221; means, may have glittering visions
+thereof. They may picture to themselves scenes of brilliancy where &#8220;a
+thousand hearts beat happily, and when, Music arose with its voluptuous
+swell, Soft eyes looked love to eyes which spake again, And all went
+merry as a marriage-bell!&#8221; Only these things do not happen. Anything
+but love is &#8220;looked&#8221; from soft eyes and hard eyes equally;&mdash;derision,
+contempt, indifference, dejection, malice, and (so far as champagne,
+ices and general messy feeding are concerned) greed, light up these
+&#8220;windows of the soul&#8221; from time to time during the progress of such
+festivities; but love, never! The women are far too busy finding
+standing-room wherein to show themselves and their newest frocks off
+to advantage, to waste any moment in mere sentiment, and it is a
+Christianly beautiful sight to see how the dear things who wear the
+dressmaker&#8217;s latest &#8220;creations&#8221; elbow and push and hustle and tread on
+the toes of their sisters who are less highly favoured than themselves
+in the matter of mere clothes. As for the men,&mdash;if they have, by
+dint of hard exertion,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">[Pg 92]</a></span> managed to get in at the &#8220;crush,&#8221; and near
+enough to the hostess to bow and touch her hand, their sole attention
+henceforward becomes concentrated on the business of getting out again
+as rapidly as possible. For let it be said to the praise, honour and
+glory of the sterner sex, that taken in the rough majority, they detest
+the fashionable &#8220;At Home,&#8221; with vigorous and honest intensity,&mdash;and
+unless they are of that degenerate class who like to be seen hanging
+round some notoriously press-puffed &#8220;professional beauty,&#8221; or some
+equally notoriously known leader of the Smart Set, they are seldom
+seen at such gatherings. They feel themselves to be incongruous and
+out of place,&mdash;and so they are. &#8220;At Homes&#8221; are curious sort of social
+poultry-yards, where the hens have it all their own way, and do most
+distinctly crow.</p>
+
+<p>But if &#8220;At Homes&#8221; are bad enough, the smart, the very smart
+dinner-party is perhaps a little worse in its entire lack of the true
+hospitality which, united to grace and tact and ready conversation,
+should make every guest feel that his or her presence is valuable
+and welcome. A small private dinner, at which the company are some
+six or eight persons at most, is sometimes (though not by any means
+always) quite a pleasant affair, but a &#8220;big&#8221; dinner in the &#8220;big&#8221; sense
+of the word, is generally the most painful and dismal of functions,
+except to those for whom silent gorging and after repletion are the
+essence of all mental and physical joy. I remember&mdash;and of a truth
+it would be impossible to forget&mdash;one of these dinners which took
+place one season in a very &#8220;swagger&#8221; house&mdash;the house of a member of
+that old British nobility<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">[Pg 93]</a></span> whose ancestors and titles always excite a
+gentle flow of saliva in the mouths of snobs. The tables&mdash;there were
+two,&mdash;were, to use the formal phrase, &#8220;laid for forty covers&#8221;&mdash;that
+is to say that each table accommodated twenty guests. The loveliest
+flowers, the most priceless silver, the daintiest glass, adorned
+the festive boards,&mdash;everything that taste could suggest or wealth
+supply, had its share in the general effect of design and colour,&mdash;the
+host was at the head of one table,&mdash;the hostess at the other&mdash;and
+between-whiles a fine string band discoursed the sweetest music. But
+with it all there was no real hospitality. We might as well have been
+seated at some extra-luxurious table-d&#8217;hôte in one of the &#8220;Kur&#8221; houses
+of Austria or Germany, paying so much per day for our entertainment.
+Any touch of warm and kindly feeling was altogether lacking; and to
+make matters worse, a heavy demon brooded over the brave outward show
+of the feast,&mdash;a demon with sodden grey wings that refused to rise
+and soar,&mdash;the demon of a hopeless, irremediable Stupidity! Out and
+alas!&mdash;here was the core of the mischief! For sad as it is to lack
+Heart in the entertaining of our friends, it doubles the calamity to
+lack Brain as well! Our host was stupid;&mdash;dull to a degree unimaginable
+by those who do not know what some lordly British aristocrats can be at
+their own tables,&mdash;our hostess, a beautiful woman, was equally stupid,
+being entirely engrossed in herself and her own bodily charms, to the
+utter oblivion of the ease and well-being of her guests. What a meal
+it was! How interminably it dragged its slow length along! What small
+hydraulic bursts of meaningless talk<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">[Pg 94]</a></span> spurted out between the entrées
+and the game!&mdash;talk to be either checked by waiters proffering more
+food, or drowned in the musical growling of the band! I believe one
+man hazarded a joke,&mdash;but it was not heard,&mdash;and I know that a witty
+old Irish peer told an anecdote which was promptly &#8220;quashed&#8221; by a dish
+of asparagus being thrust before him, just as he was, in the richest
+brogue, arriving at the &#8220;point.&#8221; But as nobody listened to him, it
+did not matter. Nobody does listen to anybody or anything nowadays at
+social functions. Everybody talks with insane, babbling eagerness,
+apparently indifferent as to whether they are heard or not. Any amount
+of people ask questions and never think of waiting for the answers.
+Should any matters, small or great, require explanation, scarce a
+soul has the patience or courtesy to attend to such explanation or to
+follow it with any lucidity or comprehension. It is all hurry-skurry,
+helter-skelter, and bad, shockingly bad, manners.</p>
+
+<p>I am given to understand that Americans, and Americans alone, retain
+and cherish the old-fashioned grace of Hospitality, which is so rapidly
+becoming extinct in Great Britain. I would fain believe this, but of
+myself I do not know. I have had no experience of social America,
+save such as has been freely and cordially taught me by Americans
+in London. Some of these have indeed proved that they possess the
+art of entertaining friends with real friendly delight in the grace
+and charm and mutual help of social intercourse,&mdash;others again, by
+an inordinate display of wealth, and a feverish yearning for the
+Paragraph-Man (or Woman), have plainly shown that Hospitality is,
+with them, a far<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">[Pg 95]</a></span> less concern than Notoriety. However this may be,
+no sane person will allow that it is &#8220;hospitality&#8221; to ask a number of
+friends into your house and there keep them all standing because you
+have managed that there shall be no room to sit down, while strong,
+half-cold tea and stale confectionery are hastily dispensed among them.
+It is not &#8220;hospitality&#8221; to ask people to dinner, and never speak a
+word to them all the evening, because you, if a man, are engaged upon
+your own little &#8220;business affair,&#8221; or, if a woman, are anxious not
+to lose hold of your special male flatterer. If friends are invited,
+they should surely be welcomed in the manner friendly, and made to
+feel at home by the personal attention of both host and hostess. It
+is not &#8220;hospitality&#8221; to turn them loose in bewildered droves through
+grounds or gardens, to listen to a band which they have no doubt heard
+many times before,&mdash;or to pack them all into a stuffy room to be
+&#8220;entertained&#8221; by a professional musician whom they could hear to much
+more comfortable and independent advantage by paying for stalls at the
+legitimate concert hall. What do we really mean by Hospitality? Surely
+we mean friendship, kindness, personal interest, and warm-hearted
+openness of look and conduct,&mdash;and all of these are deplorably missing
+from the &#8220;smart&#8221; functions of up-to-date society in London, whatever
+the state of things may be concerning this antique virtue in New York
+and Boston. It would appear that the chief ingredients of Hospitality
+are manners,&mdash;for as Emerson says: &#8220;Manners are the <i>happy way</i> of
+doing things.&#8221; This &#8220;happy way&#8221; is becoming very rare. Society,
+particularly the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">[Pg 96]</a></span> &#8220;Upper Ten&#8221; society,&mdash;is becoming, quite noticeably,
+very rude. Some of the so-called &#8220;smartest&#8221; women are notoriously
+very vulgar. Honesty, simplicity, sympathy, and delicacy of feeling
+are, or seem to be, as much out of date as the dainty poems of Robert
+Herrick, and the love-sonnets of Sir Philip Sidney. Time goes on, say
+the iconoclasts&mdash;and we must go with it&mdash;we must, if our hurrying
+civilization requires it, pass friends by with a cool nod, mock at
+the vices of the young, and sneer at the failings of the old;&mdash;we
+are all too busy to be courteous,&mdash;too much in a hurry grabbing gold
+to be kind, and much too occupied with ourselves to be thoughtful of
+others. So let us bury Hospitality decently once and for all, and
+talk no more about it! It was a grand old Virtue!&mdash;let us inter it
+with honour,&mdash;and cease to hold our funeral feasts and entertainments
+in its name. For, being dead, &#8217;tis dead and done with,&mdash;and amid all
+our twentieth-century shams, let us at least drop, for shame, our
+base imitations of the great-souled splendid Grace that was meant to
+link our lives more sweetly together, to engender love, and to make
+home more home-like. For nowadays, few of us are simple and truthful
+enough in our lines of conduct even to understand Hospitality in
+its real meaning. &#8220;Between simple and noble persons,&#8221;&mdash;says a great
+philosopher&mdash;&#8220;there is always a quick intelligence; they recognize
+at sight; and meet on a better ground than the talents and skills
+they may chance to possess, namely, on sincerity and uprightness.&#8221;
+Sincerity and uprightness are the very fibre and life-blood of true
+Hospitality. But the chief canon of modern society is hypocrisy,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">[Pg 97]</a></span> to
+begin with. Insincerity and lack of principle naturally follow, with
+their usual accompaniment, moral cowardice,&mdash;and so men and women sneak
+and crawl, and flatter base persons for what they can get, and reject
+all chances of faithful friendship for mere ephemeral show. Under such
+conditions as these, what can good old Hospitality do but draw its
+last breath with a gentle sigh of expiring sorrow for the mistaken
+world which prefers a lie to a truth, and still to this day crucifies
+all its loving would-be redeemers on miserable Calvarys of desolation!
+No happiness does it gain thereby, but only increased bitterness and
+weariness,&mdash;and the fact that all our social customs have greatly
+changed since the old time when households were wisely ruled and very
+simply ordered, is no advantage to the general social community. We
+may, if we choose,&mdash;(and we very often do so choose,) fly from one
+desire to another and thence to satiety, and back again from satiety to
+desire, but we shall never, in such pursuit, find the peace engendered
+by simplicity of life, or the love and lasting joy inspired by that
+honourable confidence in one another&#8217;s best and noblest attributes,
+which should frankly and openly set the seal on friendship, and make
+Hospitality a glad duty as well as a delight. &#8220;Old-fashioned&#8221; as it may
+be, no new fashion can ever replace it.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">[Pg 98]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE VULGARITY OF WEALTH</h2>
+
+<p>There are certain periods in the lives of nations when the balance of
+things in general would seem to be faultily adjusted; when one side
+of the scale almost breaks and falls to the ground through excess of
+weight, and the other tips crazily upward, well-nigh to overturning,
+through an equally undue excess of lightness. The inequality can be
+traced with mathematical precision as occurring at regular intervals
+throughout the world&#8217;s history. It is as though the clock of human
+affairs had been set correctly for a certain limited time only, and
+was then foredoomed to fall out of gear in such a manner as to need
+cleansing and winding up afresh. A good many people, including some of
+the wisest of our few wise men, have openly expressed the opinion that
+we, of the proudest and greatest Empire at present under the sun, have
+almost reached that particularly fatal figure on the Eternal Dial,</p>
+
+<p class="center">When all the wheels run down,</p>
+
+<p>and when the scales of Justice are becoming so dangerously worn
+out and uneven, as to suggest an incapacity for holding social and
+political weights and measures much longer. One of the symptoms of this
+overstrained condition of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">[Pg 99]</a></span> our latter-day civilization is precisely
+the same danger-signal which has in all ages accompanied national
+disaster&mdash;a pernicious influence, like that of the planet &#8220;Algol,&#8221;
+which, when in the ascendant, is said to betoken mischief and ruin
+to all who see it rise on the horizon. Our evil Star, the evil star
+of all Empires, has long ago soared above the eastern edge; fully
+declared, it floods our heaven with such lurid brilliancy that we
+can scarce perceive any other luminary. And its name is Mammon. The
+present era in which we are permitted by Divine law to run through
+our brief existence and make our mark or miss it, as we choose, is
+principally distinguished by an insane worship of Wealth. Wealth in
+excess&mdash;wealth in chunks&mdash;wealth in great awkward, unbecoming dabs,
+is plastered, as it were, by the merest hap-hazard toss of fortune&#8217;s
+dice, on the backs of uncultured and illiterate persons, who, bowed
+down like asses beneath the golden burden, are asininely ignorant
+of its highest uses. The making of millions would seem to be like a
+malignant fever, which must run its course, ending in either the death
+or the mental and physical wreck of the patient. He who has much money
+seems always to find it insufficient, and straightway proceeds to make
+more; while he who has not only much, but superabundance of the dross,
+scatters it in every direction broadcast, wherever it can best serve
+as an aid to his own self-advertisement, vanity and ostentation. Once
+upon a time wealth could not purchase an entrance into society; now
+it is the only pass-key. Men of high repute for learning, bravery,
+and distinctive merit, are &#8220;shunted&#8221; as it were off the line to make
+way<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">[Pg 100]</a></span> for the motor-car traffic of plutocrats, who, by dint of &#8220;push,&#8221;
+effrontery, and brazen impudence, manage to shout their income figures
+persistently in the ears of those whose high privilege it is to
+&#8220;give the lead&#8221; in social affairs. And to the shame of such exalted
+individuals be it said, that they listen, with ears stretched wide,
+to the yell of the huckster in stocks and shares; and setting aside
+every thought for the future of Great Britain and the highest honour
+of her sons and daughters, they sell their good word, their influence,
+and their favour easily, for so much cash down. Men and women who have
+the privilege of personally knowing, and frequently associating with
+the Royal Family, are known to accept payment for bringing such and
+such otherwise obscure persons under the immediate notice of the King;
+and it is a most unfortunate and regrettable fact that throughout the
+realm the word goes that no such obscure persons ever dine with their
+Sovereign without having paid the &#8220;middle man&#8221; for the privilege. It
+would be an easy matter for the present writer to name at least a
+dozen well-known society women, assuming to be &#8220;loyal,&#8221; who make a
+very good thing out of their &#8220;loyalty&#8221; by accepting huge payments in
+exchange for their recommendation or introduction to Royal personages,
+and who add considerably to their incomes by such means, bringing
+the names of the King and Queen down to their own sordid level of
+bargain and sale, with a reckless disregard of the damaging results
+of such contemptible conduct. These are some of the very ladies who
+are most frequently favoured by notice at Court, and who occupy the
+position of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">[Pg 101]</a></span> being in the &#8220;swagger set.&#8221; Whereas, the men and women
+who are faithful, who hold the honour of their King dearer than their
+own lives, who refuse to truckle to the spirit of money-worship, and
+who presume to denounce the sickening hypocrisy of modern society
+life and its shameless prostitution of high ideals, are &#8220;hounded&#8221; by
+those portions of the Press which are governed by Jew syndicates, and
+slandered by every dirty cad that makes his cheap living by putting his
+hand secretly in his neighbour&#8217;s pocket. Never, in all the ages of the
+world, have truth-tellers been welcome; from Socrates to Christ the
+same persecution has followed every human being who has had enough of
+God in him or her to denounce shams; and the Christian religion itself
+is founded on the crucifixion of Honesty by the priests of Hypocrisy.
+It is a lesson that can hardly be too deeply dwelt upon at the present
+notable time of day, which seems, for many students of national
+affairs, the crucial point of a coming complete change in British
+history.</p>
+
+<p>On every side, look where we may, we see an almost brutal dominance
+of wealth. We see the Yankee Trade-octopus, stretching out greedy
+tentacles in every direction, striving to grasp British shipping,
+British industries, and British interests everywhere, in that devouring
+and deadly grip, which, if permitted to hold, would mean mischief and
+loss of prestige to our country, though, no doubt, it might create
+rejoicing in America. For America is by no means so fond of us as
+certain interested parties would have us suppose. She would dearly like
+to &#8220;patronise&#8221; us, but she does<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">[Pg 102]</a></span> not love us, though at present she
+hides her hand. In a case of struggle, she would not support the &#8220;old
+country&#8221; for mere sentimental love of it. She would naturally serve
+only her own best interests. As a nation of bombast and swagger, she
+is a kind of &#8220;raree-show&#8221; in the world&#8217;s progress; but her strength
+is chiefly centred in dollars, and her influence on the social world
+teaches that &#8220;dollars are the only wear.&#8221; English society has been
+sadly vulgarized by this American taint. Nevertheless, it is, as it
+has always been, a fatal mistake for any nation to rely on the extent
+of its cash power alone. Without the real spirit which makes for
+greatness&mdash;without truth, without honour, without sincere patriotism
+and regard for the real well-being and honest government of the
+majority&mdash;any national system, whether monarchical or republican, must
+inevitably decay and perish from the face of the earth.</p>
+
+<p>Unblemished honesty is the best policy for statesmen; but that such has
+been their rule of conduct in these latter years may perhaps be open to
+question. The late Mr. W. E. H. Lecky, whose broad-minded, impartial
+views of life, commend themselves forcibly to every literary student,
+writing of Cecil Rhodes, whose funeral service was celebrated with such
+almost royal pomp in St. Paul&#8217;s Cathedral, gives us a sketch which
+should make the most casual &#8220;man in the street&#8221; pause and reflect as to
+whether those solemn public rites and tributary honours from both the
+King and Queen were not somewhat out of place on such an occasion.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;What Mr. Rhodes did,&#8221; wrote Mr. Lecky, in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">[Pg 103]</a></span> his strong, trenchant
+way, &#8220;has been very clearly established. When holding the highly
+confidential position of Prime Minister of the Cape Colony, and being
+at the same time a Privy Councillor of the Queen, he engaged in a
+conspiracy for the overthrow of the Government of a neighbouring
+and friendly State. In order to carry out this design, he deceived
+the High Commissioner whose Prime Minister he was. He deceived his
+own colleagues in the Ministry. He collected under false pretences
+a force which was intended to co-operate with an insurrection in
+Johannesburg. Being a Director of the Chartered Company, he made use
+of that position without the knowledge of his colleagues to further
+the conspiracy. He took an active and secret part in smuggling great
+quantities of arms into the Transvaal, which were intended to be used
+in the rebellion; and at a time when his organs in the Press were
+representing Johannesburg as seething with spontaneous indignation
+against an oppressive Government, he, with another millionaire, was
+secretly expending many thousands of pounds in that town in stimulating
+and subsidizing the rising. He was also directly connected with the
+shabbiest incident in the whole affair, the concoction of a letter
+from the Johannesburg conspirators absurdly representing English women
+and children at Johannesburg as in danger of being shot down by the
+Boers, and urging the British to come at once and save them. It was a
+letter drawn up with the sanction of Mr. Rhodes many weeks before the
+raid, and before any disturbance had arisen; and kept in reserve to
+be dated and used in the last moment for the purpose of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">[Pg 104]</a></span> inducing the
+young soldiers in South Africa to join in the raid, and of subsequently
+justifying their conduct before the War Office, and also for the
+purpose of being published in the English Press at the same time as
+the first news of the raid in order to work upon English opinion, and
+persuade the English people that the raid, though technically wrong was
+morally justifiable.... No reasonable judge can question that in these
+transactions he was more blamable than those who were actually punished
+by the law for taking part in the raid, far more blamable than those
+young officers who were, in truth, the most severely punished and who
+had been induced to take part in it under false representation of the
+wishes of the Government at home, and a grossly false representation
+of the state of things at Johannesburg. The failure of the raid, and
+his undoubted complicity with its design, obliged Mr. Rhodes to resign
+the post of Prime Minister, and his directorship of the Chartered
+Company.... But what can be thought of the language of a Minister who
+volunteered to assure the House of Commons that in all the transactions
+I have described, Mr. Rhodes, though he had made &#8216;a gigantic mistake,&#8217;
+a mistake perhaps as great as a statesman could make, had done nothing
+affecting his personal honour?&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>What has been thought, and what <i>is</i> thought of the matter, has been
+largely suppressed by party politicians. The War Enquiry was conducted
+with secrecy; Cabinet Ministers held their Councils, as it were, with
+locked doors. An eager desire to conceal the real state of affairs in
+the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">[Pg 105]</a></span> country, and an unfortunate tendency to &#8220;hush up&#8221; such matters
+as are the plain right of ratepayers to know, are the betraying signs
+of many of our statesmen&#8217;s inward disquiet. Because, as many people
+instinctively feel, the trail of finance is likely to be openly traced
+to an unlawful, and in some cases, dishonourable extent, over much
+recent political work. Honour, however, is due to those Ministers who
+valiantly endeavour to screen greater names than their own behind their
+skilful diplomacy; and one naturally admires the zeal and courage with
+which they fight for this cause, even as M. Maurepas and M. Necker
+fought a similar campaign long ago in the dark days of France, when,
+as Carlyle writes, it was &#8220;clearly a difficult point for Government,
+that of the dealing with the masses&mdash;if indeed it be not rather the
+sole point and problem of Government, and all other points were
+incidental crotchets, superficialities, and beatings of the wind! For
+let Charter-chests, Use and Wont, Law, common and special, say what
+they will, the masses count to so many millions of units, made to all
+appearance by God, whose earth this is declared to be. Besides, the
+people are not without ferocity; they have sinews and indignation.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the immediate moment, the masses in our country are, rightly or
+wrongly, vaguely conscious of two things which they view as forms
+of injustice, namely, that they are asked to pay rates for an
+educational system which a large bulk of them do not approve, and that
+they are taxed for the expenses of a war, the conduct of which was
+discussed &#8220;secretly,&#8221; as though its methods implied<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">[Pg 106]</a></span> some dishonour
+to those concerned in it. Moreover, they understand, with more or
+less bewilderment, that though the King is now &#8220;Supreme Lord of the
+Transvaal&#8221; there is no chance whatever for British subjects to make
+fortune there, the trades being swamped by Germans, and the mines
+controlled by Jews. Therefore, in their inability to follow the devious
+paths of reasoning by which politicians explain away what they term
+&#8220;ignorant and illiterate&#8221; conclusions, some of them begin to think that
+the blood of their sons has been shed in hard battle, not so much for
+the glory and good of the many, as for the private greed of the few.
+They are no doubt wrong; but it will take something more than &#8220;secret&#8221;
+enquiries to set them right.</p>
+
+<p>Meanwhile, the passing of the social pageant interests them more
+deeply than is apparent on the frothy surface of social things. Their
+contempt is aroused and kept sullenly alive by daily contemplation of
+the flagrant assertion of money-dominance over every other good. They
+hear of one Andrew Carnegie strewing Free Libraries over the surface
+of the country, as if these institutions were so many lollipops thrown
+out of a schoolboy&#8217;s satchel; they follow the accounts of his doings
+with a mingling of wonder and derision, some of them up in Scotland
+openly and forcibly regretting the mischief done to the famed &#8220;grit and
+grip&#8221; of Scottish students, who are not now, as of yore, forced by hard
+necessity to work for their University education themselves, and win
+it, as it were, by the very skin of their teeth. Hard necessity is a
+fine taskmaster, and turns out splendid<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">[Pg 107]</a></span> scholars and useful men. But
+when educational advantages are thrown headlong at aspiring students,
+and Universities are opened freely, as though they were a species of
+pauper-refuge, the delights of learning are apt to be proportionately
+cheapened and lessened. Lads with real ability naturally and invariably
+seek to do something that shall prove their own capabilities of pluck
+and endurance; and a truly independent spirit not only chafes at,
+but absolutely resents, assistance. Thus it has come to pass that
+Mr. Carnegie&#8217;s Free Libraries are looked upon by hosts of people as
+so many brick and mortar advertisements of his own great wealth and
+unfailing liberality. A labour leader of some repute among his own
+class, remarked the other day that &#8220;the Carnegie libraries were like
+&#8216;So-and-So&#8217;s Pills,&#8217; posted up everywhere lest the inventor&#8217;s name
+should be forgotten!&#8221; This was an unkind, and perhaps an ungrateful
+observation, but we have to recollect that a People, taken <i>as</i> a
+People, do not want to be grateful for anything. They want to work
+for all they get, and to feel that they have honestly deserved their
+earnings. It is only the drones of the hive that seek to be taken care
+of. The able citizen strenuously objects to be helped in obtaining
+sustenance for either his soul or his body. What is necessary for him,
+that he will fight for, and, having won the battle, he enjoys the
+victory. There is no pleasure in conquering an enemy, if a policeman
+has helped you to knock him down.</p>
+
+<p>Thus, with many of the more independently-thinking class, millionaire
+Carnegie&#8217;s money, pitched at the public, savours of &#8220;patronage&#8221; which
+they<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">[Pg 108]</a></span> resent, and ostentation which they curtly call &#8220;swagger.&#8221; Free
+Libraries are by no means essential to perfect happiness, while they
+may be called extremely detrimental to the prosperity of authors. A
+popular author would have good reason to rejoice if his works were
+excluded from Free Libraries, inasmuch as his sales would be twice,
+perhaps three times as large. If a Free Library takes a dozen copies of
+a book, that dozen copies has probably to serve for five or six hundred
+people, who get it in turn individually. But if the book could not
+possibly be obtained for gratuitous reading in this fashion, and could
+only be secured by purchase, then it follows that five or six hundred
+copies would be sold instead of twelve. This applies only to authors
+whose works the public clamour for, and insist on reading; with the
+more select &#8220;unpopular&#8221; geniuses the plan, of course, would not meet
+with approval. In any case, a Free Library is neither to an author,
+nor to the reading public, an unmitigated boon. One has to wait for
+months sometimes for the book specially wanted; sometimes one&#8217;s name
+is 1,000 on the list, though certain volumes known as &#8220;heavy stock&#8221;
+can always be obtained immediately on application, but are seldom
+applied for. Real book-lovers buy their books and keep them. Reading
+which is merely haphazard and casual is purely pernicious, and does
+far more harm than good. However, Carnegie, being the possessor of
+millions, probably does not know what else to do with the cash except
+in the way of Libraries. To burden a human biped with tons of gold,
+and then set him adrift to get rid of it as best he may, is one of the
+scurviest tricks of Fortune.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">[Pg 109]</a></span> Inasmuch as ostentation is the trade mark
+of vulgarity, and a rich man cannot spend his money without at least
+<i>appearing</i> ostentatious. The revival of the spinning and silk-weaving
+industries in England would be a far nobler and more beneficial help
+to the country and to the many thousands of people, than any number
+of Free Libraries, yet no millionaire comes forward to offer the
+needful assistance towards this deserving end. But perhaps a hundred
+looms set going, with their workers all properly supported, would not
+be so prominently noticed in the general landscape as a hundred Free
+Libraries.</p>
+
+<p>Apart from the manner in which certain rich men spend their wealth,
+there is something in an overplus of riches which is distinctly &#8220;out
+of drawing,&#8221; and lop-sided. It is a false note in the musical scale.
+Just as a woman, by wearing too great a number of jewels, vulgarizes
+whatever personal beauty she may possess by the flagrant exhibition of
+valuables and bad taste together, so does a man who has no other claim
+upon society than that of mere wealth, appear as a kind of monstrosity
+and deformity in the general equality and equilibrium of Nature. When
+such a man&#8217;s career is daily seen to be nothing more than a constant
+pursuit of his own selfish ends, regardless of truth, honour, high
+principle, and consideration for his fellow-men, he becomes even more
+than a man-camel with a golden hump&mdash;he is an offence and a danger to
+the community. If, by mere dint of cash, he is allowed to force his
+way everywhere&mdash;if no ruling sovereign on the face of the earth has
+sufficient wisdom or strength of character to draw a line against the
+entrance into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">[Pg 110]</a></span> society and politics of Money, for mere Money&#8217;s sake,
+then the close of our circle of civilisation is nearly reached, and
+the old story of Tyre and Sidon and Babylon will be re-told again for
+us with the same fatal conclusion to which Volney, in his <i>Ruins of
+Empires</i> impressively calls attention, in the following passage:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cupidity, the daughter and companion of ignorance, has produced
+all the mischiefs that have desolated the globe. Ignorance and the
+love of accumulation, these are the two sources of all the plagues
+that infest the life of man. They have inspired him with false ideas
+of his happiness, and prompted him to misconstrue and infringe the
+laws of nature, as they related to the connection between him and
+exterior objects. Through them his conduct has been injurious to his
+own existence, and he has thus violated the duty he owes to himself;
+they have fortified his heart against compassion, and his mind against
+the dictates of justice, and he has thus violated the duty he owes
+to others. By ignorant and inordinate desire, man has armed himself
+against man, family against family, tribe against tribe, and the earth
+is converted into a bloody theatre of discord and robbery. They have
+sown the seeds of secret war in the bosom of every state, divided
+the citizens from each other, and the same society is constituted of
+oppressors and oppressed, of masters and slaves. They have taught the
+heads of nations, with audacious insolence, to turn the arms of society
+against itself, and <i>to build upon mercenary avidity the fabric of
+political despotism</i>, or they have a <i>more hypocritical and deep-laid
+project, that imposes, as the dictate of heaven, lying</i><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">[Pg 111]</a></span> <i>sanctions and
+a sacrilegious yoke, thus rendering avarice the source of credulity</i>.
+In fine, they have corrupted every idea of good and evil, just and
+unjust, virtue and vice; they have misled nations in a <i>labyrinth
+of calamity and mistake</i>. Ignorance and the love of accumulation!
+These are the malevolent beings that have laid waste the earth; these
+are the decrees of fate that have overturned empires; these are the
+celestial maledictions that have struck these walls, once so glorious,
+and converted the splendour of populous cities into a sad spectacle of
+ruins!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Laughable, yet grievous, is the childish conduct of many American
+plutocrats who are never tired of announcing in the daily Press that
+they are spending Three Thousand Pounds on roses for one afternoon&#8217;s
+&#8220;At Home,&#8221; or Five Thousand Pounds on one single banquet! After this,
+why should we call the Roman Heliogabalus a sensualist and voluptuary?
+His orgies were less ostentatious than many social functions of to-day.
+It is not, we believe, recorded that he paid any &#8220;fashion-papers&#8221;
+(if there were any such in the Roman Empire) to describe his &#8220;Feasts
+of Flowers,&#8221; though a lively American lady, giving out her &#8220;social
+experiences&#8221; recently at an &#8220;Afternoon tea&#8221; said gaily: &#8220;I always send
+an account of my dinners, my dresses, and the dresses of my friends to
+&#8216;<i>The &mdash;&mdash;</i>&#8217; with a cheque. Otherwise, you know, I should never get
+myself or my parties mentioned at all!&#8221; One is bound to entertain the
+gravest doubts as to the truth of her assertion, knowing, of course,
+that of all institutions in the world, the Press, in Great Britain at
+any rate, is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">[Pg 112]</a></span> the last to be swayed by financial considerations. One
+has never heard (in England at least) of any &#8220;Company&#8221; paying several
+thousand pounds to the Press for &#8220;floating it.&#8221; Though such things
+may be done in America, they are never tolerated here. But, the Press
+apart, which in its unblemished rectitude &#8220;shines like a good deed
+in a naughty world,&#8221; most things in modern politics and society are
+swayed by money considerations, and the sudden acquisition of wealth
+does not in many cases improve the morality of the person so favoured,
+or persuade him to discharge such debts as he may have incurred in
+his days of limited means. On the contrary, he frequently ignores
+these, and proceeds to incur fresh liabilities, as in the striking
+case of a lady &#8220;leader of society&#8221; at the present day, who, having
+owed large sums to certain harmless and confiding tradesmen for the
+past seven or eight years, ignores these debts or &#8220;shunts them,&#8221; and
+spends six thousand pounds recklessly on the adornment of rooms for
+the entertainment of Royalty&mdash;which fact most notably proclaims her
+vulgarity, singularly allied to her social distinction. The payment of
+her debts first, and the entertainment of great personages afterwards,
+would seem to be a nobler and more becoming thing.</p>
+
+<p>But show and vanity, pride and &#8220;bounce,&#8221; appear to have taken the
+place of such old-fashioned virtues as simplicity, sincerity, and that
+genuine hospitality which asserts nothing, but gives all.</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Kind hearts are more than coronets,</div>
+<div>And simple faith than Norman blood.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>In very few cases does immense wealth seem to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">[Pg 113]</a></span> go hand in hand with
+refinement, reserve and dignity. Millionaires are for the most part
+ill-mannered and illiterate, and singularly uninteresting in their
+conversation. A certain millionaire, occupying during some seasons
+one of the fine old Scottish Castles whose owners still take pride
+in the fact that its walls once sheltered &#8220;bonnie Prince Charlie,&#8221;
+can find little to do with himself and his &#8220;house-party,&#8221; but fill
+the grand old drawing-room with tobacco-smoke and whisky-fumes of
+an evening, and play &#8220;Bridge&#8221; for ruinous stakes on Sundays, of all
+days in the week. During other hours and days he goes out shooting,
+or drives a motor-car. Intellectually speaking, the man is less of a
+real personality than the great Newfoundland dog he owns. But measured
+by gold he is a person of enormous importance&mdash;a human El Dorado. And
+his banking-account is the latchkey with which he opens the houses of
+the great and intrudes his coarse presence through the doors of royal
+palaces; whereas if by some capricious stroke of ill-luck he had not
+a penny left in the world, those same doors would be shut in his face
+with a bang.</p>
+
+<p>The vulgarity of wealth is daily and hourly so broadly evidenced
+and apparent, that one can well credit a strange rumour prevalent
+in certain highly exclusive circles, far removed from the &#8220;swagger
+set,&#8221; to the effect that with one more turn of blind Fortune&#8217;s wheel,
+the grace of Poverty will become a rare social distinction. The Poor
+Gentleman, it is said, will be eagerly sought after, and to be seen in
+his company will entitle one to respect. The man of money will stand
+outside the ring of this Society,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">[Pg 114]</a></span> which is in process of formation for
+the revival of the Art of Intelligent Conversation and the Cultivation
+of Good Manners. Ladies who dress with a becoming simplicity, and who
+are not liable to the accusation of walking about with clothes unpaid
+for, will be eligible for membership,&mdash;and young men who are not
+ashamed to emphatically decline playing cards on Sunday will be equally
+welcome in the select coterie. Limited means will be considered more
+of a recommendation than a drawback, and visits will be interchanged
+among the members on the lines of unaffected hospitality, offered with
+unassuming friendship and sincerity. Kindness towards each other,
+punctilious attention to the smallest courtesies of life, unfailing
+chivalry towards women, and honour to men, will be the prevailing
+&#8220;rules&#8221; of the community, and every attempt at &#8220;show,&#8221; either in
+manners or entertainment, will be rigorously forbidden and excluded.
+The aim of the Society will be to prove the truth of the adage that
+&#8220;Manners makyth the man,&#8221; as opposed to the modern reading, &#8220;Money
+makyth the nobleman.&#8221; Bearing in mind that the greatest reformers and
+teachers of the world were seldom destitute of the grace of Poverty, it
+will be deemed good and necessary to make a stand for this ancient and
+becoming Virtue, which as a learned writer says, &#8220;doth sit on a wise
+man more becomingly than royal robes on a king.&#8221; Many who entertain
+this view are prepared to unite their forces in making well-born and
+well-bred Poverty the fashion. For in such a scheme, singular as it may
+appear, there is just a faint chance of putting up a barrier against
+boorish Plutocracy (which is a more <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">[Pg 115]</a></span>unwieldy and offensive power than
+Democracy), and also of asserting the existence of grander national
+qualities than greed, avarice, and self-indulgence, which humours, if
+allowed to generate and grow in the minds of a people, result in the
+ravaging sickness of such a pestilence of evil as cannot be easily
+stayed or remedied. There has been enough, and too much of the Idolatry
+of Money-bags&mdash;it is time the fever of such insanity should abate and
+cool down. To conclude with another admirable quotation from Mr. Lecky:
+&#8220;Of colossal fortunes only a very small fraction can be truly said to
+minister to the personal enjoyment of the owner. The disproportion in
+the world between pleasure and cost is indeed almost ludicrous. The two
+or three shillings that gave us our first Shakespeare would go but a
+small way towards providing one of the perhaps untasted dishes on the
+dessert table. The choicest masterpieces of the human mind&mdash;the works
+of human genius that through the long course of centuries have done
+most to ennoble, console, brighten, and direct the lives of men, might
+all be purchased&mdash;I do not say by the cost of a lady&#8217;s necklace, but
+by that of one or two of the little stones of which it is composed.
+Compare the relish with which the tired pedestrian eats his bread and
+cheese with the appetites with which men sit down to some stately
+banquet; compare the level of spirits at the village dance with that
+of the great city ball whose lavish splendour fills the society papers
+with admiration; compare the charms of conversation in the college
+common room with the weary faces that may be often seen around the
+millionaire&#8217;s dinner table, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">[Pg 116]</a></span> we may gain a good lesson of the
+vanity of riches.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>And, we may add, of the vulgarity of those who advertise their wealth
+by ostentation, as well as of those who honour Purses more than
+Principles.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">[Pg 117]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>AMERICAN WOMEN IN ENGLAND</h2>
+
+<p>Why is the American woman so popular in English society? Why is her
+charmingly assertive personality acknowledged everywhere? Why is she
+received by knights and earls and belted churls with such overpowering
+enthusiasm? Surely something subtle, elusive and mysterious, clings to
+her particular form, nature and identity, for more often than not, the
+stolid Britisher, while falling at her feet and metaphorically kissing
+the hem of her garment, wonders vaguely how it is that she manages to
+make such a fool of him! To which, she might reply, on demand, that if
+he were not a fool already, she would not find her task so easy! For
+the American woman is, above all women in the world, clever&mdash;or let
+us say &#8220;brainy&#8221; to an almost incredible height of brainyness. She is
+&#8220;all there.&#8221; She can take the measure of a man in about ten minutes
+and classify him as though he were a botanical specimen. She realizes
+all his limitations, his &#8220;notions,&#8221; and his special and particular
+fads,&mdash;and she has the uncommonly good sense not to expect much of
+him. She would not &#8220;take any&#8221; on the lily-maid of Astolat, the fair
+Elaine, who spent her time in polishing the shield of Lancelot, and who
+finally died of love for that most immoral<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">[Pg 118]</a></span> but fascinating Knight of
+the Round Table. No, she wouldn&#8217;t polish a shield, you bet! She would
+make Lancelot polish it himself for all he was worth, and polish her
+own dear little boots and shoes for her into the bargain. That is one
+of her secrets&mdash;masterfulness&mdash;or, let us say queenliness, which sounds
+better. The Lord of creation can do nothing in the way of ordering
+<i>her</i> about,&mdash;because, as the Lady of creation she expects to order
+<i>him</i> about,&mdash;and she does! She expects to be worked for, worshipped
+and generally attended to,&mdash;and she gets her way. What she wants, she
+will have,&mdash;though &#8220;Companies&#8221; smash, and mighty Combines split into
+infinite nothingness; and more than any tamer of wild forest animals
+she makes all her male lions and bears dance at her bidding.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the chief note in the ever-ascending scale of her innumerable
+attractions is her intense vitality. The mixed blood of many
+intelligent races courses through her delicate veins and gives a
+joyous lightness to the bounding of her heart and the swift grace of
+her step. She is full of energy as well as charm. If she sets out to
+enjoy herself, she enjoys herself thoroughly. She talks and laughs
+freely. She is not a mere well-dressed automaton like the greater
+majority of upper-class British dames. She is under the impression,&mdash;(a
+perfectly correct one) that tongues were given to converse with, and
+that lips, especially pretty ones, were made to smile with. She is,
+taken at her best, eminently good-natured, and refreshingly free from
+the jaundiced spite against others of her own sex which savours the
+afternoon chitter-chatter of nine out of every ten English spinsters
+and matrons<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">[Pg 119]</a></span> taken together in conclave. She would, on the whole,
+rather say a kind thing than a cruel one. Perhaps this is because she
+is herself always so triumphant in her social career,&mdash;because she is
+too certain of her own power to feel &#8220;the pangs of unrequited love,&#8221;
+or to allow herself to be stung by the &#8220;green-eyed monster,&#8221; jealousy.
+Her car is always rolling over roses,&mdash;there is always a British title
+going a-begging,&mdash;always some decayed or degenerate or semi-drunken
+peer, whose fortunes are on the verge of black ruin, ready and willing
+to devour, monster-like, the holocaust of an American virgin, provided
+bags of bullion are flung, with her, into his capacious maw. Though
+certainly one should look upon the frequent marriages of American
+heiresses with effete British nobles, as the carrying out of a wise
+and timely dispensation of Providence. New blood&mdash;fresh sap, is sorely
+needed to invigorate the grand old tree of the British aristocracy,
+which has of late been looking sadly as though dry rot were setting
+in,&mdash;as though the woodlice were at work in its heart, and the rats
+burrowing at its root. But, by the importation of a few clean-minded,
+sweet-souled American women, some of the most decayed places in the
+venerable stem have been purged and purified,&mdash;the sap has risen, and
+new boughs and buds of promise are sprouting. And it is full time that
+this should be. For we have had to look with shame and regret upon
+many of our English lords caught in gambling dens,&mdash;and shown up in
+dishonourable bankruptcies;&mdash;some of them have disported themselves
+upon the &#8220;variety&#8221; stage, clad in women&#8217;s petticoats and singing comic
+songs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">[Pg 120]</a></span> for a fee,&mdash;others have &#8220;hired themselves out&#8221; as dummy figures
+of attraction at evening parties, accepting five guineas for each
+appearance,&mdash;and they have become painfully familiar objects in the
+Divorce Court, where the stories of their most unsavoury manners and
+customs, as detailed in the press, have offered singular instruction
+and example to those &#8220;lower&#8221; classes whom they are supposed to more or
+less influence. A return to the old motto of &#8220;noblesse oblige&#8221; would
+not be objectionable; a re-adopting of old <i>un</i>-blemished scutcheons
+of honour would be appreciated, even by the so-called &#8220;vulgar,&#8221;&mdash;and a
+great noble who is at the same time a great man, would in this present
+day, be accepted by all classes with an universal feeling of grateful
+surprise and admiration.</p>
+
+<p>But, <i>revenons à nos moutons</i>,&mdash;the social popularity of the American
+woman in English society. That she is popular is an admitted and
+incontestable fact. She competes with the native British female
+product at every turn,&mdash;in her dress, in her ways, in her irresistible
+vivacity, and above all in her intelligence. When she knows things, she
+lets people know that she knows things. She cannot sit with her hands
+before her in stodgy silence, allowing other folks to talk. That is an
+English habit. No doubt the English girl or woman knows quite as much
+as her American sister, but she has an unhappy knack of assuming to
+be a fool. She says little, and that little not to much purpose,&mdash;she
+looks less,&mdash;it is dimly understood that she plays hockey, tennis and
+golf, and has large feet. She is an athletic Enigma. I write this, of
+course, solely concerning those British women, young,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">[Pg 121]</a></span> middle-aged
+and elderly, who make &#8220;sport&#8221; and out-door exercise the chief aim and
+end of existence. But I yield to none in my love and admiration for
+the real, genuine, <i>un</i>modernised English maiden, at her gentlest and
+best,&mdash;she is the rosebud of the world. And I tender devout reverence
+and affection to the <i>un</i>-fashionable, single-hearted, dear, loving
+and ever-beloved English wife and mother&mdash;she is the rose in all its
+full-blown glory. Unfortunately, however, these English rosebuds
+and roses are seldom met with in the sweltering, scrambling crowd
+called &#8220;society.&#8221; They dwell in quiet country-places where the lovely
+influences of their modest and retiring lives are felt but never seen.
+Society likes to be seen rather than felt. There is all the difference.
+And in that particular section of it whose aim is seeing to be seen,
+and seen to be seeing, the American woman is as an oasis in the desert.
+She also wants to be seen,&mdash;but she expresses that desire so naïvely,
+and often so bewitchingly, that it is a satisfaction to every one to
+grant her request. She also would see,&mdash;and her eyes are so bright and
+roving and restless, that Mother Britannia is perforce compelled to
+smile indulgently, and to open all her social picture-books for the
+pleasure of the spoilt child of eternal Mayflower pedigree. It has to
+be said and frankly admitted too, that much of the popularity attending
+an American girl when she first comes over to London for a &#8220;season&#8221; is
+due to an idea which the stolid Britisher gets into his head, namely,
+that she has, she <i>must</i> have, Money. The American girl and Money are
+twins, according to the stolid Britisher&#8217;s belief. And when the stolid
+Britisher fixes <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">[Pg 122]</a></span>something&mdash;anything&mdash;into the passively-resisting
+matter composing his brain, it would take Leviathan, with, not one,
+but several hooks, to <i>un</i>fix it. And thus it often happens that the
+sight of a charmingly dressed, graceful, generally &#8220;smart&#8221; American
+girl attracts the stolid Britisher in the first place because he says
+to himself&mdash;&#8220;Money!&#8221; He knows all the incomes of all the best families
+in his own country,&mdash;and none of them are big enough to suit him. But
+the American girl arrives as more or less of a financial mystery. She
+may have thousands,&mdash;she may have millions,&mdash;he can never be quite
+sure. And he does all he can to ingratiate himself with her and give
+her a good time &#8220;on spec.&#8221; to begin with, while he makes cautious and
+diplomatic enquiries. If his hopes rest on a firm basis, his attentions
+are redoubled&mdash;if, on the contrary, they are built on shifting sand, he
+gradually diminishes his ardour and like a &#8220;wilting flower&#8221; fades and
+&#8220;fizzles&#8221; away.</p>
+
+<p>I am here reminded of a certain Earl, renowned in the political and
+social world, who, when he was a young man, went over on a visit to
+America and there fell, or feigned to fall, deeply in love with a
+very sweet, very beautiful, very gentle and lovable American girl.
+In a brief while he became engaged to her. The engagement was made
+public&mdash;the wedding day was almost fixed. The girl&#8217;s father was
+extremely wealthy, and she was the only child and sole heiress. But an
+unfortunate failure,&mdash;a gigantic collapse in the money market, made
+havoc of the father&#8217;s fortunes, and as soon as his ruin was declared
+beyond a doubt, the noble Earl, without much hesitation or ado, broke
+off his engagement,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">[Pg 123]</a></span> and rapidly decamped from the States back to
+his own country, where, as all the world knows, he did very well for
+himself. Strange to say, however, the girl whom he had thus brutally
+forsaken for no fault of her own, had loved him with all the romantic
+and trusting tenderness of first love, and the heartless blow inflicted
+upon her by his noble and honourable lordship was one from which she
+never recovered. The Noble and Honourable has, I repeat, done very
+well for himself, though it is rumoured that he sleeps badly, and that
+he has occasionally been heard muttering after the fashion of Hamlet,
+Prince of Denmark,&mdash;&#8220;Oh God, I could be bounded in a nutshell and count
+myself a king of infinite space were it not that I have bad dreams!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Marriage, however, is by no means the only, or even the chief
+resource in life of the American woman. She evidently looks with a
+certain favour on the holy estate of matrimony and is quite willing
+to become an excellent wife and mother if the lines of her destiny
+run that way, but if they should happen to branch out in another
+direction, she wastes no time in useless pining. She is too vital,
+too capable, too intelligent and energetic altogether to play the
+<i>rôle</i> of an interesting martyr to male neglect. She will teach, or
+she will lecture,&mdash;she will sing, or she will act,&mdash;she will take her
+degrees in medicine and surgery,&mdash;she will practise for the Bar,&mdash;she
+will write books, and the days are fast approaching when she will
+become a high priestess of the Church, and will preach to the lost
+sheep of Israel as well as to the equally lost ones of New York or
+Chicago;&mdash;she will be a &#8220;beauty doctor,&#8221; a &#8220;physical culture&#8221; woman,
+a &#8220;medium,&#8221; a stock-broker, a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">[Pg 124]</a></span> palmist, a florist, a house-decorator,
+a dealer in lace and old curiosities,&mdash;ay! she will even become a
+tram-car conductor if necessity compels and the situation is open to
+her,&mdash;and she will manage a cattle ranch as easily as a household,
+should opportunity arise. Marriage is but one link in the long chain
+of her general efficiency, and like Cleopatra, &#8220;age cannot wither her,
+nor custom stale Her infinite variety.&#8221; A curious fact and one worth
+noting is, that we seldom or never hear Americans use the ill-bred
+expression &#8220;old maid&#8221; when alluding to such of their feminine relatives
+or friends who may happen to remain unmarried. They know too well
+that these confirmed and settled spinsters are as capable and as well
+to the front in the rush of life as the wedded wives, if not more
+so,&mdash;they know that among these unmarried feminine forces they have
+to reckon with some of the cleverest heads of the day, to whom no
+opprobrious term of contempt dare be applied,&mdash;women who are editors
+and proprietors of great newspapers,&mdash;women who manage famous schools
+and colleges,&mdash;women who, being left with large fortunes, dispense the
+same in magnificently organized but <i>un</i>advertised charities,&mdash;women
+who do so command by their unassisted influence certain social
+movements and events, that if indeed they <i>were</i> to marry, something
+like confusion and catastrophe might ensue among the circles they
+control by the introduction of a new and possibly undesirable element.
+&#8220;Old maid,&#8221; may apply to the unfortunate female who has passed all the
+days of her youth in talking about men and in failing to catch so much
+as one of the wandering tribe, and who, on arriving at forty years,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">[Pg 125]</a></span>
+meekly retires to the chimney corner with shawl over her shoulders and
+some useful knitting,&mdash;but it carries neither meaning nor application
+to the brisk, brilliant American spinster who at fifty keeps her trim
+svelte figure, dresses well, goes here, there and everywhere, and
+sheds her beaming smile with good-natured tolerance, and perchance
+something of gratitude as well, on the men she has escaped from. Life
+does not run only in one channel for the American Woman. She does not
+&#8220;make tracks&#8221; solely from the cradle to the altar, from the altar
+to the grave. She realizes that there is more fun to be got out of
+being born than just this little old measure meted out to her by the
+barbaric males of earliest barbaric periods, when women were yoked to
+the plough with cattle. And it is the innate consciousness of her own
+power and intelligent ability that gives her the dominating charm,&mdash;the
+magnetic spell under which the stolid Britisher falls more or less
+stricken, stupefied and inert. He is never a great talker; she is.
+Her flow of conversation bewilders him. She knows so much too&mdash;she
+chatters of Shakespeare, Byron, Shelley, Keats&mdash;and he thinks he has
+heard of these people somewhere before. He listens dumbly. Sometimes
+he scratches his head,&mdash;occasionally he feels his moustache, if he has
+one. When she laughs, he smiles slowly and dubiously. He hopes she is
+not laughing at <i>him</i>. He feels&mdash;he feels&mdash;dontcherknow&mdash;that she is
+&#8220;ripping.&#8221; He couldn&#8217;t tell you what he means by &#8220;ripping&#8221; to save
+his life. But painfully accustomed as he is to the dull and listless
+conversation of the British materfamilias, and to the half-hoydenish
+conduct of the British<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">[Pg 126]</a></span> tom-boy girl who <i>will</i> insist on playing golf
+and hockey with him in order not to lose him out of her sight, he is
+altogether refreshed and relieved when the American Woman dawns upon
+his cloudy horizon, and instead of waiting upon <i>him</i>, commands him
+to wait upon <i>her</i>, with one dazzling look of her bright, audacious
+eye. The American Woman is not such a fool as to go play hockey with
+him at all times and in all weathers, thereby allowing him to take the
+unchecked measure of her ankles. She is too clever to do anything that
+might possibly show her in an unlovely or ungraceful light. She takes
+care to keep her hands soft and small and white, that they may be duly
+caressable,&mdash;and makes the best and prettiest of herself on all and
+every occasion. And that she has succeeded in taking English society
+by storm is no matter of surprise. English society, unmixed with any
+foreign element, is frequently said to be the dullest in the world. It
+is an entertainment where no one is entertained. A civil apathy wraps
+each man and woman in its fibrous husk, and sets them separately apart
+behind barricades of the most idiotic conventionality. The American
+Woman is the only being that can break down these barricades and tear
+the husk to shreds. No wonder she is popular! The secret of her success
+is in her own personal charm and vivacious intelligence,&mdash;in her light
+scorn of stupid ceremonies,&mdash;in the frank geniality of her disposition
+(when she can manage to keep it unspoilt by contact with the reserved
+hypocrisy of the &#8220;Smart Set,&#8221;) and the delightful spontaneity of her
+thoughts which find such ready expression in equally spontaneous
+speech. Altogether the American Woman is a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">[Pg 127]</a></span> valuable importation into
+Great Britain. She is an incarnation of the Present, and an embryo
+of the Future. She is a gifted daughter of the British race, holding
+within her bright, vital, ambitious identity many of the greater
+possibilities of Britain. And to the question &#8220;Why is she popular?&#8221; the
+answer is simple&mdash;&#8220;Because she deserves to be!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">[Pg 128]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE AMERICAN BOUNDER</h2>
+
+<p>Everything in America is colossal, stupendous and pre-eminent,&mdash;it
+follows, therefore, that the American &#8220;bounder&#8221; is the most colossal,
+stupendous and pre-eminent bounder in existence. None of his tribe can
+match him in &#8220;brass,&#8221;&mdash;none of his European forbears or connections
+can equal him in brag. He is an inflated bladder of man, swollen out
+well-nigh to bursting with the wind of the Yankee Doodle Eagle&#8217;s wing.
+His aim in life appears to be to disgrace his country by his manners,
+his morals and his conversation. He arrives in Europe with the air
+of laying Europe under a personal debt of obligation to Providence
+for having kindly permitted him to be born. As befits a son of the
+goddess Liberty, he sets his proud foot on the &#8220;worn out&#8221; soil of the
+Old World and prances there, even as the &#8220;wild ass&#8221; mentioned in Holy
+Writ. As a citizen of the greatest Republic over which any starred or
+striped flag ever flew, he extends his gracious patronage to tottering
+monarchies, and allows it to be understood that he tolerates with an
+amused compassion that poor, drivelling, aged and senile institution
+known as the Aristocracy. He alludes to &#8220;my friend the Duke,&#8221; casually,
+as one might speak of a blind beggar. He throws in a remark quite<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">[Pg 129]</a></span>
+unexpectedly at times concerning &#8220;Betty&mdash;<i>you&#8217;ve</i> heard of her surely?
+Countess Betty&mdash;the Countess of Hockyfield&mdash;oh yes!&mdash;you English snobs
+rather &#8216;kotow&#8217; to her, but <i>I</i> call her Betty!&mdash;she likes it!&#8221; He may
+frequently be found in residence on the fourth floor back of a swagger
+hotel, occupying a &#8220;bed-sitting room&#8221; littered with guide books,
+&#8220;yellow&#8221; journalism, and dubious French novels, with an impressionist
+sketch of the newest Paris &#8220;danseuse&#8221; in her most suggestive want of
+attire set conspicuously forward for inspection. If chance visitors
+happen to notice flowers on his table, he at once seethes into a
+simmering scum of self-adulation. &#8220;Charming, are they not!&#8221; he
+says&mdash;&#8220;So sweet! So dear of the Duchess to send them!&mdash;she knows how
+fond I am of Malmaisons!&mdash;did you notice that Malmaison?&mdash;the Duchess
+gathered it for me herself&mdash;it is from one of the Sandringham stock.
+Of course you know the carnation houses at Sandringham? Alex. delights
+in Malmaisons!&#8221; And when guileless strangers gasp and blink as they
+realize that it is England&#8217;s gracious Queen-Consort who is being spoken
+of as &#8220;Alex.&#8221; in the company of the soiled literature and the portrait
+of the Paris &#8220;danseuse&#8221; the Bounder is delighted. He feels he has made
+a point. He chortles cheerfully on&mdash;&#8220;What a rotten old country this
+is after all, eh? Just crawling alive with snobs! Everyone&#8217;s on their
+knees to a title, and the sight of a lord seems to give the average
+Britisher a fit. Now look at me! I don&#8217;t care a cent about your dukes
+and earls. Why should I? I&#8217;m always with &#8217;em&mdash;fact is, they can&#8217;t bear
+to have me out of their sight!<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">[Pg 130]</a></span> Lady Belinda Boomall&mdash;second daughter
+of the Duke of Borrowdom,&mdash;she&#8217;s just mad on me! She thinks I&#8217;ve
+got money, and I let her! It&#8217;s real fun! And as to the Marchioness
+Golfhouse&mdash;she&#8217;s up to some games <i>I</i> tell you! <i>She</i> knows a thing or
+two! My word!&#8221; Here he gives vent to a sound suggestive of something
+between a sneeze and a snigger which is his own particular way of
+rendering the laugh satirical. &#8220;I always get on with your blue-blooded
+girls!&#8221;&mdash;he proceeds; &#8220;I guess they&#8217;re pretty tired of their own men
+hulking round! They take to an Am<i>urr</i>ican as ducks take to water.
+See all those cards?&#8221;&mdash;pointing in a casual way to half a dozen or
+so of pasteboard slips littered on the mantelshelf, among which
+the discerning observer might certainly see one or two tradesmen&#8217;s
+advertisements&mdash;&#8220;They just shower &#8217;em on me! I&#8217;ve got an &#8216;at home&#8217;
+to-night and a ball afterwards&mdash;to-morrow I breakfast at Marlborough
+House;&mdash;then lunch with Lady Adelaide Sparkler,&mdash;she drives me in the
+Park afterwards&mdash;and in the evening I dine at St. James&#8217; Palace and go
+to the Opera with the Rothschilds. It&#8217;s always like that with me! I
+never have a moment to myself. All these people want me. Lady Adelaide
+Sparkler declares she cannot possibly do without me! I ought to have
+been at Stafford House this afternoon&mdash;great show on there&mdash;but I can&#8217;t
+be bothered!&mdash;the Duchess is just too trying for words sometimes! Of
+course it&#8217;s all a question of connection;&mdash;they know who I am and all
+about my ancestors, and that makes &#8217;em so anxious to have me. You know
+who my ancestors were?&#8221; </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">[Pg 131]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Now when the American Bounder puts this question, he ought to receive a
+blunt answer. Perhaps if Britishers were as rude as they are sometimes
+reported to be, one of them would give such an answer straight. He
+would say &#8220;No, I do not; but I expect you sprang from a convict root of
+humanity thrown out as bad rubbish from an over-populated prison and
+cast by chance into American soil beside an equally rank native Indian
+weed&mdash;and that in your present bad form and general condition, you are
+the expressive result of that disastrous combination.&#8221; But, as a rule,
+even the most truculent Britisher&#8217;s natural pluck is so paralysed by
+the American Bounder&#8217;s amazing capacity for lying, that in nine cases
+out of ten, he merely murmurs an inarticulate negative. Whereat the
+Bounder at once proceeds to enlighten him&mdash;&#8220;I am the direct descendant
+of the Scroobys of Scrooby in Yorkshire,&#8221;&mdash;he resumes&mdash;&#8220;<i>My</i> name&#8217;s
+not Scrooby&mdash;no!&mdash;but that has nothing to do with it. The families
+got mixed. Scrooby of Scrooby went over to Holland in 1607 and joined
+the Pilgrim Fathers. He was quite a boy, but Elder Brewster took care
+of him! He held the Bible when Brewster first fell upon his knees
+and thanked God. So you see I really come from Yorkshire. Real old
+Yorkshire ham &#8216;cured&#8217; into an Am<i>urr</i>ican!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>After this, there is nothing more to be said. Questions of course might
+be asked as to how the &#8220;Yorkshire ham&#8221; not being &#8220;Scrooby&#8221; now, ever
+started from &#8220;Scrooby&#8221; in the past, only it is not worth while. It
+never is worth while to try and certify an American Bounder&#8217;s claim to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">[Pg 132]</a></span>
+being sprung from a dead and gone family of English gentlemen. Regard
+for the dead and gone English gentlemen should save them from this
+affront to their honourable dust.</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps the most amazing thing about the American Bounder after his
+free and easy familiarities with &#8220;Bertie&#8221; (the King) &#8220;Alex.&#8221; (the
+Queen) and &#8220;Georgie and May&#8221; (the Prince and Princess of Wales) is
+his overweening, self-satisfied, complacent and arrogant ignorance.
+The most blatant little local tradesman who, through well-meaning
+Parliamentary short-sightedness in educational schemes, becomes
+a &#8220;governor&#8221; of a Technical School in the provinces, is never so
+blatantly ignorant as he. He talks of everything and knows nothing.
+He assumes to have the last word in science, art and literature. He
+will tell you he is &#8220;great chums&#8221; with Marconi and Edison, and that
+these famous discoverers and inventors always lay their heads on his
+bosom and tell him their dearest confidences. He knows just what is
+going to be done by everybody with everything. He is friends with the
+Drama too. Beerbohm Tree rings him up on the telephone at all manner
+of strange hours, thirsting for his advice on certain &#8220;scenes&#8221; and
+&#8220;effects.&#8221; He is&mdash;to use his own words&mdash;&#8220;doing a great thing&#8221; for
+Tree! Sarah Bernhardt is his very dearest of dear ones! She has fallen
+into his arms, coming off the stage at the side wings, exhausted, and
+exclaiming&mdash;&#8220;Toi, mon cher! Enfin! Maintenant, je respire!&#8221; Madame
+Réjane is always at home to him. In fact all Paris hails him with a joy
+too deep for tears. He would not be a true &#8220;Am<i>urr</i>ican&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">[Pg 133]</a></span> if <i>he</i> did
+not love Paris, and if Paris did not love <i>him</i>.</p>
+
+<p>But though he is completely &#8220;at one,&#8221; according to his own statement,
+with most of the celebrated personages of the day, if not all, he
+cannot tell you the most commonly known facts about them to save his
+life. And though&mdash;again according to his own statement&mdash;he has read
+every book ever published, visited every picture gallery, &#8220;salon&#8221;
+and theatre in Europe, he cannot pronounce the name of one single
+foreign author or artist correctly. His English is bad enough, but
+his French is worse. He seldom makes excursions into the Italian
+language&mdash;&#8220;Igh&mdash;talian&#8221; as he calls it, but it is quite enough for
+the merest beginner in the Tuscan tongue to hear him say &#8220;gondòla&#8221;
+to take the measure of his capacity. &#8220;Gòndola&#8221; is a word so easily
+learned and so often used in Italian, that one might think any
+child could master its pronunciation from twice hearing it&mdash;but the
+American Bounder makes the whole tour of Italy without losing a scrap
+of his own special nasal lingo, and returns in triumph to talk of
+the &#8220;gondòla&#8221; and the &#8220;bella ràgg-azza&#8221; (instead of ragàzza) till
+one&#8217;s ears almost ache with the hideous infliction of his abominable
+accent. In Switzerland he is always alluding to &#8220;Mount Blank&#8221;&mdash;the
+&#8220;Can<i>tone</i> Gry-son&#8221;&mdash;&#8220;N<i>oo</i>-shatell&#8221;&mdash;and the &#8220;Mountain Vert&#8221;&mdash;and
+in Great Britain he has been heard to speak of Lo<i>che</i> Kay-trine and
+Ben <i>Nee</i>vis, as well as of Con<i>iss</i>ton and Cornwàll. But it is quite
+&#8220;correct&#8221; he will tell you&mdash;it is only the English people who do not
+know how to talk English. The actual, true, pure pronunciation of the
+English<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">[Pg 134]</a></span> language went over to the States with the Scroobys of Scrooby,
+and he their descendant and Bounder, has preserved it intact. Even
+Shakespeare&#8217;s river Avon becomes metamorphosed under the roll of his
+atrocious tongue. He will not pronounce it with the English A, as in
+the word &#8220;b<i>a</i>y,&#8221;&mdash;he calls it A&#8217;von, as the &#8220;a&#8221; is sounded in the word
+<i>av</i>arice&mdash;so that the soft poetic name of the classic stream appears
+to have been bitten off by him and swallowed like a pop-corn. But it
+would be of no use to argue with him on this or on any other point,
+because he is always right. No real American Bounder was ever wrong.</p>
+
+<p>One cannot but observe what a close acquaintance the Bounder has with
+Debrett and various &#8220;County&#8221; Directories. His study of these volumes
+is almost as profound as that of Mr. Balfour must have been when
+writing &#8220;The Foundations of Belief.&#8221; Between Debrett and Baedeker he
+manages to elicit a certain useful stock of surface information which
+he imparts in a kind of cheap toy-cracker fashion to various persons,
+who, politely listening, wonder why he appears to think that they
+are not aware of facts familiar to them from their childhood. His
+modes of appearing &#8220;to know, you know!&#8221; are exceedingly simple. For
+example, suppose him to be asked to join a &#8220;house-party&#8221; in Suffolk. He
+straightway studies the &#8220;County Directory&#8221; of that quarter of England,
+and looks up the principal persons mentioned therein in various other
+books of handy reference. When, in due course, he arrives at the
+house to which he has been invited, he manages to faintly surprise
+uninitiated persons by his (apparently) familiar<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">[Pg 135]</a></span> acquaintance with
+the pedigree and history of this or that &#8220;county&#8221; magnate, and his
+(apparently) intimate knowledge of such and such celebrated paintings
+and &#8220;objets d&#8217;art&#8221; as adorn the various historical mansions in the
+district&mdash;knowledge for which he is merely indebted to Baedeker. He
+is as loquacious as a village washerwoman. He will relate any number
+of scandalous stories in connection with the several families of
+whose ways and doings he pretends to have such close and particular
+information&mdash;and should any listener interrupt him with a mild &#8220;Pardon
+me!&mdash;but, having resided in this neighbourhood all my life I venture
+to think you must be mistaken&#8221;;&mdash;he merely smiles blandly at such a
+display of &#8220;native&#8221; ignorance. &#8220;Lived here all your life and not know
+that!&#8221; he exclaims&mdash;&#8220;My word! It takes an Am<i>urr</i>ican to teach you
+what&#8217;s going on in your own country!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Offensive as is this more or less ordinary type of American Bounder
+who makes his &#8220;home in Yew-rope&#8221; on fourth floors of fashionable
+hotels, a still worse and more offensive specimen is found in the
+Starred-and-Striped Bounding Millionaire. This individual&mdash;who
+has frequently attained to a plethora of cash through one of two
+reprehensible ways&mdash;either by &#8220;sweating&#8221; labour, or by fooling
+shareholders in &#8220;trust&#8221; companies,&mdash;comes to Great Britain with
+the fixed impression that everything in the &#8220;darned old place&#8221;
+can be bought for money. Unfortunately he is often right. The
+British&mdash;originally and by nature proud, reserved, and almost savagely
+tenacious of their freedom and independence&mdash;have been bitten by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">[Pg 136]</a></span>
+the Transatlantic madness of mere Greed, and their blood has been
+temporarily poisoned by infection. But one may hope and believe that it
+is only a passing malady, and that the old healthy life will re-invest
+the veins of the nation all the more strongly for partial sickness and
+relapse. In the meantime it occasionally happens that the &#8220;free&#8221; Briton
+bows his head like a whipped mongrel cur to the bulging Bank-Account of
+the American Millionaire-Bounder. And the American Millionaire-Bounder
+plants his flat foot on the so foolishly bent pate and walks over it
+with a commercial chuckle. &#8220;You talk of your &#8216;Noblesse oblige,&#8217; your
+honour, your old historic tradition and aristocratic Order!&#8221; he says,
+sneeringly&mdash;&#8220;Why there isn&#8217;t a man alive in Britain that I couldn&#8217;t
+buy, principles and all, for fifty thousand pounds!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This kind of vaunt at Britain&#8217;s expense is common to the American
+Millionaire-Bounder&mdash;and whether it arises out of his conscious
+experience of the British, or his braggart conceit, must be left to
+others to query or determine. Certain it is that he <i>does</i> buy a good
+deal, and that the owners of such things as he wants seem always ready
+to sell. Famous estates are knocked down to him&mdash;manuscripts and
+pictures which should be the preciously guarded property of the nation,
+are easily purchased by him,&mdash;and, laughing in his sleeve at the
+purblind apathy of the British Government, which calmly looks on while
+he pockets such relics of national greatness as unborn generations
+will vainly and indignantly ask for,&mdash;he congratulates himself on
+possessing, as he says, &#8220;the only few things the old country has got
+left worth having.&#8221; One can but look<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">[Pg 137]</a></span> gloomily through the &#8220;Calendar of
+Shakespearean Rarities,&#8221; collected by Halliwell Phillips, which were
+offered to the wealthy city of Birmingham for £7,000, and reflect that
+this same wealthy city disgraced itself by refusing to purchase the
+collection and by allowing everything to be bought and carried away
+from England by &#8220;an American&#8221; in 1897. We do not say this American was
+a &#8220;Bounder&#8221;&mdash;nevertheless, if he had been a real lover of Shakespeare&#8217;s
+memory, rather than of himself, he would have bought these relics for
+Shakespeare&#8217;s native country and presented them for Shakespeare&#8217;s sake
+to Shakespeare&#8217;s native people, who are not, as a People, to blame
+for the parsimony of their Governments. They pay taxes enough in all
+conscience, and at least they deserve that what few relics remain of
+their Greatest Man should be saved and ensured to them.</p>
+
+<p>But perhaps the American Millionaire-Bounder is at his best when he has
+bought an English newspaper and is running it in London. Then he feels
+as if he were running the Imperial Government itself&mdash;nay, almost the
+Monarchy. He imagines that he has his finger on the very pulse of Time.
+He hugs himself in the consciousness that the British people,&mdash;that
+large majority of them who are not behind the scenes&mdash;buy his paper,
+believing it to be a British paper, not a journal of &#8220;Am<i>urr</i>ican&#8221;
+opinion, that is, opinion as ordered and paid for by one &#8220;Am<i>urr</i>ican.&#8221;
+He knows pretty well in his own mind that if they understood that such
+was the actual arrangement, they would save their pence. Unfortunately
+the great drawback of the &#8220;man in the street&#8221; who buys newspapers, is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">[Pg 138]</a></span>
+that he has no time to enquire as to the way in which the journals he
+confides in are &#8220;run.&#8221; If he knew that the particular view taken of the
+political situation in a certain journal, was merely the political view
+<i>ordered</i> to be taken by one &#8220;Am<i>urr</i>ican&#8221;&mdash;naturally he would not pin
+his simple faith upon it. Perhaps the Man in the Street will some day
+wake up to the realization that in many cases, (though not all) with
+respect to journalism, he only exists to be &#8220;gulled.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Like all good and bad things, the American Bounder, whether millionaire
+or only shabby-genteel, has a certain height beyond which he can
+no further go&mdash;a point where he culminates in a blaze of ultra
+Bounder-ism. This brilliant apotheosis is triumphantly reached in the
+Female of his species. The American Female Bounder is the quintessence
+of vulgarity, and in every way makes herself so objectionable even
+to her own people and country that Americans themselves view her
+departure for &#8220;Yew-rope&#8221; with perfect equanimity, and hope she will
+never come back. Once in what she calls &#8220;the old country&#8221; she talks
+all day long through her quivering nose of &#8220;Lady This&#8221; and &#8220;Countess
+That.&#8221; One of this class I recall now as I write, who spoke openly of
+a &#8220;Mrs. Countess So-and-So&#8221;&mdash;and utterly declined to be instructed in
+any other form of address. She was not content to trace her lineage
+to such humble folk as the &#8220;Scroobys of Scrooby&#8221;&mdash;no indeed, not she!
+Kings were <i>her</i> ancestors; her &#8220;family tree&#8221; sprouted from Richard the
+Lion-Heart, according to her own bombastic assertion, and she, with her
+loud twanging voice, odious manners<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">[Pg 139]</a></span> and insufferable impertinence, was
+&#8220;genuine stock&#8221; of royallest origin. Of course it is quite possible
+that, as in horticulture, a once nobly cultivated human plant may,
+if left without wholesome or fostering influences, degenerate into a
+weed&mdash;but that so rank a weed as the American Female Bounder should
+be the dire result of the Conqueror&#8217;s blood is open to honest doubt.
+She generally has a &#8220;mission&#8221; to reform something or somebody,&mdash;she is
+very often a &#8220;Christian science&#8221; woman, or a theosophist. Sometimes
+she &#8220;takes up&#8221; Art as though it were a dustpan, and sweeps into it
+under her &#8220;patronage&#8221; certain dusty and doubtful literary and musical
+aspirants who want a &#8220;hearing&#8221; for their efforts. Fortunately for the
+world, a &#8220;hearing&#8221; under the gracious auspices of the American Female
+Bounder means a silence everywhere else. She is fond of &#8220;frocks and
+frills&#8221;&mdash;and wears an enormous quantity of jewels, &#8220;stones&#8221; as she
+calls them. She &#8220;pushes&#8221; herself in every possible social direction,
+and wherever she sees she is not wanted, there, more particularly than
+elsewhere, she contrives to force an entry. She embraces the game of
+&#8220;Bridge&#8221; with passionate eagerness because she sees that by keeping
+open house, with card-tables always ready, she can attract the loafing
+&#8220;great ones of the earth,&#8221; and possibly persuade a &#8220;Mrs. Countess&#8221; to
+befriend her. If she is fairly wealthy, she can generally manage to
+do this. All Mrs. Countesses have not &#8220;that repose which stamps the
+caste of Vere de Vere.&#8221; Some of them find the American Female Bounder
+useful&mdash;and precisely in the manner she offers herself, even so they
+take her.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">[Pg 140]</a></span> And thus it often happens that one frequently meets her
+where she has no business to be. One is not surprised to find her at
+Court, or in the Royal enclosure at Ascot, because so many of her
+British sisters in the Bounder line are in these places, ready to give
+her a helping hand&mdash;but one <i>is</i> occasionally startled and in a manner
+sorry to discover her making herself at home among certain &#8220;exclusive&#8221;
+people who are chiefly distinguished for their good-breeding, culture
+and refinement. In one thing, however, we can take much comfort, and
+this is, that whatever the American Bounder, Male or Female, may
+purchase or otherwise insidiously obtain in the Old World, neither
+he nor she can ever secure respect. Driven to bay as the Britisher
+may be by consummate and pertinacious lying, he can and does withhold
+from the liars his honest esteem. He may sell a valuable manuscript or
+picture to a &#8220;bounding&#8221; Yankee, out of sheer necessitous circumstance,
+but he will never be &#8220;friends&#8221; with the purchaser. He will call him
+&#8220;bounder&#8221; to the crack of doom, and Doomsday itself will not alter that
+impression of him.</p>
+
+<p>It may be, and it is I think, taken for granted that America itself
+is very glad to get rid of its &#8220;bounders.&#8221; It regards them with as
+much shame and distress as we feel when we see certain specimens of
+&#8220;travelling English&#8221; disporting themselves upon the Continent in the
+&#8217;Arry and Jemima way. We always fervently hope that our Continental
+neighbours will not take these extraordinary roughs as bona-fide
+examples of the British people, and in the same way America trusts all
+the nations of Europe not to accept their &#8220;Bounders&#8221; as<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">[Pg 141]</a></span> examples of
+the real pith and power of the United States. The American People are
+too great, too broad-minded, sane, and thorough, not to wish to shake
+off these <i>aphides</i> on their rose of life. They watch them &#8220;clearing
+out&#8221; for &#8220;Yew-rope&#8221; with perfect satisfaction. Said a charming American
+woman to me the other day&mdash;&#8220;What a pity it is that English people
+<i>will</i> keep on receiving Americans here who would not be tolerated for
+a moment in New York or Boston society! It surprises us very greatly.
+Sometimes indeed we cannot help laughing to see the names of women
+figuring among your &#8216;haute noblesse&#8217; who would never get inside a
+decent house anywhere in the States. But more often we are sorry that
+your social &#8216;leaders&#8217; are so easily taken in!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Here indeed is the sum total of the matter. If Great Britain&mdash;and other
+countries in Europe&mdash;but Great Britain especially&mdash;did not &#8220;receive&#8221;
+and encourage the American Bounder and Bounderess, these objectionable
+creatures would never be known or heard of. Therefore it is our fault
+that they exist. Were it not for our short-sighted foolishness, and
+our proneness to believe that every &#8220;Am<i>urr</i>ican&#8221; with money must
+be worth knowing, we should be better able to sort the sheep from
+the goats. We should add to the pleasures of our social life and
+intercourse an agreeable knowledge of the real American ladies, the
+real American gentlemen; and though these are seldom seen over here,
+for the very good reason that they are valued and wanted in their own
+country, they could at least be certain, when they did come, of being
+received at their proper valuation, and not<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">[Pg 142]</a></span> set to herd with the
+&#8220;Bounders&#8221; of their country, whom their country rejects. For one may
+presume that there is some cogent reason why an American citizen of
+the Greatest Republic in the world, should elect to desert his native
+land and &#8220;settle down&#8221; under &#8220;rotten old monarchies.&#8221; People do not
+leave the home of their birth for ever unless they find it impossible
+to live there for causes best known to themselves. The poor are often
+compelled to emigrate, we know, in the hope to find employment and
+food in other countries&mdash;but when the rich &#8220;slope off&#8221; from the very
+centres where they have made their capital, one may be permitted to
+doubt the purity of their intentions. Anyway, surrounded as we are
+to-day socially by American Bounders of every description,&mdash;American
+Bounders who think themselves as good as any one else &#8220;and a darned
+sight better&#8221;&mdash;American Bounders who declare that they are the &#8220;real
+old British race renewed,&#8221;&mdash;American Bounders who &#8220;run&#8221; British
+journals of &#8220;literary opinion&#8221; and so forth,&mdash;American Bounders who
+thrust themselves into the company of unhappy kings and queens,&mdash;those
+crowned slaves who in such earthquaking days as these have to be more
+than common careful &#8220;not to offend,&#8221;&mdash;American Bounders who themselves
+claim kinship with the blood royal,&mdash;the one straight and simple fact
+remains&mdash;namely, that all the best Americans still live in America!</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">[Pg 143]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>COWARD ADAM</h2>
+
+<p>Among the numerous fascinating and delightful members of the male
+sex whom I have the honour to count as friends, there is one very
+handsome and devotedly attentive gentleman of four years old, who is
+particularly fond of reciting to me in private the following striking
+poem on the Fall of Man.</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>When Mister Sarpint did deceive</div>
+<div>Poor little silly Missis Eve,</div>
+<div>The Lord he spied an apple gone</div>
+<div>From off the branch it hanged upon;</div>
+<div>That apple was a heavy loss,</div>
+<div>And so the Lord got very cross,</div>
+<div>He searched the garden through and through,</div>
+<div>And called &#8220;Hi Adam! where are you?&#8221;</div>
+<div class="i2">But Mister Adam, he,</div>
+<div class="i2">Clum up a tree.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>There is something in this graphic narrative which appears to tickle my
+young cavalier&#8217;s fancy immensely, for whenever he says &#8220;Mister Adam,
+he, Clum up a tree,&#8221; he opens his big blue eyes very widely, claps his
+tiny hands very loudly, and gives vent to ecstatic shrieks of laughter.
+It is quite evident that he entirely understands and appreciates Adam&#8217;s
+position. Young as he is, he has the instinctive knowledge within him
+that when the time comes, he will likewise adopt the &#8220;Clum up a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">[Pg 144]</a></span> tree&#8221;
+policy. For Adam is the same Adam still, and nothing will ever change
+him. And when things are getting rather &#8220;mixed&#8221; in his career, and the
+forbidden fruit he has so readily devoured turns out to be rather more
+sour and tasteless than he had anticipated,&mdash;when his Garden of Eden
+is being searched through and through for the causes of the folly and
+disobedience which have devastated its original fairness, the same old
+story may be said of him&mdash;&#8220;Mister Adam, he, Clum up a tree.&#8221; Perhaps
+if he only climbed a tree one might excuse him,&mdash;but unfortunately he
+talks while climbing,&mdash;talks as though he were an old babbling grandam
+instead of a lord of creation,&mdash;and grandam-like puts the blame on
+somebody else. He says&mdash;&#8220;The woman whom thou gavest to be with me,
+she gave me of the tree and I did eat.&#8221; Coward Adam! Observe how he
+at once transfers the fault of his own lack of will and purpose to
+the weaker, more credulous, more loving and trusting partner;&mdash;how he
+leaves her defenceless to brave the wrath which he himself dreads,&mdash;and
+how he never for one half second dreams of admitting himself to be the
+least in the wrong! But there is always one great satisfaction to be
+derived from the perusal of the strange old Eden story, and this is
+that &#8220;Mister Sarpint&#8221; was of the male gender. Scripture leaves no room
+for doubt on this point. It says: &#8220;Now the serpent was more subtil
+than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made. And <i>he</i> said
+unto the woman&mdash;&mdash;&#8221; So that a &#8220;he&#8221; tempted a woman, before &#8220;she&#8221; ever
+tempted a &#8220;he.&#8221; Women should be duly thankful for the sex of &#8220;Mister
+Sarpint,&#8221; and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">[Pg 145]</a></span> should also bear in mind that this particular &#8220;he&#8221; was
+&#8220;more subtil than any beast of the field which the Lord God had made.&#8221;
+On many an occasion it will be found a salutary and useful fact to
+remember.</p>
+
+<p>Once upon a time, so we are told, there was an Age of Chivalry. The
+word &#8220;chivalry&#8221; is stated in the dictionary to be derived from the
+French &#8220;cheval&#8221; a horse, and &#8220;chivalrous&#8221; men were, in the literal
+meaning of the term, merely men who rode about on horseback. But
+chivalry has somehow come to imply respect, devotion, and reverence
+for women. The &#8220;chivalrous&#8221; knight is supposed to have gone all over
+the world, wearing the glove or the ribbon of his &#8220;ladye faire,&#8221; in
+his helmet, and challenging to single combat every other knight that
+dared to question the supremacy of her beauty and virtue. I confess
+at once that I do not believe in him. If he ever existed he must have
+been a most unnatural and abnormal product of humanity, as unlike his
+first progenitor Adam as he could well be. For even in the &#8220;Round
+Table&#8221; romances one finds an entire lack of chivalry in the so-called
+chivalrous knights of King Arthur. Their moral principles left much to
+be desired, and the conduct of Sir Meliagraunce who betrayed the loves
+of Lancelot and the Queen was merely that of a common sneak. Coward
+Adam spoke in him, as in many of the Arthurian heroes,&mdash;and that they
+were more &#8220;chivalrous&#8221; than the modern male gossips who jeer away a
+woman&#8217;s name and honour in their smoking and gaming rooms, is a legend
+which like that of the Tree of Good and Evil itself, requires stronger
+confirmation than history as yet witnesseth. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">[Pg 146]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Coward Adam, taking him as he appears in the present day, has lately
+shown himself off in various odd phases and lamentable positions.
+During the South African War he came out strong in some of our
+generals, who put the blame of certain military mishaps on one another
+like quarrelsome children, thereby losing dignity and offering a most
+humiliating spectacle to the amazed British public. Coward Adam&#8217;s
+policy, after making a blunder, is to adopt any lie, rather than say
+frankly and boldly&mdash;&#8220;I did it!&#8221; He will eat dirt by the bushel in
+preference to the nobler starvation act of singly facing his foes. He
+is just now exhibiting himself to his usual advantage in the British
+Parliament, while the nation looks on, waiting for the inevitable
+finale of his various hesitations and inefficiencies&mdash;the &#8220;Mister
+Adam, he, Clum up a tree.&#8221; For in most matters of social, political,
+and moral progress, the great difficulty is to obtain an upright,
+downright, honest and impartial opinion from any leading public man.
+The nation may be drifting devilwards, but statesmen are judged to
+be more statesmanlike, if they hold their tongues and watch it go.
+They must not speak the truth. It would offend so many people. It
+would upset so many interests. It would create a panic on the Stock
+Exchange. It would throw Wall Street into hysterics. The world&#8217;s vast
+public, composed of thinking, working, and more or less educated
+and intelligent people, may and do crave for a bold utterance, a
+truth openly enunciated and bravely maintained, but to the weavers
+of political intrigue and the self-seeking schemers in Governmental
+departments, the public is considered merely as a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">[Pg 147]</a></span> Big Child, to be
+soothed with lollipop phrases and tickled by rattle promises. If the
+Big Child cries and screams because it is hungry, they chirp to it
+about Fair Trade,&mdash;if it complains that its ministers of religion
+are trying to make it say its prayers backwards, they promise a full
+&#8220;enquiry into recent abuses in the Church.&#8221; But fine words butter no
+parsnips. Coward Adam always climbs up a tree as quickly as he can
+when instead of fine words, fine deeds are demanded. Physical feats
+of skill, physical gymnastics of all kinds he excels in, but a moral
+difficulty always places him as it did in the Garden of Eden, in what
+he would conventionally term &#8220;an awkward position.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Never kiss and tell&#8221; is I believe an &#8220;unwritten law of chivalry.&#8221;
+This law, so I understand, Coward Adam does sometimes manage to obey,
+albeit reluctantly. Because he would like to tell,&mdash;he would very much
+like to tell,&mdash;if&mdash;if the story of the kiss did not involve himself
+in the telling! But at this juncture &#8220;the unwritten laws of chivalry&#8221;
+step in and he is saved. And chivalry is the tree up which he climbs,
+chattering to himself the usual formula&mdash;&#8220;The woman whom thou gavest to
+be with me,&#8221;&mdash;etcetera, etcetera. Alas, poor woman! She has heard him
+saying this ever since she, in an unselfish desire to share her food
+with him, gave him the forbidden apple. No doubt she offered him its
+rosiest and ripest side! She always does,&mdash;at first. Not afterwards! As
+soon as he turns traitor and runs up a tree, she takes to pelting him,
+metaphorically speaking, with cocoa-nuts. This is quite natural on her
+part. She <i>had</i> thought him a man,&mdash;and when he suddenly changes into
+a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">[Pg 148]</a></span> monkey, she doesn&#8217;t understand it. To this cause may possibly be
+attributed some of the ructions which occasionally jar the harmonious
+estate of matrimony.</p>
+
+<p>Coward Adam does very well in America. He sees his position there
+quite plainly. He knows that if he climbs his tree too often, hundreds
+of feminine hands will pull him down. So he resigns himself to the
+inevitable. He is not slow to repeat the customary whine&mdash;&#8220;The woman
+whom thou gavest me&#8221;&mdash;but he says it quietly to himself between whiles.
+Because he knows that <i>she</i> knows all his share in the mischief!
+So he digs and delves, and finds gold and silver and limitless oil
+wherewith to turn into millions of dollars for her pleasure; he packs
+pork, lays railway tracks, starts companies, organizes &#8220;combines&#8221;&mdash;and
+strains every nerve and sinew to &#8220;do&#8221; every other Adam save himself
+in his own particular line of business, so that &#8220;the woman&#8221; (or may
+we say the women?) &#8220;whom thou gavest&#8221; may be clothed in Paris model
+gowns, and wear jewels out-rivalling in size and lustre those of all
+the kings and queens that ever made their sad and stately progress
+through history. Indeed, Coward Adam, in the position he occupies as a
+free citizen of that mighty Republic over which the wild eagle screams
+exultingly, looks a little bit like a beaten animal. But he bears his
+beating well, and is quite pleasant about it. In regard to &#8220;the woman
+whom thou gavest me&#8221; he is nearer the imaginary code of &#8220;chivalry&#8221;
+than his European brother. If the original Adam had learned the ways
+of a modern American gentleman of good education and fine manners,
+one can quite imagine<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">[Pg 149]</a></span> him saying&mdash;&#8220;The woman whom thou gavest to be
+with me generously offered me a share of the apple, and I did eat. But
+the Serpent whom thou didst permit to tell lies to my amiable partner
+concerning this special kind of fruit, was chiefly to blame.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Coward Adam, as he is seen and known among the lower classes, crops up
+every day in newspapers, which duly chronicle his various acts, such
+as promising marriage to poor working girls and robbing them of all
+their little savings, as well as of their good names,&mdash;kicking his
+wife, starving his children, and spending every penny he earns in the
+public-house. But he is just as frequently met with in the houses of
+the Upper Ten. He will wear the garb of a lord with ease, and, entering
+the house of another lord, will cozen his host&#8217;s wife away from loyalty
+to her husband in quite the manner &#8220;friendly.&#8221; He is likewise to be
+found occasionally in the walks of literature, and where a woman is
+concerned in matters artistic will &#8220;down&#8221; her if he can. He has always
+done his best to hinder woman from receiving any acknowledgment for
+superior intellectual ability. Notably one may quote the case of Madame
+Curie, the discoverer of radium. Coward Adam says she discovered it by
+&#8220;a fluke&#8221;&mdash;that is to say, by chance. Most great discoveries occur,
+even to men, in the same way. In the present instance the &#8220;chance&#8221;
+came to a woman. Why should she not therefore have all the honour due
+to her?&mdash;the same honour precisely as would fall to the lot of a man
+in her place? Columns upon columns of praise would be bestowed upon
+her were she of Adam&#8217;s sex, and all<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">[Pg 150]</a></span> the academies of science would
+contend with each other as to which should offer her the best and
+most distinctive award. But Coward Adam cannot abide the thought that
+&#8220;the woman whom thou gavest&#8221; should take an occasionally higher rank
+than his own among the geniuses of his age. He must have everything
+or nothing. He tries to ignore the fact that woman is winning equal
+honours with himself in University degrees; he would fain forget that
+the two greatest monarchs Great Britain ever had were women&mdash;Elizabeth
+and Victoria. There is a brave Adam, of course&mdash;a civilized creature
+who owns and admits the brilliant achievements of woman with pride and
+tenderness,&mdash;I am only just now speaking of the coward specimen. The
+brave Adam does not turn tail or climb trees, and he appears to have
+had nothing to do with the Garden of Eden. Very likely he was born
+somewhere else. For <i>he</i> says&mdash;&#8220;The woman whom thou gavest to be with
+me is the joy of my life,&mdash;the companion of my thoughts. To her my soul
+turns,&mdash;for her my heart beats&mdash;in her I rejoice,&mdash;her triumphs are my
+pride,&mdash;her success is my delight! If danger threatens her, I will be
+her defender, not her accuser,&mdash;should she be blamed for aught, I will
+take her fault upon myself, and will serve as a strong shield between
+her and calumny. This is the least I can do to prove my love towards
+her&mdash;for without her I should be the worst of creatures,&mdash;a lonely soul
+in an empty world!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>So says, or may say brave Adam! But his coward brother does not
+understand such high-flown sentiments. Coward Adam&#8217;s main object in
+life is to &#8220;avoid a scene&#8221; with either the Lord<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">[Pg 151]</a></span> Almighty, Mister
+Sarpint or Missis Eve. He likes to wriggle out of difficulties,
+both public and private, in a quiet way. He does not understand the
+&#8220;methods&#8221; of plain blunt people who tell him frankly what a sneak he
+is. He is very ubiquitous, and much more frequently to be met with than
+his braver twin. And if he should chance to read what I have here set
+down concerning him, he will probably say as usual: &#8220;The woman whom
+thou gavest&#8221; in various forms of anonymous vituperation. But his active
+policy will remain the same as it ever was&mdash;&#8220;Mister Adam, he, Clum up a tree!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">[Pg 152]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>ACCURSËD EVE</h2>
+
+<p>When the masculine Serpent, &#8220;who was more subtil than any beast of the
+field which the Lord had made,&#8221; tempted the mother of mankind to eat
+of the forbidden fruit, the Voice in the Garden said to her&mdash;&#8220;I will
+greatly multiply thy sorrow!&#8221; It can scarcely be denied that this curse
+has been fulfilled. So manifold and incessant have been the sorrows
+of Woman since the legendary account of the creation of the world,
+that one cannot help thinking the whole business somewhat unfair,
+if,&mdash;for merely being &#8220;beguiled&#8221; by a beast of the field who was known
+to be more &#8220;subtil&#8221; than any other, and afterwards being &#8220;given away&#8221;
+by Coward Adam,&mdash;Eve and all the descendants of her sex should be
+compelled to suffer centuries of torture. The injustice is manifestly
+cruel and arbitrary,&mdash;yet it would seem to have followed poor Accursëd
+Eve from then till now. &#8220;I will greatly multiply thy sorrow!&#8221; And
+sorrow has been multiplied to such an aggravated and barbarous extent
+upon her unfortunate head, that in the Jewish ritual to this very
+day there is a part of the service wherein the men, standing in the
+presence of women, individually say: &#8220;Blessed art thou, O Lord our God,
+King of the universe, who hast not made me a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">[Pg 153]</a></span> woman!&#8221; thus deliberately
+insulting, in their very house of worship, the sex of their mothers!</p>
+
+<p>But from the earliest times, if we are to accept historical testimony,
+the Jews of the ancient world appear to have treated women in the
+majority as &#8220;Something worser than their dog, a little lower than
+their horse.&#8221; Save and except those rare cases where the Jewish woman
+suddenly found out her latent powers and employed them to advantage,
+the Jewish man made her fetch and carry for him like a veritable beast
+of burden. He yoked her to his plough with oxen,&mdash;he sold and exchanged
+her with his friends as freely as any other article of commerce,&mdash;his
+&#8220;base uses&#8221; of her were various, and seldom to his credit,&mdash;while, such
+as they were, they only lasted so long as they satisfied his immediate
+humour. When done with, she was &#8220;cast out.&#8221; The kind of &#8220;casting out&#8221;
+to which she was subjected is not always explained. But it may be taken
+for granted that in many instances she was either killed immediately,
+or turned adrift to die of starvation and weariness. The Jews in their
+Biblical days were evidently not much affected by her griefs. They were
+God&#8217;s &#8220;chosen&#8221; people,&mdash;and the fact that women were the mothers of the
+whole &#8220;chosen&#8221; race, appeared to call for no claim on their chivalrous
+tenderness or consideration.</p>
+
+<p>Looking back through the vista of time to that fabled Eden, when
+she listened to the tempting of the &#8220;subtil&#8221; one, the wrongs and
+injustices endured by Accursëd Eve at the hand of Coward Adam make up
+a calendar of appalling, almost superhuman crime. Man has taken the
+full licence allowed him by the old Genesis story (which, by the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">[Pg 154]</a></span> way,
+was evidently invented by man himself for his own convenience). &#8220;Thy
+desire shall be to thy husband and he shall rule over thee.&#8221; And among
+all tribes, and in all nations he <i>has</i> ruled with a rod of iron! The
+Christian dispensation has interfered somewhat with his former reign of
+tyranny, for with the birth of Christ came, to a certain extent, the
+idealization and beatification of womanhood. The Greeks and Romans,
+however, had a latent glimmering idea of what Woman in all her glory
+should be, and of what she might possibly attain to in the future,&mdash;for
+all their grandest symbols of life, such as Truth, Beauty, Justice,
+Fortune, Fame, Wisdom, are always represented by their sculptors
+clothed in the female form divine. It is a curious fact, that in those
+early periods of civilization, when Literature and Art were just
+dawning upon the world, man, though aggregating to his own Ego nearly
+everything in the universe, paused before representing himself as a
+figure of Justice, Mercy or Wisdom. He evidently realized his unfitness
+to stand, even in marble, before the world as a symbol of moral virtue.
+He therefore, with a grace which well became him in those &#8220;pagan&#8221; days,
+bent the knee to all noble attributes of humanity as represented in
+Woman. Her fair face, her beauteous figure, greeted him in all his
+temples of worship;&mdash;as Venus and Diana she smiled upon him; as the
+goddess of Fortune or Chance, she accepted his votive wreaths,&mdash;as
+Fame or Victory, she gave him blessing whenever he went to war, or
+returned in triumph from the field;&mdash;and all this was but the embryo
+or shadowing-forth of woman&#8217;s higher future and better<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">[Pg 155]</a></span> possibilities,
+when the days of her long and cruel probation should be accomplished,
+and her &#8220;curse&#8221; in part be lifted. There are signs and tokens that
+this happy end is in sight. Accursëd Eve is beginning to have a good
+time. And the only fear now is, lest she should overstep the mark of
+her well-deserved liberty and run headlong into licence. For Eve,&mdash;with
+or without curse,&mdash;is naturally impulsive and credulous; and being too
+often forgetful of the little incident which occurred to her in the
+matter of the Tree of Good and Evil, is still far too prone to listen
+to the beguiling of &#8220;subtil&#8221; personages worse &#8220;than any beast of the
+field which the Lord hath made.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Accursëd Eve, having broken several of her old-time fetters, and
+beginning to feel her feet as well as her wings, just now wants a
+word in politics. As one of her cursëd daughters, I confess I wonder
+that she should wish to put herself to so much unnecessary trouble,
+seeing that she has the whole game in her hands. Politics are generally
+hustled along by Coward Adam,&mdash;unless, by rarest chance, Brave Adam,
+his twin brother, suddenly steps forth unexpectedly, when there ensues
+what is called a &#8220;collapse of the Government.&#8221; In any question, small
+or great, Accursëd Eve has only to offer Coward Adam the apple, and he
+will eat it. Which metaphor implies that even in politics, if she only
+moves him round gradually to her own views in that essentially womanly
+way which, while persuading, seems not to persuade, he is bound to
+yield. Personally speaking, I do not know any man who is not absolutely
+under the thumb of at least one woman. And I will not believe<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">[Pg 156]</a></span> that
+there is any woman so feeble, so stupid, so lost to the power and charm
+of her own individuality, as not to be able to influence quite half
+a dozen men. This being the case, what does Accursëd Eve want with a
+vote? If she is so unhappy, so ugly, so repulsive, so deformed in mind
+and manners as to have no influence at all on any creature of the male
+sex whatever, neither father, nor brother, nor uncle, nor cousin, nor
+lover, nor husband, nor friend,&mdash;would the opinion of such an one be of
+any consequence, or her vote of any value? I assert nothing,&mdash;I only
+ask the question.</p>
+
+<p>Speaking personally as a woman, I have no politics, and want none. I
+only want the British Empire to be first and foremost in everything,
+and I tender my sincerest homage to all the men of every party who will
+honestly work towards that end. These being my sentiments, I deprecate
+any strong separate parliamentary attitude on the part of Accursëd Eve.
+I say that she has much better, wider work to do than take part in
+tow-rows with the rather undignified personages who often make somewhat
+of a bear-garden of the British House of Commons. That she would prove
+a good M.P. were she a man, I am quite sure; but as a woman I know she
+&#8220;goes one better,&#8221; in becoming the wife of an M.P.</p>
+
+<p>Accursëd Eve! Mother of the world! What higher thing does she seek?
+Mother of Christianity itself, she stands before us, a figure symbolic
+of all good, her Holy Child in her arms, her sweet, musing, prayerful
+face bending over it in gravely tender devotion. From her soft breast
+humanity springs renewed,&mdash;she represents the youth, the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">[Pg 157]</a></span> hope, the
+love of all mankind. Wronged as she has been, and as she still is,
+her patience never fails. Deceived, she &#8220;mends her broken shell with
+pearl,&#8221; and still trusts on. Her sweet credulousness is the same as
+ever it was;&mdash;the &#8220;subtil&#8221; one can always over-reach her through her
+too ready confidence in the idea that &#8220;all things work together for
+good.&#8221; Her &#8220;curse&#8221; is the crime of loving too well,&mdash;believing too
+much. Should a &#8220;subtil&#8221; one say he loves her, she honestly thinks he
+does. When he turns out, as often happens, to be looking after her
+money rather than herself, she can scarcely force her mind to realize
+that he is not so much hero as cad. When she has to earn her own living
+in any of the artistic professions, she will frequently tell all her
+plans, hopes and ambitions to &#8220;subtil&#8221; ones with the most engaging
+frankness. The &#8220;subtil&#8221; ones naturally take every advantage of her, and
+some of them put a stopgap on her efforts if they can.</p>
+
+<p>How many times men have tried to steal away the honour of a woman&#8217;s
+name and fame in literature need not here be chronicled. Of how many
+books, bearing a woman&#8217;s name on the title-page it is said&mdash;&#8220;Her
+husband helped her,&#8221;&mdash;or &#8220;She got Mr. So-and-So to write the
+descriptive part!&#8221; &#8220;George Eliot&#8221; has often been accused of being
+assisted in her novels by Mr. Lewes. A little incident,&mdash;touching
+enough to my mind,&mdash;is related in the memoirs of Charlotte Brontë.
+After her marriage, and when she was expecting the birth of her
+child, she was reading some of the first chapters of an intended new
+novel to her husband,&mdash;who, as he listened, said in that peculiarly
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">[Pg 158]</a></span>encouraging way which is common to men who have gifted women to deal
+with&mdash;&#8220;You seem to be repeating yourself. You must take care not to
+repeat yourself.&#8221; Poor little soul! She never &#8220;repeated&#8221; herself,&mdash;she
+just died. No one can tell how her husband&#8217;s thoughtless phrase may
+have teazed or perplexed her sensitive mind in a critical condition of
+health, and helped to hasten the fatal end.</p>
+
+<p>Edward Fitzgerald&#8217;s celebrity as a scholar is not, and never will be
+wide enough to blot out from remembrance his brutal phrase on hearing
+of the death of Elizabeth Barrett Browning&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Mrs. Browning is dead. Thank God we shall have no more Aurora Leighs!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>While, far more creditable to Algernon Charles Swinburne than his own
+praise of himself now unfortunately affixed to the newly collected
+edition of his works, is the praise he bestows on this noble
+woman-genius in his preface to her great poem. I quote one line of it
+here&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;No English contemporary poet by profession has left us work so full of
+living fire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>For once, and in this particular instance, Accursëd Eve in literature
+has, in such a verdict, won her merited literary honours.</p>
+
+<p>But as a rule honours are withheld from her, and the laurel is filched
+from her brows by Coward Adam ere she has time to wear it. One flagrant
+case is well known, of a man who having lived entirely on a woman&#8217;s
+literary earnings for years, went about in the clothes her pen had
+paid for, among the persons to whom, through her influence, he had
+been introduced, boasting that he assisted her to write<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">[Pg 159]</a></span> the greater
+part of her books. To their shame be it said, a great many people
+believed him; and not till he was dead, and the woman went on writing
+her books as before, did they even begin to see the wrong they had
+done her. They would not have dared to calumniate the false boaster as
+they calumniated the innocent hard worker. The boaster was a man,&mdash;the
+worker was a woman;&mdash;therefore the dishonour of passing off literary
+work not one&#8217;s own, must, so they imagined, naturally belong to
+Accursëd Eve,&mdash;not to Coward Adam! Of their humiliation when the real
+truth was known, history sayeth nothing.</p>
+
+<p>Yet with all the weight of her curse more or less upon her, and with
+all her sorrows, shattered ideals, wrecked hopes, and lost loves,
+Accursëd Eve is still the most beautiful, the most perfect figure in
+creation. Her failings, her vanities, her weaknesses, her sins, arise
+in the first place from love&mdash;even if afterwards, through Coward Adam&#8217;s
+ready encouragement, they degenerate into vice and animalism. Her first
+impulse in earliest youth is a desire to please Adam,&mdash;the same impulse
+precisely which led her to offer him the forbidden apple in the first
+days of their mutual acquaintance. She wishes to charm him,&mdash;to win his
+heart,&mdash;to endear herself to him in a thousand tender ways,&mdash;to wind
+herself irretrievably round his life. If she succeeds in this aim, she
+is invariably happy and virtuous. But if she is made to feel that she
+cannot hold him on whom her thoughts are centred,&mdash;if his professed
+love for her only proves weak and false when put to trial,&mdash;if he
+finds it easy to forget both sentiment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">[Pg 160]</a></span> and courtesy, and is quick to
+add insult to injury, then all the finer and more delicate emotions
+of her nature become warped and unstrung,&mdash;and though she endures her
+suffering because she must, she resents it and takes vengeance when she
+can. Of resentfulness against wrong and revenge for injustice, come
+what are called &#8220;bad women.&#8221; Yet I would humbly venture to maintain
+that even these &#8220;bad&#8221; were not bad in the first instance. They were
+born in the usual way, with the usual Eve impulse,&mdash;the desire to
+please, not themselves, but the opposite sex. If their instinctive
+efforts have been met with cruelty, oppression, neglect, desertion and
+sometimes the most heartless and cowardly betrayal, they can scarcely
+be blamed if they play the same tricks on the unloving, disloyal churls
+for whom they have perhaps sacrificed the best part of their lives.
+For innocent faith and trusting love <i>are</i> the best part of every
+woman&#8217;s life; and when these are destroyed by the brutalizing touch of
+some Coward Adam, the woman may well claim compensation for her soul&#8217;s
+murder.</p>
+
+<p>Accursëd Eve! Still she loves,&mdash;to find herself fooled and cheated;
+still she hopes, even while hope eludes her,&mdash;still she waits, for
+what she may never win,&mdash;still she prays prayers that may never be
+answered,&mdash;still she bears and rears the men of the future, wondering
+perchance whether any of them will ever help to do her justice,&mdash;will
+ever place her where she should be, as the acknowledged queenly
+&#8220;help-meet&#8221; of her stronger, but less enduring partner! Beautiful,
+frail, trusting, loving, Accursëd Eve! She bends beneath the
+curse,&mdash;but the clouds are lifting!&mdash;there is light in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">[Pg 161]</a></span> sky of
+her future dawn! And it may be that a worse malediction than the one
+pronounced in Eden, will fall on those who make her burden of life
+heavier to bear!</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">[Pg 162]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>&#8220;IMAGINARY&#8221; LOVE</h2>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="i4">My love</div>
+<div>Is as the very centre of the earth</div>
+<div>Drawing all things to it.</div>
+<div class="i6">&mdash;<i>Troilus and Cressida.</i></div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>There is perhaps no emotion more elevating or more deceptive than that
+sudden uplifting of the heart and yearning of the senses which may be
+called &#8220;imaginary&#8221; Love. It resembles the stirring of the sap in the
+roots of flowers, thrilling the very ground with hints and promises of
+spring,&mdash;it is the unspeakable outcoming of human emotion and sympathy
+too great to be contained within itself,&mdash;the tremulous desire,&mdash;half
+vague and wholly innocent,&mdash;of the human soul for its mate. The lower
+grades of passion have not as yet ruffled the quivering white wings
+of this divinely sweet emotion, and the being who is happy enough to
+experience it in all its intensity, is, for the time, the most enviable
+on earth. Youth or maiden, whichever it be, the world is a fairyland
+for this chosen dreamer. Nothing appears base or mean,&mdash;God&#8217;s smile
+is reflected in every ray of sunshine, and Nature offers no prospect
+that is not pleasing. It is the season of glamour and grammarye,&mdash;a
+look over the distant hills is sufficient to engage<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">[Pg 163]</a></span> the mind of the
+dreaming girl with brilliant fancies of gallant knights riding from
+far-off countries, with their lady&#8217;s colours pinned to their breasts
+&#8220;to do or die&#8221; for the sake of love and glory,&mdash;and the young boy, half
+in love with a pretty face he has seen on his way home from school or
+college, begins to think with all the poets, of eyes blue as skies,
+of loves and doves, and hearts and darts, in happy unconsciousness
+that his thoughts are not in the least original. Yet with all its
+ethereal beauty and gossamer-sense of pleasure, this &#8220;imaginary&#8221;
+love is often the most pathetic experience we have or ever shall
+have in life. It is answerable for numberless griefs,&mdash;for bitter
+disillusions,&mdash;occasionally, too, for broken hearts. It glitters
+before us, a brilliant chimera, during our very young days,&mdash;and on
+our entrance into society it vanishes, leaving us to pursue it through
+many phases of existence, and always in vain. The poet is perhaps
+the happiest of all who join in this persistent chase after the
+impossible,&mdash;for he frequently continues to imagine &#8220;imaginary&#8221; love
+with ecstasy and fervour to the very end of his days. Next in order
+comes the musician, who in the composition of a melancholy nocturne
+or tender ballad, or in the still greater work of a romantic opera,
+imagines &#8220;imaginary&#8221; love in strains of perfect sound, which waken
+in the hearts of his hearers all the old feverish longings, all the
+dear youthful dreams, all the delicious romances which accompanied the
+lovely white-winged Sentiment in days past and dead for ever. Strange
+to say, it often happens that the musician, while thus appeasing his
+own insatiable thirst for &#8220;imaginary&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">[Pg 164]</a></span> love, is frequently aware that
+he is arousing it in others; and could he probe to the very fibres of
+his thinking soul, he would confess to a certain keen satisfaction in
+the fact of his being able to revivify the old restless yearning of a
+pain which is sweeter to the lonely soul than pleasure.</p>
+
+<p>Now this expression of the &#8220;lonely soul&#8221; is used advisedly, because,
+in sad truth, every human soul is lonely. Lonely at birth,&mdash;still more
+lonely at death. During its progress through life it gathers around
+it what it can in the way of crumbs of love, grains of affection,
+taking them tenderly and with tears of gratefulness. But it is always
+conscious of solitude,&mdash;an awful yet Divine solitude over which the
+Infinite broods, watchful yet silent. Why it is brought into conscious
+being, to live within a material frame and there perform certain duties
+and labours, and from thence depart again, it cannot tell. All is a
+mystery,&mdash;a strange Necessity, in which it cannot truly recognize
+its part or place. Yet it is,&mdash;and one of the strongest proofs of
+its separate identity from the body is this &#8220;imaginary&#8221; love for
+which it yearns, and which it never obtains. &#8220;Imaginary&#8221; love is not
+earthly,&mdash;neither is it heavenly,&mdash;it is something between both, a
+vague and inchoate feeling, which, though incapable of being reduced
+to any sort of reason or logic, is the foundation of perhaps all the
+greatest art, music and poetry in the world. If we had to do merely
+with men as they are, and women as they are, Art would perish utterly
+from the face of the earth. It is because we make for ourselves
+&#8220;ideal&#8221; men, &#8220;ideal&#8221; women, and endow these fair creations with the
+sentiment of &#8220;imaginary&#8221; love, that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">[Pg 165]</a></span> we still are able to communicate
+with the gods. Not yet have we lowered ourselves to the level of the
+beasts,&mdash;nor shall we do so, though things sometimes seem tending that
+way. Realism and Atheism have darkened the world, as they darken it
+now, long before the present time, and as defacements on the grandeur
+of the Universe they have not been permitted to remain. Nor will they
+be permitted now,&mdash;the reaction will, and must inevitably set in. The
+repulsive materialism of Zola, and others of his school,&mdash;the loose
+theories of the &#8220;smart&#8221; set, and the moral degradation of those who
+have no greater God than self,&mdash;these things are the merest ephemera,
+destined to leave no more mark on human history than the trail of a
+slug on one leaf of an oak. The Ideal must always be triumphant,&mdash;the
+soul can only hope to make way by climbing towards it. Thus it is with
+&#8220;imaginary&#8221; Love,&mdash;it must hold fast to its ideal, or be content to
+perish on the plane of sensual passion, which exhausts itself rapidly,
+and once dead, is dead for ever and aye.</p>
+
+<p>With all its folly, sweetness, piteousness and pathos, &#8220;imaginary&#8221; love
+is the keynote of Art,&mdash;its fool-musings take shape in exquisite verse,
+in tales of romance and adventure, in pictures that bring the nations
+together to stand and marvel, in music that makes the strong man weep.
+It is the most supersensual of all delicate sensations,&mdash;as fine as a
+hair, as easily destroyed as a gnat&#8217;s wing!&mdash;a rough touch will wound
+it,&mdash;a coarse word will kill it,&mdash;the sneer of the Realist shuts it in
+a coffin of lead and sinks it fathoms deep in the waters of despair.
+Strange and cruel as the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">[Pg 166]</a></span> fact may seem, Marriage appears to put an end
+to it altogether.</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Think you, if Laura had been Petrarch&#8217;s wife</div>
+<div>He would have written sonnets to her all his life?</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>inquires Byron. He certainly would not. The &#8220;imaginary&#8221; love of
+Petrarch was the source of his poetic inspiration; if he had ever
+dragged it down to the level of the commonplace Actual, he would have
+killed his Muse. In a similar way the love of Dante for Beatrice was
+of the &#8220;imaginary&#8221; quality. Those who read the &#8220;Vita Nuova&#8221; will
+scarcely fail to see how the great poet hugs his love-fancies and
+feeds himself with delicious extravagances in the way of idealized
+and sublimated soul-passion. He dissects every fine hair of a stray
+emotion, and writes a sonnet on every passing heart-beat. Dante&#8217;s wife
+never became so transfigured in her husband&#8217;s love. Why? Alas, who can
+say! No reason can be given save that perchance &#8220;familiarity breeds
+contempt,&#8221; and that the Unattainable seems always more beautiful than
+the Attained. The delight of possession would appear to be as brief as
+the flowering of a rose. Lovers are in haste to wed,&mdash;but when the knot
+is once irrevocably tied, in nine cases out of ten they wish it could
+be untied again. They no longer imagine &#8220;imaginary&#8221; love! The glamour
+is gone. Illusions are all over. The woman is no longer the removed,
+the fair, the chaste, the unreachable,&mdash;the man ceases to be the proud,
+the strong hero endowed with the attributes of the gods. &#8220;Imaginary&#8221;
+love then resolves itself into one of two things,&mdash;a firm, every-day,
+close<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">[Pg 167]</a></span> and tender <i>friendship</i>, or else a sick disappointment, often
+ending in utter disgust. But the divine emotion of &#8220;imaginary&#8221; love
+has died,&mdash;the Soul is no longer enamoured of its Ideal&mdash;and the
+delicate psychic passion which inspires the poet, the painter, the
+musician, turns at once to fresh objects of admiration and pursuit. For
+it is never exhausted,&mdash;unlike any purely earthly sense it knows no
+satiety. Deceived in one direction, it dies in another. Dissatisfied
+with worldly things, it extends its longing heavenwards,&mdash;there at
+least it shall find what it seeks,&mdash;not now, but hereafter! Age does
+not blunt this fine emotion, for, as may often be remarked with some
+beautiful souls in the decline of bodily life, the resigning of earthly
+enjoyments gives them no pain,&mdash;and the sweet placidity of expectation,
+rather than the dull apathy of regret, is their chief characteristic.
+&#8220;Imaginary&#8221; love still beckons them on;&mdash;what has not been found Here
+will be found There!</p>
+
+<p>Happy, and always to be envied, are those who treasure this aerial
+sentiment of the spiritual brain! It is the dearest possession of
+every true artist. In every thought, in every creative work or plan,
+&#8220;imaginary&#8221; love goes before, pointing out wonders unseen by less
+enlightened eyes,&mdash;hiding things unsightly, disclosing things lovely,
+and making the world fair to the mind in all seasons, whether of storm
+or calm. Intensifying every enjoyment, adding a double thrill to the
+notes of a sweet song, lending an extra glow to the sunshine, an added
+radiance to the witchery of the moonlight, a more varied and exquisite
+colouring to the trees and flowers, a charm to every book, a delight
+to every<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">[Pg 168]</a></span> new scene, &#8220;imaginary&#8221; love, a very sprite of enchantment,
+helps us to believe persistently in good, when those who love not at
+all, neither in reality nor in idealization, are drowning in the black
+waters of suicidal despair.</p>
+
+<p>So it is well for us&mdash;those who can&mdash;to imagine &#8220;imaginary&#8221; love! We
+shall never grasp the Dream in this world&mdash;nevertheless let us fly
+after it as though it were a Reality! Its path is one of sweetness more
+than pain,&mdash;its ways are devious, yet even in sadness still entrancing.
+Better than rank, better than wealth is this talisman, which with a
+touch brings us into close communication with the Higher worlds. Let
+us &#8220;imagine&#8221; our friends are true; let us &#8220;imagine&#8221; we are loved for
+our own sakes alone,&mdash;let us &#8220;imagine,&#8221; as we welcome our acquaintances
+into our homes, that their smiles and greetings are sincere&mdash;let us
+imagine &#8220;imaginary&#8221; love as the poets do,&mdash;a passion tender, strong
+and changeless&mdash;and pursue it always, even if the objects, which for a
+moment its passing wings have brushed, crumble into dust beneath that
+touch of fire! So shall our lives retain the charm of constant Youth
+and Hope,&mdash;so shall the world seem always beautiful to us,&mdash;so shall
+the Unimaginable glory of the future Real-in-Love shine nearer every
+day in our faithful, fond pursuit of its flying Shadow!</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">[Pg 169]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE ADVANCE OF WOMAN</h2>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Follow Light and do the Right&mdash;for man can half control his doom&mdash;</div>
+<div>Till you find the deathless Angel seated in the vacant tomb!</div>
+<div class="i4">&mdash;<span class="smcap">Tennyson</span>, <i>Locksley Hall, Sixty Years After</i>.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>Sixty years ago! To us of the present day it seems a very long time&mdash;a
+kind of &#8220;dark ages&#8221; period wherein we peer backward dubiously,
+wondering what everybody was like then. History, taking us by the hand,
+shows us, as in a magic glass, the Coronation of Victoria, one of the
+best Queens that the world has ever known, and tells us of the great
+men and masterly intellects of that past time, whose immortal works we
+still have with us, but whose mere mortal place knows them no more.
+Much may be seen in the backward glimpse that some of us may possibly
+regret and wish that we possessed again. Men of power and dominance,
+for example&mdash;great writers, great thinkers, great reformers&mdash;surely we
+lack these! Surely we need them sorely! But it seems to be a rule of
+Nature that if we gain in one direction we must lose in another, and
+whatever we have lost in that far-gone period, we have certainly gained
+much in the forward direction. One of the most remarkable changes,
+perhaps, that has taken place in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">[Pg 170]</a></span> passing of the years is the
+different position assigned to Woman from that which she occupied when
+Dickens and Thackeray wrote their wonderful novels, and when Charlotte
+Brontë astonished the world by her woman&#8217;s genius, to be followed by
+the still more powerful and Scott-like display of brainpower in Mary
+Ann Evans (&#8220;George Eliot&#8221;). At that time men were still chivalrous.
+Woman was so rarely brilliant&mdash;or, shall we put it, she so rarely had
+the chance of asserting the brilliant qualities that are her natural
+endowment&mdash;that man was content to acknowledge any unusual talent
+on her part as an abnormal quality, infrequent enough to be safely
+admired. In this spirit, more or less, Sir Walter Scott paid tribute
+to Jane Austen, and Thackeray to Charlotte Brontë; but as time has
+progressed, and women have arisen one after another in the various
+departments of Art and Literature, men have begun to fall back and look
+askance, and somewhat threateningly, on the fair trespassers in their
+hitherto guarded domains. And the falling back and the looking askance
+continue in exact proportion to the swift and steady onward march of
+the white-robed Amazons into the Battle of Life. Braced with the golden
+shield of Courage, helmeted with Patience, and armed with the sword of
+Faith, the women-warriors are taking the field, and are to be seen now
+in massed ranks, daily marshalling themselves in more compact order,
+firm-footed and fearless, prepared to fight for intellectual freedom,
+and die rather than yield. They, too, will earn the right to live;
+they, too, will be something greater than the mere vessels of man&#8217;s
+desire&mdash;whether maids, wives, or mothers,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">[Pg 171]</a></span> they will prove themselves
+worthy to be all these three, and more than these, to the very utmost
+extent of their moral and intellectual being!</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps there is nothing more entertaining to the wit of a cultured and
+intelligent woman than the recurrent piping wail of man&#8217;s assertion
+that &#8220;woman has no creative power.&#8221; Her place, says the didactic
+male, is the kitchen, the nursery, and beside the cradle. <i>Certes</i>,
+she can manage these three departments infinitely better than he can,
+especially the cradle part of it, wherein his fractious disposition
+is generally well displayed the moment he starts in life. But, as a
+matter of fact, there is hardly any vocation in which she cannot,
+if she puts her mind to it, distinguish herself just as easily and
+successfully as he can if he will only kindly stand out of her way.
+He makes himself ludicrous by persistently &#8220;crying her down&#8221; when all
+the world <i>en masse</i> beholds her taking the highest University honours
+over his head, and beating him intellectually on his own ground. In
+physical force he certainly outstrips her. Item,&mdash;he can kick her as
+heartily and skilfully as he can kick a football, <i>vide</i> the daily
+police reports. Item,&mdash;he can eat and drink much more than she can,
+because he devotes a great deal more time and attention to the study
+of gastronomy. Item,&mdash;he can smoke more. Item,&mdash;he can indulge freely
+in unbridled licentiousness, and amply prove his original savage right
+to be considered a polygamous animal, without being banned from &#8220;good
+society,&#8221; or anything being said against his moral character. This
+a woman cannot do. If she has many lovers, her conduct is severely
+criticized. But if she<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">[Pg 172]</a></span> has none, she is still more bitterly condemned,
+especially if she happens to be in the least good-looking. And why?
+Simply because her indifference &#8220;reflects&#8221; on the male sex generally.
+The ugliest of masculine creatures experiences a vague sense of offence
+when he meets a charming woman who neither seeks his advice nor his
+company. And here we have the gist of the whole matter: man is a vain
+animal and wants to be admired. Like the peacock, he struts forward
+and spreads out his glittering tail. The central feature of the
+landscape, as he considers himself, he waits for the pea-hen to worship
+him. If, instead of the humble pea-hen, he finds another sort of bird
+entirely&mdash;with not only a tail as brilliant as his own, but wings which
+will carry it over his head, he is mightily incensed, and his shrill
+cry of rage echoes through that particular part of the universe where
+he is no longer &#8220;monarch of all he surveys.&#8221; His &#8220;other world&#8221; must be
+pea-hens or none!</p>
+
+<p>And yet Man&#8217;s delightful and utter want of the commonest logic is never
+more flagrantly exhibited than in this vital matter of his estimate
+of Woman, taking it all round in a broad sense. Daily, hourly, in the
+household and in the market-place, he may be heard cheapening her
+abilities, sneering at such triumphs as she attains, cracking stale
+jests at her &#8220;love of gossip,&#8221; &#8220;love of dress&#8221; (for he is seldom
+original even in a joke), and her &#8220;incessant tongue,&#8221; blissfully
+ignoring the fact that his own is wagging all the time; and yet no
+one can twist him so limply and helplessly round the littlest of her
+little fingers as she can. Moreover, throughout all the ages, so far as
+the keenest explorer or historical<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">[Pg 173]</a></span> student can discover, his highest
+ideals of life have been depicted in the Feminine form. Fortune, Fame,
+Justice, the Arts and Sciences, are all represented by female figures
+lovingly designed by male hands. Evidently conscious in himself that
+a woman&#8217;s purity, honesty, fidelity, and courage are nobler types of
+these virtues than his own, Man apparently is never weary of idealizing
+them as Woman womanly. Thoroughly aware of the supreme sovereignty
+Woman can exercise whenever he gives her the chance, he, while
+endeavouring to bind and hold her intellectual forces by his various
+edicts and customs, takes ever an incongruous satisfaction in doing
+her full justice by the magnitude of his feminine ideals. The divine
+spirit of Nature itself, called &#8220;Egeria,&#8221; is always depicted by man as
+a woman. Faith, Hope and Charity, are represented as female spirits,
+as are the Three Graces. The Muses are women; so are the Fates. Hence,
+as all the virtues, morals, arts, and sciences are shown by the
+highest masculine skill as wearing woman&#8217;s form and possessing woman&#8217;s
+attributes, it is easy to see that man has always been perfectly aware
+in his inward intelligence of Woman&#8217;s true worth and right place in
+creation, though, by such laws as he has made for his own better
+convenience, he has put up whatever barriers he can in the way of the
+too swift advancement of so superior and victorious a creature. Now
+that she is beginning to take an important share in the world&#8217;s work
+and progress, he is becoming vaguely alarmed. In each art, in each
+profession he sees her gaining step by step to higher intellectual
+dominance. He watches her move<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">[Pg 174]</a></span> from plane to plane of study, learning,
+as she goes, that the mere animalism of unthinking subservience to his
+passions is not her only heritage. And straightway the long-spoilt
+child begins to whimper. &#8220;A woman has no creative power!&#8221; he cries. &#8220;No
+imagination!&mdash;no originality!&mdash;no force of character! What she does in
+the Arts is so very little&mdash;&mdash;!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Stop, oh Man! You have had a very long, long innings, remember! From
+the time of Abraham, and ages before that worthy patriarch ever turned
+Hagar out into the wilderness, you have been setting Woman alongside
+your cattle, and curling your whip with a magnificent carelessness
+round both at your pleasure, yea! even offering both with indifferent
+readiness for sale and barter. You have enjoyed centuries of liberty;
+it is now woman&#8217;s turn to taste the sweets of freedom. She does very
+little in the Arts, you say? I grant you that in the first of them,
+Poetry, she does little indeed. I do not think we shall ever have a
+female Shakespeare, for instance. But, at the same time, I equally do
+not think we shall ever again have a male one! Yet it is to be admitted
+that none of the leading women poets can compare for an instant with
+the leading men in that most divine and primæval of Arts. But I should
+not like to assert that the great woman-Dante or woman-Shelley may not
+yet arise, for it is to be borne in mind that woman&#8217;s education and
+woman&#8217;s chances have only just begun. In Music, again, she is deemed
+deficient. Yet we are confronted at the present day by the fact that
+many of the most successful and charming of song writers are women.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">[Pg 175]</a></span>
+And the following appears in the Dresden <i>Neueste Nachricten</i> (October
+18, 1902):&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Up to the present date we have always entertained the opinion that
+the composition of music was a gift denied to the female sex, elegant
+trifles (as exceptions) only confirming our doubts. And now an English
+lady appears on the scene, amazing the musical world of Dresden. She
+was as a young girl already a distinguished artist, a virtuoso on
+the piano, and played&mdash;as &#8216;Miss Bright,&#8217;&mdash;under the direction of Dr.
+Wullner, a piano concerto of her own composition, with extraordinary
+success. Then marriage separated her from her art for several years.
+Now (after the death of her husband), the young widow, Mrs. Knatchbull,
+has composed an opera&mdash;text, music, and instrumentation all being her
+own work&mdash;and has brought it with her to Dresden. The music is so
+captivating, and above all, holds one so strongly that one exclaims
+in astonishment, &#8216;Can this be the work of a woman?&#8217; It is more than
+probable that the opera will be produced at the Dresden Opera House.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Here followeth an instructive story:&mdash;A recent opera performed with
+considerable success at Monte Carlo and other Continental resorts
+is the work of a woman, stolen by a man. The facts are well known,
+as are the names of the hero and heroine of the sordid tragedy. A
+little love-making on the part of the male composer, who could show
+nothing of ability save the composition of a few amorous drawing-room
+songs&mdash;a confiding trust on the part of the woman-genius, whose brain
+was full of God-given melody&mdash;these were the motives of the drama.
+She played the score of her opera<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">[Pg 176]</a></span> through to him&mdash;he listened with
+admiration&mdash;with words of tender flattery, precious to her who was
+weak enough to care for such a rascal; and then he took it away to be
+&#8220;transcribed,&#8221; as he said, and set out for the orchestra. He loved
+her, so the poor credulous soul thought!&mdash;and she trusted him&mdash;such
+an old story! He copied her opera in his own manuscript&mdash;stole it, in
+short, and left for the Continent, where he had it produced as his own
+composition. Had she complained, the law would have gone against her.
+She had no proof save that of her love. Before a grinning, jesting
+court of law she would have had to publish the secret of her heart.
+People would have shaken their heads and said, &#8220;Poor thing! A case
+of self-delusion and hysteria!&#8221; He himself would have shaken his
+dirty pate and said, &#8220;Poor soul! Mad&mdash;quite mad! Many women have had
+their heads turned likewise for love of me!&#8221; So it chances that only
+those &#8220;in the know&#8221; are aware of the story, and the man-Fraud is left
+unmolested; but it is a curious and suggestive fact that he produces no
+more operas.</p>
+
+<p>There is one thing that women generally, in the struggle for
+intellectual free life, should always remember&mdash;one that they are
+too often apt to forget&mdash;namely, that the Laws, as they at present
+exist, are made <i>by</i> men, <i>for</i> men. There are no really stringent
+laws for the protection of women&#8217;s interests except the Married
+Woman&#8217;s Property Act, which is a great and needful boon. But take the
+following instances of the eccentricities of English law, both of
+which have come under my own knowledge as having occurred to personal<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">[Pg 177]</a></span>
+friends. A certain foreign nobleman residing in England made a will
+leaving all his fortune to his mistress. His legitimate children were
+advised to dispute the will, as under the law of his native country
+he could not dispossess his lawful heirs of their inheritance. He had
+not naturalized himself at any time as a British subject, and the
+plain proof of this was, that but a year before his death, he had
+applied to the Government of his own country for permission to wear
+a certain decoration, which permission was accorded him. The nature
+of his application proved that he still considered himself a subject
+of his own native land. The case came before an English judge, who
+had apparently eaten some very indigestible matter for his luncheon.
+With an apoplectic countenance and an injured demeanour, the learned
+gentleman declined to go into any of the details of the case, and
+administered &#8220;justice&#8221; by deciding the whole thing on &#8220;a question of
+domicile&#8221;&mdash;namely, that as the man had lived in England twenty-five
+years, he was, naturalized or unnaturalized, a British subject and
+could make his will as he liked. The fortune was, therefore, handed
+over to his mistress, and the legal wife and legitimately-born children
+were left out in the cold! Another case is that of a lady, well-born
+and well-educated, who married a man with a fortune of some twenty
+thousand a year. After the expiration of about fifteen years, when she
+had borne her husband three children, he suddenly took a fantastic
+dislike to her, and an equally fantastic liking for a chorus girl.
+He promptly sought a divorce. As there was no ground for divorce,
+he failed to obtain it. He,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">[Pg 178]</a></span> therefore, adopted a course of action
+emanating entirely from his own brilliant brain. Starting for a cruise
+on board his yacht, in company with the bewildering chorus girl,
+he left orders with his solicitor to have the whole of his house
+dismantled of its furniture and &#8220;cleared.&#8221; This was promptly done, the
+wife and children being left without so much as a bed to lie upon, or a
+chair to sit upon. The unfortunate lady told her story to a court, and
+applied for &#8220;maintenance.&#8221; This, of course, the recalcitrant husband
+was forced to pay, but the sum was cut down to the smallest possible
+amount, under the supervision of the blandly approving court, with the
+result that this man&#8217;s wife, accustomed from her girlhood to every home
+comfort and care, now lives with her children in a condition of genteel
+penury more degrading than absolute poverty. <i>There is no remedy for
+these things.</i> One welcomes heartily the idea of women lawyers, in
+the hope that when their keen, quick brains learn to grasp the huge,
+unwieldy, and complex machinery of the muddle called Legal Justice,
+they may, perhaps, be able to effect some reforms on behalf of their
+own sex. As matters at present stand, the unbridled and extravagant
+licentiousness of men, and the consequent degradation of women, are
+<i>protected</i> by law. Even a fraudulent financial concern is so guarded
+by &#8220;legal&#8221; advice that it would take the lifetime&#8217;s earning of an
+honest man to bring about any exposure. We want women-lawyers&mdash;Portias,
+with quick brains, to see the way out of a difficulty into which men
+plunge only to flounder more hopelessly. &#8220;Can the blind lead the blind?
+Shall they not both fall into the ditch?&#8221; </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">[Pg 179]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>In Medicine, women have made more than a decided mark of triumph. It
+is almost impossible to over-estimate the priceless value of the work
+done by women doctors and women surgeons in the harems of India and
+Turkey, where the selfishness and jealousy of the Eastern sybarite
+would give his women over to cruel agonies of disease and death, rather
+than suffer them to be so much as looked upon by another of his own
+sex. Yet, though perfectly conscious that Woman&#8217;s work in this branch
+of science is day by day becoming more and more precious to suffering
+humanity, we have quite recently been confronted by the spectacle of
+a number of men deciding to resign their appointments at a certain
+hospital, rather than suffer a woman to be nominated house-surgeon.
+Her skill and efficiency were as great as theirs, and she had all the
+qualifications necessary for the post; but no! sooner than honour a
+woman&#8217;s ability, they preferred to resign. Comment on this incident
+is needless, but it is one of the straws that show which way the wind
+blows.</p>
+
+<p>Much excellent work is done, and remains yet to be done by women, as
+inspectors of schools. They alone are really fitted for the task of
+ascertaining the conditions under which children are made to study,
+and they are not likely, while examining infant classes, to make such
+ponderous statements as that passed by a certain male inspector, who,
+according to an amusing story told me by Sir John Gorst, found the
+babies (not above five years old) &#8220;deplorably deficient in mental
+arithmetic!&#8221; It takes a man to deplore &#8220;lack of mental arithmetic&#8221; in
+a baby. A woman<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">[Pg 180]</a></span> would never be capable of such weighty stupidity.
+Perhaps it will be just as well to glance casually at the state of
+things in this country respecting the education of mere infants, as
+arranged by certain laws drawn up by men, laws in which women, who are
+the mothers of the race, are not allowed to have a voice.</p>
+
+<p>1. The law <i>allows</i> them to enter at three years old, and <i>compels</i>
+them to enter at five years old.</p>
+
+<p>2. Men inspectors constantly examine children of four years old
+in arithmetic, and the &#8220;mental arithmetic of the baby class,&#8221; is
+constantly mentioned in reports.</p>
+
+<p>3. Needlework is taught before five years old; two to three hours form
+the staple instruction. Needlework injures the eyesight at such a
+tender age, and two or three hours are a cruelty and a waste of time
+for tiny children.</p>
+
+<p>4. Desks, blackboards, slates and books are everywhere in excess of
+&#8220;Kindergarten&#8221; occupations, and the &#8220;development of the spontaneous
+activity in the child&#8221; is twisted into the development of uniformity.
+To differ from the usual is to be naughty; every one must do the same
+thing at the same time. Every one must build a like house, a like
+table, a like chair; each brick must be on the table at the same minute.</p>
+
+<p>5. Despite male inspectors, the babies sleep. They fall off their
+seats and bump their foreheads against the desks, and their spines are
+twisted and crooked as they lie on their arms, heads forward, upon the
+hard supports. Curvature must be produced in many cases, solely from
+these causes.</p>
+
+<p>6. To maintain order, corporal punishment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">[Pg 181]</a></span> is habitual, and &#8220;fear&#8221;
+the chief motive for right-doing. To quote from a letter of Sir John
+Gorst&#8217;s:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The reform of this system is not a matter of sentiment. These babies
+are the future scholars of our improved schools that the Education Act
+is intended to produce, and the future citizens by whom our Imperial
+position is to be maintained. If we prematurely addle their intellects
+by schooling&mdash;for which their tender years are unfit; if we cripple
+their bodies by cooping them up in deforming desks; if we destroy their
+sight by premature needlework, and confuse their senses by over-study
+of subjects which they are too young to understand, we shall neither
+have fit scholars for our future schools, nor fit citizens to uphold
+the Empire.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Starting on these premises it will surely be acknowledged that women
+have an indisputable right to be inspectors of schools. They have the
+natural instinct to know what is best for the health and well-being
+of children, and they are also capable of correctly judging by that
+maternal sympathy which is their inherited gift, how a child&#8217;s mental
+abilities should best be encouraged and trained.</p>
+
+<p>I have often been asked if I would like to see women in Parliament.
+I may say frankly, and at once, that I should detest it. I should
+not like to see the sex, pre-eminent for grace and beauty, degraded
+by having to witness or to take part in such &#8220;scenes&#8221; of heated and
+undignified disputation as have frequently lowered the prestige of
+the House of Commons. On the same lines I may say that I do not care
+to see women playing &#8220;hockey&#8221; or indulging in any purely &#8220;tom-boy&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">[Pg 182]</a></span>
+sports and pastimes. They lose &#8220;caste&#8221; and individuality. One of the
+many brilliant and original remarks of mankind concerning the female
+sex is that women should be cooks and housekeepers. So they should. No
+woman is a good housekeeper unless she understands cooking, nor can she
+be a good cook unless she be a good housekeeper. The two things are
+inseparable, and combine to make comfort with economy. A woman should
+know how to cook and keep house for <i>herself</i>, not only for man. Man
+says to her: &#8220;Be a cook,&#8221;&mdash;because of all things in the world he loves
+a good dinner; loves it better than his wife, inasmuch as he will often
+&#8220;bully&#8221; the wife if the dinner fails. But a woman must also eat, and
+she should learn to cook <i>for her own comfort</i>, quite apart from his.
+In the same way she should study housekeeping. If she lives a single
+life, she will find such knowledge eminently useful. But to devote all
+her energy and attention to cooking and housekeeping, as most men would
+have her do, would be a waste of power and intelligence. As well ask a
+great military hero to devote his entire time to the canteen.</p>
+
+<p>In breaking her rusty fetters, and stepping out into the glorious
+liberty of the free, Woman has one great thing to remember and to
+strive for,&mdash;a thing that she is at present, in her newly emancipated
+condition, somewhat prone to forget. In claiming and securing
+intellectual equality with Man, she should ever bear in mind that such
+a position is only to be held by always maintaining and preserving as
+great an Unlikeness to him as possible in her life and surroundings.
+Let her imitate him in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">[Pg 183]</a></span> nothing but independence and individuality. Let
+her eschew his fashions in dress, his talk and his manners. A woman who
+wears &#8220;mannish&#8221; clothes, smokes cigars, rattles out slang, gambles at
+cards, and drinks brandy and soda on the slightest provocation, is lost
+altogether, both as woman and man, and becomes sexless. But the woman
+whose dress is always becoming and graceful, whose voice is equable and
+tender, who enhances whatever beauty she possesses by exquisite manner,
+unblemished reputation, and intellectual capacity combined, raises
+herself not only to an equality with man, but goes so far above him
+that she straightway becomes the Goddess and he the Worshipper. This is
+as it should be. Men adore what they cannot imitate. Therefore when men
+are drunken, let women be sober; when men are licentious, let women be
+chaste; when men are turf-hunters and card-players, let women absent
+themselves from both the race-course and the gambling-table; and while
+placing a gentle yet firm ban on laxity in morals and disregard of the
+binding sanctity of family life, let them silently work on and make
+progress in every art, every profession, every useful handicraft, that
+they may not be dependent for home or livelihood on man&#8217;s merely casual
+fancy or idle whim. The mistake of Woman&#8217;s progress up to the present,
+has been her slavish imitation of Man&#8217;s often unadmirable tastes, and
+a pathetic &#8220;going down&#8221; under his lofty disdain. Once grasp the fact
+that his disdain is not &#8220;lofty&#8221; but merely comic, and that his case
+is only that of the Distressful Peacock, hurt by indifference to his
+tail, things will right themselves. Nature has<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">[Pg 184]</a></span> already endowed Woman
+with the contrasting elements of beauty, delicacy, and soft charm, as
+opposed to man&#8217;s frequent ugliness and roughness; let Woman herself
+continue to emphasize the difference by bringing out her original and
+individual qualities in all she does or attempts to do. Of course
+for a long time yet, Man will declare &#8220;feminine individuality&#8221; to be
+non-existent; but as we know the quality is as plain and patent as
+&#8220;masculine individuality,&#8221; we have only to insist upon it and assert
+it, and in due course it will be fully admitted and acknowledged.
+Meantime, while pressing on towards the desired goal, Woman must learn
+the chief lesson of successful progress, which is, not to copy Man, but
+to carefully preserve her beautiful Unlikeness to him in every possible
+way, so that, while asserting and gaining intellectual equality with
+him, she shall gradually arrive at such ascendancy as to prove herself
+ever the finer and the nobler Creature.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">[Pg 185]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE PALM OF BEAUTY</h2>
+
+<p>It would seem, according to the society press, that beauty is a
+very common article. Indeed, if we are to accept the innocent
+ebullitions of the callow youths who drink beer and play skittles
+in the Social-Paragraph line of journalism, and who in their soft
+guilelessness are taken in and &#8220;used&#8221; by certain ladies of a type
+resembling Miss Skeggs and Lady Blarney in the <i>Vicar of Wakefield</i>,
+we are bound to believe that beautiful women are as common as
+blackberries, only more so. In the columns devoted by newspaper editors
+to the meanderings of those intelligent persons, male and female,
+who sign themselves as Onlookers, Observers, Butterflies, Little
+Tomtits, and what may be called &#8220;I Spys!&#8221; generally, one hardly ever
+sees the name of a lady without the epithet &#8220;beautiful&#8221; tacked on to
+it, especially if the lady happens to have money. This is curious,
+but true. And supposing the so-called Beautiful One has not only
+money, commonly speaking, but heaps of money, mines of money, she is
+always stated to be &#8220;young&#8221; as well. The heavier the bullion, the
+more assured the youthfulness. If unkind Time shows her to be the
+mother of a family where the eldest sprout is some twenty odd years
+of age, the complaisant<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">[Pg 186]</a></span> &#8220;I Spy&#8221; is equal to the occasion and writes
+of her thus&mdash;&#8220;The beautiful Mrs. Juno-Athene brought her eldest
+girl, looking more like her sister than her mother.&#8221; Whereat Mrs.
+Juno-Athene is satisfied,&mdash;everybody smiles, and all things are cosy
+and comfortable. If any one should dare to say, especially in print,
+that Mrs. Juno-Athene is not &#8220;beautiful&#8221; at all, nor &#8220;youthful&#8221; in
+either looks or bearing, there would be ructions. Somebody would get
+into trouble. The &#8220;I Spy&#8221; might even be dismissed from his or her post
+of social paragraphist to the Daily Error. Heaven forbid that such a
+catastrophe should happen through the indiscretion of a mere miserable
+truth-monger! Let Mrs. Juno-Athene be beautifully and eternally young,
+by all means, so long as she can afford to pay for it. The humbug of it
+is at any rate kindly and chivalrous, and does nobody any harm, while
+it puts money in the purse of the hardworking penster, who is compelled
+to deal delicately with these little social matters sometimes, or else
+ruminate on a dinner instead of eating it.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, despite the &#8220;I Spys,&#8221; and the perennial charms of Mrs.
+Juno-Athene, beauty is as rare and choice a thing as ever it was in the
+days of old when men went mad for it, and Greeks and Trojans fought for
+Helen, who, so some historians say, was past forty when her bewitching
+fairness set the soul of Troy on fire. A really beautiful woman is
+scarcely ever seen, not even in Great Britain, where average good looks
+are pleasantly paramount. Prettiness,&mdash;the prettiness which is made
+up of a good skin, bright eyes, soft and abundant hair, and a supple
+figure,&mdash;is quite ordinary. It can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">[Pg 187]</a></span> be seen every day among barmaids,
+shop girls, and milliners&#8217; <i>mannequins</i>. But Beauty&mdash;the divine and
+subtle charm which enraptures all beholders,&mdash;the perfect form, united
+to the perfect face in which pure and noble thought is expressed in
+every feature, in every glance of eye, in every smile that makes a
+sweet mouth sweeter,&mdash;this is what we may search for through all the
+Isles of Britain, ay, and through Europe and America and the whole
+world besides, and seldom or never find it.</p>
+
+<p>Nine-tenths of the women who are styled &#8220;beautiful&#8221; by the society
+paragraphist, possess merely the average good looks;&mdash;the rest are
+generally more particularly distinguished by some single and special
+trait which may perchance be natural, and may equally be artificial,
+such as uncommon-coloured hair (which may be dyed), a brilliant
+complexion (which may be put on), or a marvellously &#8220;svelte&#8221; figure
+(which may be the happy result of carefully designed corsets, well
+pulled in). Most of the eulogized &#8220;beauties&#8221; of the Upper Ten to-day,
+have, or are able to get, sufficient money or credit supplied to
+them for dressing well,&mdash;and not only well, but elaborately and
+extravagantly, and dress is often the &#8220;beauty&#8221; instead of the woman.
+To judge whether the woman herself is really beautiful without the
+modiste&#8217;s assistance, it would be necessary to see her deprived of
+all her fashionable clothes. Her bought hair should be taken off
+and only the natural remainder left. She should be content to stand
+<i>sans</i> paint, <i>sans</i> powder, <i>sans</i> back coil, <i>sans</i> corsets, in a
+plain white gown, falling from her neck and shoulders to her feet, and
+thus cheaply, yet decently clad, submit<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">[Pg 188]</a></span> herself to the gaze of her
+male flatterers in full daylight. How many of the &#8220;beautiful&#8221; Mrs.
+Juno-Athenes or the &#8220;lovely&#8221; Lady Spendthrifts could stand such a test
+unflinchingly? Yet the simplest draperies clothe the Greek marbles when
+they are clothed at all, and jewels and fripperies on the goddess Diana
+would make her grace seem vulgar and her perfection common. Beauty,
+real beauty, needs no &#8220;creator of costume&#8221; to define it, but is, as the
+poets say, when unadorned, adorned the most.</p>
+
+<p>Now it is absolutely impossible to meet with any &#8220;unadorned&#8221; sort
+of beauty in those circles of rank and fashion where the society
+paragraphist basks at his or her pleasure. On the contrary, there is
+so much over-adornment in vogue that it is sometimes difficult to
+find the actual true colour and personality of certain ladies whose
+charms are daily eulogized by an obliging press. Layers of pearl enamel
+picked out with rouge, entirely conceal their human identity. It is
+doubtful whether there was ever more face-painting and &#8220;faking up&#8221; of
+beauty than there is now,&mdash;never did beauty specialists and beauty
+doctors drive such a roaring trade. The profits of beauty-faking are
+enormous. Some idea of it may be gained by the fact that there is a
+certain shrewd and highly intelligent &#8220;doctor&#8221; in Paris, who, seeing
+which way the wind of fashion blows, brews a harmless little mixture of
+rose-water, eau-de-cologne, tincture of benzoin and cochineal, which
+materials are quite the reverse of costly, and calling it by a pretty
+<i>sobriquet</i>, sells the same at twenty-five shillings a bottle! He is
+making a fortune out of women&#8217;s stupidity, is this good<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">[Pg 189]</a></span> &#8220;doctor,&#8221; and
+who shall blame him? Fools exist merely that the wise may use them.
+One has only to read the ladies&#8217; papers, especially the advertisements
+therein, to grasp a faint notion of what is being done to spur on the
+&#8220;beauty&#8221; craze. Yet beauty remains as rare and remote as ever, and
+often when we see some of the ladies whose &#8220;exquisite loveliness&#8221;
+has been praised for years in nearly every newspaper on this, or the
+other side of the Atlantic, we fall back dismayed, with a sense of the
+deepest disappointment and aggravation, and wonder what we have done to
+be so deceived?</p>
+
+<p>Taken in the majority, the women of Great Britain are supposed to
+hold the palm of beauty against all other women of the nations of
+the world, and if the word &#8220;beauty&#8221; be changed to prettiness, the
+supposition is no doubt correct. It is somewhat unfortunate, however,
+that either through the advice of their dressmakers or their own
+erroneous conceptions of Form, they should appear to resent the soft
+outlines and gracious curves of nature, for either by the over-excess
+of their outdoor sports, or the undue compression of corsets, they are
+gradually doing away with their originally intended shapes and becoming
+as flat-chested as jockeys under training. No flat-chested woman is
+pretty. No woman with large hands, large feet, and the coarse muscular
+throat and jaw developed by constant bicycle-riding, can be called
+fascinating. The bony and resolute lady whose lines of figure run
+straight down without a curve anywhere from head to heel, may possibly
+be a good athlete, but her looks are by no means to her advantage.
+Men&#8217;s hearts are not enthralled or captured by a Something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">[Pg 190]</a></span> appearing
+to be neither man nor woman. And there are a great many of these
+Somethings about just now. I am ignorant as to whether American women
+go in for mannish sports as frequently and ardently as their British
+sisters, but I notice that they have daintier hands and feet, and less
+pronounced &#8220;muscle.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>At the same time American women on an average, are not so pretty
+as British women on the same average. The American complexion is
+unfortunate. Often radiant and delicate in earliest youth, it fades
+with maturity like a brilliant flower scorched by too hot a sun,
+and once departed returns no more. The clear complexion of British
+women is their best feature. The natural rose and white skin of an
+English, Irish or Scottish girl,&mdash;especially a girl born and bred in
+the country, is wonderfully fresh and lovely and lasting, and often
+accompanies her right through her life to old age. That is, of course,
+if she leaves it alone, and is satisfied merely to keep it clean,
+without any &#8220;adornment&#8221; from the beauty doctor. And, though steadily
+withholding the divine word &#8220;beauty&#8221; from the greater portion of the
+&#8220;beauties&#8221; at the Court of King Edward VII. it is unquestionably the
+fact that the prettiest women in the world are the British. Americans
+are likely to contest this. They will, as indeed in true chivalry they
+must, declare that their own &#8220;beauties&#8221; are best. But one can only
+speak from personal experience, and I am bound to say that I have never
+seen a pretty American woman pretty enough to beat a pretty British
+woman. This, with every possible admission made for the hard-working
+society paragraphist,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">[Pg 191]</a></span> compelled to write of numerous &#8220;beautiful&#8221;
+Ladies So-and-So, and &#8220;charming&#8221; Mrs. Cashboxes, who, when one comes to
+look at them are neither &#8220;beautiful&#8221; nor &#8220;charming&#8221; at all.</p>
+
+<p>But British feminine prettiness would be infinitely more captivating
+than it is, if it were associated with a little extra additional
+touch of vivacity and intelligence. When it is put in the shade, (as
+frequently happens,) by the sparkling allurements of the Viennese
+coquette, the graceful <i>savoir faire</i> of the French <i>mondaine</i>, or
+the enticing charm of lustrous-eyed sirens from southern Italy, it
+is merely because of its lack of wit. It is a good thing to have a
+pretty face; but if the face be only like a wax mask, moveless and
+expressionless, it soon ceases to attract. The loveliest picture
+would bore us if we had to stare at it dumbly all day. And there is
+undeniably a stiffness, a formality, and often a most repellent and
+unsympathetic coldness about the British fair sex, which re-acts upon
+the men and women of other more warm-hearted and impulsive nations,
+in a manner highly disadvantageous to the ladies of our Fortunate
+Isles. For it is not <i>real</i> stiffness, or <i>real</i> formality after
+all,&mdash;nor is it the snowy chill of a touch-me-not chastity, by any
+means,&mdash;it is merely a most painful, and in many cases, most absurd
+self-consciousness. British women are always more or less wondering
+what their sister women are thinking about them. They can manage their
+men all right; but they put on curious and unbecoming airs directly
+other feminine influences than their own come into play. They invite
+the comment of the opposite sex, but they dread the criticism of their
+own. The<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">[Pg 192]</a></span> awkward girl who sits on the edge of a chair with her feet
+scraping the carpet and her hands twiddling uneasily in her lap, is
+awkward simply because she has, by some means or other, been made
+self-conscious,&mdash;and because, in the excess of this self-consciousness
+she stupidly imagines every one in the room must be staring at her.
+The average London woman, dressed like a fashion-plate, who rustles
+in at afternoon tea, with her card-case well in evidence, and her
+face carefully set in proper &#8220;visiting lines,&#8221; offers herself up in
+this way as a subject for the satirist, out of the same disfiguring
+self-consciousness, which robs her entirely of the indifferent ease
+and careless grace which should,&mdash;to quote the greatest of American
+philosophers, Emerson,&mdash;cause her to &#8220;repel interference by a decided
+and proud choice of influences,&#8221; and to &#8220;inspire every beholder with
+something of her own nobleness.&#8221; She is probably not <i>naturally</i>
+formal,&mdash;she is no doubt exceedingly constrained and uncomfortable
+in her fashionable attire,&mdash;and one may take it for granted that
+she would rather be herself than try to be a Something which is a
+Nothing. But Custom and Convention are her bogie men, always guarding
+her on either side, and investing her too often with such deplorable
+self-consciousness that her eye becomes furtive, her mouth hard and
+secretive, her conversation inane, and her whole personality an
+uncomfortable exhalation of stupidity and dullness.</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, setting Custom and Convention apart for the nonce, and
+bidding them descend into the shadows of hypocrisy which are their
+native atmosphere, the British woman remains the prettiest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">[Pg 193]</a></span> in the
+world. What a galaxy of feminine charms can be gathered under the word
+&#8220;British&#8221;! England, Ireland, Wales and Scotland offer all together such
+countless examples of woman&#8217;s loveliness, that it would be difficult,
+if not impossible, to give the prize for good looks to one portion of
+Britain more than to the other. America, so far as her samples have
+been, and are, seen in Europe, cannot outrival the &#8220;Old Country&#8221; in the
+prettiness of its women. But it is prettiness only; not Beauty. Beauty
+remains intrinsically where it was first born and first admitted into
+the annals of Art and Literature. Its home is still in &#8220;the Isles of
+Greece, where burning Sappho loved and sung.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Nothing that was ever created in the way of female loveliness can
+surpass the beauty of a beautiful Greek woman. True, she is as rare as
+a butterfly in a snow storm. True, the women of Athens and of Greece
+generally, taken in the rough majority, are not on an average, even
+pretty. Nevertheless the palm of beauty remains with them&mdash;because
+there are always two,&mdash;or may be three of them, who dawn year by year
+upon the world in all the old perfection of the classic models, and
+who may truly be taken for newly-descended goddesses, so faultlessly
+formed, so exquisitely featured are they. They are not famed by the
+paragraphist, and they probably will never get the chance of moving in
+the circles of the British &#8220;Upper Ten&#8221; or the American &#8220;Four Hundred.&#8221;
+But they are the daughters of Aphrodite still, and hold fast their
+heavenly mother&#8217;s attributes. It is easy to find a hundred or more
+pretty British and American women for one beautiful Greek&mdash;but when
+found, the beautiful Greek eclipses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">[Pg 194]</a></span> them all. She is still the wonder
+of the world,&mdash;the crown of womanly beauty at its best. She shows the
+heritage of her race in her regal step and freedom of movement,&mdash;in
+the lovely curves of her figure, in the classic perfection of her face
+with its broad brows, lustrous eyes, arched sweet lips and delicate
+contour of chin and throat, and perhaps more than all in the queenly
+indifference she bears towards her own loveliness. So,</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Fill high the bowl with Samian wine,</div>
+<div class="i1">On Suli&#8217;s bank and Parga&#8217;s shore,</div>
+<div>Exists the remnant of a line</div>
+<div class="i1">Such as the Doric mothers bore;</div>
+<div>And there perhaps some seed is sown</div>
+<div>The Heracleidan blood might own!</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>And there still, may be found the perfection of womanhood&mdash;the one rare
+Greek lily, which blossoming at few and far intervals shows in its
+exquisite form and colouring what Woman should be at her fairest. To
+her, therefore, must be given the Palm of Beauty. But after the lily,
+then the rose!&mdash;or rather the roses, multitudinous, varied, and always
+sweet&mdash;of the Fortunate Isles of Britain.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">[Pg 195]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE MADNESS OF CLOTHES</h2>
+
+<p>To dress well is a social duty. Every educated self-respecting woman
+is bound to clothe her person as neatly, as tastefully and becomingly
+as she can. But just as a virtue when carried to excess develops into
+a vice, so the art of dressing well, when allowed to overstep its
+legitimate uses and expenditure, easily runs into folly and madness.
+The reckless extravagance of women&#8217;s dress at the present day is little
+short of criminal insanity. A feverish desire to outvie one another in
+the manner and make of their garments appears to possess every feminine
+creature whose lot in life places her outside positive penury. The
+inordinately wealthy, the normally rich, the well-to-do middle class
+and the shabby genteel are all equally infected by the same hysterical
+frenzy. And it is a frenzy which is humoured and encouraged on all
+sides by those who should have the sense, the intelligence and the
+foresight to realize the danger of such a tendency, and the misery to
+which in many cases it is surely bound to lead.</p>
+
+<p>Latterly there have been certain growlings and mutterings of discontent
+from husbands who have had to pay certain unexpectedly long bills for
+their wives&#8217; &#8220;creations in costume&#8221;&mdash;but, as a matter of fact, it is
+really the men who are chiefly to blame for the wicked waste of money
+they afterwards resent<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">[Pg 196]</a></span> and deplore. They are the principal instigators
+of the mischief,&mdash;the aiders and abettors of the destruction of their
+own credit and good name. For they openly show their admiration for
+women&#8217;s clothes more than for the women clothed,&mdash;that is to say,
+they are more easily captured by art than by nature. No group of male
+flatterers is ever seen round a woman whose dress is un-stylish or
+otherwise &#8220;out-of-date.&#8221; She may have the sweetest face in the world,
+the purest nature and the truest heart, but the &#8220;dressed&#8221; woman, the
+dyed, the artistically &#8220;faked&#8221; woman will nearly always score a triumph
+over her so far as masculine appreciation and attention are concerned.</p>
+
+<p>The &#8220;faked&#8221; woman has everything on her side. The Drama supports her.
+The Press encourages her. Whole columns in seemingly sane journals are
+devoted to the description of her attire. Very little space is given to
+the actual criticism of a new play <i>as</i> a play, but any amount of room
+is awarded to glorified &#8220;gushers&#8221; concerning the actresses&#8217; gowns. Of
+course it has to be borne in mind that the &#8220;writing up&#8221; of actresses&#8217;
+gowns serves a double purpose. First, the &#8220;creators&#8221; of the gowns are
+advertised, and may in their turn advertise,&mdash;which in these days of
+multitudinous rival newspapers, is a point not to be lost sight of.
+Secondly, the actresses themselves are advertised and certain gentlemen
+with big noses who move &#8220;behind the scenes,&#8221; and are the lineal
+descendants of Moses and Aaron, may thereby be encouraged to speculate
+in theatrical &#8220;shares.&#8221; Whereas criticism of the play itself does no
+good to anybody nowadays, not even to the dramatic author. For if such
+criticism be <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">[Pg 197]</a></span>unfavourable, the public say it is written by a spiteful
+enemy,&mdash;if eulogistic, by a &#8220;friend at court,&#8221; and they accept neither
+verdict. They go to see the thing for themselves, and if they like it
+they keep on going. If not, they stay away, and there&#8217;s an end.</p>
+
+<p>But to the gowns there is no end. The gowns, even in an <i>un</i>-successful
+play, are continuously talked of, continuously written about,
+continuously sketched in every sort of pictorial, small and great,
+fashionable or merely provincial. And the florid language,&mdash;or shall
+we say the &#8216;fine writing&#8217;?&mdash;used to describe clothes generally, on and
+off the stage, is so ravingly sentimental, so bewilderingly turgid,
+that it can only compare with the fervid verbosity of the early
+eighteenth century romancists, or the biting sarcasm of Thackeray&#8217;s
+<i>Book of Snobs</i>, from which the following passage, descriptive of &#8216;Miss
+Snobky&#8217;s&#8217; presentation gown, may be aptly quoted:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;<i>Habit de Cour</i> composed of a yellow nankeen illusion dress, over a
+slip of rich pea-green corduroy, trimmed <i>en tablier</i> with bouquets
+of Brussels sprouts, the body and sleeves handsomely trimmed with
+calimanco, and festooned with a pink train and white radishes.
+Head-dress, carrots and lappets.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>By way of a modern pendant to the above grotesque suggestion, one
+extract from a lengthy &#8220;clothes&#8221; article recently published in a daily
+paper will suffice:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Among the numerous evening and dinner gowns that the young lady has
+in her <i>corbeille</i>, one, <i>a l&#8217;Impératrice Eugénie</i>, is very lovely.
+The foundation is of white Liberty, with a tulle overdress on which
+are four flounces of Chantilly lace arranged<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">[Pg 198]</a></span> in zig-zags, connected
+together with shaded pink <i>gloria</i> ribbons arranged in waves and
+wreaths. This is repeated on the low corsage and on the long drooping
+sleeves of the high bodice.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;A richer toilette is of white Liberty silk, with a flounce of
+magnificent Brussels lace festooned by leaves of the chestnut, formed
+of white satin wrought in iris beads and silver on white tulle. The
+whole gown is strewn with like leaves of graduating sizes, and the
+low corsage has a <i>berthe</i> of Brussels lace ornamented with smaller
+chestnut leaves as are also the sleeves.&#8221; And so on, in unlimited
+bursts of enthusiasm.</p>
+
+<p>I cannot say I am in the least sorry when &#8220;modistes&#8221; who &#8216;create&#8217;
+costumes at forty, fifty and even one hundred and two hundred guineas
+per gown, are mulcted of some of their unlawful profits by defaulting
+creditors. In nine cases out of ten they richly deserve it. They are
+rightly punished, when they accept, with fulsome flattery and servile
+obsequiousness a &#8220;title&#8221; as sufficient guarantee for credit, and in
+the end find out that Her Grace the Duchess, or Miladi the Countess is
+perhaps more wickedly reckless and unprincipled than any plain Miss, or
+Mrs. ever born, and that these <i>grandes dames</i> frequently make use of
+both rank and position to cheat their tradespeople systematically. The
+tradespeople are entirely to blame for trusting them, and this is daily
+and continuously proved. But the touching crook-knee&#8217;d worship of mere
+social rank still remains an ingredient of the mercantile nature,&mdash;it
+is inborn and racial,&mdash;a kind of microbe in the blood generated there
+in old feudal times, when, all over the world, pedlars humbly sought<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">[Pg 199]</a></span>
+the patronage and favour of robber chieftains, and unloaded their packs
+in the &#8216;Castle hall&#8217; for the pleasure of the fair ladies who were
+kept at home in &#8220;durance vile&#8221; by their rough, unwashen lords. And so
+perhaps it has chanced through long custom and heritage, that at this
+present day there is nothing quite so servile in all creation as the
+spectacle of the &#8216;modiste&#8217; in attendance on a Duchess, or a &#8216;ladies&#8217;
+tailor&#8217; bending himself double while deferentially presuming to measure
+the hips of a Princess. It is quaint,&mdash;it is pitiful,&mdash;it is intensely,
+deliciously comic. And when the price of the garment is never clearly
+stated, and the bill never sent in for years lest offence is given to
+&#8216;Her Grace&#8217; or &#8216;Her Highness&#8217;&mdash;by firms that will, nevertheless, have
+no scruple in sending dunning letters and legal threats to <i>un</i>-titled
+ladies, who may possibly keep them waiting a little for their money,
+but whose position and credit are more firmly established than those of
+any &#8216;great&#8217; personages with handles to their names, it is not without
+a certain secret satisfaction that one hears of such fawning flunkeys
+of trade getting well burnt in the fires of loss and disaster. For in
+any case, it may be taken for granted that they always charge a double,
+sometimes treble price for a garment or costume, over and above what
+that garment or costume is really worth, and one may safely presume
+they base all their calculations on possible loss. It is no uncommon
+thing to be told that such and such an evening blouse or bodice copied
+&#8216;from the Paris model&#8217; will cost Forty Guineas&mdash;&#8220;We <i>might</i> possibly do
+it for Thirty Five,&#8221;&mdash;says the costumier meditatively, studying with
+well-assumed gravity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">[Pg 200]</a></span> the small, flimsy object he is thus pricing, a
+trifle made up of chiffon, ribbon, and tinsel gew-gaws, knowing all the
+while that everything of which it is composed could be purchased for
+much less than ten pounds. Twenty-five guineas, forty-five guineas,
+sixty-five guineas are quite common prices for gowns at any of the
+fashionable shops to-day. One cannot, of course, blame the modistes
+and outfitting firms for asking these absurd fancy prices if they can
+get them. If women are mad, it is perhaps wise, just, and reasonable
+to take financial advantage of their madness while it lasts. Certainly
+no woman of well-balanced brain would give unlimited prices for gowns
+without most careful inquiry as to the correct value of the material
+and trimming used for them,&mdash;and the feminine creature who runs into
+the elaborate show-rooms of Madame Zoë or Berenice, or Faustina, and
+orders frocks by the dozen, saying chirpingly: &#8220;Oh, yes! <i>You</i> know
+how they ought to be made! Your taste is always perfect! Make them
+<i>very</i> pretty, won&#8217;t you?&mdash;<i>much</i> prettier than those you made for Lady
+Claribel! Yes!&mdash;thanks! I&#8217;ll leave it all in your hands!&#8221; this woman, I
+say, is a mere lunatic, gibbering nonsense, who could not, if she were
+asked, tell where twice two making four might possibly lead her in the
+sum-total of a banking account.</p>
+
+<p>Not very long ago there was held a wonderful &#8220;symposium&#8221; of dress at
+the establishment of a certain modiste. It was intensely diverting,
+entertaining and instructive. A stage was erected at one end of a long
+room, and on that stage, with effective flashes of lime-light played
+from the &#8220;wings&#8221; at intervals, and the accompaniment<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">[Pg 201]</a></span> of a Hungarian
+band, young ladies wearing &#8220;creations&#8221; in costume, stood, sat, turned,
+twisted and twirled, and finally walked down the room between rows
+of spectators to show themselves and the gowns they carried, off to
+the best possible advantage. The whole thing was much better than a
+stage comedy. Nothing could surpass the quaint peacock-like vanity
+of the girl <i>mannequins</i> who strutted up and down, moving their arms
+about to exhibit their sleeves and swaying their hips to accentuate
+the fall and flow of flounces and draperies. It was a marvellous sight
+to behold, and it irresistibly reminded one of a party of impudent
+children trying on for fun all their mother&#8217;s and elder sisters&#8217; best
+&#8220;long dresses&#8221; while the unsuspecting owners were out of the way. There
+was a &#8220;programme&#8221; of the performance fearfully and wonderfully worded,
+the composition, so we were afterwards &#8220;with bated breath&#8221; informed,
+of Madame la Modiste&#8217;s sister, a lady, who by virtue of having written
+two small skits on the manners, customs and modes of society, is, in
+some obliging quarters of the Press called a &#8220;novelist.&#8221; This programme
+instructed us as to the proper views we were expected to take of the
+costumes paraded before us, as follows:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="center">FOR THE DINNER PARTY</p>
+
+<p>Topas<br />Elusive Joy<br />
+Pleasure&#8217;s Thrall<br />Red Mouth of a Venomous Flower</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>The &#8220;Red Mouth of a Venomous Flower&#8221; was a harmless-looking girl in a
+bright scarlet toilette,&mdash;neither <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">[Pg 202]</a></span>the toilette nor the sensational
+title suited her. But perhaps the &#8220;Cult of Chiffon&#8221; presented the most
+varied and startling phases to a properly receptive mind. Thus it ran:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p class="center">THE CULT OF CHIFFON</p>
+
+<p>The Dirge O&#8217;er the Death of Pleasure<br />The Fire Motif<br />
+The Meaning of Life is Clear<br />Moss and Starlight<br />Incessant Soft Desire<br />
+A Frenzied Song of Amorous Things<br />A Summer Night Has a Thousand Powers</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>Faint gigglings shook the bosoms of the profane as the &#8220;Incessant Soft
+Desire&#8221; glided into view, followed by &#8220;A Frenzied Song of Amorous
+Things,&#8221;&mdash;indeed it would have been positively unnatural and inhuman
+had no one laughed. Curious to relate, there were quite a large number
+of &#8220;gentlemen&#8221; at this remarkable exhibition of feminine clothes,
+many of them well known and easily recognizable. Certain <i>flaneurs</i>
+of Bond Street, various loafers familiar to the Carlton &#8220;lounge,&#8221; and
+celebrated Piccadilly-trotters, formed nearly one half of the audience,
+and stared with easy insolence at the &#8220;Red Mouth of a Venomous Flower&#8221;
+or smiled suggestively at &#8220;Incessant Soft Desire.&#8221; They were invited to
+stare and smile, and they did it. But there was something remarkably
+offensive in their way of doing it, and perhaps if a few thick boots
+worn on the feet of rough but honest workmen had come into contact
+with their smooth personalities on their way out of Madame Modiste&#8217;s
+establishment, it might have done them good and taught<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">[Pg 203]</a></span> them a useful
+lesson. Needless to say that the prices of the Madame Modiste who could
+set forth such an exhibition of melodramatically designated feminine
+apparel as &#8220;The Night has a Thousand Eyes,&#8221; or &#8220;Spring&#8217;s Delirium,&#8221;
+were in suitable proportion to a &#8220;frenzied song of amorous things.&#8221;
+Such amorous things as are &#8220;created&#8221; in her establishment are likely to
+make husbands and fathers know exactly what &#8220;a frenzied song&#8221; means.
+When the payment of the bills is concerned, they will probably sing
+that &#8220;frenzied song&#8221; themselves.</p>
+
+<p>It is quite easy to dress well and tastefully without
+spending a very great deal of money. It certainly requires
+brain&mdash;thought&mdash;foresight&mdash;taste&mdash;and comprehension of the harmony
+of colours. But the blind following of a fashion because Madame This
+or That says it is &#8220;chic&#8221; or &#8220;le dernier cri,&#8221; or some parrot-like
+recommendation of the sort, is mere stupidity on the part of the
+followers. To run up long credit for dresses, without the least idea
+how the account is ever going to be paid, is nothing less than a
+criminal act. It is simply fraud. And such fraud re-acts on the whole
+community.</p>
+
+<p>Extravagant taste in dress is infectious. Most of us are impressed by
+the King&#8217;s sensible and earnest desire that the Press should use its
+influence for good in fostering amity between ourselves and foreign
+countries. If the Press would equally use its efforts to discourage
+florid descriptions of dress in their columns, much of the wild and
+wilful extravagance which is frequently the ruin of otherwise happy
+homes, might be avoided. When Lady A sees her loathëd rival Lady B&#8217;s
+dress described in half a column of newspaper &#8220;gush&#8221; she <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">[Pg 204]</a></span>straightway
+yearns and schemes for a whole column of the same kind. When simple
+country girls read the amazing items of the &#8220;toilettes&#8221; worn by some
+notorious &#8220;demi-mondaine,&#8221; they begin to wonder how it is she has
+such things, and to speculate as to whether they will ever be able
+to obtain similar glorified apparel for themselves. And so the evil
+grows, till by and by it becomes a pernicious disease, and women look
+superciliously at one another, not for what they are, but merely
+to estimate the quality and style of what they put on their backs.
+Virtue goes to the wall if it does not wear a fashionable frock.
+Vice is welcomed everywhere if it is clothed in a Paris &#8220;creation.&#8221;
+Nevertheless, Ben Jonson&#8217;s lines still hold good:</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Still to be neat, still to be drest,</div>
+<div>As you were going to a feast;</div>
+<div>Still to be powder&#8217;d, still perfumed:</div>
+<div>Lady, it is to be presumed,</div>
+<div>Though art&#8217;s hid causes are not found</div>
+<div>All is not sweet, all is not sound.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>&#8220;All is not sweet, all is not sound,&#8221; when women think little or
+nothing of ordering extravagant costumes which they well know they will
+never be able to pay for, unless through some dishonourable means, such
+as gambling at Bridge for example. Madame Modiste is quite prepared
+for such an exigency, for she does not forget to show &#8220;creations&#8221; in
+clothes which, she softly purrs, are &#8220;suitable for Bridge parties.&#8221;
+They may possibly be called&mdash;&#8220;The Tricky Trump&#8221;&mdash;or &#8220;The Dazzling of
+a Glance too long&#8221; or &#8220;The Deft Impress of a Finger nail&#8221;! One never
+knows!</p>
+
+<p>Any amount of fashion papers find their way into<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">[Pg 205]</a></span> the average British
+household, containing rabid nonsense such as the following:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;There were wonderful stories afloat about Miss B&#8217;s dresses. Rumour has
+it that a dressmaker came over specially from New York to requisition
+the services of the most important artistes in Paris, and gold lace and
+hand embroidery were used with no frugal hand; yet, <i>despite this</i> and
+the warm welcome accorded her by an English audience, Miss B does not
+seem to have made up her mind to stay with us long, for it is said the
+end of June will see the end of her season. We have sketched her in
+her pink chiffon wrap, which is made in the Empire shape covered with
+chiffon and decorated with bunches of chiffon flowers and green leaves
+held with bows of pink satin&mdash;a most dainty affair, full of delicate
+detail and pre-eminently becoming.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Despite this,&#8221;&mdash;is rich indeed! Despite the fact that &#8220;gold lace and
+hand-embroidery&#8221; were used &#8220;with no frugal hand,&#8221; Miss B is determined
+to leave &#8220;the gay, the gay and glittering scene,&#8221; and deprive us of
+her &#8220;pink chiffon wrap in the Empire shape&#8221;! A positively disastrous
+conclusion! Nay, but hearken to the maudlin murmurs of the crazed
+worshippers of Mumbo-Jumbo &#8220;Fashion&#8221;&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you yearn for a grey muslin dress? Half my &#8216;smart girl&#8217;
+acquaintances are buying grey muslins as though their lives depended
+on it. I fell in love with one of them that was in bouilloné gathers
+all round the skirt to within eight inches of the hem, while the
+yoke had similar but smaller bouillonés run through, well below the
+shoulder-line, with a wide chiné ribbon knotted low in front. Beneath
+this encircling ribbon the bodice pouched in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">[Pg 206]</a></span> blouse fashion over a
+chiné waist-ribbon to match, with long pendant ends one side; the
+sleeves were a distinct novelty, being set in a number of small puffs
+below one big one, a chiné ribbon being knotted around the arm between
+each puff.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Do you &#8216;yearn&#8217; for a grey muslin dress?&#8221; O ye gods! One is reminded of
+a comic passage in the &#8220;Artemus Ward&#8221; papers, where it is related how
+a lady of the &#8220;Free Love&#8221; persuasion rushed at the American humorist,
+brandishing a cotton umbrella and crying out: &#8220;Dost thou not yearn
+for me?&#8221; to which adjuration Artemus replied, while he &#8220;dodged&#8221; the
+umbrella&mdash;&#8220;Not a yearn!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I should like,&#8221;&mdash;says one of the poor imbecile &#8220;dress&#8221; devotees, &#8220;the
+skirt finished off with a wadded hem, or perhaps a few folds of satin,
+but otherwise it should be left severely plain. These satin, brocade,
+or velvet dresses should stand or fall by their own merits, and never
+be over-elaborated.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>True! And is it &#8220;a wadded hem&#8221; or a padded room that should &#8220;finish
+off&#8221; these people who spread the madness of clothes far and wide till
+it becomes a positively dangerous and immoral infection? One wonders!
+For there is no more mischievous wickedness in society to-day than the
+flamboyant, exuberant, wilful extravagance of women&#8217;s dress. It has far
+exceeded the natural and pretty vanity of permissible charm, good taste
+and elegance. It has become a riotous waste,&mdash;an ugly disease of moral
+principle, ending at last in the disgrace and death of many a woman&#8217;s
+good name.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">[Pg 207]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE DECAY OF HOME LIFE IN ENGLAND</h2>
+
+<p>When people tell the truth they are generally disliked. From Socrates,
+to the latest of his modern philosophic imitators, the bowl of
+death-dealing hemlock has always been mixed by the world and held to
+the lips of those who dare to say uncomfortably plain things. When
+the late W. E. H. Lecky set down the truth of Cecil Rhodes, in his
+book entitled <i>The Map of Life</i>, and I, the present writer, ventured
+to quote the passage in &#8220;The Vulgarity of Wealth,&#8221; when that article
+was first published, a number of uninformed individuals rashly accused
+me of &#8220;abusing Cecil Rhodes.&#8221; They were naturally afraid to attack
+the greater writer. Inasmuch, said they: &#8220;If Mr. Lecky had <i>really</i>
+suggested that Cecil Rhodes was not, like Brutus, &#8216;an honourable man,&#8217;
+he, Mr. Lecky, would never have received the King&#8217;s new &#8216;Order of
+Merit,&#8217; nor would Mr. Rhodes have been the subject of so much eulogy.
+For, of course, the King has read <i>The Map of Life</i>, and is aware of
+the assertions contained in it.&#8221; Now I wish, dear gossips all, you
+would read <i>The Map of Life</i> for yourselves! You will find, if you do,
+not only plain facts concerning Rhodes, and the vulgarity, i.e. the
+ostentation of wealth, but much useful information on sundry other
+matters closely<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">[Pg 208]</a></span> concerning various manners and customs of the present
+day. For one example, consider the following:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The amount of pure and almost spontaneous malevolence in the world is
+probably far greater than we at first imagine.... No one, for example,
+can study the anonymous press, without perceiving how large a part of
+it is employed <i>systematically</i>, <i>persistently</i> and <i>deliberately</i> in
+fostering class, or individual or international hatreds, and often <i>in
+circulating falsehoods to attain this end</i>. Many newspapers notoriously
+depend for their existence on such appeals, and more than any other
+instruments, they inflame and perpetuate those permanent animosities
+which most endanger the peace of mankind. The fact that such newspapers
+are becoming in many countries the main and almost exclusive reading of
+the million, forms the most serious deduction from the value of modern
+education.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Let it be noted, once and for all, that it is not the present writer
+who thus speaks of &#8220;the anonymous press,&#8221; but the experienced,
+brilliant and unprejudiced scholar who was among the first to hold the
+King&#8217;s &#8220;Order of Merit.&#8221; And so once again to our muttons:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Some of the very worst acts of which man can be guilty are acts which
+are commonly untouched by law, and only faintly censured by opinion.
+Political crimes, which a false and sickly sentiment so readily
+condones, are conspicuous among them. Men who have been gambling for
+wealth and power with the lives and fortunes of multitudes; men who
+for their own personal ambition are prepared<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">[Pg 209]</a></span> to sacrifice the most
+vital interests of their country; men, who in time of great national
+danger and excitement deliberately launch falsehood after falsehood
+in the public press, in the well-founded conviction that they will do
+their evil work before they can be contradicted, may be met shameless
+and almost uncensured in Parliaments and drawing-rooms. The amount
+of false statements in the world which cannot be attributed to mere
+carelessness, inaccuracy or exaggeration, but which is plainly both
+deliberate and malevolent, can hardly be overrated. Sometimes it is
+due to a mere desire to create a lucrative sensation, or to gratify
+a personal dislike, or even to an unprovoked malevolence which takes
+pleasure in inflicting pain. * * * Very often it (i.e. the false
+statement in the press) is intended for purposes of stock-jobbing.
+The financial world is percolated with it. It is the common method
+of raising or depreciating securities, attracting investors, preying
+upon the ignorant and credulous, and enabling dishonest men to rise
+rapidly to fortune. When the prospect of speedy wealth is in sight,
+there are always numbers who are perfectly prepared to pursue courses
+involving the utter ruin of multitudes, endangering the most serious
+international interests, perhaps bringing down upon the world all the
+calamities of war.... It is much to be questioned whether the greatest
+criminals are to be found within the walls of prisons. Dishonesty on
+a small scale nearly always finds its punishment. Dishonesty on a
+gigantic scale continually escapes.... In the management of companies,
+in the great fields of industrial enterprise and speculation, gigantic
+fortunes are acquired<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">[Pg 210]</a></span> by the ruin of multitudes; and by methods which
+though they avoid legal penalties are essentially fraudulent. In the
+majority of cases these crimes are perpetrated by educated men who are
+in possession of all the necessaries, of most comforts, and of many
+luxuries of life, and some of the worst of them are powerfully favoured
+by the conditions of modern civilization. There is no greater scandal
+or moral evil in our time than the readiness with which public opinion
+excuses them, and the influence and social position it accords to mere
+wealth, even when it has been acquired by notorious dishonesty, or when
+it is expended with absolute selfishness or in ways that are absolutely
+demoralising. In many respects the moral progress of mankind seems to
+me incontestable, but it is extremely doubtful whether in this respect,
+social morality, especially in England and America, has not seriously
+retrograded.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p class="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</p>
+
+<p class="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</p>
+
+<p class="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</p>
+
+<p class="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</p>
+
+<p>Now had I written the foregoing lines, some hundred or so of
+pleasant newspaper friends would have accused me of &#8220;screaming&#8221; out
+a denunciation of wealth, or of &#8220;railing&#8221; against society. But as
+Lecky,&mdash;with the King&#8217;s &#8220;Order of Merit,&#8221; appended to his distinguished
+name,&mdash;was the real author of the quotation, I am not without hope
+that his views may be judged worthy of consideration, even though his
+works may not be as thoughtfully studied as their excellence merits.
+It is not I&mdash;it was Mr. Lecky, who doubted whether &#8220;social<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">[Pg 211]</a></span> morality
+both in England and America, had not seriously retrograded.&#8221; But, if
+it has so retrograded, there need be very little difficulty in tracing
+the retrogression to its direct source,&mdash;namely, to the carelessness,
+vanity, extravagance, lack of high principle, and entire lapse of
+dignity in the women who constitute and lead what is called the Smart
+Set. These women cannot be termed as of the Aristocracy, for the
+Aristocracy, (by which term I mean those who are lineally entitled
+to be considered the actual British nobility, and not the mushroom
+creations of yesterday), will, more often than not, decline to have
+anything to do with them. True, there are some &#8220;great&#8221; ladies, who
+have deliberately and voluntarily fallen from their high estate in
+the sight of a scandalised public, and who, by birth and breeding,
+should assuredly have possessed more pride and self-respect, than to
+wilfully descend into the mire. But the very fact that these few have
+so lamentably failed to support the responsibilities of their position,
+makes it all the sadder for the many good and true women of noble
+family who endeavour, as best they may, to stem the tide of harmful
+circumstance, and to show by the retired simplicity and intellectual
+charm of their own lives, that though society is fast becoming a
+disordered wilderness of American and South African &#8220;scrub,&#8221; there yet
+remains within it a flourishing scion of the brave old English Oak of
+Honour, guarded by the plain device &#8220;Noblesse Oblige.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The influence of women bears perhaps more strongly than any other
+power on the position and supremacy of a country. Corrupt women make<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">[Pg 212]</a></span>
+a corrupt State,&mdash;noble, God-fearing women make a noble, God-fearing
+people. It is not too much to say that the prosperity or adversity
+of a nation rests in the hands of its women. They are the mothers of
+the men,&mdash;they make and mould the characters of their sons. And the
+centre of their influence should be, as Nature intended it to be, the
+Home. Home is the pivot round which the wheel of a country&#8217;s highest
+statesmanship should revolve,&mdash;the preservation of Home, its interests,
+its duties and principles, should be the aim of every good citizen. But
+with the &#8220;retrogression of social morality,&#8221; as Mr. Lecky phrased it,
+and as part and parcel of that backward action and movement, has gone
+the gradual decay of home life, and a growing indifference to home as
+a centre of attraction and influence, together with the undermining
+of family ties and affections, which, rightly used and considered,
+should form the strongest bulwark to our national strength. The love
+of home,&mdash;the desire to <i>make</i> a home,&mdash;is far stronger in the poorer
+classes nowadays than in the wealthy or even the moderately rich of the
+general community. Women of the &#8220;upper ten&#8221; are no longer pre-eminent
+as rulers of the home, but are to be seen daily and nightly as noisy
+and pushing frequenters of public restaurants. The great lady is
+seldom or never to be found &#8220;at home&#8221; on her own domain,&mdash;but she may
+be easily met at the Carlton, Prince&#8217;s, or the Berkeley (on Sundays).
+The old-world châtelaine of a great house who took pride in looking
+after the comfort of all her retainers,&mdash;who displayed an active
+interest in every detail of management,&mdash;surrounding herself with
+choice<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">[Pg 213]</a></span> furniture, fine pictures, sweet linen, beautiful flowers, and
+home delicates of her own personal make or supervision, is becoming
+well-nigh obsolete. &#8220;It is such a bore being at home!&#8221; is quite an
+ordinary phrase with the gawk-girl of the present day, who has no idea
+of the value of rest as an aid to beauty, or of the healthful and
+strengthening influences of a quiet and well-cultivated mind, and who
+has made herself what is sometimes casually termed a &#8220;sight&#8221; by her
+skill at hockey, her speed in cycling, and her general &#8220;rushing about,&#8221;
+in order to get anywhere away from the detested &#8220;home.&#8221; The mother of
+a family now aspires to seem as young as her daughters, and among the
+vanishing graces of society may be noted the grace of old age. Nobody
+is old nowadays. Men of sixty wed girls of sixteen, women of fifty lead
+boys of twenty to the sacrificial altar. Such things are repulsive,
+abominable and unnatural, but they are done every day, and a certain
+&#8220;social set,&#8221; smirk the usual conventional hypocritical approval, few
+having the courage to protest against what they must inwardly recognize
+as both outrageous and indecent. The real &#8220;old&#8221; lady, the real &#8220;old&#8221;
+gentleman will soon be counted among the &#8220;rare and curious&#8221; specimens
+of the race. The mother who was <i>not</i> &#8220;married at sixteen,&#8221; will ere
+long be a remarkable prodigy, and the paterfamilias who never explains
+that he &#8220;made an unfortunate marriage when quite a boy,&#8221; will rank
+beside her as a companion phenomenon. We have only to scan the pages of
+those periodicals which cater specially for fashionable folk, to see
+what a frantic dread of age pervades all classes<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">[Pg 214]</a></span> of pleasure-loving
+society. The innumerable nostrums for removing wrinkles, massaging or
+&#8220;steaming&#8221; the complexion, the &#8220;coverings&#8221; for thin hair, the &#8220;rays,&#8221;
+of gold or copper or auburn, which are cunningly contrived for grey,
+or to use the more polite word, &#8220;faded,&#8221; tresses, the great army of
+manicurists, masseurs and &#8220;beauty-specialists,&#8221; who, in the most
+clever way, manage to make comfortable incomes out of the general
+panic which apparently prevails among their patrons at the inflexible,
+unstoppable march of Time,&mdash;all these things are striking proofs of
+the constant desperate fight kept up by a large and foolish majority
+against the laws of God and of Nature. Nor is the category confined to
+persons of admittedly weak intellect, as might readily be imagined,
+for just as the sapient Mr. Andrew Lang has almost been convicted
+of a hesitating faith in magic crystals, (God save him!) so are the
+names of many men, eminent in scholarship and politics, &#8220;down on the
+list&#8221; of the dyer, the steamer, the padder, the muscle-improver, the
+nail-polisher, the wrinkle-remover, and the eye-embellisher. Which
+facts, though apparently trivial, are so many brief hints of a &#8220;giving&#8221;
+in the masculine stamina. &#8220;It is but foolery; but it is such a kind of
+gain-giving as would perhaps trouble a woman.&#8221; Vide <i>Hamlet</i>. Such it
+may be,&mdash;let us hope that such it is.</p>
+
+<p>No doubt much of this fantastic dread of &#8220;looking old,&#8221; arises from the
+fact that nowadays age, instead of receiving the honour it merits, is
+frequently made the butt of ignorant and vulgar ridicule. One exception
+alone is allowed in the case of our gracious Queen Alexandra, who
+supports<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">[Pg 215]</a></span> her years with so much ease and scarcely diminished beauty.
+But there are hosts of other women beside the Queen whom it would
+seem that &#8220;age cannot wither,&#8221;&mdash;Sarah Bernhardt, for example, whose
+brilliant vitality is the envy of all her feminine compeers; while
+many leading &#8220;beauties&#8221; who never scored a success in their teens,
+are now trampling triumphantly over men&#8217;s hearts in their forties.
+Nevertheless the boorish sections of the Press and of society take a
+special delight, (Mr. Lecky calls it &#8220;pure malevolence,&#8221;) in making
+the advance of age a subject for coarse jesting, whereas if rightly
+viewed, the decline of the body is merely the natural withering of
+that chrysalis which contains the ever young and immortal Soul. Forced
+asunder by the strength of unfolding wings, the chrysalis <i>must</i> break;
+and its breaking should not cause regret, but joy. Of course if faith
+in God is a mere dead letter, and poor humanity is taught to consider
+this brief life as our sole beginning and end, I can quite imagine that
+the advance of years may be looked upon with dislike and fear,&mdash;though
+scarcely with ridicule. But for the happy beings who are conscious that
+while the body grows weaker, the Soul grows stronger,&mdash;who feel that
+behind this mere passing &#8220;reflection&#8221; of Life, the real Life awaits
+them, age has no drawbacks and no forebodings of evil. The prevailing
+dread of it, and the universal fighting against it, betoken an insecure
+and wholly materialistic mental attitude.</p>
+
+<p>Of the feminine indulgence in complexion cures, combined with the
+deplorable lack of common sense, which shows itself in the constant
+consultation of palmists and clairvoyants, while home and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">[Pg 216]</a></span> family
+duties are completely neglected or forgotten, the less said the better.
+By such conduct women appear to be voluntarily straying back to the
+dark ages when people believed in witches and soothsayers, and would
+pay five shillings or more to see the faces of their future husbands
+in the village well. Happy the man who, at the crucial moment, looked
+over the shoulder of the enquiring maiden! He was sure to be accepted
+on the value of his own mirrored reflection, apart altogether from
+his possible personal merits. To this day in Devonshire, many young
+women believe in the demoniacal abilities of a harmless old gentleman
+who leads a retired life on the moors, and who is supposed to be able
+to &#8220;do something to somebody.&#8221; It would be a hard task to explain
+the real meaning of this somewhat vague phrase, but the following
+solution can be safely given without any harm accruing. It works
+out in this way: If you know &#8220;somebody,&#8221; who is unpleasant to you,
+go to this old gentleman and give him five shillings, and he will
+&#8220;do something&#8221;&mdash;never mind what. It may be safely prophesied that
+he will spend the five shillings; the rest is involved in mystery.
+Now, however silly this superstition on the part of poor Devonshire
+maids may be, it is not a whit more so than the behaviour of the
+so-called &#8220;cultured&#8221; woman of fashion who spends a couple of guineas
+in one of the rooms or &#8220;salons,&#8221; near Bond Street, on the fraudulent
+rascal of a &#8220;palmist,&#8221; or &#8220;crystal-gazer,&#8221; who has the impudence
+and presumption to pretend to know her past and her future. It is a
+wonder that the women who patronize these professional cheats have
+not more self-respect than<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">[Pg 217]</a></span> to enter such dens, where the crime of
+&#8220;obtaining money on false pretences&#8221; is daily practised without
+the intervention of the law. But all the mischief starts from the
+same source,&mdash;neglect of home, indifference to home duties, and the
+constant &#8220;gadding-about&#8221; which seems to be the principal delight and
+aim of women who are amply supplied with the means of subsistence,
+either through inherited fortune, or through marriage with a wealthy
+partner, and who consider themselves totally exempt from the divine
+necessity of Work. Yet these are truly the very ones whose duty it is
+to work the hardest, because &#8220;Unto whom much is given even from him
+(or her) shall much be required.&#8221; No woman who has a home need ever
+be idle. If she employs her time properly, she will find no leisure
+for gossiping, scandal-mongering, moping, grumbling, &#8220;fadding,&#8221;
+fortune-telling or crystal-gazing. Of course, if she &#8220;manages&#8221; her
+household merely through a paid housekeeper, she cannot be said to
+govern the establishment at all. The housekeeper is the real mistress,
+and very soon secures such a position of authority, that the lady who
+employs and pays her scarcely dare give an order without her. Speaking
+on this subject a few days ago with a distinguished and mild-tempered
+gentleman, who has long ceased to expect any comfort or pleasure in
+the magnificent house his wealth pays for, but which under its present
+government might as well be a hotel where he is sometimes allowed
+to take the head of the table, he said to me, with an air of quiet
+resignation:&mdash;&#8220;Ladies have so many more interests nowadays than in my
+father&#8217;s time. They do so many things. It is really <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_218" id="Page_218">[Pg 218]</a></span>bewildering! My
+wife, for example, is always out. She has so many engagements. She has
+scarcely five minutes to herself, and is often quite knocked up with
+fatigue and excitement. She has no time to attend to housekeeping,
+and of course the children are almost entirely with their nurse
+and governess.&#8221; This description applies to most households of a
+fashionable or &#8220;smart&#8221; character, and shows what a topsy-turveydom of
+the laws of Nature is allowed to pass muster, and to even meet with
+general approval. The &#8220;wife&#8221; of whom my honourable and distinguished
+friend spoke to me, rises languidly from her bed at eleven, and
+occupies all her time till two o&#8217;clock in dressing, manicuring,
+&#8220;transforming&#8221; and &#8220;massaging.&#8221; She also receives and sends a few
+telegrams. At two o&#8217;clock she goes out in her carriage and lunches with
+some chosen intimates at one or other of the fashionable restaurants.
+Lunch over, she returns home and lies down for an hour. Then she arrays
+herself in an elaborate tea gown and receives a favoured few in her
+boudoir, where over a cup of tea she assists to tear into piecemeal
+portions the characters of her dearest friends. Another &#8220;rest&#8221; and
+again the business of the toilette is resumed. When <i>en grande tenue</i>
+she either goes out to dinner, or entertains a large party of guests at
+her own table. A <i>tête-à-tête</i> meal with her husband would appear to
+her in the light of a positive calamity. She stays up playing &#8220;Bridge&#8221;
+till two or three o&#8217;clock in the morning, and retires to bed more or
+less exhausted, and can only sleep with the aid of narcotics. She
+resumes the same useless existence, and perpetrates the same wicked
+waste of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_219" id="Page_219">[Pg 219]</a></span> time again the next day and every day. Her children she
+scarcely sees, and the management of her house is entirely removed from
+her hands. The housekeeper takes all the accounts to her husband, who
+meekly pays the same, and lives for the most part at his club, or at
+the houses of his various sporting friends. &#8220;Home&#8221; is for him a mere
+farce. He knew what it was in his mother&#8217;s day, when his grand old
+historical seat was a home indeed, and all the members of the family,
+young and old, looked upon it as the chief centre of attraction, and
+the garnering-point of love and faith and confidence; but since he
+grew up to manhood, and took for his life-partner a rapid lady of the
+new Motor-School of Morals, he stands like Marius among the ruins of
+Carthage, contemplating the complete wreckage of his ship of life, and
+knowing sadly enough that he can never sail the seas of hope again.</p>
+
+<p>The word &#8220;Home&#8221; has, or used to have, a very sacred meaning, and
+is peculiarly British. The French have no such term. &#8220;Chez-moi&#8221;
+or &#8220;chez-soi&#8221; are poor substitutes, and indeed none of the Latin
+races appear to have any expression which properly conveys the real
+sentiment. The Germans have it, and their &#8220;Heimweh&#8221; is as significant
+as our &#8220;home-sickness.&#8221; The Germans are essentially a home-loving
+people, and this may be said of all Teutonic, Norse and Scandinavian
+races. By far the strongest blood of the British is inherited from the
+North,&mdash;and as a rule the natural tendency in the pure Briton is one
+of scorn for the changeful, vagrant, idle, careless and semi-pagan
+temperament of southern nations. As the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_220" id="Page_220">[Pg 220]</a></span> last of our real Laureates
+sang in his own matchless way:</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Oh, tell her, Swallow, thou that knowest each</div>
+<div>That bright and fierce and fickle is the South,</div>
+<div>And dark and true and tender is the North!</div>
+</div><div class="stanza">
+<div>Oh, tell her, Swallow, that thy brood is flown;</div>
+<div>Say that I do but wanton in the South,</div>
+<div>But in the North, long since, my nest is made!</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>&#8220;My nest is made,&#8221; is the ultimatum of the lover,&mdash;the &#8220;nest&#8221; or the
+home being the natural centre of the circle of man&#8217;s ambition. A happy
+home is the best and surest safeguard against all evil; and where home
+is not happy, there the devil may freely enter and find his hands
+full. With women, and women only, this happiness in the home must find
+its foundation. They only are responsible; for no matter how wild and
+erring a man may be, if he can always rely on finding somewhere in
+the world a peaceful, well-ordered, and <i>undishonoured</i> home, he will
+feel the saving grace of it sooner or later, and turn to it as the one
+bright beacon in a darkening wilderness. But if he knows that it is a
+mere hostelry,&mdash;that his wife has no pride in it,&mdash;that other men than
+himself have found the right to enter there,&mdash;that his servants mock
+him behind his back as a poor, weak, credulous fool, who has lost all
+claim to mastership or control, he grows to hate the very walls of
+the dwelling, and does his best to lose himself and his miseries in a
+whirlpool of dissipation and folly, which too often ends in premature
+breakdown and death.</p>
+
+<p>One often wonders if the &#8220;smart&#8221; ladies who<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_221" id="Page_221">[Pg 221]</a></span> cast aside the quiet
+joys of home life, in exchange for a jostling &#8220;feed&#8221; at the Carlton
+or other similar resorts, have any idea of the opinion entertained of
+their conduct by that Great Majority, the People? The People,&mdash;without
+whom their favoured political candidates would stand no chance of
+election,&mdash;the People, without whose willing work, performed under
+the heavy strain of cruel and increasing competition, they would be
+unable to enjoy the costly luxuries they deem indispensable to their
+lives,&mdash;the People, who, standing in their millions outside &#8220;society&#8221;
+and its endless intrigues,&mdash;outside a complaisant or subsidized
+Press,&mdash;outside all, save God and the Right,&mdash;pass judgment on the
+events of the day, and entertain their own strong views thereon, which,
+though such views may not find any printed outlet, do nevertheless
+make themselves felt in various unmistakable ways. Latterly, there has
+been a great clamour about servants and the lack of them. It is quite
+true that many ladies find it difficult to secure servants, and that
+even when they do secure them, they often turn out badly, being of an
+untrained and incompetent class. But why is this? No doubt many causes
+work together to make up the sum of deficiency or inefficiency, but
+one reason can be given which is possibly entirely unsuspected. It is
+a reason which will no doubt astonish some, and awaken the tittering
+ridicule of many, but the fact remains unalterable, despite incredulity
+and denial. There is really no lack of competent domestic servants.
+On the contrary, there are plenty of respectable, willing, smart,
+well-instructed girls in the country, who would make what are<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_222" id="Page_222">[Pg 222]</a></span> called
+&#8220;treasures&#8221; in the way of housemaids, parlourmaids and lady&#8217;s-maids,
+but whose parents stubbornly refuse to let them enter any situation
+until they know something of the character of the mistress with whom
+they are expected to reside, and the general reputation of the house
+or &#8220;home&#8221; they are to enter. I could name dozens of cases where girls,
+on enquiry, have actually declined lucrative situations, and contented
+themselves with work at lower wages, rather than be known as &#8220;in
+service&#8221; with certain distinguished ladies. &#8220;My girl,&#8221; says a farmer&#8217;s
+wife, &#8220;is a clean, wholesome, steady lass; I&#8217;d rather keep her by me
+for a bit than see her mixing herself up with the fashionable folk,
+who are always getting into the divorce court.&#8221; This may be a bitter
+pill of information for the &#8220;smart set&#8221; to swallow; but there is no
+exaggeration in the statement that the working classes have very little
+respect left nowadays for the ladies of the &#8220;Upper Ten,&#8221; and many of
+the wives of honest farmers, mechanics and tradesmen would consider
+that they were voluntarily handing over their daughters to temptation
+and disgrace by allowing them to enter domestic service with certain
+society leaders, who, though bearing well-known names, are branded by
+equally well-known &#8220;easy virtue.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Does any one at this time of day recall a certain chapter in the
+immortal story of <i>Bleak House</i>, by Charles Dickens, when Mr.
+Rouncewell, the iron-master, a mere tradesman in the opinion of that
+haughty old aristocrat, Sir Leicester Dedlock, desires to remove the
+pretty girl, Rosa, lady&#8217;s-maid to Lady Dedlock, at once from her
+situation, if<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_223" id="Page_223">[Pg 223]</a></span> she is to marry his son? An extract from this scene may
+not here be altogether out of place.</p>
+
+<p>Lady Dedlock has enquired of the iron-master if the love-affair between
+her lady&#8217;s-maid and his son is still going on, and receives an answer
+in the affirmative.</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>&#8220;&#8216;If you remember anything so unimportant,&#8217; he says&mdash;&#8216;which is not
+to be expected&mdash;you would recollect that my first thought in the
+affair was directly opposed to her remaining here.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Dismiss the Dedlock patronage from consideration? Oh! Sir
+Leicester is bound to believe a pair of ears that have been
+handed down to him through such a family, or he really might have
+mistrusted their report of the iron-gentleman&#8217;s observation!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;It is not necessary,&#8217; observes my Lady, in her coldest manner,
+before he can do anything but breathe amazedly, &#8216;to enter into
+these matters on either side. The girl is a very good girl; I
+have nothing whatever to say against her; but she is so far
+insensible to her many advantages and her good fortune, that she
+is in love&mdash;or supposes she is, poor little fool&mdash;and unable to
+appreciate them.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Sir Leicester begs to observe that wholly alters the case. He
+might have been sure that my Lady had the best grounds and reasons
+in support of her view. He entirely agrees with my Lady. The young
+woman had better go.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;As Sir Leicester observed, Mr. Rouncewell, on the last
+occasion when we were fatigued by this business,&#8217; Lady Dedlock
+languidly proceeds,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_224" id="Page_224">[Pg 224]</a></span> &#8216;we cannot make conditions with you. Without
+conditions, and under present circumstances, the girl is quite
+misplaced here and had better go. I have told her so. Would you
+wish to have her sent back to the village, or would you like to
+take her with you, or what would you prefer?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Lady Dedlock, if I may speak plainly&mdash;&mdash;&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;By all means.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;I should prefer the course which will the sooner relieve you of
+the encumbrance, <i>and remove her from her present position</i>.&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;And to speak as plainly,&#8217; she returns, with the same studied
+carelessness, &#8216;so should I. Do I understand that you will take her
+with you?&#8217;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;The iron-gentleman makes an iron bow.</p>
+
+<p class="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;&#8216;Sir Leicester and Lady Dedlock,&#8217; says Mr. Rouncewell, after a
+pause of a few moments; &#8216;I beg to take my leave with an apology
+for having again troubled you. I can very well understand, I
+assure you, how very tiresome so small a matter must have become
+to Lady Dedlock. If I am doubtful on my dealing with it, it is
+only <i>because I did not at first quietly exert my influence to
+take my young friend here away</i> without troubling you at all.
+I hope you will excuse my want of acquaintance with the polite
+world.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>As a matter of fact, certain rumours against Lady Dedlock&#8217;s reputation,
+and hints as to her &#8220;past,&#8221; have come to the ears of the honest
+tradesman, and he prefers to remove his son&#8217;s betrothed wife from the
+contact of a possible pernicious <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_225" id="Page_225">[Pg 225]</a></span>influence. The very same thing is
+done scores of times over in many similar cases to-day.</p>
+
+<p>No one knows the real character and disposition of the mistress of a
+home better than the servants she employs, and if she is honoured and
+loved by her domestics, she stands on surer ground than the praise or
+flattery of her fashionable friends. It is all a question of &#8220;home&#8221;
+again. A real home is a home to all connected with it. The very
+kitchen-maid employed in it, the boy who runs errands for the house;
+indeed every servant, from the lowest to the highest, should feel that
+their surroundings are truly &#8220;homelike,&#8221;&mdash;that things are well-ordered,
+peaceful and happy; that the presiding spirit of the place, the
+mistress, is contented with her life, and cheerfully interested in
+the welfare of all around her,&mdash;then &#8220;all things work together for
+good,&#8221; and the house becomes a bulwark against adversity, a harbour
+in storm, a &#8220;nest&#8221; indeed, where warmth, repose, and mutual trust and
+help make the days sweet and the nights calm. But where the mistress
+is scarcely ever at home,&mdash;when she prefers public restaurants to her
+own dining-room,&mdash;when with each change of the seasons she is gadding
+about somewhere, and avoiding home as much as possible, how is it to be
+expected that even servants will care to stay with her, or ever learn
+to admire and respect her? Peace and happiness are hers to possess in
+the natural and God-given ways of home life, if she chooses,&mdash;but if
+she turns aside from her real sovereignty, throws down her sceptre and
+plays with the sticks and straws of the &#8220;half-world,&#8221; she has only
+herself to blame if the end should prove but dire confusion and the
+bitterness of strife. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_226" id="Page_226">[Pg 226]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Apart altogether from the individual dignity and self-poise which are
+invariably lacking to the &#8220;vagrant,&#8221; or home despising human being,
+the decay of home life in England is a serious menace to the Empire&#8217;s
+future strength. If our coming race of men have been accustomed to see
+their mothers indulging in a kind of high-class public house feasting,
+combined with public house morals, and have learned from them an
+absolute indifference to home and home ties, they in their turn will do
+likewise and live as &#8220;vagrants,&#8221;&mdash;here, there and everywhere, rather
+than as well-established, self-respecting citizens and patriots, proud
+of their country, and proud of the right to defend their homes. Even as
+it is, there are not wanting signs of a general &#8220;wandering,&#8221; tendency,
+combined with morbid apathy and sickly inertia. &#8220;One place is as good
+as another,&#8221; says one section of society, and &#8220;anything is better than
+the English climate,&#8221; says another, preparing to pack off to Egypt or
+the Riviera at the first snap of winter. These opinions are an exact
+reversion of those expressed by our sturdy, patriotic forefathers,
+who made the glory of Great Britain. &#8220;There is no place like England&#8221;
+was their sworn conviction, and &#8220;no place like home&#8221; was the essence
+of their national sentiment. The English climate, too, was quite good
+enough for them, and they made the best of it. When will the &#8220;Smart
+Set&#8221; grasp the fact that the much-abused weather, whatever it may be,
+is pretty much the same all over Europe? The Riviera is no warmer than
+the Cornish coast, but <i>certes</i> it is better provided with hotels,
+and&mdash;chiefest attraction of all&mdash;it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_227" id="Page_227">[Pg 227]</a></span> has a Gambling Hell. The delights
+of Monte Carlo and &#8220;Home,&#8221; are as far apart as the poles; and those
+who seek the one cannot be expected to appreciate the other. But such
+English women as are met at the foreign gambling-tables, season after
+season, may be looked upon as the deliberate destroyers of all that is
+best and strongest in our national life, in the sanctity of Home, and
+the beauty of home affections. The English Home used to be a model to
+the world;&mdash;with a few more scandalous divorce cases in high life, it
+will become a by-word for the mockery of nations. The following from
+the current Press is sufficiently instructive:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>&#8220;The crowd of well-dressed women who daily throng the court during
+the hearing of the ... case and follow with such intense eagerness
+every incident in the dissection of a woman&#8217;s honour afford a
+remarkable object-lesson in contemporary social progress.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Ladies, richly garbed, who drive up in smart broughams,
+emblazoned carriages, and motor-cars, and are representative of
+the best known families in the land, fight and scramble for a
+seat, criticize the proceedings in a low monotone, and, without
+the smallest indication of a blush, balance every point made by
+counsel, and follow with keen apprehension the most suggestive
+evidence.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Others, no less intensely interested in the sordid details of
+divorce, come on foot&mdash;women of the great well-to-do middle-class,
+who have all their lives had the advantage of refined and
+educated surroundings. Some are old, with silvery<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_228" id="Page_228">[Pg 228]</a></span> hair; others
+are middle-aged women, who bring comely daughters still in their
+teens; others are in the first flush of womanhood; but they all
+crowd into the narrow court and struggle to get a glimpse of the
+chief actors in the drama, and listen to the testimony which would
+convict them of dishonour.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>No one in their sober senses will call any of these women fit to
+rule their homes, or to be examples to their children. Unblushingly
+indecent, and unspeakably vulgar, their brazen effrontery and shameless
+interest in the revolting details of a revolting case, have shown them
+to be beyond the pale of all true womanhood, and utterly unfit to be
+the mothers of our future men, or guardians of the honour of home and
+family. There is no &#8220;railing&#8221; against society in this assertion; the
+plain facts speak for themselves.</p>
+
+<p>The charm of home depends, of course, entirely on the upbringing
+and character of the inmates. Stupid and illiterate people make a
+dull fireside. Morbid faddists, always talking and thinking about
+themselves, put the fire out altogether. If I were asked my opinion as
+to the chief talent or gift for making a home happy, I should without
+a moment&#8217;s hesitation, reply, &#8220;Cheerfulness.&#8221; A cheerful spirit,
+always looking on the bright side, and determined to make the best of
+everything, is the choicest blessing and the brightest charm of home.
+People with a turn for grumbling should certainly live in hotels and
+dine at restaurants. They will never understand how to make, or to
+keep, a home as it should be. But, given a cheerful,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_229" id="Page_229">[Pg 229]</a></span> equable, and
+active temperament, there is nothing sweeter, happier or safer for
+the human being than Home, and the life which centres within it, and
+the duties concerning it which demand our attention and care. There
+is no need for women to wander far afield for an outlet to their
+energies. Their work waits for them at their own doors, in the town
+or village where they reside. No end of useful, kind and neighbourly
+things are to hand for their doing,&mdash;every day can be filled, like
+a basket of flowers, full of good deeds and gentle words by every
+woman, poor or rich, who has either cottage or mansion which she can
+truly call &#8220;Home.&#8221; Home is a simple background, against which the star
+of womanhood shines brightest and best. The modern &#8220;gad-about&#8221; who
+suggests a composition of female chimpanzee and fashionable &#8220;Johnny&#8221;
+combined, is a kind of sexless creature for whom &#8220;Home&#8221; would only be a
+cage in the general menagerie. She (or It) would merely occupy the time
+in scrambling about from perch to perch, screaming on the slightest
+provocation, and snapping at such other similar neuter creatures who
+chanced to possess longer or more bushy tails. And it is a pity such
+an example should be thought worthy of imitation by any woman claiming
+to possess the advantage of human reason. But the Chimpanzee type of
+female is just now singularly <i>en evidence</i>, having a habit of pushing
+to the front on all occasions, and performing such strange antics as
+call for public protest, and keep the grinding machinery of the law
+only too busy. The Press, too, pays an enormous amount of unnecessary
+attention to the performances of these more or less immodest<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_230" id="Page_230">[Pg 230]</a></span> animals,
+so that it sometimes seems to our Continental neighbours as if we, as
+a nation, had no real women left, but only chimpanzees. There are,
+however, slight stirrings of a movement among the true &#8220;ladies&#8221; of
+England, those who stand more or less aloof from the &#8220;smart set,&#8221;&mdash;a
+movement indicative of &#8220;drawing the line somewhere.&#8221; It is possible
+that there may yet be a revival of &#8220;Home&#8221; and its various lost graces
+and dignities. We may even hear of doors that will not open to
+millionaires simply <i>because</i> they are millionaires. Only the other day
+a very great lady said to her sister in my hearing: &#8220;No, I shall not
+&#8216;present&#8217; my two girls at all. Society is perfectly demoralised, and
+I would rather the children remained out of it, so far as London is
+concerned. They are much happier in the country than in town, and much
+healthier, and I want to keep them so. Besides, they love their home!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Herein is the saving grace of life,&mdash;to love one&#8217;s home. Love of home
+implies lovable people dwelling in the charmed circle,&mdash;tender hearts,
+quick to respond to every word of love, every whisper of confidence,
+every caress. The homeless man is the restless and unhappy man, for
+ever seeking what he cannot find. The homeless woman is still more to
+be pitied, being entirely and hopelessly out of her natural element.
+And the marked tendency which exists nowadays to avoid home life is
+wholly mischievous. Women complain that home is &#8220;dull,&#8221; &#8220;quiet,&#8221;
+&#8220;monotonous,&#8221; &#8220;lonely,&#8221; and blame it for all sorts of evils which exist
+only in themselves. If a woman cannot be a few hours alone without
+finding her house &#8220;dull,&#8221; her mind<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_231" id="Page_231">[Pg 231]</a></span> must be on the verge of lunacy.
+The sense of being unable to endure one&#8217;s own company augurs ill for
+the moral equilibrium. To preserve good health and sound nerves,
+women should always make it a rule to be quite alone at least for a
+couple of hours in the course of each day. Let them take that space
+to think, to read, to rest, and mentally review their own thoughts,
+words and actions in the light of a quiet conscience-time of pause and
+meditation. Home is the best place so to rest and meditate,&mdash;and the
+hours that are spent in thinking how to make that home happier will
+never be wasted. It should be very seriously borne in mind that it is
+only in the home life that marriage can be proved successful or the
+reverse, and, to quote Mr. Lecky once more:</p>
+
+<blockquote><p>&#8220;A moral basis of sterling qualities is of capital importance. A
+true, honest and trustworthy nature, capable of self-sacrifice and
+self-restraint, should rank in the first line, and after that, a
+kindly, equable and contented temper, a power of sympathy, a habit
+of looking at the better and brighter side of men and things. Of
+intellectual qualities, judgment, tact and order, are perhaps the
+most valuable.... Grace and the charm of manner will retain their
+full attraction to the last. They brighten in innumerable ways
+the little things of life, and life is mainly made up of little
+things, exposed to petty frictions, and requiring small decisions
+and small sacrifices. Wide interests and large appreciations
+are in the marriage relation more important than any great
+constructive or creative talent, and the power to soothe, to
+<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_232" id="Page_232">[Pg 232]</a></span>sympathize, to counsel and to endure than the highest qualities
+of the hero or the saint. It is by this alone that the married
+life attains its full perfection.&#8221;</p></blockquote>
+
+<p>And when we hear, as we so often do, of the complete failure and
+deplorable disaster attending many marriages, let us look for the
+root of the evil at its foundation,&mdash;namely the decay of home life,
+the neglect and avoidance of home and home duties,&mdash;the indifference
+to, or scorn of home influence. For whenever any woman, rich or poor,
+high in rank or of humble estate, throws these aside, and turns her
+back on Home, her own natural, beautiful and thrice-blessed sphere of
+action, she performs what would be called the crazed act of a queen,
+who, called to highest sovereignty, casts away her crown, breaks her
+sceptre, tramples on her royal robes, and steps from her throne,
+<i>down</i>;&mdash;down into the dust of a saddened world&#8217;s contempt.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_233" id="Page_233">[Pg 233]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>SOCIETY AND SUNDAY</h2>
+
+<p>According to the latest views publicly expressed by both Christian and
+un-Christian clerics, it would appear that twentieth-century Society is
+not at one with Sunday. It no longer keeps the seventh day &#8220;holy.&#8221; It
+will not go to church. It declines to listen to dull sermons delivered
+by dull preachers. It openly expresses its general contempt for the
+collection-plate. It reads its &#8216;up-to-date&#8217; books and magazines, and
+says: &#8220;The Sabbath is a Jewish institution. And though the spirit of
+the Jew pervades my whole composition and constitution, and though
+I borrow money of the Jew whenever I find it convenient, there is
+no reason why I should follow the Jew&#8217;s religious ritual. The New
+Testament lays no stress whatever upon the necessity of keeping the
+seventh day holy. On the contrary, it tells us that &#8216;the Sabbath was
+made for man, not man for the Sabbath.&#8217;&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This is true enough. It is a difficult point to get over. And despite
+the fact that the sovereign rulers of the realm most strictly set the
+example to all their subjects of attending Divine service at least once
+on Sunday, this example is just the very one among the various leading
+patterns of life offered by the King and Queen which Society blandly
+sets aside with a smile. For, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_234" id="Page_234">[Pg 234]</a></span>notwithstanding the constant painstaking
+production of exquisitely printed Prayer-books, elegantly bound in
+ivory, silver, morocco leather, and silk velvet, Society is not often
+seen nowadays with these little emblems of piety in its be-ringed and
+be-bangled hands. It prefers a pack of cards. Its ears are more attuned
+to the hissing rush of the motor than to the solemn sound of sacred
+psalmody; and the dust of the high-road, compounded with the oil-stench
+of the newest and fastest automobile, offers a more grateful odour
+to its nostrils than the perfume of virginal lilies on the altar of
+worship. <i>Autres temps, autres m&#339;urs!</i> People who believe in nothing
+have no need of prayer. A social &#8220;set&#8221; that grabs all it can for itself
+without a thank-you to either God or devil is not moved to praise. Self
+and the Hour! That is the motto and watchword of Society to-day, and
+after Self and the Hour, what then? Why, the Deluge, of course! And,
+as happened in olden time, and will happen again, general drowning,
+stiflement, and silence.</p>
+
+<p>There is certainly much to regret and deplore in the lack of
+serious thought, the neglect of piety, and the scant reverence for
+sacred things which, taken together, make up a spirit of callous
+indifferentism in our modern life, such as is likely to rob the nation
+in future of its backbone and nerve. It is a spirit which is gradually
+transforming the social community from thinking, feeling, reasonable
+human beings into a mere set of gambolling kangaroos, whose chief
+interest would seem to be centred in jumping over each other&#8217;s backs,
+or sitting on their haunches, grinning foolishly and waving their short
+fore-paws at one another with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_235" id="Page_235">[Pg 235]</a></span> antic gestures of animal delight. They
+never get any &#8220;forrader,&#8221; as it were. They do nothing particularly
+useful. They are amused, annoyed, excited, or angry (according to their
+different qualities of kangaroo nature) when one jumps a little higher
+than the other, or waves its paws a little more attractively; but
+their sentiments are as temporary as their passions. There is nothing
+to be got out of them any way, but the jumping and the paw-waving. At
+the same time it is extremely doubtful as to whether taking them to
+church on Sundays would do them good, or bring them back to the human
+condition. Things are too far gone&mdash;the metamorphosis is too nearly
+accomplished. One day is the same as another to the Society kangaroo.
+All days are suitable to his or her &#8220;hop, skip, and a jump.&#8221; But shall
+there be no &#8220;worship&#8221;? What should a kangaroo worship? No &#8220;rest&#8221;? Why
+should a kangaroo rest? &#8220;Listen to the Reverend Mr. Soulcure&#8217;s sermon,
+and learn how to be good!&#8221; Ya-ah! One can hear the animal scream as he
+or she turns a somersault at the mere suggestion and scuttles away!</p>
+
+<p>Society&#8217;s neglect of Sunday observance in these early days of the
+new century is due to many things, chiefest among these being the
+incapacity of the clergy to inspire interest in their hearers or to
+fix the attention of the general public. It is unfortunate that this
+should be so, but so it is. The ministers of religion fail to seize the
+problems of the time. They forget, or wilfully ignore, the discoveries
+of the age. Yet in these could be found endless subject-matter for the
+divinest arguments.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_236" id="Page_236">[Pg 236]</a></span> Religion and science, viewed broadly, do not clash
+so much as they combine. To the devout and deeply studious mind, the
+marvels of science are the truths of religion made manifest. But this
+is what the clergy seem to miss persistently out of all their teaching
+and preaching. Take, for example, the text: &#8220;In My Father&#8217;s house there
+are many mansions.&#8221; What a noble discourse could be made hereon of
+some of the most sublime facts of science!&mdash;of the powers of the air,
+of the currents of light, of the magnificent movements of the stars in
+their courses, of the plenitude and glory of innumerable solar systems,
+all upheld and guided by the same Intelligent Force which equally
+upholds and guides the destinies of man! Unhappily for the world in
+general, and for the churches in particular, preachers who select
+texts from Scripture in order to extract therefrom some instructive
+lesson that shall be salutary for their congregations, do not always
+remember the symbolic or allegorical manner in which such texts were
+originally spoken or written. To many of them the &#8220;literal&#8221; meaning is
+alone apparent, and they see in the &#8220;many mansions&#8221; merely a glorified
+Park Lane or Piccadilly, adorned with rows of elegantly commonplace
+dwelling-houses built of solid gold. Their conceptions of the &#8220;Father&#8217;s
+house&#8221; are sadly limited. They cannot shake off the material from the
+spiritual, or get away from themselves sufficiently to understand or
+enter into the dumb craving of all human nature for help, for sympathy,
+for love&mdash;for sureness in its conceptions of God&mdash;such sureness as
+shall not run counter to the proved results of reason. For reason is
+as much the gift<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_237" id="Page_237">[Pg 237]</a></span> of God as speech, and to kill one&#8217;s intellectual
+aspiration in order, as some bigots would advise, to serve God more
+completely is the rankest blasphemy. The wilful refusal to use a great
+gift merely insults the Giver.</p>
+
+<p>It is by obstinately declining to watch the branching-out, as it
+were, of the great tree of Christianity in forms which are not narrow
+or limited, but spacious and far-reaching, that the clergy have in
+a great measure lost much that they should have retained. Society
+has slipped altogether from their hold. Society sees for itself that
+too many clerics are either blatant or timorous. Some of them bully;
+others crawl. Some are all softness to the wealthy; all harshness to
+the poor. Others, again, devote themselves to the poor entirely, and
+neglect the wealthy, who are quite as much, if not more, in need of
+a &#8220;soul cure&#8221; as the most forlorn Lazarus that ever lay in the dust
+of the road of life. None of them seem able to cope with the great
+dark wave of infidelity and atheism which has swept over the modern
+world stealthily, but overwhelmingly, sucking many a struggling soul
+down into the depths of suicidal despair. And Society, making up its
+mind that it is neither edified nor entertained by going to church on
+Sunday, stays away, and turns Sunday generally to other uses. It is
+not particular as to what these uses are, provided they prove amusing.
+The old-fashioned notion of a &#8220;day of rest&#8221; or a &#8220;good&#8221; Sunday can be
+set aside with the church and the clergyman; the one desirable object
+of existence is &#8220;not to be bored.&#8221; The spectre of &#8220;boredom&#8221; is always
+gliding in at every modern function, like the ghost<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_238" id="Page_238">[Pg 238]</a></span> of Banquo at
+Macbeth&#8217;s feast. To pacify and quash this terrible bogie is the chief
+aim and end of all the social kangaroos. The Sunday&#8217;s observance used
+to be the bogie&#8217;s great &#8220;innings&#8221;; but, with an advance in manners and
+morals, <i>nous avons changé tout cela</i>! And Society spends its Sundays
+now in a fashion which, if its great-grandmamma of the early Victorian
+era could only see its ways and doings, would so shock the dear,
+virtuous old lady that she would yearn to whip it and shut it up in a
+room for years on bread and water. And there is no doubt that such a
+wholesome régime would do it a power of good!</p>
+
+<p>At the present interesting period of English history, Sunday appears
+to be devoutly recognized among the Upper Ten as the great &#8220;bridge&#8221;
+day. It is quite the fashion&mdash;the &#8220;swagger&#8221; thing&mdash;to play bridge
+all and every Sunday, when and whenever possible. During the London
+&#8220;season,&#8221; the Thames serves as a picturesque setting for many of these
+seventh-day revelries. Little gambling-parties are organized &#8220;up the
+river,&#8221; and houses are taken from Saturday to Monday by noted ladies of
+the half-world, desirous of &#8220;rooking&#8221; young men, in the sweet seclusion
+of their &#8220;country cots by the flowing stream&#8221;&mdash;an ambition fully
+realized in the results of the Sunday&#8217;s steady play at bridge from noon
+till midnight. At a certain military centre not far from London, too,
+the Sunday &#8220;gaming&#8221; might possibly call for comment. It is privately
+carried on, of course, but&mdash;tell it not in Gath!&mdash;there is an officer&#8217;s
+wife&mdash;there are so many officers&#8217; wives!&mdash;but this one in particular,
+more than the others,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_239" id="Page_239">[Pg 239]</a></span> moves me to the presumption of a parody on the
+Immortal Bard, thus:</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>An officer&#8217;s wife had play-cards in her lap&mdash;</div>
+<div>And dealt and dealt. &#8220;What tricks!&#8221; quoth I!</div>
+<div>&#8220;They&#8217;re tricks, you bet!&#8221; the smiling cheat replied&mdash;</div>
+<div>&#8220;My husband is &#8216;on duty&#8217; gone,</div>
+<div>And &#8216;green&#8217; young subalterns are all my game,</div>
+<div>And till they&#8217;re drained of gold and silver, too,</div>
+<div>I&#8217;ll do, I&#8217;ll do, I&#8217;ll do!&#8221;</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>And she does &#8220;do.&#8221; She has found out the way to make those &#8220;green young
+subalterns&#8221; pay her bills and ruin themselves. It is a thoroughly
+up-to-date manner of spending the Sunday.</p>
+
+<p>Country-house &#8220;week-end&#8221; parties are generally all bridge-parties.
+They are all carefully selected, with an eye to the main chance. The
+&#8220;play&#8221; generally begins on Saturday evening, and goes on all through
+Sunday up to midnight. One woman, notorious for her insensate love of
+gambling, lately took lessons in &#8220;cheating&#8221; at bridge before joining
+her country-house friends. She came away heavier in purse by five
+hundred pounds, but of that five hundred, one hundred and fifty had
+been won from a foolish little girl of eighteen, known to be the
+daughter of a very wealthy, but strict father. When the poor child
+was made to understand the extent of her losses at bridge, she was
+afraid to go home. So she purchased some laudanum &#8220;for the toothache,&#8221;
+and tried to poison herself by swallowing it. Fortunately, she was
+rescued before it was too late, and her Spartan &#8220;dad,&#8221; with tears of
+joy in his eyes, paid the money she had lost at cards thankfully, as
+a kind of ransom<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_240" id="Page_240">[Pg 240]</a></span> to Death. But she was never again allowed to visit
+at that &#8220;swagger&#8221; house where she had been &#8220;rooked&#8221; so unmercifully.
+And when we remember how fond Society is of bragging of its little
+philanthropies, its &#8220;bazaars&#8221; and carefully-calculated &#8220;charities,&#8221; we
+may, perhaps, wonder whether, among the list of good and noble deeds
+it declares itself capable of, it would set its face against bridge,
+and make &#8220;gambling-parties&#8221; once for all unfashionable and in &#8220;bad
+form&#8221;? This would be true philanthropy, and would be more productive
+of good than any amount of regular church attendance. For there is no
+doubt that very general sympathy is accorded to people who find that
+going to church is rather an irksome business. It is not as if they
+were often taught anything wonderfully inspiring or helpful there. They
+seldom have even the satisfaction of hearing the service read properly.
+The majority of the clergy are innocent of all elocutionary art. They
+read the finest passages of Scripture in the sing-song tone of a clerk
+detailing the items of a bill. It is a soothing style, and quickly
+induces sleep; but that is its only recommendation.</p>
+
+<p>When not playing bridge, Society&#8217;s &#8220;Sunday observance&#8221; is motoring.
+Flashing and fizzling all over the place, it rushes here, there, and
+everywhere, creating infinite dust, smelling abominably, and looking
+uglier than the worst demons in Dante&#8217;s &#8220;Inferno.&#8221; Beauty certainly
+goes to the wall in a motor. The hideous masks, goggles, and caps
+which help to make up the woman motorist&#8217;s driving gear, are enough
+to scare the staunchest believer in the eternal attractiveness of the
+fair sex, while the general get-up of the men is on a par<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_241" id="Page_241">[Pg 241]</a></span> with that of
+the professional stoker or engine-driver. Nevertheless, no reasonable
+woman ought to mind other women looking ugly if they like; while men,
+of course, are always men, and &#8220;masters of the planet,&#8221; whether dirty
+or clean. And no one should really object to the &#8220;motor craze,&#8221; seeing
+that it takes so many useless people out of one&#8217;s immediate horizon
+and scatters them far and wide over the surface of the earth. Society
+uses Sunday as a special day for this &#8220;scattering,&#8221; and perhaps it
+is doing itself no very great harm. It is getting fresh air, which
+it needs; it is &#8220;going the pace,&#8221; which, in its fevered condition of
+living fast, so as to die more quickly, is natural to it; and it is
+seeing persons and places it never saw before in the way of country
+nooks and old-fashioned roadside inns, and rustic people, who stare at
+it with unfeigned amusement, and wonder &#8220;what the world&#8217;s a&#8217;-comin&#8217;
+to!&#8221; Possibly it learns more in a motor drive through the heart of
+rural England than many sermons in church could teach it. The only
+thing one would venture to suggest is that in passing its Sundays in
+this fashion, Society should respect the Sundays of those who still
+elect to keep the seventh day as a day of rest. Fashionable motorists
+might avoid dashing recklessly through groups of country people who
+are peacefully wending their way to and from church. They might &#8220;slow
+down.&#8221; They might take thoughtful heed of the little children who play
+unguardedly about in many a village street. They might have some little
+consideration for the uncertain steps of feeble and old persons who
+are perchance blind or deaf, and who neither see the &#8220;motor&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_242" id="Page_242">[Pg 242]</a></span> nor hear
+the warning blast of its discordant horn. In brief, it would not hurt
+Society to spend its Sundays with more thought for others than Itself.
+For the bulk and mass of the British people&mdash;the people who <i>are</i>
+Great Britain&mdash;still adhere to the sacred and blessed institution of a
+&#8220;day of rest,&#8221; even if it be not a day of sermons. To thousands upon
+thousands of toiling men and women, Sunday is still a veritable God&#8217;s
+day, and we may thank God for it! Nay, more; we should do our very
+best to keep it as &#8220;holy&#8221; as we can, if not by listening to sermons,
+at least by a pause in our worldly concerns, wherein we may put a stop
+on the wheels of work and consider within ourselves as to how and why
+we are working. Sunday is a day when we should ask Nature to speak to
+us and teach us such things as may only be mastered in silence and
+solitude&mdash;when the book of poems, the beautiful prose idyll, or the
+tender romance, may be our companion in summer under the trees, or
+in winter by a bright fire&mdash;and when we may stand, as it were, for a
+moment and take breath on the threshold of another week, bracing our
+energies to meet with whatever that week may hold in store for us,
+whether joy or sorrow. Few nations, however, view Sunday in this light.
+On the Continent it has long been a day of mere frivolous pleasure&mdash;and
+in America I know not what it is, never having experienced it. But the
+British Sunday, apart from all the mockery and innuendo heaped upon it
+by the wits and satirists of the present time and of bygone years, used
+to be a strong and spiritually saving force in the national existence.
+Dinner-parties, with a string band in attendance, and a<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_243" id="Page_243">[Pg 243]</a></span> Parisian
+singer of the &#8220;café chantant&#8221; to entertain the company afterwards, were
+once unknown in England on a Sunday. But such &#8220;Sabbath&#8221; entertainments
+are quite ordinary now. The private house copies the public
+restaurant&mdash;more&#8217;s the pity!</p>
+
+<p>Nevertheless, though Society&#8217;s Sunday has degenerated into a day of
+gambling, guzzling, and motoring in Great Britain, it is well to
+remember that Society in itself is so limited as to be a mere bubble
+on the waters of life&mdash;froth and scum, as it were, that rises to the
+top, merely to be skimmed off and thrown aside in any serious national
+crisis. The People are the life and blood of the nation, and to them
+Sunday remains still a &#8220;day of rest,&#8221; though, perhaps, not so much as
+in old time a day of religion. And that it is not so much a day of
+religion is because so many preachers have failed in their mission.
+They have lost grip. There is no cause whatever for their so losing it,
+save such as lies within themselves. There has been no diminution in
+the outflow of truth from the sources of Divine instruction, but rather
+an increase. The wonders of the universe have been unfolded in every
+direction by the Creator to His creature. There is everything for the
+minister of God to say. Yet how little is said! &#8220;Feed my sheep!&#8221; was
+the command of the Master. But the sheep have cropped all the old ways
+of thought down to the bare ground, and their inefficient shepherds
+now know not where to lead them, though their Lord&#8217;s command is as
+imperative as ever. So the flock, being hungry, have broken down the
+fences of tradition, and are scampering away in disorder to<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_244" id="Page_244">[Pg 244]</a></span> fresh
+fields and pastures new. Society may be, and is, undoubtedly to blame
+for its lax manner of treating religion and religious observances; but,
+with all its faults, it is not so blameworthy as those teachers of the
+Christian faith, whose lack of attention to its needs and perplexities
+help to make it the heaven-scorning, God-denying, heart-sore, weary,
+and always dissatisfied thing it is. Society&#8217;s Sunday is merely a
+reflex of Society&#8217;s own immediate mood&mdash;the mood of killing time at all
+costs, even to the degradation of its own honour, for want of something
+better to do!</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_245" id="Page_245">[Pg 245]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE &#8220;STRONG&#8221; BOOK OF THE ISHBOSHETH</h2>
+
+<p>There are two trite sayings in common use with us all&mdash;one is:
+&#8220;Circumstances alter cases,&#8221; which is English; the other is: &#8220;Autres
+temps, autres m&#339;urs,&#8221; which is French. But there lacks any similar
+epigrammatic expression to convey the complete and curious change of
+meaning, which by a certain occult literary process becomes gradually
+attached to quite ordinary words of our daily speech. &#8220;Strong,&#8221; for
+instance, used to mean strength. It means it still, I believe, in the
+gymnasium. But in very choice literary circles it means &#8220;unclean.&#8221;
+This is strange, but true. For some time past the gentle and credulous
+public has remained in childlike doubt as to what was really implied
+by a &#8220;strong&#8221; book. The gentle and credulous public has been under the
+impression that the word &#8220;strong&#8221; used by the guides, philosophers, and
+friends who review current fiction in the daily Press, meant a powerful
+style, a vigorous grip, a brilliant way of telling a captivating and
+noble story. But they have, by slow and painful degrees, found out
+their mistake in this direction, and they know now that a &#8220;strong&#8221;
+book means a nasty subject <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_246" id="Page_246">[Pg 246]</a></span>indelicately treated. Whereupon they are
+beginning to &#8220;sheer off&#8221; any book labelled by the inner critical
+faculty as &#8220;strong.&#8221; This must be admitted as a most unfortunate
+fact for those who are bending all their energies upon the writing
+of &#8220;strong&#8221; books, and who are wasting their powers on discussing
+what they euphoniously term &#8220;delicate and burning subjects&#8221;; but it
+is a hopeful and blessed sign of increasing education and widening
+intellectual perception in the masses, who will soon by their sturdy
+common sense win a position which is not to be &#8220;frighted with false
+fire.&#8221; Congratulating the proprietors of <i>Great Thoughts</i> on its
+thousandth number, the sapient <i>Westminster Gazette</i> lately chortled
+forth the following lines: &#8220;A career such as our contemporary has
+enjoyed, shows that the taste for good reading is wider than some
+would have us believe. We wish <i>Great Thoughts</i> continued success.&#8221;
+O wise judge! O learned judge! The public taste for good reading is
+only questioned when writers whom Thou dislikest are read by the base
+million!</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Art,&#8221; says a certain M.A., &#8220;if it be genuine and sincere, tends ever
+to the lofty and the beautiful. There is no rule of art more important
+than the sense of modesty. Vice grows not a little by immodesty of
+thought.&#8221; True. And immodesty of thought fulfils its mission in the
+&#8220;strong&#8221; book, which alone succeeds in winning the applause of that
+&#8220;Exclusive Set of Degenerates&#8221; known as the E.S.D. under the Masonic
+Scriptural sign of <span class="smcap">Ishbosheth</span> (laying particular emphasis on
+the syllable between the &#8220;Ish&#8221; and the &#8220;eth,&#8221;) who manage to obtain
+temporary posts on the ever-changeful <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_247" id="Page_247">[Pg 247]</a></span>twirling treadmill of the daily
+press. The Ishbosheth singular is the man who praises the &#8220;strong&#8221;
+book&mdash;the Ishbosheth in the plural are the Exclusive Set who are sworn
+to put down Virtue and extol Vice. Hence the &#8220;strong&#8221; cult, also the
+&#8220;virile.&#8221; This last excellent and expressive word has become seriously
+maltreated in the hands of the Ishbosheth, and is now made answerable
+for many sins which it did not originally represent. &#8220;Virile&#8221; is from
+the Latin <i>virilis</i>, a male&mdash;virility is the state and characteristic
+of the adult male. Applied to certain books, however, by the Ishbosheth
+it will be found by the discerning public to mean coarse&mdash;rough&mdash;with
+a literary &#8220;style&#8221; obtained by sprinkling several pages of prose with
+the lowest tavern-oaths, together with the name of God, pronounced
+&#8220;Gawd.&#8221; Anything written in that fashion is at once pronounced &#8220;virile&#8221;
+and commands wide admiration from the Ishbosheth, particularly if it
+should be a story in which women are depicted at the lowest kickable
+depth of drab-ism to which men can drag them, while men are represented
+as the suffering victims of their wickedness. This peculiar kind of
+turncoat morality was, according to Genesis, instituted by Adam in
+his cowardly utterance: &#8220;The woman tempted me,&#8221; as an excuse for his
+own base greed; and it has apparently continued to sprout forth in
+various of his descendants ever since that time, especially in the
+community of the Ishbosheth. &#8220;Virility,&#8221; therefore, being the state and
+characteristic of the adult male, or the adult Adam, means, according
+to the Ishbosheth, men&#8217;s proper scorn for the sex of their mothers, and
+an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_248" id="Page_248">[Pg 248]</a></span> egotistical delight in themselves, united to a barbarous rejoicing
+in bad language and abandoned morals. It does not mean this in decent
+every-day life, of course; but it does in books&mdash;such books as are
+praised by the Ishbosheth.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I don&#8217;t want one of your &#8216;strong&#8217; books,&#8221; said a customer at one of
+the circulating libraries the other day. &#8220;Give me something I can read
+to my wife without being ashamed.&#8221; This puts the case in a nutshell.
+No clean-minded man can read the modern &#8220;strong&#8221; book praised by the
+Ishbosheth and feel quite safe, or even quite manly in his wife&#8217;s
+presence. He will find himself before he knows it mumbling something
+about the gross and fleshly temptations of a deformed gentleman with
+short legs; or he will grow hot-faced and awkward over the narrative
+of a betrayed milkmaid who enters into all the precise details of her
+wrongs with a more than pernicious gusto. It is true that he will
+probably chance upon no worse or more revolting circumstances of human
+life than are dished up for the general Improvement of Public Morals in
+our halfpenny dailies; but he will realize, if he be a man of sense,
+that whereas the divorce court and police cases in the newspaper are
+very soon forgotten, the impression of a &#8220;strong&#8221; book, particularly if
+the &#8220;strong&#8221; parts are elaborately and excruciatingly insisted upon,
+lasts, and sometimes leaves tracks of indelible mischief on minds
+which, but for its loathsome influence, would have remained upright
+and innocent. Thought creates action. An idea is the mainspring of an
+epoch. Therefore the corrupters of thought are responsible for corrupt
+deeds in an<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_249" id="Page_249">[Pg 249]</a></span> individual or a nation. From a noble thought&mdash;from a
+selfless pure ideal&mdash;what great actions spring! Herein should the
+responsibility of Literature be realized. The Ishbosheth, with their
+&#8220;strong&#8221; books, have their criminal part in the visible putrescence
+of a certain section of society known as the &#8220;swagger set.&#8221; Perhaps
+no more forcible illustration of the repulsion exercised by nature
+itself to spiritual and literary disease could be furnished than by
+the death of the French &#8220;realist&#8221; Zola. Capable of fine artistic work,
+he prostituted his powers to the lowest grade of thought. From the
+dust-hole of the frail world&#8217;s ignorance and crime he selected his
+olla-podrida of dirty scrapings, potato-peelings, candle-ends, rank
+fat, and cabbage water, and set them all to seethe in the fire of
+his brain, till they emitted noxious poison, and suffocating vapours
+calculated to choke the channels of every aspiring mind and idealistic
+soul. Nature revenged herself upon him by permitting him to be likewise
+asphyxiated&mdash;only in the most prosy and &#8220;realistic&#8221; manner. It was one
+of those terribly grim jests which she is fond of playing off on those
+who blaspheme her sacred altars. A certain literary aspirant hovering
+on the verge of the circle of the Ishbosheth, complained the other day
+of a great omission in the biography of one of his dead comrades of the
+pen. &#8220;They should have mentioned,&#8221; he said, &#8220;that he allowed his body
+to <i>swarm with vermin</i>!&#8221; This is true Ishbosheth art. Suppress the fact
+that the dead man had good in him, that he might have been famous had
+he lived, that he had some notably strong points in his character, but
+<i>don&#8217;t</i> forget,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_250" id="Page_250">[Pg 250]</a></span> for Heaven&#8217;s sake, to mention the &#8220;vermin&#8221;! For the
+Ishbosheth &#8220;cult&#8221; see nothing in a sunset, but much in a flea.</p>
+
+<p>Hence when we read the criticism of a &#8220;strong&#8221; book, over the signature
+of one of the Ishbosheth, we know what to expect. All the bad, low,
+villainous and soiled side of sickly or insane human nature will be in
+it, and nothing of the healthful or sound. For, to be vicious is to
+be ill&mdash;to commit crime is to be mentally deformed&mdash;and the &#8220;strong&#8221;
+book of the Ishbosheth only deals with phases of sickness and lunacy.
+There are other &#8220;strong&#8221; books in the world, thank Heaven&mdash;strong
+books which treat strongly of noble examples of human life, love
+and endeavour&mdash;books like those of Scott and Dickens and Brontë and
+Eliot&mdash;books which make the world all the better for reading them. But
+they are not books admired of the Ishbosheth. And as the Ishbosheth
+have their centres in the current press, they are not praised in the
+newspapers. Binding as the union of the Printers is all over the
+world, I suppose they cannot take arms against the Ishbosheth and
+decline to print anything under this Masonic sign? If they could,
+what a purification there would be&mdash;what a clean, refreshing world
+of books&mdash;and perhaps of men and women! No more vicious heroes with
+short legs; no more painfully-injured milkmaids; no more &#8220;twins,&#8221;
+earthly or heavenly&mdash;while possibly a new <i>Villette</i> might bud and
+blossom forth&mdash;another <i>Fortunes of Nigel</i>, another brilliant <i>Vanity
+Fair</i>&mdash;and books which contain wit without nastiness, tenderness
+without erotics, simplicity without affectation, and good English
+without slang, might<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_251" id="Page_251">[Pg 251]</a></span> once again give glory to literature. But this
+millennium will not be till the &#8220;strong&#8221; book of the Ishbosheth ceases
+to find a publisher, and the Ishbosheth themselves are seen in their
+true colours, and fully recognized by the public to be no more than
+they are&mdash;a mere group of low sensualists, who haunt Fleet Street
+bars and restaurants, and who out of that sodden daily and nightly
+experience get a few temporary jobs on the Press, and &#8220;pose&#8221; as a cult
+and censorship of art. And fortunately the very phrase &#8220;strong book&#8221;
+has become so much their own that it has now only to be used in order
+to warn off the public from mere pot-house opinion.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_252" id="Page_252">[Pg 252]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>ON THE MAKING OF LITTLE POETS</h2>
+
+<p>Great Poets discover themselves. Little Poets have to be &#8220;discovered&#8221;
+by somebody else. Otherwise they would live and die in the shadow
+of decent obscurity, unheard, unseen, unknown. And it is seriously
+open to question whether their so living and dying would not be an
+advantage to society in the abating of a certain measure of boredom.
+Looking back upon the motley crowd of Little Poets who had their day of
+&#8220;discovery&#8221; and &#8220;boom&#8221; at the very period when the thunderous voice of
+the Muse at her grandest was shaking the air through the inspired lips
+of Byron, Shelley and Keats, and noting to what dusty oblivion their
+little names and lesser works are now relegated without regret, it is
+difficult to understand why they were ever dragged from the respectable
+retirement of common-place mediocrity by their critic-contemporaries.
+Byron was scorned, Shelley neglected, and Keats killed by these same
+critics;&mdash;neither of the three were &#8220;discovered&#8221; or &#8220;made.&#8221; Their
+creation was not of man, but of their own innate God-given genius,
+and, according to the usual fate attending such divine things, the
+fastidious human <i>dilettante</i> of their day would have none of them. He
+set up his own verse-making Mumbo-Jumbo; <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_253" id="Page_253">[Pg 253]</a></span>and one Pye was Laureate. Pye
+was Laureate,&mdash;yet Byron lived, and there was a reigning monarch in
+England, strange as these assorted facts will seem to all intellectual
+posterity. For a monarch&#8217;s word,&mdash;even a prince&#8217;s word,&mdash;must always
+carry a certain weight of influence, and one asks wonderingly how,
+under such circumstances, that word came to be left unsaid? No voice
+from the Throne called the three greatest geniuses of the era to
+receive any honour due to their rare gifts and quality. On the contrary
+they were cast out as unvalued rubbish from their native land, and
+the Little Poets had their way. Pye continued to write maudlin rhymes
+unmolested, never dreaming that the only memory we should keep of him
+or of his twaddle, would be the one scathing line of the banished Byron:</p>
+
+<p class="center">Better to err with Pope than shine with Pye!</p>
+
+<p>And feeble penny whistles played trumpery tunes to the languid votaries
+of &#8220;cultchaw&#8221; in those days, and pennywhistle verse was voted &#8220;classic&#8221;
+and supreme; but ever and anon the Nation turned a listening ear across
+the seas and caught the music made by its outlawed singers,&mdash;music
+it valued even then, and treasures now among its priceless and
+imperishable glories. For the Nation knows what true Poetry is,&mdash;and no
+&#8220;discoverer&#8221; will ever force it to accept a tallow candle for a star.</p>
+
+<p>The gulf between Great Poets and Little is a wide one,&mdash;wider than
+that which yawned between Lazarus in heaven and Dives in hell. The
+Great Poet is moved by an inspiration which he himself<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_254" id="Page_254">[Pg 254]</a></span> cannot analyse,
+and in which neither the desire of money nor the latent hope of fame
+have the chiefest part. He sings simply because he must sing. He does
+not labour at it, piecing his thoughts and words together with the
+tardy and tame patience of a worker in mosaics, for though such exact
+execution be admirable in mosaic-work, it is dull and lifeless in
+poetry. Colour, fire, music, passion, and intense, glowing vitality are
+the heritage of the Great Poet; and when the torrent of unpremeditated
+love-song, battle-chant, dirge and prophecy pours from his lips, the
+tired world slackens its pace to listen, and listening, silently crowns
+him Laureate in its heart of hearts, regardless of Prime Minister or
+Court Chamberlain. But the Little Poet is not able so to win attention;
+he cannot sing thus &#8220;wildly well&#8221; because he lacks original voice.
+He can only trim a sorry pipe of reed and play weak echoes thereon;
+derivative twists of thought and borrowed fancies caught up from the
+greater songs already ringing through the centuries. And when he
+first begins piping in this lilliputian fashion he is generally very
+miserable. He pipes &#8220;for pence; Ay me, how few!&#8221; Nobody listens; people
+are too much engrossed with their own concerns to care about echoes.
+Their attention can only be secured by singing them new songs that will
+stir their pulses to new delights. The too-tootling of the Little Poet,
+therefore, would never be noticed at all, even by way of derision,
+unless he went down on all-fours and begged somebody to &#8220;discover&#8221; him.
+The &#8220;discoverer&#8221; in most cases is a Superannuated-literary-gentleman,
+who has tried his own hand<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_255" id="Page_255">[Pg 255]</a></span> at poetry and failed ignominiously.
+Incapacity to do any good work of one&#8217;s own frequently creates a
+thirsty desire to criticize the work of other people; thus, in the
+intervals of his impotent rage at the success of the deserving, the
+Superannuated, resolved to push himself into notice somehow, takes to
+&#8220;discovering&#8221; Little Poets. It is his poor last bid for fame; a final
+forlorn effort to get his half-ounce of talent to the front by tacking
+it on to some new name which he thinks (and he is quite alone in the
+idea) may by the merest chance in the world, like a second-rate horse,
+win a doubtful race. To admire any Great Poet who may happen to exist
+among us, is no part of the Superannuated&#8217;s programme. He ignores Great
+Poets generally, fearing lest the mere mention of their names should
+eclipse his dwarfish nurslings.</p>
+
+<p>Now the public, mistakenly called fools, are perfectly aware of the
+Superannuated. They see his signature affixed to many of the Little
+Poets Booms, and ask each other with smiling tolerance, &#8220;What has he
+done?&#8221; Nothing. &#8220;Oh! Then how does he know?&#8221; Ah, that is his secret! He
+thinks he knows; and he wants you, excellent Fool-Public, to believe he
+thinks he knows! And, under the pleasing delusion that you always have
+your Fool&#8217;s Cap on, and never take it off under any circumstances, he
+&#8220;discovers&#8221; Mr. Podgers for you. Who is Mr. Podgers? A poet. If we are
+to credit the Superannuated, he is &#8220;a new star on the literary horizon,
+of the first magnitude.&#8221; The &#8220;first magnitude&#8221;!&mdash;the public shakes its
+caps and bells in amused scepticism. Another Shelley? Another Byron?
+These were of the &#8220;first <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_256" id="Page_256">[Pg 256]</a></span>magnitude,&#8221; and shall we thank a bounteous
+heaven for one more such as these? No, no, nothing of the sort, says
+the Superannuated with indignation, for it is high time you put this
+sort of Shelley-Byron stuff behind you. Mr. Swinburne has distinctly
+said that &#8220;Byron was no poet.&#8221; Learn wisdom, therefore, and turn from
+Byron to Podgers. He has written a little book, has Podgers, for which
+those who desire to possess it must pay a sum out of all proportion to
+its size. What shall we find in this so-little book? Anything to make
+our hearts beat in more healthful and harmonious tune? No. Nothing
+of this in Podgers. Nothing, in fact, of any kind in Podgers which
+we have not heard before. There are a few lines that we remember as
+derived from Wordsworth, and one stanza seems to us like a carefully
+transposed bit of Tennyson;&mdash;but for anything absolutely new in thought
+or in treatment we search in vain. Unless we make exception for a
+set of verses which are a tribute to the art of Log-Rolling, namely
+Podgers&#8217;s &#8220;Ode&#8221; to Podgers&#8217;s favouring critic. We confess this to be
+somewhat of a novelty, and we begin to pity Podgers. He must have
+fallen very low to write (and publish) an &#8220;Ode&#8221; to the Superannuated,
+his chief flatterer on the Press, and he must be very short-sighted if
+he imagines that action is a millstone <i>without</i> a hole in it. And so,
+despite the loud eulogies of the Superannuated (who is naturally proud
+to be made the subject of any &#8220;Ode&#8221; however feeble) we do not purchase
+Podgers&#8217;s book, though it is urged upon us as being a &#8220;limited&#8221;
+edition. But the Superannuated is not herein baffled. If, he says,
+if you are so asinine, so crass,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_257" id="Page_257">[Pg 257]</a></span> so dull and dense of comprehension
+as to reject this marvellous, this classic Podgers, what say you to
+Stodgers? Stodgers is a &#8220;young&#8221; poet (forty-five last birthday),
+entirely free from &#8220;manner&#8221; and manners. He has resorted to the last
+and lowest method employed by Little Poets for obtaining temporary
+notoriety, namely,&mdash;outraging decency. Coarseness and blasphemy are
+the prevailing themes of his verse, but to the Superannuated these
+grave blemishes constitute &#8220;power.&#8221; A &#8220;strong&#8221; line is a lewd line; a
+&#8220;masterful&#8221; stanza contains a prurient suggestion. It suits the purpose
+of the Superannuated to compare his two &#8220;discoveries,&#8221; Podgers and
+Stodgers, and to work them against each other in those quarters of the
+Press he controls, like the &#8220;toy millers&#8221; one buys for children. It is
+a case of &#8220;Podgers come up and Stodgers come down,&#8221; as fits his humour
+and digestion. Meanwhile the vital test of the whole matter is that
+notwithstanding all this energetic &#8220;hawking about&#8221; of the Little Poets
+by the Superannuated, neither Podgers nor Stodgers <i>sell</i>. Everything
+is done to secure for them this desired result; unavailingly. And it
+is not as if they came out in a &#8220;common&#8221; way, Podgers and Stodgers. No
+publishing-firm with a simple name such as Messrs. Smith or Brown would
+suit the Little Poets. They must come out singularly, and apart from
+others. So they elect a publisher who, as it were, puts up a sign, as
+though he were a Tavern. &#8220;Published at the Dragon&#8217;s Mouth&#8221; or &#8220;At the
+Sign of the Flagon&#8221; would seem to be more convincing than &#8220;Published by
+Messrs. So and So.&#8221; Now Podgers&#8217;s little book has a fanciful title-page
+stating that it<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_258" id="Page_258">[Pg 258]</a></span> is published at the &#8220;Goose and Gridiron.&#8221; Stodgers,
+we find, bursts upon the world at &#8220;The Blue Boar.&#8221; There is something
+very delusive about all this. A flavour of ale and mulled wine
+creeps insidiously into the air, and we are moved to yearn for good
+warm drinks, whereas we only get indifferent cold verse. Now if the
+proprietors of the &#8220;Goose and Gridiron&#8221; and the &#8220;Blue Boar&#8221; would only
+sell inspiring liquids instead of uninspired rhymes, how their trade
+would improve! No longer would they bend, lean and furrowed, over their
+account-books&mdash;no longer would they have to scheme and puzzle over the
+&#8220;making&#8221; of Little Poets; because it must not be imagined that the
+Superannuated &#8220;discoverer&#8221; is the only one concerned in the business.
+&#8220;Goose and Gridiron&#8221; and &#8220;Blue Boar&#8221; have to deal in many small tricks
+of trade to compass it. Of course it is understood that the Little
+Poets get no money out of their productions. What they stipulate for
+with &#8220;Blue Boar&#8221; and likewise with &#8220;Goose and Gridiron&#8221; is a &#8220;hearing.&#8221;
+This &#8220;hearing&#8221; is obtained variously. Podgers got it in this way, as
+followeth: His verses, which had appeared from time to time in Sunday
+papers and magazines, were issued in a &#8220;limited edition.&#8221; Such &#8220;limited
+edition&#8221; was at once dispersed among booksellers in different parts of
+the country &#8220;on sale or return,&#8221; and while thus doubtfully awaiting
+purchasers, &#8220;Goose and Gridiron&#8221; tipped the trade-wink and perhaps
+something else more substantial besides, to the Superannuated,&mdash;who
+straightway seized his pen and wrote: &#8220;We hear that the first edition
+of Mr. Podgers&#8217;s poems is exhausted, and that original copies are
+already at a premium.&#8221; This done, and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_259" id="Page_259">[Pg 259]</a></span> &#8220;passed&#8221; through many papers,
+the publisher followed it up with an advertisement to the effect that
+&#8220;The first edition of Mr. Podgers&#8217;s poems being exhausted, a Second
+will be ready in a few days.&#8221; And here, it may as well be said for
+the rectitude of &#8220;Goose and Gridiron,&#8221; things came to a standstill.
+Because the Little Poets seldom get beyond a second edition. When
+Podgers&#8217;s first editions came back unsold from the provinces (as they
+did), attempts were made to dispose of them at fancy prices as a last
+resource,&mdash;such attempts naturally ending in disaster. The times are
+too hard, and people have too much to do with their money to part with
+any of it for first editions of Podgers or Stodgers. The public is a
+very shrewd one, moreover, and is not to be &#8220;taken in&#8221; by gnat-rhymers
+dancing up and down for an hour in the &#8220;discoverer&#8217;s&#8221; artificial
+sunbeams. And the Superannuated, in his eager desire to assert himself
+as an oracular personage, forgets one very important fact, and this is,
+that being a Nobody he cannot be accepted as warrant for a Somebody.
+The public is not his child; he cannot whip it into admiring Mr.
+Podgers, or coerce its judgment respecting Mr. Stodgers. Its ways
+are wilful, and it has a ridiculous habit (considering what a Fool
+the critic imagines it to be) of preferring its own opinion to that
+of the Superannuated. It is capable, it thinks, what with Compulsory
+Education and the rest of it, of making its own choice. And on the
+whole it prefers the Great Poet,&mdash;the man who scorns to be &#8220;discovered&#8221;
+by an inferior intellect, and who makes his own way independently and
+with a grand indifference to the squabbling of<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_260" id="Page_260">[Pg 260]</a></span> Log-rollers. He is not
+&#8220;made&#8221;; he forms part of the country&#8217;s blood and life; he chants the
+national thought in haunting rhythm as did the prophet bards of old;
+he, careless of &#8220;pence,&#8221; praise or fame, does so mix himself with his
+land&#8217;s history, that he becomes, as it were the very voice of the age
+in which he lives, and the Superannuated may ignore him as he will,
+he cannot get him out of the nation&#8217;s heart when he has once got in.
+But of the feeble, absurdly conceited tribe of Little Poets who come
+jostling one upon another nowadays in such a puling crowd, piping out
+their wretchedly small personalities in versed pessimism or coarse
+metaphor,&mdash;men &#8220;made&#8221; by the Tavern-publisher and the Superannuated
+Failure;&mdash;we have had enough of these, and more than enough. Too much
+good paper, good ink and good binding are wasted on their totally
+undesired productions. Life with us now is lived at too hard and too
+difficult a pace for any one to need poetry that is <i>only</i> verse.
+Hearts break every day in the truest sense of that sentimental phrase;
+brains reel into insanity and the darkness of suicide; and it is no
+Little Poet&#8217;s personal pangs about &#8220;pence&#8221; and such trifles, that can,
+like David&#8217;s harp of old, soothe or dismiss the dark spirit brooding
+over the latter-day Saul. It is the Great Poet we care for, whose
+singing-soul mystically comprehends our unuttered thoughts of love or
+glory; who chants not only his pains, but ours; not his joy, so much as
+the whole world&#8217;s joy. Such a man needs no &#8220;discoverer&#8221; to prove his
+existence; he is self-evident. When we grow so purblind as to need a
+still blinder Mole to point us out the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_261" id="Page_261">[Pg 261]</a></span> sun, then, but not till then
+shall we require the assistance of the Superannuated to &#8220;discover&#8221; what
+we understand by a Poet. At present we are actively conscious both of
+the orb of day, and the true quality of genius; and though the Poet we
+choose for ourselves and silently acknowledge as worthy of all honour,
+may not be, and seldom is, the recommended favourite of a clique, we
+are fully aware of him, and show our love and appreciation by setting
+his book among our household gods. No &#8220;limited edition&#8221; will suffice
+for such a man; we need to have his poems singing about us wherever we
+go. For the oft-repeated truth is to-day as true as ever,&mdash;that the
+Great Poet is &#8220;born,&#8221; and never has been and never will be &#8220;made.&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_262" id="Page_262">[Pg 262]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE PRAYER OF THE SMALL COUNTRY M.P.</h2>
+
+<p class="bold">WHICH HE PRAYETH DAILY</p>
+
+<p>O thou Especial Little God of Parliaments and Electors, with whom the
+greater God of the Universe has nothing whatever to do!&mdash;I beseech Thee
+to look upon me, Thy chosen servant, with a tolerant and favourable Eye!</p>
+
+<p>Consider with Leniency the singular and capricious Chance which has
+enabled me to become a Member of the Government, and grant me Thy
+protection, so that my utter Incapacity for the Post may never be
+discovered! Enable me, I implore Thee, to altogether dispense with
+the assistance of a certain Journalist and Press-Reporter in the
+composition of my Speeches! His Terms are high, and I am not sure of
+his Discretion!</p>
+
+<p>Impart unto me by spiritual telegraphy such Knowledge of the general
+Situation of Affairs that I may be able to furnish forth an occasional
+Intelligent Remark to the farmers of this Constituency, whose Loyalty
+to the Government is as firm as their Trust in the Power of Beer!
+Give me the grace of such shallow Profundity and Pretension as
+shall convince Rustic minds of my complete Superiority to them in
+matters concerning their<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_263" id="Page_263">[Pg 263]</a></span> Interest and Welfare; and teach me to use
+their Simplicity for the convenient furtherance of my own Cunning!
+Fill me with such necessary and becoming Arrogance as shall make me
+overbearingly insolent to Persons of Intellect, while yet retaining
+that sleek Affability which shall cause me to appear a Fawning Flunkey
+to Persons of Rank! Enable me to so condescendingly patronize the
+Electors who gave me their Majority that it shall seem I was returned
+through Merit only, and not through Bribes and Beer! And mercifully
+defend me, O Beneficent little Deity, from all possibility of ever
+being called upon to address the House! I am no speaker,&mdash;and even if I
+were, I have no Ideas whereon to hang a fustian sentence! Thou Knowest,
+All-Knowing-One, that I have not so much as an Opinion, save that it
+is good for me, in respect of Social Advantage, to write M.P. after
+my name! And surely Thou dost also know that I have paid Two Thousand
+Pounds for the purchase of this small portion of the Alphabet, making
+One Thousand Pounds per letter, which may humbly be submitted to Thee,
+O Calculating Ruler of Parliamentary Elections, as somewhat dear!</p>
+
+<p>But I have accepted these Conditions and paid the Sum without
+murmuring; therefore of Thy goodness, be pleased to spare me from the
+utterance of even one word in the presence of my peers, concerning any
+Matter for the Advancement of Which I have been elected! For lo,&mdash;if
+I said as much as &#8220;Yea,&#8221; it might be ill-advised; and yet again, if I
+said &#8220;Nay,&#8221; it might be ill-timed! Inasmuch as I am compelled to rely
+on the Journalist and Press-Reporter before mentioned, for <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_264" id="Page_264">[Pg 264]</a></span>whatsoever
+knowledge of matters political I possess, and it is just possible
+that he might,&mdash;through an extra dose of whisky-soda,&mdash;mislead me
+by erroneous information! O Lord of Press-Agencies and Grub Street
+Eating-Houses, if it be possible unto Thee, relieve me of this Man!
+He charges more, so I am credibly informed, per Hundred Words than
+any other Inventor of Original Eloquence in the pay of the Unlettered
+and Inarticulate of the House! And it is much to be feared that he
+does not always keep his own Counsel! Wherefore, gracious Deity, I
+would be Released with all convenient Speed from the Exercise of
+his Power! Rather than be constantly compelled to rely upon this
+Journalistic Wretch for Advice and Instruction, it will more conduce
+to my Comfort,&mdash;though possibly to my Fatigue,&mdash;to commit to Memory
+such portions of long-forgotten speeches spoken by Defunct Members of
+the House in the Past, as may be found suitable to the present needs
+of the Rural Population. The Corn-growing and Cattle-breeding Electors
+will not know from what Sources I derive my Inspiration, and the Editor
+of the Local Newspaper has not yet taken a degree in Scholarship.
+Moreover, the Dead are happily unable to send in any Claim for Damages
+against the Theft of their Ideas, which are as free to Independent
+Pilferers as the Original Plots of New and Successful Romances are
+free to the Dramatizing Robbers in the Stage-Purlieus, thanks to the
+Admirable Attitude of Dignified Indolence assumed by that Government to
+which I, one Fool out of Many, have the honour to belong!</p>
+
+<p>Finally, O Beneficent Lilliputian Deity which<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_265" id="Page_265">[Pg 265]</a></span> governeth matters
+Parliamentary,&mdash;grant me such a sufficient amount of highly-respectable
+Mendacity as shall enable me to pass successfully for what I am not, at
+least, so far as Society in the Country is concerned! Fully aware am I,
+O Lord, that a Simulation of Ability will not always meet with approval
+in Town, though it has been occasionally known to do so! Therefore I am
+well content to sit in the House as one MUM, thus representing through
+myself an inaudible County! But in the County itself it shall seem
+to the Uninitiated that my thoughts are too deep for speech; while I
+retain in my own mind the knowledge of the Fact that my Humbug is too
+great for Expression!</p>
+
+<p>To Thee, gentle yet capricious Deity, I commend all my Desires,
+praying Thee to keep the people whom I represent as Dumb and Inert as
+myself in matters concerning their own Welfare, for if they should
+chance to consider the Situation by the light of Common Sense,
+and me by the shrewd Appreciation of a Native Wit, it might occur
+to them to prefer a Man rather than a Wooden-headed Nonentity to
+Proclaim their Existence to the King&#8217;s faithful Commons! Wherefore,
+at the next General Election I should lose my Seat,&mdash;which would
+be Disagreeable to me personally, as well as a Cause of Rage in my
+Wife, to whom my present Condition of a Parliamentary Microbe is
+much more important and advantageous than it is to the Country! And
+Thou knowest, O Lord, that when my Wife is moved by the Impetuous
+Persuasion of a difficult Temper, it is necessary for me, by reason
+of her Superior Height, Size, and Aggressiveness, to retire from the
+domestic Fighting-ground, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_266" id="Page_266">[Pg 266]</a></span>considerably worsted in the unequal Combat.
+Protect me, merciful Deity, from her Tongue!&mdash;which is as a Sword to
+slay all thoughts of Peace! And, concerning the accursed, ubiquitous
+Journalist-Reporter-Paragraphist-Correspondent-Attached-to-all-Newspapers
+Man, who, for my sins, wrote my &#8220;speech to the Electors&#8221; at a high
+charge, and agreed,&mdash;and therefore expects,&mdash;to write all my other
+public utterances on the same terms, I beseech Thee, when he next waits
+upon me with his Bill, ready to Counsel or to Command, grant me the
+Strength and Courage to tell a more barefaced Lie than is habitual to
+me, and to boldly say that I can do Without him!</p>
+
+<p class="center space-above"><span class="smcap">Amen!</span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_267" id="Page_267">[Pg 267]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE THANKSGIVING OF THE SMALL COUNTRY M.P&#8217;s WIFE,</h2>
+
+<p class="bold">WHICH SHE OFFERETH WEEK-END-LY</p>
+
+<p>To Thee, O Bland and Blessëd Deity of Surplus Cash and Social
+Advancement, whose favours are never bestowed upon the Poor or the
+Wise, but only on the Rich and the Foolish, I give praise, honour and
+glory!</p>
+
+<p>I thank Thee that Thou hast made of that Supreme Ass, my Husband, a
+Member of the Government, so that, despite his utter Lack of Wit and
+Hopeless Incompetency, he may at least pass muster for having Brains in
+a particularly Brainless Constituency!</p>
+
+<p>I acknowledge Thy mercy and goodness in permitting that for the
+moderate cost of Two Thousand Pounds and upwards,&mdash;a sum not greatly
+in excess of my dressmaker&#8217;s annual bill,&mdash;I may set my foot on the
+two dumb and prostrate Letters of the Alphabet now attached to my said
+Husband&#8217;s new calling and Election, and may mount thereon to those
+heights of County Society where, ever since I was born I have eagerly
+thirsted to be! For though County Society be often duller than the
+fabled Styx, nevertheless the leaden<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_268" id="Page_268">[Pg 268]</a></span> weight of its Approval is as
+necessary to my special comfort and welfare as the Gilded chain of
+Office is to the swelling chest of a Provincial Mayor. Thou knowest,
+O little Lord of Communities Narrow, Parochial and Politic, that I am
+called, even by the Profanest of Press-Reporters, &#8220;a fine figure of a
+woman,&#8221; and that I am deserving of Public Notice and Commendation, not
+only for my Physical Attractions, but for my Social Qualifications,
+which, despite the fact that Fate has wedded me to a Fool, have enabled
+me to successfully represent the said Fool to his bovine Electors as
+an Intelligent Personality! Great is the Tact which is needed to palm
+off a Sparrow for an Eagle, a Mouse for an Elephant, or a Donkey for
+a Statesman! But I swear to Thee, O Thou gracious Little Neptune who
+ruleth that Limited Ocean called the &#8220;Society Swim&#8221; that I am equal
+to all this and more! Thou seest me as I am, a Fashionable Feminine
+Insincerity! Thou beholdest the subtle cleverness of my Social Smile,
+which radiates sweetly upon the faces of such persons as I conceive
+may be useful in Election times, but which fades into a Supercilious
+Sneer when I discover, as I often do, that many of these persons are
+unblushingly &#8220;of no political party,&#8221; and have no interest whatever in
+keeping my Husband in His Seat! Now if my Husband were not in His Seat,
+I should become that most deplorable of human beings, a Provincial
+Nonentity! Hence arises my natural and lawful Desire that in His Seat
+my Husband shall remain, inasmuch as were he left without a Seat, I
+should be left without a &#8220;Set&#8221;!</p>
+
+<p>But thanks be unto Thee, O Thou amiable and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_269" id="Page_269">[Pg 269]</a></span> complaisant God of the
+British Social Status, there seems to be at present no cause for
+alarm that the Rustics whom my Husband, with unintelligent dumbness
+represents in the House of Commons will ever Rise! Chiefly inspired
+as they are by Drugged Beer, it is safe to presume that they will
+not easily awaken from their Public-House Torpor, or in a species of
+vulgar &#8220;horse-play&#8221; pull my Husband&#8217;s seat from under him,&mdash;even as
+a lubberly child pulls away a chair from the Unsuspecting Visitor
+who would fain sit down upon it,&mdash;and so precipitate my Husband
+into the unenviable rank of Unimportant Provincials! I myself am
+ready to guarantee,&mdash;always with Thy support, O Favourer of Paid
+Parliamentary Press-Puffery,&mdash;that so dire a Catastrophe as this shall
+not happen! For My weight,&mdash;which is both materially and mentally
+Considerable,&mdash;would have to be thrown into the Balance,&mdash;whereby
+the tottering Seat, even if partially overthrown, would, and
+needs Must,&mdash;under the force of my impetuous Clutch,&mdash;regain the
+Perpendicular!</p>
+
+<p>Being by unredeemed nature a Stupid Woman, I acknowledge freely and
+with gratitude Thy Omnipotent Guidance in Matters purely Snobbish! I
+praise and bless Thee for showing me the quickest way out of Things
+Intellectual into Things Conventional! I thank Thee for Thy unfailing
+assistance afforded to me in the beaten paths of County Flunkeydom,
+wherein I walk with virtuous circumspection, taking care to leave my
+impressive Visiting-Cards and likewise those of my Husband, on Houses
+only, and never on People! For People may be dangerous acquaintances,
+while Houses<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_270" id="Page_270">[Pg 270]</a></span> never are. A Family Residence is always more respectable
+than a Family!</p>
+
+<p>I give Thee glory that I am made of such stubborn Flesh and Quality as
+never to recognize that any other Woman exists who, by the Inconvenient
+Attributes of Either Beauty, Wit or Intelligence, deserves to be
+considered my Superior, and that when any such Intrusive and Obtrusive
+Female is accidentally forced upon my Notice, I have the good sense
+to diplomatically ignore Her. I am gratefully conscious that the
+Meaningless Insipidity of my Manner has favourably impressed the
+Uneducated Majority of my Husband&#8217;s Constituents. And also, that having
+once obtained their Unreasoning Votes, their Bucolic Lethargy is such,
+that I need do little further to retain their Credulous Admiration save
+to put in an Occasional Well-Dressed Appearance at a &#8220;local&#8221; Bazaar,
+or Charity Ball. Concerning any aims or hopes they may, in their
+blundering Dulness, have ever entertained towards the Betterment of
+their Condition, and the Representation of these Addle-pated desires to
+His Majesty&#8217;s Government, I am as Profoundly Indifferent as my Husband
+is Voluntarily Ignorant. For, as the larger number of the Faithful
+Commons are aware, no Act is more fatal to the Social Prestige and
+County Influence of a Member of the House, than that he should, when in
+office, fulfil the Rash Promises made to his Electors during a Critical
+state of the Poll! Inasmuch as the only Reasonable object to be
+attained by the Purchase of the Letters M. and P. is the Betterment of
+One&#8217;s Self and One&#8217;s Social Position on the lines of such Conventional
+Hypocrisies as are agreeable to the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_271" id="Page_271">[Pg 271]</a></span> Best County Houses. For the taking
+of any bold or conspicuous part in any National Matter of Interest or
+Importance has long been sagaciously avoided by every County Member
+who desires to retain His Seat. And that one Man should do what his
+Colleagues dare not attempt, would be a Heroism which, thanks unto
+Thee, O Prudent Presiding Deity of Grandmotherly Westminster, is
+fortunately not to be expected of my Husband!</p>
+
+<p>Finally I thank Thee, O Wise and All-Discerning, for the Gracious
+Consolation which Thou hast imparted unto me in the fact that though my
+Husband is the Embodiment of county Vacuity, the Majority of the King&#8217;s
+Faithful Commons are as Vacuous as He! For, as in the multitude of Ants
+in an Anthill, One insect more industrious or intelligent than the
+rest is not easily discovered, even so, in the goodly array of Stupid
+Members, the Stupidest of them all may conveniently sit in his Seat
+without public Comment.</p>
+
+<p>And for the Constant Enjoyment of my own Admitted Position
+among the Tea-Drinking, Fox-Hunting and Bucolic <i>élite</i> of the
+Neighbourhood,&mdash;for the graceful Ease with which I assume to be what
+I am not, by reason of the Two Letters attached to my Husband&#8217;s
+Name, which gives much more importance to Me than to Him,&mdash;and for
+the general comfortable Self-Assertiveness in which I live and
+move and have my being, I bless Thee, O Potent little Deity of the
+Polling-Booth, and acknowledge Thy Manifold Mercies! May the Seat of my
+Husband continue firm in Thy Sight, unmoved by any Popular Caprice of
+the Vulgar, until such time as my eldest Hopeful Son, the very pattern<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_272" id="Page_272">[Pg 272]</a></span>
+of His Father, shall slip into it Unopposed after Him, and so preserve
+in those Unsophisticated Rural Districts whereby we are surrounded, the
+Unblemished Honour of a Unique Reputation for Highly Educated Political
+Incompetence in this Advanced and Enlightened Age!</p>
+
+<p class="center space-above"><span class="smcap">Amen!</span></p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_273" id="Page_273">[Pg 273]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE VANISHING GIFT</h2>
+
+<p>The unseen rulers of human destiny are, on the whole, very kindly
+Fates. They appear beneficently prone to give us mortals much more
+than we deserve. Gifts of various grace and value are showered upon
+us incessantly through our life&#8217;s progress,&mdash;gifts for which we are
+too often ungrateful, or which we fail to appreciate at their true
+worth. Apart from the pleasures of the material senses which we share
+in common with our friends and fellows of the brute creation, the more
+delicate and exquisite emotions of the mind are ministered to with
+unfailing and fostering care. Music&mdash;Poetry, Art in all its brilliant
+and changeful phases,&mdash;these things are offered for the delectation of
+our thoughts and the refinement of our tastes; but the most priceless
+boon of the Immortals is the talisman which alone enables us to
+understand the beauty of life at its highest, and the perfection of
+ideals at their best. I mean Imagination,&mdash;that wonderful spiritual
+faculty which is the source of all great creative work in Art and
+Literature. Some call it &#8220;Inspiration&#8221;; others, the Divine Fire; but
+whatever its nature or quality, there is good cause to think&mdash;and to
+fear&mdash;that it is gradually dwindling down and disappearing altogether
+from the world of to-day. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_274" id="Page_274">[Pg 274]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>The reasons for this are not very far to seek. We are living in
+an age of feverish unrest and agitation. If we could picture a
+twentieth century Satan appearing before the Almighty under the
+circumstances described in the Book of Job, to answer the question,
+&#8220;Whence comest thou?&#8221;&mdash;the same reply would suit not only his, but
+our condition&mdash;&#8220;From going to and fro in the earth, and wandering up
+and down within it.&#8221; We are always going to and fro in these days. We
+are forever wandering up and down. Few of us are satisfied to remain
+long in the same place, among the same surroundings&mdash;and in this way
+the foundations of home life,&mdash;formerly so noble and firm a part of
+our national strength&mdash;are being shaken and disorganized. A very
+great majority of us appear to be afflicted with the chronic disease
+of Hurry, which generally breeds a twin ailment&mdash;Worry. We have no
+time for anything somehow. We seem to be always under the thrall of
+an invisible policeman, commanding us to &#8220;Move on!&#8221; And we do move
+on, like the tramps we are becoming. Moreover, we have decided that
+we cannot get over the ground quickly enough on the limbs with which
+Nature originally provided us&mdash;so we spin along on cycles, and dash
+about on motor cars. And it is confidently expected that by-and-by
+the mere earth will not be good enough for us, and that we shall
+&#8220;scorch&#8221; through the air&mdash;when a great change may be looked for in
+house accommodation. People will return, it is said, to the early
+cave dwellings, in order to avoid the massacre likely to be caused by
+tumbling air-ships over which the captains have lost control. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_275" id="Page_275">[Pg 275]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>There is something humourous in all this modern hurry-skurry; something
+almost grotesque in this desire for swift movement&mdash;this wish to save
+time and to stint work;&mdash;but there is something infinitely pathetic
+about it as well. It is as if the present Period of the world&#8217;s
+civilization felt itself growing old&mdash;as if, like an individual human
+unit, it knew itself to be past its prime and drawing nigh to death,
+as if,&mdash;with the feeble restlessness of advancing age, it were seeking
+to cram as much change and amusement as possible into the little time
+of existence left to it. Two of the most notable signs of such mental
+and moral decay are, a morbid craving for incessant excitement, and a
+disinclination to think. It is quite a common thing nowadays to hear
+people say, &#8220;Oh, I have no time to think!&#8221;&mdash;and they seem to be more
+proud than ashamed of their loss of mental equilibrium. But it is very
+certain that where there is no time to think, there is less time to
+imagine&mdash;and where there is neither thought nor imagination, creative
+work of a high and lasting quality is not possible.</p>
+
+<p>We, in our day, are fortunate in so far that we are the inheritors
+of the splendid work accomplished in the youth and prime of all that
+we know of civilization. No doubt there were immense periods beyond
+our ken, in which the entire round of birth, youth, maturity, age and
+death, was fulfilled by countless civilizations whose histories are
+unrecorded&mdash;but we can only form the faintest guess at this, through
+the study of old dynasties which, ancient as they are, may perhaps be
+almost modern compared to the unknown empires which have utterly passed
+away beyond human recovery.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_276" id="Page_276">[Pg 276]</a></span> But if we care to examine the matter, we
+shall find among all nations, that as soon as a form of civilization
+has emerged from barbarism, like a youth emerging from childhood, it
+has entered on its career with a glad heart and a poetic soul,&mdash;full of
+ideals, and richly endowed with that gift of the gods&mdash;Imagination. It
+has invariably expressed itself as being reverently conscious of the
+Highest source of all creation; and its utterance through all its best
+work and achievement can be aptly summed up in Wordsworth&#8217;s glorious
+lines:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Our birth is but a sleep and a forgetting&mdash;</div>
+<div class="i1">The Soul that rises with us, our life&#8217;s star</div>
+<div>Hath had elsewhere its setting,</div>
+<div class="i1">And cometh from afar,&mdash;</div>
+<div class="i3">Not in entire forgetfulness,</div>
+<div class="i3">And not in utter nakedness,</div>
+<div class="i3">But trailing clouds of glory do we come,</div>
+<div class="i3">From God who is our home!</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>While these &#8220;trailing clouds of glory&#8221; still cling to the soul, the
+limits of this world,&mdash;the mere dust and grime of material things,&mdash;do
+not and cannot satisfy it; it must penetrate into a realm which is
+of its own idea and innate perception. There it must itself create a
+universe, and find expression for its higher thought. To this resentful
+attitude of the soul against mere materialism, we owe all art, all
+poetry, all music. Every great artistic work performed outside the
+needs of material and physical life may be looked upon as a spiritual
+attempt to break open the close walls of our earthly prison-house and
+let a glimpse of God&#8217;s light through.</p>
+
+<p>As a matter of fact, everything we possess or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_277" id="Page_277">[Pg 277]</a></span> know of to-day, is
+the visible outcome of a once imagined possibility. It has been
+very grandly said that &#8220;the Universe itself was once a dream in the
+mind of God.&#8221; So may we say that every scientific law, every canon
+of beauty&mdash;every great discovery&mdash;every splendid accomplishment was
+once a dream in the mind of man. All the religions of the world, with
+their deep, beautiful, grand or terrific symbols of life, death and
+immortality, have had their origin in the instinctive effort of the
+Soul to detach itself from the mere earthly, and to imagine something
+better. In the early days, this strong aspiration of humanity towards
+a greater and more lasting good than its own immediate interest,
+was displayed in the loftiest and purest conceptions of art. The
+thoughts of the &#8220;old-world&#8221; period are written in well-nigh indelible
+characters. The colossal architecture of the temples of ancient
+Egypt&mdash;and that marvellous imaginative creation, the Sphinx, with its
+immutable face of mingled scorn and pity&mdash;the beautiful classic forms
+of old Greece and Rome&mdash;these are all visible evidences of spiritual
+aspiration and endeavour,&mdash;moreover, they are the expression of a
+broad, reposeful strength,&mdash;a dignified consciousness of power. The
+glorious poetry of the Hebrew Scriptures&mdash;the swing and rush of Homer&#8217;s
+Iliad,&mdash;the stately simplicity and profundity of Plato,&mdash;these also
+belong to what we know of the youth of the world. And they are still
+a part of the world&#8217;s most precious possessions. We, in our day, can
+do nothing so great. We have neither the imagination to conceive such
+work, nor the calm force necessary to execute it. The artists of a
+former<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_278" id="Page_278">[Pg 278]</a></span> time laboured with sustained and tireless, yet tranquil energy;
+we can only produce imitations of the greater models with a vast amount
+of spasmodic hurry and clamour. So, perchance, we shall leave to future
+generations little more than an echo of &#8220;much ado about nothing.&#8221; For,
+truly, we live at present under a veritable scourge of mere noise. No
+king, no statesman, no general, no thinker, no writer, is allowed to
+follow the course of his duty or work without the shrieking comments
+of all sorts and conditions of uninstructed and misguided persons, and
+under such circumstances it is well to remember the strong lines of our
+last great poet Laureate:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Step by step we gain&#8217;d a freedom, known to Europe, known to all,&mdash;</div>
+<div>Step by step we rose to greatness,&mdash;through the <i>tonguesters</i> we may fall!</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>But our chief disablement for high creative work,&mdash;and one that is
+particularly noticeable at this immediate period of our history, is, as
+I have said, the &#8220;vanishing of the gift&#8221;&mdash;the lack of Imagination. To
+be wanting in this, is to be wanting in the first element of artistic
+greatness. The poet, the painter, the sculptor, or the musician must
+be able to make a world of his own and live in it, before he can make
+one for others. When he has evolved such a world out of his individual
+consciousness, and has peopled it with the creations of his fancy,
+he can turn its &#8220;airy substance&#8221; into reality for all time. For the
+things we call &#8220;imaginative&#8221; are often far more real than what we call
+&#8220;realism.&#8221; All that we touch, taste and see, we call &#8220;real.&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_279" id="Page_279">[Pg 279]</a></span> Now we
+cannot touch, taste or see Honour&mdash;but surely it is real! We cannot
+weigh out Courage in a solidified parcel&mdash;yet it is an actual thing.
+So with Imagination&mdash;it shows us what we may, if we choose, consider
+&#8220;the baseless fabric of a vision&#8221;&mdash;but which often proves as real and
+practical in its results as Honour and Courage. Shakespeare&#8217;s world is
+real;&mdash;so real that there are not wanting certain literary imposters
+who grudge him its reality and strive to dispossess him of his own.
+Walter Scott&#8217;s world is real&mdash;so real, that a shrine has been built for
+him in Edinburgh, crowded with sculptured figures of men and women,
+most of whom never existed, save in his teeming fancy. What a tribute
+to the power of Imagination is the beautiful monument in the centre of
+Princes Street, with all the forms evoked from one great mind, lifted
+high above us, who consider ourselves &#8220;real&#8221; people! And now the lesser
+world of thought is waiting for the discovery of a Cryptogram in the
+Waverley Novels, which shall prove that King George the Fourth wrote
+them with the assistance of Scott&#8217;s game-keeper, Tom Purdie,&mdash;and that
+his Majesty gave Scott a baronetcy on condition that he should never
+divulge the true authorship! For, according to the narrow material
+limits of some latter-day minds, no one man could possibly have written
+Shakespeare&#8217;s Plays. Therefore it may be equally argued that, as there
+is as much actual work, and quite as many characters in the Waverley
+Novels as in the plays of Shakespeare, they could not all have emanated
+from the one brain of Sir Walter Scott. Come forward then with a
+&#8220;Waverley cryptogram,&#8221; little mean starvelings of <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_280" id="Page_280">[Pg 280]</a></span>literature who would
+fain attempt to prove a man&#8217;s work is not his own! There are sure to be
+some envious fools always ready to believe that the great are not so
+great,&mdash;the heroic not so heroic, and that after all, they, the fools,
+may be wiser than the wisest men!</p>
+
+<p>In very truth, one of the worst signs of the vanishing of the gift of
+Imagination in these days is the utter inability of the majority of
+modern folk to understand its value. The creative ease and exquisite
+happiness of an imaginative soul which builds up grand ideals of life
+and love and immortality with less effort than is required for the
+act of breathing, seems to be quite beyond their comprehension. And
+so&mdash;unfortunately it often follows that what is above them they try to
+pull down,&mdash;and what is too large for them to grasp, they endeavour
+to bind within their own narrow ring of experience. The attempt is
+of course useless. We cannot get the planet Venus to serve us as a
+lamp on our dinner table. We cannot fit the eagle into a sparrow&#8217;s
+nest. But some people are always trying to do this sort of thing.
+And when they find they cannot succeed, they fall into a fit of the
+spleen, and revile what they cannot emulate. There is no surer sign of
+mental and moral decadence than this grudging envy of a great fame.
+For the healthy mind rejoices in the recognition of genius wherever
+or whenever it may be discovered, and has a keen sense of personal
+delight in giving to merit all its due. Hero-worship is a much finer
+and more invigorating emotion than hero-slander. The insatiate
+desire which is shown by certain writers nowadays, to pull down the
+great reputations of the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_281" id="Page_281">[Pg 281]</a></span> past, destroy old traditions, and cheapen
+noble attainment, resembles a sudden outbreak of insane persons who
+strive to smash everything within their reach. It is in its way a
+form of Imagination,&mdash;but Imagination diseased and demoralized. For
+Imagination, like all other faculties of the brain, can become sickly
+and perverted. When it is about to die it shows&mdash;in common with
+everything else in that condition,&mdash;signs of its dissolution. Such
+signs of feebleness and decay are everywhere visible in the world at
+the present time. They are shown in the constant output of decadent
+and atheistical literature&mdash;in the decline of music and the drama from
+noble and classic forms to the repulsive &#8220;problem&#8221; play and the comic
+opera&mdash;in the splashy daubing of good canvas called &#8220;impressionist&#8221;
+painting&mdash;in the acceptance, or passive toleration, of the vilest
+doggerel verse as &#8220;poetry&#8221;&mdash;and in the wretched return to the lowest
+forms of ignorance displayed in the &#8220;fashionable&#8221; craze for palmistry,
+clairvoyance, crystal-gazing, and sundry other quite contemptible
+evidences of foolish credulity concerning the grave issues of life and
+death,&mdash;combined with a most sorrowful, most deplorable indifference
+to the simple and pure teachings of the Christian Faith. Even in the
+Christian Faith itself, its chosen ministers seem unable to serve their
+Divine Master without quarrelling over trifles,&mdash;which is surely no
+part of their calling and election.</p>
+
+<p>Everywhere there is a lack of high ideals,&mdash;and all the arts suffer
+severely in consequence. Modern education itself checks and cramps the
+growth of imaginative originality. The general tendency is<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_282" id="Page_282">[Pg 282]</a></span> unhappily
+towards the basest forms of materialism, and a large majority of people
+appear to be smitten with a paralysing apathy concerning everything
+but the making of money. That art is pursued with a horrible avidity,
+to the exclusion of every higher and nobler pursuit. Yet it needs
+very little &#8220;imagination&#8221; to prophesy what the end of a nation is
+bound to be when the unbridled fever of avarice once sets in. History
+has chronicled the ruin of empires from this one cause over and over
+again for our warning; and as Carlyle said in his stern and strenuous
+way&mdash;&#8220;One thing I do know: Never on this earth was the relation of
+man to man long carried on by cash payment alone. If at any time a
+philosophy of Laissez-faire, Competition and Supply-and-Demand start up
+as the exponent of human relations, expect that it will soon end.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Perhaps some will say that Imagination is not a &#8220;vanishing gift&#8221;&mdash;and
+that Idealism and Romance still exist, at any rate among the Celtic
+races, and in countries such as Scotland, for instance, the home of
+so much noble tradition, song and story. I wish I could believe this.
+But unhappily the proofs are all against it. If the Imaginative Spirit
+were not decaying in Scotland as elsewhere, should we have seen the
+wanton and wicked destruction of one of its fairest scenes of natural
+beauty&mdash;the Glen and Fall of Foyers? There, where once the clear
+beautiful cascade whose praises were sung by Robert Burns, dashed down
+in its thundering glory among the heather and bracken, there are now
+felled trees, sorrowful blackened stumps, withering ferns and trampled
+flowers, dirty car-tracks, and all the indescribable muck which follows
+in the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_283" id="Page_283">[Pg 283]</a></span> wake of the merely money-grubbing human microbe. And where once
+the pulse was quickened to a sane and healthy delight in the grandeur
+of unspoilt Nature, and the mind was uplifted from sordid cares to
+high contemplation, we are now asked to buy an aluminium paper-knife
+for a shilling! Human absurdity can no further go than this. There can
+be little imagination left in the minds that could have tolerated the
+building of aluminium works where Foyers once poured music through
+the glen. And it is instructive to recall the action taken by the
+Belgian people&mdash;who are generally supposed to be very prosaic,&mdash;when
+some of their beautiful scenery on the river Amblève, was threatened
+with similar destruction. Mustering together, three to four thousand
+strong, they took a reduced model of the intended factory, burnt it
+on the spot, and threw its ashes into the river; performing such a
+terror-striking &#8220;carmagnole&#8221; of revolt, that the authorities were
+compelled to prohibit the erection of the proposed works, for fear of
+a general rising throughout the country. Would that such a protest
+had been offered by the people of Scotland against the destruction of
+Foyers!</p>
+
+<p>And what of the pitiful ruin of Loch Katrine?&mdash;once an unspoilt gem of
+Highland scenery, doubly beloved for the sake of Sir Walter Scott&#8217;s
+&#8220;Lady of the Lake&#8221;? What of the submerging of &#8220;Ellen&#8217;s Isle&#8221;?&mdash;the
+ruthless uprooting of that &#8220;entangled wood&#8221;&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Where Nature scattered, free and wild.</div>
+<div>Each plant or flower, the mountain&#8217;s child,&mdash;</div>
+<div>Here eglantine embalmed the air,</div>
+<div>Heather and hazel mingled there.</div>
+<div class="center">*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp;*</div>
+<div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_284" id="Page_284">[Pg 284]</a></span>The wanderer&#8217;s eye could barely view</div>
+<div>The summer heaven&#8217;s delicious blue&mdash;</div>
+<div>So wondrous wild!&mdash;the whole might seem</div>
+<div>The scenery of a fairy dream!</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>I have been assured on the very best authority that all the beauty of
+Loch Katrine could have been left undisturbed, had the Scottish people
+taken any actively determined measures towards preserving it. The
+increasing water-supply necessary for Glasgow could have been procured
+from Loch Vennachar, which is a larger loch, and quite as good for the
+purpose. Only it would have cost more money, and that extra cash was
+not forthcoming, even for Sir Walter&#8217;s sake! It is a poor return to
+make to the memory of him who did so much for the fame of Scotland,
+to mutilate the scene he loved and immortalized! The struggles and
+disasters of the Jacobite Cause, and the defeat at Culloden brought
+more gain than loss to Scotland, by filling the land with glorious song
+and heroic tradition,&mdash;the result of the noble idealistic spirit which
+made even failure honourable,&mdash;but the defacement of Loch Katrine, the
+scene of &#8220;The Lady of the Lake&#8221; is nothing but a disgrace to those who
+authorized it, and to those who kept silence while the deed was done.</p>
+
+<p>But there are yet other signs and tokens of the disappearance of
+that idealistic and romantic spirit in Scotland, which has more than
+anything, helped to make its history such a brilliant chronicle of
+heroism and honour. There are &#8220;a certain class&#8221; of Scottish people who
+are ashamed of the Scotch accent, and who affect to be unable to read
+anything written in the Scotch dialect. I am told&mdash;though I would hope
+it is not true&mdash;that the larger majority<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_285" id="Page_285">[Pg 285]</a></span> of Scottish ladies object to
+Scotch music, and do not know any Scotch songs. If this <i>is</i> true of
+any &#8220;certain class&#8221; of Scottish people, I am sorry for them. They have
+fallen down a long way from the height where birth and country placed
+them! I should like to talk to any Scot, man or woman, who is ashamed
+of the Scotch accent. As well be ashamed of the mountain heather! I
+should like to interview any renegade son or daughter of the Celtic
+race, who is not proud of every drop of Celtic blood, every word and
+line of Celtic tradition,&mdash;every sweet song that expresses the Celtic
+character. Nothing that is purely national should be set aside or
+allowed to perish. It is a thousand pities that the old Gaelic speech
+is dying out in the Highlands, along with the picturesque &#8220;plaid&#8221; and
+&#8220;bonnet&#8221; of the Highland shepherds. The Gaelic language is a rich
+and copious one, and should be kept up in every Scottish school and
+University. Some of the Gaelic music, too, is the most beautiful in the
+world,&mdash;and many a so-called &#8220;original&#8221; composer has taken the theme
+for an overture or a symphony from an ancient, long-forgotten Gaelic
+tune. A fine spirit of romance and idealism is the natural heritage of
+the Celtic race;&mdash;far too precious a birthright to be exchanged for
+the languid indifferentism of latter-day London fashion, which too
+often makes a jest of noble enthusiasm, and which would, no doubt, call
+Sir Walter Scott&#8217;s fine novel of <i>The Heart of Midlothian</i>, &#8220;kailyard
+literature&#8221;&mdash;if it dared!</p>
+
+<p>And who that understands anything about music is so foolish and
+ignorant as to despise a Scottish song? Where can we match, in all
+song literature,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_286" id="Page_286">[Pg 286]</a></span> the songs of Robert Burns? What German &#8220;lied&#8221;&mdash;what
+French or Italian &#8220;canzonet&#8221; or &#8220;chansonette&#8221; expresses such real human
+tenderness as &#8220;Of a&#8217; the airts&#8221; or &#8220;My Nannie O!&#8221;? And it should be
+remembered that the imaginative pathos of the Scottish song has its
+other side of imaginative humour&mdash;sly, dry humour, such as cannot be
+rivalled in any language or dialect of the world. And in spite of the
+incredible assertion that they are beginning to despise their native
+Doric, there are surely few real Scotsmen who, even at this time of day
+fail to understand the whimsical satire of the famous old Jacobite song:</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Wha the deil hae we gotten for a king</div>
+<div class="i2">But a wee, wee German lairdie,</div>
+<div>An&#8217; he&#8217;s brought fouth o&#8217; foreign trash</div>
+<div class="i2">An&#8217; dibbled it in his yairdie,&mdash;</div>
+<div>He&#8217;s pu&#8217;d the rose o&#8217; England loons</div>
+<div>An&#8217; broken the harp o&#8217; Irish clowns&mdash;</div>
+<div>But our Scotch thistle will jag his thumbs!</div>
+<div class="i2">The wee, wee German lairdie!</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>We shall not find anything of a bilious nature in a Scottish love-song.
+We shall not hear the swain asking his lady-love to meet him &#8220;in some
+sky,&#8221; or &#8220;when the hay is in the mow,&#8221; or any other vaguely indefinite
+place or period. The Scottish lover appears,&mdash;if we may judge him
+by his native song,&mdash;to be supremely healthy in his sentiments, and
+gratefully conscious of the excellence of both life and love. He takes
+even poverty with a light heart, and does not grizzle over it in
+trickling tears of dismal melody. No; he says simply and cheerily: </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_287" id="Page_287">[Pg 287]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>My riches a&#8217; my penny fee,</div>
+<div class="i1">An&#8217; I maun guide it cannie O,&mdash;</div>
+<div>But this world&#8217;s gear ne&#8217;er fashes me,&mdash;</div>
+<div class="i2">My thoughts are a&#8217; my Nannie O!</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>It will be a sad day indeed when this spirit of wholesome, tender and
+poetic imagination drifts away altogether from Scotland. We must not
+forget that the Scottish race has taken a very firm root in the New
+World Beyond Seas,&mdash;and that out in Canada and Australia and South
+Africa the memories and the traditions of home are dear to the hearts
+of thousands who call Scotland their mother. Surely they should be
+privileged to feel that in their beautiful ancestral land, the old
+proud spirit is still kept up,&mdash;the old legends, the old language,
+the old songs,&mdash;all the old associations, which&mdash;far away as they
+are forced to dwell&mdash;they can still hand down to their children and
+their children&#8217;s children. No king,&mdash;no statesman, can do for a
+country what its romancists and poets can,&mdash;for the sovereignty of the
+truly inspired and imaginative soul is supreme, and as far above all
+other earthly dominion as the fame of Homer is above the conquests
+of Alexander. And when the last touch of idealistic fancy and poetic
+sentiment has been crushed out of us, and only the dry husks of
+realism are left to feed swine withal, then may we look for the end
+of everything that is worth cherishing and fighting for in our much
+boasted civilization.</p>
+
+<p>For with the vanishing gift, vanish many other things, which may be
+called in the quaint phrasing of an Elizabethan writer, &#8220;a bundle of
+good graces.&#8221; The chivalrous spirit of man towards woman is one of
+those &#8220;good graces&#8221; which is rapidly <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_288" id="Page_288">[Pg 288]</a></span>disappearing. Hospitality is
+another &#8220;good grace&#8221; which is on the wane. The art of conversation
+is almost a lost one. People talk as they ride bicycles&mdash;at a
+rush&mdash;without pausing to consider their surroundings. Elegant manners
+are also at a discount. The &#8220;scorching,&#8221; steaming, spasmodic motor
+man-animal does not inspire reverence. The smoking, slangy horsey,
+betting, woman-animal is not a graceful object. In the days of classic
+Greece and Rome, men and women &#8220;imagined&#8221; themselves to be descended
+from the gods;&mdash;and however extravagant the idea, it was likely to
+breed more dignity and beauty of conduct than if they had &#8220;imagined&#8221;
+themselves descended from apes. A nation rounds itself to an Ideal, as
+the clay forms into shape on a potter&#8217;s wheel. It is well, therefore,
+to see that the Ideal be pure and lofty, and not a mere Golden Image
+like that set up by King Nebuchadnezzar, who ended his days by eating
+grass,&mdash;possibly thistles. Some of our public men might perhaps be
+better for a little more Imagination, and a little less red tape. It
+might take them healthfully out of themselves. For most of them seem
+burdened with an absurd self-consciousness, which is apt to limit the
+extent of their view out on public affairs. Others again are afflicted
+by the hedge-hog quality of &#8220;stand-offishness&#8221; which they unfortunately
+mistake for dignity. And others affect to despise public opinion, and
+have a curious habit of overlooking the fact that it is the much-abused
+public which sets them in office and pays to keep them there. Their
+Ideal of public life and service partakes too much of Self to be nobly
+National.</p>
+
+<p>What, after all, is Imagination? It is a great<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_289" id="Page_289">[Pg 289]</a></span> many things. It is
+a sense of beauty and harmony. It is an instinct of poetry and of
+prophecy. A Persian poet describes it as an immortal sense of memory
+which is always striving to recall the beautiful things the Soul has
+lost. Another fancy, also from the East, is that it is &#8220;an instinctive
+premonition of beautiful things to come.&#8221; Another, which is perhaps
+the most accurate description of all, is that it is &#8220;the Sun-dial of
+the Soul on which God flashes the true time of day.&#8221; This is true, if
+we bear in mind that Imagination is always ahead of Science, pointing
+out in advance the great discovery to come. Shakespeare foretold the
+whole science of geology in three words&mdash;&#8220;Sermons in stones,&#8221;&mdash;and
+the vast business of the electric telegraph in one line&mdash;&#8220;I&#8217;ll put a
+girdle round the earth in forty minutes.&#8221; One of the Hebrew prophets
+&#8220;imagined&#8221; the phonograph when he wrote &#8220;Declare unto me the image
+of a voice.&#8221; As we all know, the marks on the wax cylinder in a
+phonograph are &#8220;the image of a voice.&#8221; The air-ship may prove a very
+marvellous invention, but the imagination which saw Aladdin&#8217;s palace
+flying from one country to another was long before it. All the genii
+in the Arabian Nights stories were only the symbols of the elements
+which man might control if he but rubbed the lamp of his intelligence
+smartly enough. Every fairy tale has a meaning; every legend a lesson.
+The submarine boat in perfection has been &#8220;imagined&#8221; by Jules Verne.
+Wireless telegraphy appears to have been known in the very remote days
+of Egypt, for in a rare old book called <i>The History of the Pyramids</i>,
+translated from the Arabic, and published in France in 1672, we find<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_290" id="Page_290">[Pg 290]</a></span>
+an account of a certain high priest of Memphis named Saurid,&mdash;who, so
+says the ancient Arabian chronicler, &#8220;prepared for himself a casket
+wherein he put magic fire, and shutting himself up with the casket, he
+sent messages with the fire day and night, over land and sea, to all
+those priests over whom he had command, so that all the people should
+be made subject to his will. And he received answers to his messages
+without stop or stay, and none could hold or see the running fire, so
+that all the land was in fear by reason of the knowledge of Saurid.&#8221; In
+the same volume we find that a priestess named Borsa evidently used the
+telephone. For, according to her history, &#8220;She applied her mouth and
+ears unto pipes in the wall of her dwelling, and so heard and answered
+the requests of the people in the distant city.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thus it would seem that there is nothing new under the sun to that
+&#8220;dainty Ariel&#8221; of the mind, Imagination. It sees all present things
+at a glance, and foretells what is yet to come. It may well be called
+the Sun-dial of the Soul; but it is a Dial that must be kept sound
+and clean. There must be no crack in it,&mdash;it must not be allowed to
+get overgrown with the slimy mosses and rank weeds of selfishness and
+personal prejudice,&mdash;the index hand must be firmly set,&mdash;and none
+of the numeral figures must be missing! So, perchance, shall God
+flash the true time of day upon it, for such as will hold themselves
+free to mark the Hour according to His will. And for those who do
+thus hold themselves free,&mdash;for those who care to keep this precious
+Sun-dial clear and clean in their souls, there shall always be light
+and love,&mdash;and such clear reflections of divine beauty<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_291" id="Page_291">[Pg 291]</a></span> and peace as
+are described by the &#8220;Ettrick Shepherd&#8221; in his story of <i>Kilmeny in
+Fairyland</i>:</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>For Kilmeny had been, she knew not where,</div>
+<div>And Kilmeny had seen what she could not declare;</div>
+<div>But it seemed as the harp of the sky had rung,</div>
+<div>And the airs of heaven played round her tongue!</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_292" id="Page_292">[Pg 292]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE POWER OF THE PEN</h2>
+
+<p>The dignity of Literature is, or used to be, something more than a
+mere phrase. Days there were in the long-ago, when the thinkers and
+writers of a nation were held to be worthy of higher honour than
+trade-kings and stock-jobbers,&mdash;when each one that shone out was &#8220;a
+bright particular star&#8221; of genius, as frankly owned as an object
+of admiration in the literary firmament. At that time there was
+no &#8220;syndicated&#8221; press. The followers and disciples of Literature
+were not all herded together, as it were, in a kind of scribbling
+trades-union. The poet, the novelist, the essayist,&mdash;each one of
+these moved in his or her own appointed orbit, and their differing
+special ways of handling the topics of their time served to interest,
+charm and stimulate the intelligences of people who were cultured and
+appreciative enough to understand and honour their efforts. But now
+things are greatly changed. What has been generally understood as
+&#8220;cultured&#8221; society is rapidly deteriorating into baseness and voluntary
+ignorance. The profession of letters is so little understood, and
+so far from being seriously appreciated, that responsible editors
+will accept and publish magazine articles by women of &#8220;title&#8221; and
+&#8220;fashion,&#8221; who prove themselves as ignorant of grammar as they are of
+spelling. The printer&#8217;s reader corrects the spelling, but the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_293" id="Page_293">[Pg 293]</a></span> grammar
+is generally left as its &#8220;aristocratic&#8221; writer penned it, in majestic
+incompleteness. The newspapers are full, not of thoughtful, honestly
+expressed public opinion on the affairs of the nation, but of vapid
+&#8220;personalities,&#8221; interesting to none save gossips and busy-bodies. A
+lamentable lack of strength is apparent in the whole &#8220;tone&#8221; of modern
+Literature, together with a still more lamentable lack of wit. All
+topics, say the pessimists, are exhausted. The quarrels of politicians
+have exhausted earth,&mdash;the recriminations of the Churches have
+exhausted Heaven,&mdash;and the bold immoralities of society have, almost,
+if not quite, exhausted Hell. Yet the topic which holds in itself a
+great many of the pleasures of earth and heaven&mdash;with perhaps a touch
+of the other nameless place also, is still the Power of the Pen. It
+remains, even in these days, the greatest power for good or evil in
+the world. With the little instrument which rests so lightly in the
+hand, whole nations can be moved. It is nothing to look at; generally
+speaking it is a mere bit of wood with a nib at the end of it&mdash;but when
+it is poised between thumb and finger, it becomes a living thing&mdash;it
+moves with the pulsations of the loving heart and thinking brain, and
+writes down, almost unconsciously, the thoughts that live&mdash;the words
+that burn.</p>
+
+<p>To the power of the Pen we owe our laws, our government, our
+civilization, our very religion. For without it we should have no
+Bible&mdash;no New Testament. Our histories, our classics, our philosophies,
+our poetry, would all be lost with their originators. We should not
+know that Julius Cæsar ever<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_294" id="Page_294">[Pg 294]</a></span> walked on the shores of Britain, or that
+Nero fiddled while Rome was burning. In fact we should still be in
+the dark ages, without so much as a dream of the magnificent era of
+progress through which we have come, and in which we, of this present
+generation, have our glorious share. And so I think and venture to
+say that the power of the Pen is one which commands more millions of
+human beings than any monarch&#8217;s rule, and that the profession of the
+pen, called Literature, is the greatest, the highest, and the noblest
+that is open to aspiring ambition. Empires, thrones, commerce, war,
+politics, society&mdash;these things last but their brief hour&mdash;the Power of
+the Pen takes note of them as they pass&mdash;but outlives them all!</p>
+
+<p>We should know nothing to-day of the grandeurs of old Egypt, or the
+histories of her forgotten kings, if it were not for the Rosetta
+stone&mdash;on which the engraver&#8217;s instrument, serving as a pen, wrote the
+Egyptian hieroglyphics beside the Greek characters, thus giving us
+the clue to the buried secrets of a long past great civilization. The
+classic land of Greece, once foremost in all things which make nations
+great, particularly in the valour and victorious deeds of her military
+heroes, has almost forgotten her ancient glory&mdash;she might perhaps be
+forgotten by other nations altogether in the constant springing up of
+new countries and peoples if it were not for Homer! The blind, despised
+old man, who sang her golden days of pride and conquest, still keeps
+her memory green. And let us not forget that other glorious poet, who
+laid his laurel-wreath and life upon her shrine&mdash;our own immortal
+Byron&mdash;whose splendid lyric,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_295" id="Page_295">[Pg 295]</a></span> &#8220;The Isles of Greece&#8221; may stand beside
+the finest lines of Homer, and not be shamed.</p>
+
+<p>What does all Italy, and particularly Florence, make chief boast of
+to-day? Not commerce, not wealth&mdash;simply Dante! In his lifetime he was
+made a subject for hatred and derision&mdash;he was scorned, cast out, and
+exiled by his fellow-townsfolk&mdash;yet now he is the great glory of his
+native city which claims respect from all the world for having been the
+birthplace of so supreme a soul. So, even after death, the Power of the
+Pen takes its revenge, and ensures its just recognition.</p>
+
+<p>Yet there are many workers in Literature who say that the Power of
+the Pen gives them no joy at all,&mdash;that it is a &#8220;grind,&#8221;&mdash;that it is
+full of disappointment and bitterness, and that they never get paid
+enough for what they do. This last is always a very sore point with
+them. They brood on it, and consider it so often, that by and by the
+question of how much or how little payment they get, becomes the only
+way in which they regard their profession. It is the wrong way. It is
+the way that leads straight to biliousness and chronic dyspepsia. It is
+not my way. To me, what little power of the pen I possess, is a magic
+talisman which I would not exchange for millions of money. It makes
+life beautiful for me&mdash;it intensifies and transfigures all events and
+incidents&mdash;it shows me a whole history in the face of a child&mdash;a whole
+volume of poetry and philosophy in the cup of a flower. It enables
+me to see the loveliness of nature with keener and more appreciative
+gratitude&mdash;and it fills me with an inward happiness which no outward
+circumstance can destroy. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_296" id="Page_296">[Pg 296]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Of course just payment is to be demanded and expected for every kind
+of work. The rule of &#8220;give and take&#8221; holds good in all classes of
+employment. Each author&#8217;s power of the pen commands its price according
+to the value set upon it by the public. But I, personally, have refused
+many considerable sums of money offered to me if I would consent to
+&#8220;work up&#8221; or &#8220;bring forward&#8221; certain schemes and subjects with which
+I have no sympathy. The largest cheque would never tempt me to write
+against my own inclination. If I were given such a choice as this&mdash;to
+write something entirely opposed to my own feeling and conscience for
+a thousand pounds, or to write my honest thought for nothing, I would
+write my honest thought, and let the thousand pounds go. I am glad to
+say that some of my contemporaries are with me in this particular form
+of literary faith&mdash;but not as many as, for the honour of our calling, I
+could desire.</p>
+
+<p>Then again, there is that vexed question of&mdash;the Public! I have often
+noticed, with a humility too deep for words, that all the great modern
+writers, or, I should say, all those who consider themselves the
+greatest, have a lofty contempt for the public. &#8220;&#8216;He,&#8217; or &#8216;she&#8217; writes
+for the Public,&#8221; is a remark which, when spoken with a withering sneer,
+is supposed to have the effect of completely crushing the ambitious
+scribbler whose Power of the Pen has attracted some little attention.
+Now if authors are not to write for the Public, who are they to write
+for? Certain of the &#8220;superior&#8221; folk among them will say that they write
+&#8220;for posterity.&#8221; But then, Posterity is also the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_297" id="Page_297">[Pg 297]</a></span> Public! I really
+do not see how either the great or the small author is to get away
+from the Public anyhow! There is only one means of escape, and that
+is&mdash;not to write at all. But if those to whom the Power of the Pen is
+given, wish to claim and use their highest privileges, they will work
+always for the public, and try to win their laurels from the public
+alone. Not by the voice of any &#8220;clique,&#8221; &#8220;club,&#8221; or &#8220;set&#8221; will Time
+accept the final verdict of an author&#8217;s greatness, but by the love and
+honour of an entire people. Because, whatever passing surface fancies
+may for awhile affect the public humour, the central soul of a nation
+always strives for Right, for Justice, and for final Good, and the
+author whose Power of the Pen helps strongly, boldly, and faithfully on
+towards these great ends, is not, and shall not be, easily forgotten.</p>
+
+<p>I hope and I believe, that it is only a few shallow, ignorant and
+unsuccessful persons&mdash;fancying perhaps that they have the Power of the
+Pen when they have it not&mdash;who, in their disappointment, take a sort
+of doleful comfort in &#8220;posing&#8221; as unrecognized geniuses, whose quality
+of thought is too fine,&mdash;they would say too &#8220;subtle&#8221;&mdash;for the public
+taste. For, in my humble opinion, nothing is too good for the Public.
+They deserve the very best they can get. No &#8220;scamp&#8221; work should ever
+be offered to them. If a poet sings, let him sing his sweetest for
+them; if a painter paints pictures, let him give them his finest skill;
+if an author writes stories, essays or romances, let him do his very
+utmost to charm, to instruct, to awaken their thought and excite their
+interest. It is not a wise thing to start writing for &#8220;posterity.&#8221;<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_298" id="Page_298">[Pg 298]</a></span>
+Because, if the present Public will have nothing to do with you, it is
+ten to one whether the future will. All our great authors have worked
+for the public of their own immediate time, without any egotistical
+calculations as to their possible wider appreciation after death.</p>
+
+<p>The greatest poet in the world, William Shakespeare, was, from all we
+can gather, an unaffected, cheery, straightforward Warwickshire man,
+who wrote plays to please the Public who went to the Globe Theatre.
+He did not say he was too good for the Public; he worked <i>for</i> the
+Public. He attached so little importance to his own genius, that he
+made no mention of his work in his will. So we may fairly judge that he
+never dreamed of the future splendour of his fame&mdash;when, three hundred
+years after his death, every civilized country in the world would have
+societies founded in his name; when, year after year, new discussions
+would be opened up concerning his Plays, new actors would be busy
+working hard to represent his characters, and, strangest compliment of
+all, when envious persons would turn up to say his work was not his
+own! For when genius is so varying and brilliant that a certain section
+of the narrow-minded cannot understand its many-sided points of view,
+and will not believe that it is the inheritance of one human brain,
+then it is great indeed! Three hundred years hence there will, no
+doubt, be other people to announce to the world that Walter Scott did
+not write, and could not have written, the Waverley Novels. For they
+are&mdash;in their own special way&mdash;as great as the plays of Shakespeare.
+He, too, was one of those who wrote for the Public.<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_299" id="Page_299">[Pg 299]</a></span> With his magic
+wand he touched the wild mountains, lakes and glens of his native
+land, and transfigured them with the light of romance and beauty for
+ever. Can we imagine Scotland without Walter Scott and Robert Burns?
+No! Their power of the pen rules the whole country, and gives it over
+the heads of monarchs a free fairy kingdom to all classes and peoples
+who have the wish and will to possess it. There are certain superior
+people nowadays who declare that Walter Scott is &#8220;old-fashioned,&#8221; and
+that they, for their parts, cannot read his novels. Well, I grant that
+Walter Scott <i>is</i> old-fashioned&mdash;as old-fashioned as the sunshine&mdash;and
+just as wholesome. He lived in a time when men still reverenced women,
+and when women gave men cause for reverence. I think if he could be
+among us now, and see the change that has come over society since his
+day, he would scarcely have the heart to write at all. The idolatry
+of wealth&mdash;the servile worship of the newest millionaire&mdash;would
+hardly inspire his pen, save perhaps to sorrow and indignation. But
+if he were with us and did write for us, I am sure he would employ
+some of his great power to protest against the lack of fine feeling,
+gentleness, forbearance and courtesy which unfortunately marks much of
+our latter-day society. I think he would have something to say about
+the school-girl who smokes,&mdash;I fancy his mind might revolt against the
+skirt-dancing peeress! I think he would implore women not to part with
+their chief charm&mdash;womanliness&mdash;and I am sure he would be very sorry to
+see children of ten and eleven so deplorably &#8220;advanced&#8221; as to be unable
+to appreciate a fairy tale. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_300" id="Page_300">[Pg 300]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>And what of dear Charles Dickens&mdash;he, whom certain superfine persons
+who read Yellow Journalism presume to call &#8220;vulgar&#8221;? Is love, is pity,
+is tenderness, is faith &#8220;vulgar&#8221;? Is kindness to the poor, patience
+with the suffering, tolerance for all men and all creeds &#8220;vulgar&#8221;?
+If so, then Charles Dickens <i>was</i> vulgar!&mdash;not a doubt of it! Few
+authors have ever been so blessedly, gloriously &#8220;vulgar&#8221; as he! What
+marvellous pictures his &#8220;power of the pen&#8221; conjures up at once before
+our eyes!&mdash;pathetic, playful, humourous, thrilling&mdash;rising to grandeur
+in such scenes as the shipwreck in <i>David Copperfield</i>; or that
+wonderful piece of description in the <i>Tale of Two Cities</i>, when the
+tramping feet of the Spirit of the French Revolution sweep past in the
+silence of the night! Match us such a passage in any literature past or
+present! It is unique in its own way&mdash;as unique as all great work must
+be. There is nothing quite like it, and never will be anything quite
+like it. And when we &#8220;go&#8221; with such great authors as these&mdash;and by this
+I mean, when we are determined to be one with them&mdash;we shall win such
+victories over our hearts and minds, our passions and desires, as shall
+make us better and stronger men and women.</p>
+
+<p>And this brings me to a point which I have often earnestly considered.
+One cannot help noticing that the present system of education is fast
+doing away with two great ingredients for the thorough enjoyment of
+life, and especially the enjoyment of Literature&mdash;Imagination and
+Appreciation. On the school-boy or school-girl who is &#8220;coached&#8221; or
+&#8220;crammed,&#8221; the gates of fairyland and romance are shut with a bang. I
+had<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_301" id="Page_301">[Pg 301]</a></span> once the pleasure of entertaining at my house a small gentleman
+of eleven, fresh from his London College&mdash;he was indifferent to, or
+weary of life; things generally, were a &#8220;bore,&#8221; and he expressed his
+opinion of fairy tales in one brief word, &#8220;Rot!&#8221; Now altogether apart
+from that most revolting expression, which is becoming of frequent use,
+especially in the &#8220;upper circles,&#8221; it seemed to me a real misfortune
+to consider, that for this child, Hans Andersen was a sealed book, and
+the wonders and beauties of the <i>Arabian Nights</i> a lost world. And in
+the same way I pity the older children&mdash;the grown men and women, who
+cannot give themselves up to the charm or terror of a book completely
+and ungrudgingly&mdash;who approach their authors with a carping hesitation
+and a doubtful preparatory sneer. By so doing they shut against
+themselves the gate of a whole garden of delights. Imagination is the
+supreme endowment of the poet and romancist. It is a kind of second
+sight, which conveys the owner of it to places he has never seen,
+and surrounds him with strange circumstances of which he is merely
+the spiritual eyewitness. One of the most foolish notions prevalent
+nowadays is that an author must personally go and visit the place he
+intends to describe. Nothing is more fatal. For accuracy of detail,
+we can consult a guide book&mdash;but for a complete picture which shall
+impress us all our lives long, we must go to the inspired author whose
+prescience or second-sight enables him to be something more than a mere
+Baedeker. Endless examples of this second-sight faculty could be given.
+Take Shakespeare as the best of them. He could never have <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_302" id="Page_302">[Pg 302]</a></span>personally
+known Antony and Cleopatra. He did not live in the time of Julius
+Cæsar. He was not guilty of murder because he described a murder in
+<i>Macbeth</i>. He could not have been a &#8220;fellow-student&#8221; of Hamlet&#8217;s. And
+where do you suppose, among the grim realities of life, he could have
+met those exquisite creations, Ariel and Puck, if not in the heaven
+of his own peerless imagination, borne to him on the brilliant wings
+of his own thought, to take shape and form, and stay with us in our
+English language for ever! Walter Scott had never seen Switzerland when
+he wrote <i>Anne of Geierstein</i>. Thomas Moore never visited the East,
+yet he wrote <i>Lalla Rookh</i>. Charles Dickens never fought a duel, and
+never saw one fought, yet the duel between Mr. Chester and Haredale in
+<i>Barnaby Rudge</i> is one of the finest scenes ever written. Because an
+author is able to describe a certain circumstance, it does not follow
+that he or she has experienced that very circumstance personally. Very
+often it may be quite the contrary. The most romantic descriptions
+in novels have often been written by people leading very hum-drum,
+quiet lives of their own. We have only to think of <i>Jane Eyre</i>, and to
+remember the prosy, dull days passed by its author, Charlotte Brontë.</p>
+
+<p>To refer once more to Hans Andersen&mdash;we all know that he never
+could have seen a Dresden China shepherdess eloping up the chimney
+with a Dresden China sweep. We know he never saw that dainty little
+shepherdess weeping on the top of a chimney because the world was so
+large, and because all her gilding was coming off. But when we are
+reading that fantastic little story, we feel<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_303" id="Page_303">[Pg 303]</a></span> he <i>must</i> have seen it
+somehow, and we are conscious of a slight vexation that we never see
+such a curious and delightful elopement ourselves. This is a phase of
+the power of the pen&mdash;to make the beautiful, the quaint, the terrible,
+or the wonderful things of imagination seem an absolute reality.</p>
+
+<p>But to get all the enjoyment out of an author&#8217;s imagination, we, who
+read his books, must ourselves &#8220;imagine&#8221; with him. We must let him take
+us where he will; we must not draw back and refuse to go with him.
+We must not approach him in a carping spirit, or make up our minds
+before opening his book, that we shall not like it. We should not
+allow our particular views of life, or our pet prejudices to intervene
+between ourselves and the writer whose power of the pen may teach us
+something new. And above all things, we should prepare ourselves to
+appreciate&mdash;not to depreciate. Nothing is easier than to find fault.
+The cheapest sort of mind can do that. The dirty little street-boy can
+enter the British Museum and find fault with the Pallas Athene. But
+the Pallas Athene remains the same. To be Pallas Athene is sufficient.
+The power of appreciation is a great test of character. To appreciate
+warmly, even enthusiastically, is generally the proof of a kind and
+sunny disposition; to depreciate is to be in yourself but a sad soul at
+best! For depreciation in one thing leads to depreciation in another;
+and by and by the daily depreciator finds himself depreciating his
+Maker, and wondering why he was ever born! And he will never find
+an answer to that question till he changes his humour and begins to
+appreciate; then, and only then, will life explain its brightest
+meaning. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_304" id="Page_304">[Pg 304]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>Of course, when vulgarity, coarseness, slang, and ribaldry are set
+forward as &#8220;attractions&#8221; in certain books and newspapers, it is
+necessary to depreciate what is not the power of the pen, but the abuse
+of the pen. Such abuse is easily recognizable. The libellous paragraph,
+the personal sneer, the society scandal&mdash;there is no need to enumerate
+them. But we do not call the writers of these things authors, or even
+journalists. They are merely on a par with the anonymous letter-writer
+whom all classes of society agree in regarding as the most contemptible
+creature alive. And they do not come at all under the heading of the
+power of the pen, their only strength being weakness.</p>
+
+<p>I have already said that I believe the Power of the Pen to be the
+greatest power for good or evil in the world. And I may add that this
+power is never more apparent than in the Press. The Press nowadays is
+not a literary press; classic diction and brilliancy of style do not
+distinguish it by any means. It would be difficult to find a single
+newspaper or magazine to which we could turn for a lesson in pure and
+elegant English, such as that of Addison, Steele or Macaulay. But in
+the Scott or Byron days, the Press was literary to a very great extent,
+and as a natural consequence it had a powerful influence on the success
+or failure of an author&#8217;s work. That influence is past. Its work to-day
+deals, not with books, but with nations.</p>
+
+<p>National education, progressing steadily for years, has taught the
+Public to make up its own mind more quickly than ever it did before, as
+regards the books it reads. It will take what it wants and<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_305" id="Page_305">[Pg 305]</a></span> leave the
+rest; and the Press can neither persuade it nor repel it against its
+own inclination. So that the author in these days has more difficulties
+and responsibilities than in the past. He has to fight his battle
+alone. He has many more rivals to compete with, and many more readers
+to please. And the Press cannot help him. The Press may recommend, may
+even &#8220;boom&#8221; his work; but several instances have occurred lately where
+such recommendation has not been accepted. For, sometimes the Public
+fight shy of a &#8220;boom.&#8221; They think it has been worked up by the author&#8217;s
+friends, and they are not always mistaken. And they silently express
+the fact that they are quite capable of choosing the books they wish
+to read, without advice or assistance. This being the case, the Press
+is beginning to leave books and authors alone to shift for themselves
+as best they may, and is turning to other pastime. Nations, peoples,
+governments! These are the great footballs it occasionally kicks in
+the struggle for journalistic pre-eminence. And I hope I shall not be
+misunderstood if I venture to say that it is a somewhat dangerous game!
+Because, however powerful the Press may be, it is not the People. It is
+the printed opinion of certain editors and their staff. The People are
+outside it altogether. And if some one on the Press insults a monarch
+or a nation, that insult should not be taken as a People&#8217;s insult. It
+is the insult of the editor or proprietor who deliberately allows it to
+be printed in the particular journal he controls.</p>
+
+<p>It is a thousand pities, for example, that a section of the lower
+<i>boulevard</i> press in Paris should be<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_306" id="Page_306">[Pg 306]</a></span> accepted in any quarter, as being
+representative of the feeling of the whole French people. When flippant
+and irresponsible newspaper scribes resort to calumny for the sake
+of notoriety, they prove themselves unworthy to be trusted with the
+Power of the Pen. In any case it can only be a God-forsaken creature
+who seeks to earn his living by scurrility. Such an one may excite
+individual contempt, but does not merit the notice of a great nation.</p>
+
+<p>As an author and as a lover of literature, I care very much for the
+honour and dignity of the British Press, and I cannot but earnestly
+deprecate the too free exchange of petty or malicious innuendo between
+foreign and English writers on their various respective journals.
+Bismarck used to say, &#8220;The windows which our Press breaks we shall have
+to pay for.&#8221; The power of the pen is abused when <i>such</i> windows are
+broken as can only be mended by the sufferings of nations. If France
+or Germany sneers at us, or misreads our intentions, I do not see that
+we are called upon to sneer at them in return. That is mere schoolboy
+conduct. Our dignity should shame their flippancy. The Press of such an
+empire as Great Britain can afford to be magnanimous and dignified. It
+is too big and strong a boy to throw stones at its little brothers.</p>
+
+<p>On such a subject as the Power of the Pen, one might speak endless
+discourses, and write endless volumes, for it is practically
+inexhaustible. It is a power for good and evil&mdash;as I have said&mdash;but the
+author wrongs his vocation if he does not always, most steadfastly and
+honestly, use it for Good. The Power of the Pen should define Right
+from<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_307" id="Page_307">[Pg 307]</a></span> Wrong with absolute certainty,&mdash;it should not so mix the two
+together that the reader cannot tell one from the other. In what is
+called the &#8220;problem&#8221; novel or the &#8220;problem&#8221; play, the authors manage so
+to befuddle the brains of their readers, that they hardly know whether
+virtue is vice or vice virtue. This is putting the power of the pen to
+unfair and harmful uses. And when a writer&mdash;any writer&mdash;employs his
+or her power to promote the spirit of Atheism and Materialism, the
+pen is turned into a merely murderous tool of the utmost iniquity.
+And whosoever uses it in this sense will have to answer at a Higher
+Tribunal for much mischief and cruelty wrought in the world.</p>
+
+<p>Many people are familiar with Shakespeare&#8217;s town, Stratford-on-Avon,
+quaint and peaceful and beautiful in itself, and in all its
+surroundings. Outside it, many roads lead to many lovely glimpses of
+landscape; but there is one road in particular which winds uphill,
+and from which, at certain times, the town itself is lost sight of,
+and only the tapering spire of Holy Trinity Church&mdash;Shakespeare&#8217;s
+Church&mdash;can be seen. Frequently at sunset, when the rosy hue of the
+low clouds mingles with the silvery mist of the river Avon, all the
+houses, bridges and streets are veiled in an opaque glow of colour&mdash;and
+look like &#8220;mirage,&#8221; or a picture in a dream. And then, the spire
+of Shakespeare&#8217;s Church, seen by itself, rising clear up from the
+surrounding haze, puts on the distinct appearance of a Pen,&mdash;pointing
+upwards, as though prepared to write upon the sky!</p>
+
+<p>Often and often have I seen it so, and others have seen it with me,
+glittering against clouds, or<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_308" id="Page_308">[Pg 308]</a></span> lit up by a flashing sunbeam. I have
+always thought it a true symbol of what the Power of the Pen should
+be&mdash;to point upwards. To point to the highest aims of life, the best,
+the greatest things; to rise clear out of the darkness and point
+straight to the sunshine! For, if so uplifted, the Power of the Pen
+becomes truly invincible. It can do almost anything. It can shame the
+knave&mdash;it can abash the fool. It can lower the proud,&mdash;it can raise the
+humble. It can assist the march of Science,&mdash;it can crush opposition.
+Armed with truth and justice, its authority is greater than that of
+governments,&mdash;for it can upset governments. It would seem impossible to
+dethrone an unworthy king; but it has been done&mdash;by the Power of the
+Pen! It is difficult to put down the arrogance of a county snob,&mdash;but
+it <i>can</i> be done!&mdash;by the Power of the Pen! It may seem a terrible
+task to root up lies, to destroy hypocrisies, shams, false things of
+every kind, and make havoc among rogues, sensualists, and scoundrels
+of both high and low degree,&mdash;but it can be done, by the Power of the
+Pen! And to those who are given this power in its truest sense, is also
+added the gift of prophecy&mdash;the quick prescience of things To Be&mdash;the
+spiritual hearing which catches the first sound of the approaching
+time. And beyond the things of time this spiritual sense projects
+itself, and hears, and almost <i>sees</i>, all that shall be found most
+glorious after death!</p>
+
+<p>With the Power of the Pen we can uphold all noble things; we can
+denounce all vile things. May all who have that power so deal with
+it&mdash;and point us on&mdash;and upward! For as our great poet, Tennyson,
+says:&mdash; </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_309" id="Page_309">[Pg 309]</a></span></p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="i2">What is true at last will tell;</div>
+<div class="i2">Few at first will place thee well;</div>
+<div>Some too low would have thee shine,</div>
+<div>Some too high&mdash;no fault of thine!</div>
+<div class="i2">Hold thine own and work thy will!</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_310" id="Page_310">[Pg 310]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE GLORY OF WORK</h2>
+
+<p>Very commonplace and familiar&mdash;perhaps too commonplace and familiar
+is the subject of Work. Every one worthy the name of man or woman is,
+or desires to be a Worker, and none surely would voluntarily swell
+the distressed ranks of the Unemployed. For to be unemployed is to be
+miserable. To find nothing to do,&mdash;to be of no use to ourselves or to
+our fellow-creatures is to be more or less set aside and cast out from
+the ever-working Divine scheme of labour and fruition, ambition and
+accomplishment. Among all the blessings which the Creator showers so
+liberally upon us, there is none greater than <span class="smcap">Work</span>. And amid
+all the evils which Man wilfully accumulates on his own head through
+ignorance and obstinacy, there is none so blighting and disastrous as
+Idleness.</p>
+
+<p>There are, however, certain people who have persuaded themselves to
+look upon Work as a curse. Many of these pin their theories on the
+Third Chapter of the Book of Genesis. There they read:</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Cursëd is the ground for thy sake; in sorrow shalt thou eat of it all
+the days of thy life.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread till thou return unto
+the ground.&#8221; </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_311" id="Page_311">[Pg 311]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But we may take comfort in the fact that the Book of Genesis shows some
+curious discrepancies. For in the Second Chapter God is represented as
+making <i>one</i> single man out of the dust of the ground, yet in the very
+First Chapter of the same Book we read that,&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;God created man in His own image; male and female created he <i>them</i>.</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;And God blessed <i>them</i> and said unto <i>them</i> ... Be fruitful and
+multiply, and replenish the earth and <i>subdue</i> it: and have <i>dominion</i>
+over the fish of the sea and over the fowl of the air, and over every
+living thing that moveth upon the earth.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Thus we find that the story of Adam and Eve and the Serpent does
+not occur till <i>after</i> the creation of mankind (in the plural) and
+<i>after</i> the Divine order that this same mankind (in the plural) should
+&#8220;replenish the earth and subdue it.&#8221; No &#8220;curse&#8221; accompanied this
+command. On the contrary, it was sanctified by a blessing. &#8220;God blessed
+them.&#8221; And whether Genesis be taken seriously, or only read as poetic
+legend founded on some substratum of actual events, the fact remains
+that &#8220;to replenish the earth and subdue it,&#8221; literally means,&mdash;to
+<span class="smcap">Work</span>. The &#8220;dominion&#8221; of man over the planet he inhabits is not
+to be gained by sitting down with folded hands and waiting for food to
+drop into the mouth. It is evident that he was intended to earn his
+right to live. It is also evident that the blessing of God will be his,
+if from the first beginnings of conscious intelligence and aptitude he
+resolutely and honestly sets his shoulder to the wheel.</p>
+
+<p>It is only when we are at work that we are vitally<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_312" id="Page_312">[Pg 312]</a></span> and essentially a
+part of God&#8217;s great creative scheme. Idleness is an abnormal condition.
+It is not to be found in nature. There everything works, and in the
+special task allotted to it, each conscious atom finds its life and
+joy. The smallest seed <i>works</i>, as it slowly but surely pushes its
+way up through the soil;&mdash;the bird <i>works</i>, as it builds its nest and
+forages the earth and air to find food for its young. We cannot point
+to the minutest portion of God&#8217;s magnificent creation and say that it
+is idle. Nothing is absolutely at rest. There is&mdash;strictly speaking&mdash;no
+rest in the whole Universe. All things are working; all things are
+moving. Man clamours for rest,&mdash;but rest is what he will never
+get,&mdash;not even in the grave. For though he may seem dead, new forms
+of life germinate from his body, and go on working in their appointed
+way,&mdash;while, with the immortal part of himself which is his Soul, he
+enters at once into fresh fields of labour. Rest is no more possible
+than death, in the Divine scheme of everlasting progress where all is
+Life.</p>
+
+<p>Nature is our mother, from whose gentle or severe lessons we must learn
+the problems of our own lives. And whenever we go to her for help or
+for instruction, we always find her working. She never sleeps. She
+never has a spare moment. &#8220;Without haste, without rest&#8221; is her eternal
+motto. When we, like fretful children, complain of long hours of toil,
+scant wages and short holidays, she silently points us to the Universe
+around us of which we are a part, and bids us set our minds &#8220;in tune
+with the Infinite.&#8221; The Sun never takes holiday. With steady regularity
+it performs<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_313" id="Page_313">[Pg 313]</a></span> its task. For countless ages it has worked without any
+attempt to swerve from its monotonous round of duty. It shines on the
+just and on the unjust alike; it gives life and joy equally to the gnat
+dancing in its beams, as to the human being who hails its glory and
+warmth as the simple expression of &#8220;a fine day.&#8221; It gets no wages. It
+receives very little in the way of thanks. Its duty is so evident and
+is always so well done, that by the very perfection of its performance
+it has exhausted the far too easily exhausted sense of human gratitude.
+Like a visible lamp of God&#8217;s love for us it generates beauty and
+brightness about us wherever we go,&mdash;and it invites us to look beyond
+the veil of creation to the Creator, who alone sustains the majestic
+fabric of life.</p>
+
+<p>In some ways God Himself may be resembled to the Sun, seeing that He
+receives very little of our gratitude. We are so wonderfully guided
+by His wisdom that we sometimes think ourselves wiser than He. Of our
+own accord we give Him scarcely any of our real working powers, and
+were it not that we are all, in the mass, unconsciously swayed by His
+command, the little we do give would be less. Our ideas of serving Him
+too often consist in attending various sectarian places of worship
+where quarrelling is far more common than brotherly love and unity.
+In these places of worship we pray to Him for Ourselves and our own
+concerns. We ask Him for all we can possibly think of, and we seldom
+pause to consider that He has already given us more than we deserve.
+It very rarely enters into our heads to realize that we are required
+to show Him some return&mdash;that<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_314" id="Page_314">[Pg 314]</a></span> we are bound to work&mdash;no matter in how
+small a degree&mdash;towards something in His vast design which has, or
+shall have, its place in the world&#8217;s progress. We continue to implore
+Him to work for Us,&mdash;just as if He needed our urging! We petition Him
+to give us food and other material comforts,&mdash;yet if we study the laws
+of Nature we shall learn that we are intended to Work for our food and
+for all the things we want. We must Work for them in common with the
+rest of all our fellows in the animal, bird, and insect kingdoms. What
+a man does, that he has. We have no need to ask God for what He has
+already given us. He has provided all that is necessary for our health
+and sustenance on the earth,&mdash;but we must earn it,&mdash;deserve it,&mdash;and
+take a little intelligent trouble to understand the value of it, as
+well as to learn the laws by which we may gain and hold our own in
+life. We must, in fact, Work. All Creation visibly shows us that God
+Himself has worked and is still working. He, who has made us in &#8220;His
+own Image&#8221; must have from each one of us a strong and faithful effort
+to follow His Divine pre-ordained order of Labour and Progress. It may
+be asked&mdash;To what does the Labour and Progress tend? The answer of our
+last great Poet Laureate, Tennyson, is the best&mdash;the</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div class="i2">One far off divine event</div>
+<div>To which the whole creation moves.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>Whether it be work with the hands, or work with the brain, it is work
+of some kind that we must do if we would prove ourselves worthy to be
+a part of the ever-working Universe. And if by<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_315" id="Page_315">[Pg 315]</a></span> disinclination,&mdash;or
+by lethargy of mind and spirit, we decline to share in the splendid
+&#8220;onward and upward&#8221; march of toil, the time comes when great Mother
+Nature will accept us exactly at our own valuation. If we choose to
+be no more than clods of clay, then as clods of clay she will use
+us, to make soil for braver feet than our own. If, on the contrary,
+we strive to be active intelligences, she will equally use us for
+nobler purposes. The formation of our condition rests absolutely with
+ourselves. No one person can shape the life of another. The father
+cannot ensure the fortunes of his son. The mother cannot guarantee the
+happiness of her daughter. Both mother and father may do their best on
+these lines, but sooner or later the son and daughter will take their
+own way and make their own lives. Each individual man or woman must
+work out his or her own salvation. For this is the Law,&mdash;and it is a
+Law divine and eternal against which there is no appeal.</p>
+
+<p>Let us realize, therefore, the Divine Necessity of Work,&mdash;and having
+realized it let us take an honest joy in being able to do any sort of
+work ourselves, no matter how humble or monotonous such work may be.
+There is nothing really common even in what is called &#8220;common&#8221; work.
+There is nothing undignified in the roughest labour. It is only the
+&#8220;loafer&#8221; who loses both self-respect and dignity. The peasant who
+turns the soil with his spade all day long is a noble and primeval
+figure in the landscape, and deserves our consideration and respect.
+The countless thousands of men, working in huge factories, patiently
+guiding the machinery of giant looms, sweltering their very<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_316" id="Page_316">[Pg 316]</a></span> lives out
+in the fiery heat of huge furnaces where iron and steel are shaped
+for the uses of the world&mdash;these are the actual body of mankind&mdash;the
+nerves, the muscles, the sinews of humanity. They represent the
+nobility, the worth, the movement of the age. They are the Working
+People. And the Working People of this, or of any other nation are the
+People indeed&mdash;the People whose word&mdash;if they will only utter it&mdash;must
+inevitably become Law.</p>
+
+<p>Sometimes, however, when we work,&mdash;when we perform some special round
+of duty more or less monotonous, we are unlike the rest of the working
+Universe. The Universe works without any grumbling at its work&mdash;but
+we&mdash;well!&mdash;we rather like to grumble. We want every one to know how
+hard our work is, and how badly paid we are. Many of us, who are
+men, would like to pass entire days, loafing about, our hands in our
+pockets, our pipes in our mouths, serving no purpose whatever in the
+world save that of replenishing the till of the nearest public-house.
+Others of us who are women, would love to dress up for all we are worth
+and meander through the streets, staring into shop-windows and coveting
+goods we have no money to buy. We forget that while we are wasting time
+in this fashion, we are consuming some of the very energy that should
+be at work to obtain for us whatever we desire. And we are also apt to
+forget that very often those who possess what we envy,&mdash;who hold all
+that we would win&mdash;have worked for it.</p>
+
+<p>It is of course quite true that some workers are well rewarded while
+others get little if any reward<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_317" id="Page_317">[Pg 317]</a></span> at all. But to understand the cause
+of this inequality we must examine the character of the work implied,
+and the spirit in which that work is done. Is it undertaken with
+cheerfulness and zeal? Or is it merely accepted as a &#8220;grind,&#8221; to be
+shirked whenever possible and only half accomplished? I venture to
+think that the man who loves his work,&mdash;who is content to begin at the
+lowest rung of the ladder in order to master all the minutest details
+of his particular trade or profession&mdash;whose Work is dearer to him
+than either his wages or his dinner&mdash;is bound to be rewarded, bound to
+succeed in whatever calling of life he may be. It is the half-hearted
+worker who fails. It is the &#8220;scamp&#8221; worker who sticks in the rut. Every
+man should do his utmost best. When he does only his half or quarter
+best, he wrongs his own capability and intelligence even more than he
+wrongs his employer. To &#8220;scamp&#8221; even the simplest kind of work proves
+him to be out of tune with Nature. For in the natural world we find no
+&#8220;scamping.&#8221; Each tiny leaf, each humble insect is as perfect in its way
+as the planet itself. A midge&#8217;s wing seen through the microscope is
+as brilliant and beautiful as that of a butterfly. And so,&mdash;&#8220;looking
+up through Nature unto Nature&#8217;s God&#8221; we hear everywhere the Divine
+command&mdash;&#8220;Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy Might.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>I hardly think the love of Work, for Work&#8217;s own sake, is a leading
+characteristic of the workers of the present day. There is a tendency
+to &#8220;rush&#8221; everything,&mdash;to get it done and over. It is a rare thing to
+meet a man who is so fond of his work that he can hardly be persuaded
+to leave it. Yet in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_318" id="Page_318">[Pg 318]</a></span> him is the real germ of success, and with him are
+the true possibilities of power. For the conscientious and painstaking
+worker more often than not may become the great discoverer. In the
+very earnestness with which he bends over his daily toil which may
+often seem the merest monotonous drudgery, it frequently chances that a
+little hint,&mdash;an unexpected clue,&mdash;is given out from the great factory
+of nature, which may revolutionize a whole handicraft, or quicken a
+failing industry. Nothing of value in science or art is ever vouchsafed
+to the mere &#8220;hustler.&#8221; And there is by far too much &#8220;hustling,&#8221;
+nowadays. I am an ardent lover of steady toil and continuous progress,
+provided the progress is accompanied by the growth of beauty, goodness
+and happiness, but I am no advocate of &#8220;rush&#8221; or &#8220;speed.&#8221; Nothing is
+well done that is done in a hurry. Every scrap of time should be used
+as a precious gift,&mdash;not snatched up and devoured. For with haste
+comes carelessness and what is called &#8220;slop work.&#8221; &#8220;As long as it&#8217;s
+done never mind how it&#8217;s done,&#8221; is a kind of humour that is common
+enough and easily fostered. Haste by no means implies real swiftness
+or attention to details. We need not draw comparisons between the
+foreign workman and his British brother, because there is a maxim which
+says &#8220;Comparisons are odious.&#8221; But in justice to the foreign workman,
+it must be said that he often shows great intelligence and artistic
+ability. Moreover that he sometimes works twelve hours a day against
+the British eight, at half the British workman&#8217;s wages.</p>
+
+<p>But my own love for everything British is so<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_319" id="Page_319">[Pg 319]</a></span> deep and hearty that I
+should like to see British handicraft, British art, British work of all
+kinds at the head of creation. And I do most distinctly think it the
+duty of every British employer of labour to provide work for British
+workers first. Let the men who live in the land find means to live.
+It is surely the right of the British working man to have the first
+chance with a British employer. But this does not always happen. It is
+a &#8220;consummation devoutly to be wished,&#8221; but it is not to be at once
+realized even by schemes of fiscal policy. It is only to be attained
+by the British working people themselves,&mdash;by the quality of the work
+they do and the spirit in which they do it. We talk a great deal about
+Education, technical and otherwise. What are the results? The fact
+seems to be that when there was no compulsory Education much better
+work was done. Houses were better built,&mdash;furniture was more strongly
+made. Compare the brick-and-a-half &#8220;modern villa&#8221; architecture, with
+its lath and plaster doors and window-frames, with the warm thick
+walls and stout oak timbers of a farm or manor-house of the sixteenth
+century! Put side by side the flimsy modern chair, and the serviceable
+oak one, hand made in the time of our forefathers! Connoisseurs and
+collectors of bric-à-brac are supposed to have a craze for &#8220;old&#8221;
+things, merely because they <i>are</i> &#8220;old.&#8221; This is not altogether true.
+Old things are appreciated because they are good,&mdash;because they show
+evidences of painstaking and careful Work. An old oak staircase in
+a house is valued as a treasure, not only for its age, but for its
+artistic construction, which our best workers<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_320" id="Page_320">[Pg 320]</a></span> can only imitate and
+never surpass. It must, I think, be conceded that our forefathers
+had better conceptions of the fitting and the beautiful in some ways
+of work than we have. We have only to compare the Cathedrals which
+they built for the worship of God, with our uninspired ugly modern
+Churches and chapels. We know that they appreciated the beauties of the
+landscape, and that they loved the grand old English trees, which our
+short-sighted County Councils are destroying every year. Nothing can be
+more pitiful to see than the ruthless and stupid cutting down of noble
+trees all over the country, under the rule that their branches shall
+not hang over the road. Thus, every grateful place of shade is ruined,
+as well as much natural beauty. Our ancestors, more individually free,
+showed finer taste. The roofs of their houses were picturesquely
+thatched or tiled, and gabled,&mdash;their eyes were never affronted by
+the dull appearance of cheap slate and corrugated iron. They left us
+a heritage of many lovely and lasting things; but it is greatly to be
+feared that we shall not do likewise to those that come after us. We
+are destroying far more than we are creating.</p>
+
+<p>And when we come to the higher phases of intellectual work, we find
+that though we have plenty of &#8220;schools of art&#8221; we have no great
+British artists such as Gainsborough, Reynolds or Romney. And though
+every one is supposed to know how to read and write, we have no great
+literature such as that of Shakespeare, Scott, Thackeray or Dickens.
+These belonged to the days of non-compulsory Education. Poetry, too,
+the divinest of the arts,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_321" id="Page_321">[Pg 321]</a></span> is well-nigh dead. The great poets were born
+in so-called &#8220;uneducated&#8221; times. Our present system of Education is
+absolutely disastrous in one respect&mdash;that of its tendency to depress
+and cramp rather than to encourage the aspiring student. Its mechanical
+routine works on the line of flattening all human creatures down to one
+level. Originality is often &#8220;quashed.&#8221; Yet in all educational schemes
+there should be plenty of room left for the natural ability of the
+student or worker to expand and declare itself in some entirely new
+form wherever possible.</p>
+
+<p>But despite our perpetual talk of the advantages of Education, here
+we are to-day with plenty of schools both before and behind us, but
+no very great men. And looking a long way back in history we see that
+when there was no Compulsory Education at all, there <i>were</i> very great
+men,&mdash;men who made the glory of England. Shall we leave anything after
+us, to match their heritage? It is open to doubt. Much of our modern
+work is &#8220;scamped&#8221; and badly done. And a great deal of the mischief
+arises from our way of &#8220;rushing&#8221; things. We are so anxious to catch
+Time by the forelock that we almost tear that forelock off. But why
+such haste? What is our object? Well,&mdash;we want to make money before
+we die. We want to make it, and then spend it on ourselves, or else
+leave it to our children, who will no doubt get rid of it all for us
+with the most cheerful rapidity. Or we want to have enough to &#8220;sit
+down and do nothing.&#8221; This is some people&#8217;s idea of perfect bliss.
+A servant of mine once very kindly reproached me for sticking at my
+desk so long. &#8220;If<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_322" id="Page_322">[Pg 322]</a></span> I were a lady,&#8221; said she&mdash;&#8220;I would sit down and do
+nothing.&#8221; No more cruel torture can be imagined than this. We read in
+history of prisoners who, condemned to such a life, went mad with the
+misery of it. The only way to live happily and healthfully is to try
+with every moment of our time to accomplish something&mdash;even if it be
+only a thought. Thought, as we know, crystallizes into action. Yet
+very few people really think. Many get no further than to think they
+are thinking. To think is a kind of Work&mdash;too hard for many folks. In
+politics, for instance, some people let the Press think for them. They
+cannot be bothered to do it for themselves. And when the Press makes
+what is called a &#8220;corner&#8221; in any particular policy, they sometimes
+submit to be &#8220;cornered.&#8221; There have been of late a great many rumours
+concerning a gigantic Press &#8220;combine&#8221; which is to be formed for the
+purpose of swaying the opinion of the British public and particularly
+the opinion of the British working man. In other words, opinion is no
+longer to be &#8220;free,&#8221; but coerced by something like a Press &#8220;Trust&#8221;
+Company. Now if we are to believe this, we must likewise believe the
+British public fools. And we should surely be sorry to be forced to
+such a conclusion. Let us hope the British public has an opinion
+of its own entirely apart from the Press, and that it will declare
+that opinion bravely and openly. It is hard to imagine that it will
+allow its fondness for &#8220;prize-competitions&#8221; and &#8220;puzzle-pictures&#8221;
+to interfere with its common sense and honesty. I may say, however,
+that I have often marvelled at the generosity with which a large
+majority of people will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_323" id="Page_323">[Pg 323]</a></span> insist on filling the pockets of newspaper
+capitalists, by purchasing such quantities of the particular journals
+which contain these puzzles and competitions. The guileless innocence
+of childhood in the nursery is not more touching than the faith of the
+great British public in what is called a &#8220;Picture&#8221; or &#8220;Word&#8221; puzzle.
+Over this kind of thing I have seen otherwise sane though indolent
+people actually <i>work</i>! Once I made a calculation of the hours spent by
+a friend of mine in deciphering one of these newspaper problems, and
+found that he could certainly have obtained a very fair knowledge of
+French or Italian in the time, or he could have learned shorthand and
+typewriting. He was successful in the competition, and received for his
+pains the splendid sum of three-halfpence. It was explained to him that
+there were so many successful competitors that the hundred&mdash;or thousand
+pounds reward had to be divided among the crowd. Three half-pence
+therefore was his legitimate share.</p>
+
+<p>I am no politician. I am simply a Worker&mdash;and I do such work as I
+can, quite independently of sect or party. But <i>as</i> a Worker, and
+looker-on at the events taking place around me, I cannot help feeling
+that this dear land of ours is on the verge of a great crisis in her
+history. We hear much of failing trade,&mdash;depression in this or that
+quarter,&mdash;yet apart from political agitators, it seems to me that Great
+Britain stands where she has always stood&mdash;at the top of the world!
+Whatever influences have set her there, surely there she is. And it
+is for all true workers to keep her there. It is not by what parties
+or Governments will do for<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_324" id="Page_324">[Pg 324]</a></span> us that her position will be sustained
+and strengthened,&mdash;it is by what we, in the skill and excellence of
+our Work in all trades and professions, will do for Her. It is by our
+determination to excel in all kinds of Work that she will hold her
+own,&mdash;by our unstinted time, our ungrudging labour, our zeal, our
+cheerfulness, our love for her glory that she&mdash;and ourselves&mdash;will
+exist. It is necessary to &#8220;protect&#8221; her, and all things that may help
+to make her stronger and greater&mdash;but sometimes the word &#8220;Protection&#8221;
+may be made to apply chiefly to capitalists and &#8220;cornerers&#8221; of trade.
+Herein comes the hard work of Thinking. We must Think for ourselves.
+God has given us brains to work with. There is never any good reason
+why we should hastily adopt the political views of certain newspaper
+proprietors, who are perhaps under the impression that we have no
+brains at all, and that being thus sadly deficient, we are willing
+to buy their brains for a penny or a halfpenny! It is by the workers
+of the land that the land lives. And more than this,&mdash;it is from the
+workers that must come the great battle of Right against Might. It is
+for the Workers to put to shame by their own faith and honour, the
+wicked Atheism and open immorality which are disgracing some of our
+so-called &#8220;upper&#8221; classes to-day&mdash;and it is for the Workers to show by
+their upright, temperate lives, and their steady downright Work, that
+they are determined to keep the foundations of the Home secure, and the
+heart of England warm and true. What says brave Thomas Carlyle?</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;All true Work is sacred; in all true Work, were it but true
+hand-labour, there is something<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_325" id="Page_325">[Pg 325]</a></span> of divineness. Labour, wide as the
+Earth, has its summit in Heaven. Sweat of the brow, and up from that
+to sweat of the brain, sweat of the heart&mdash;which includes all Kepler
+calculations, Newton meditations, all Sciences, all spoken Epics, all
+acted Heroisms, and Martyrdoms, up to that &#8216;Agony of bloody sweat&#8217;
+which all men have called divine! O brother, if this is not &#8216;worship,&#8217;
+then I say the more pity for worship, for this is the noblest thing yet
+discovered under God&#8217;s sky. Who art thou that complainest of thy life
+of toil? Complain not. Look up, my wearied brother!&mdash;see thy fellow
+Workmen there in God&#8217;s eternity, surviving there, they alone surviving;
+sacred Band of the Immortals, celestial Bodyguard of the Empire of
+Mankind. Even in the weak Human memory they survive so long, as saints,
+as heroes, as gods, they alone surviving&mdash;peopling, they alone, the
+measured solitudes of Time. To thee, Heaven, though severe, is <i>not</i>
+unkind; Heaven is kind as a noble Mother&mdash;as that Spartan mother,
+saying while she gave her son his shield&mdash;&#8220;With it, my son, or upon
+it!&#8221; Thou too shalt return home in honour, brother Worker!&mdash;to thy far
+distant Home, in honour, doubt it not, if in the battle thou keep thy
+shield!&#8221;</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_326" id="Page_326">[Pg 326]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE HAPPY LIFE</h2>
+
+<p>Most people want to be happy if they can. I suppose it may be safely
+set down without fear of contradiction that no one who is sane and
+healthy wilfully elects to be miserable. Yet the secret of happiness
+seems to be solved by very few. People try to be happy in all sorts of
+queer ways&mdash;in speculation, land-grabbing, dram-drinking, horse-racing,
+bridge-playing, newspaper-running, and various other methods which
+are more or less suited to their constitutional abilities&mdash;but in
+many cases these channels, carefully dug out for the reception of
+a perpetual inflowing of the stream of happiness, appear very soon
+to run dry. I have been asked scores of times what I consider to be
+the happiest life in the world, and I have always answered without
+the least hesitation&mdash;the Life Literary. In all respects it answers
+perfectly to the description of the &#8220;Happy Life&#8221; portrayed by that
+gentle sixteenth-century poet, Sir Henry Wotton:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>How happy is he born and taught</div>
+<div class="i1">That serveth not another&#8217;s will,</div>
+<div>Whose armour is his honest thought,</div>
+<div class="i1">And simple truth his utmost skill.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>Herein we have the vital essence of all delight&mdash;honest <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_327" id="Page_327">[Pg 327]</a></span>thought
+and simple truth&mdash;and in the &#8220;serveth not another&#8217;s will,&#8221; glorious
+liberty. For chiefest among the joys of the Life Literary are its
+splendid independence, its right of free opinion, and its ability to
+express that opinion. An author is bound to no person, no place, and no
+party, unless he or she wilfully elects to be so bound. To him, or to
+her, all the realms of Nature and imagination are entrance-free&mdash;the
+pen unlocks every closed door&mdash;and not only is the present period of
+time set out like a stage-scene for contemplation and criticism, but
+all the past ages, with their histories, and the rise and fall of their
+civilizations, arrange themselves to command in a series of pictures
+for the pleasure of the literary eye and brain; and it is just as easy
+to converse in one&#8217;s own library with Plato on the immortality of the
+soul as it is good-humouredly to tolerate Mr. Mallock and his little
+drawing-room philosophies. For a book is more or less the expression
+of the mind, or a part of the mind, of its writer, and, inasmuch
+as it is only with the moral and intellectual personalities of our
+friends and enemies that we care to deal, it matters little whether
+such personalities be three or four thousand years old, or only of
+yesterday. And to live the Life Literary means that we can always
+choose our own company. We can reject commoners and receive kings, or
+<i>vice versâ</i>. The author who is careful to hold and to maintain all the
+real privileges and rights of authorship is a ruler of millions, and
+under subjection to none. The position is unique and, to my thinking,
+unequalled.</p>
+
+<p>There are many, of course, who will by no means<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_328" id="Page_328">[Pg 328]</a></span> agree with me as to
+the superior charm of the Life Literary over all other lives&mdash;and such
+objectors will be found mostly in the literary profession itself.
+Unsuccessful authors&mdash;particularly those who are in any way troubled
+with dyspepsia&mdash;will be among them. &#8220;Tied&#8221; authors also&mdash;and by &#8220;tied&#8221;
+authors I mean the unhappy wretches who have signed contracts with
+publishers several years ahead, and are, so to speak, dancing in
+fetters. Authors who count the number of words they write per day,
+like potatoes, and anxiously calculate how much a publisher will
+possibly give for them per bushel, are not likely to experience any
+very particular &#8220;happiness&#8221; while they are measuring out halfpence in
+this fashion. And authors who run after &#8220;society&#8221; and want to be seen
+here, there, and everywhere, are bound to lose the gifts of the gods
+one by one as they scamper helter-skelter through the world&#8217;s Vanity
+Fair, while they may be perfectly sure that the &#8220;great&#8221; or swagger
+persons with whom they seek to associate will be the first to despise
+and neglect them in any time of need or trouble, as well as the last to
+support or help them in any urgent cause which might be benefited by
+their assistance.</p>
+
+<p>On this point we have only to remember the melancholy experience of
+Robert Burns, who, after having been flattered and feasted by certain
+individuals who were, in an ephemeral sense, influential for the time
+being, either through their rank or their wealth, was afterwards
+shamefully neglected by them, and finally, notwithstanding the various
+social attentions and courtesy he had at one time received, he was
+left, when ill and dying, in such<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_329" id="Page_329">[Pg 329]</a></span> extremity as to be compelled to
+implore his publisher for the loan of five pounds! What had become of
+all his wealthy and &#8220;influential&#8221; friends? Why they were exactly where
+all &#8220;influential&#8221; persons would be now in a similar case&mdash;&#8220;otherwise
+engaged&#8221; when their help is needed. Nothing can well be more deplorable
+than the position of any author who depends for success on a clique
+of &#8220;distinguished&#8221; or &#8220;society&#8221; persons. He or she has exchanged
+independence for slavery&mdash;the nectar of the gods for a base mess of
+pottage&mdash;and the true &#8220;happiness&#8221; of the Life Literary for a mere
+miserable restlessness and constant craving after fresh excitement,
+which gradually breeds nervous troubles, and disturbs that fine and
+even balance of brain without which no clear or convincing thought is
+possible. Again, authors who deliberately prostitute their talents to
+the writing of lewd matter unfit to be handled by cleanly-minded men
+and women need never hope to possess that happy and studious peace
+which comes from the</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>Pure intent to do the best</div>
+<div>Purely&mdash;and leave to God the rest.</div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>For the highest satisfaction in the Life Literary is to think that
+perhaps, in a fortunate or inspired moment, one may have written at
+least a sentence, a line, a verse, that may carry comfort and a sense
+of beauty to the sorrowful, or hope to the forlorn; while surely the
+greatest pang would be to know that one had cast the already despairing
+soul into a lower depth of degradation, or caused the sinner to revel
+more consciously in his sin. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_330" id="Page_330">[Pg 330]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>But are there no drawbacks, no disappointments, no sufferings in the
+Life Literary? Why, of course there are! Who would be such a useless
+block of stone, such a senseless lump of unvalued clay, as not to
+ardently wish for drawbacks, disappointments, and sufferings? Who
+that has a soul at all does not pray that it may be laid like glowing
+iron on the anvil of endurance, there to be beaten and hammered by
+destiny till it is of a strong and shapely mould, fit for combat,
+nerved to victory? And I maintain that such drawbacks, disappointments,
+difficulties, and sufferings as the profession of Literature entails
+are sweeter and nobler than the cares besetting other professions,
+inasmuch as they are always accompanied by never-failing consolations.
+If the pinch be poverty, the true servant of Literature can do with
+less of this world&#8217;s goods than most people. Luxury is not called for
+when one is rich in idealism and fancy. Heavy feeding will not make a
+clear, quick brain. Extravagant apparel is a necessity for no one&mdash;and
+genius was never yet born of a millionaire.</p>
+
+<p>If the &#8220;thorn in the flesh&#8221; is the petty abuse of one&#8217;s envious
+contemporaries, that is surely a matter for rejoicing rather than
+grief, as it is merely the continuance of an apparently &#8220;natural law in
+the spiritual world&#8221; acting from the Inferior upon the Superior, which
+may be worded thus: &#8220;Whosoever will be great, let him be flayed alive!&#8221;
+Virgil was declared by Pliny to be destitute of invention; Aristotle
+was styled &#8220;ignorant, vain, and ambitious&#8221; by both Cicero and Plutarch;
+Plato was so jealous of Democritus that he proposed<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_331" id="Page_331">[Pg 331]</a></span> to burn up all his
+works; Sophocles was brought to trial by his own children as a lunatic;
+Horace was accused of stealing from all the minor Greek poets; and so
+on in the same way down to our own times.</p>
+
+<p>Pope went so far as to make a collection of all the libels passed upon
+him, and had them preserved and bound with singular care, though I
+believe no one now knows where to find these scandalous splutterings
+of Grub Street. Swift is reported to have said to the irate author of
+the &#8220;Dunciad&#8221;: &#8220;Give me a shilling and I will ensure you that posterity
+shall never know one single enemy against you excepting those whose
+memory you <i>yourself</i> have preserved.&#8221; Herein is a profound truth. The
+malicious enemies of a great author only become known to the public
+through the mistaken condescension of the great author&#8217;s notice.</p>
+
+<p>Milton&#8217;s life was embittered by the contemptible spite of one
+Salmasius. Who was Salmasius? we ask nowadays. We do not task who was
+Milton. Salmasius was the author of the &#8220;Defensio Regi&#8221; or Defence
+of Kings, a poor piece of work long ago forgotten, and he was the
+procurer of foul libel against the author of &#8220;Paradise Lost,&#8221; one
+of England&#8217;s greatest and noblest men. What small claim he has to
+the world&#8217;s memory arises merely from his viciousness, for not only
+did he make use of the lowest tools to aid him in conspiring against
+Milton&#8217;s reputation, but he spread the grossest lies broadcast, even
+accusing the poet of having a hideous personal appearance&mdash;&#8220;a puny
+piece of man; a homunculus; a dwarf deprived of the human figure; a
+contemptible<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_332" id="Page_332">[Pg 332]</a></span> pedagogue.&#8221; When the despicable slanderer learned the
+fact that Milton, so far from answering to this description, was of a
+pleasing and attractive appearance, he immediately changed his tactics
+and began to attack his moral character&mdash;which, as even Milton&#8217;s
+bitterest political enemies knew, was austerely above the very shadow
+of suspicion. It was said that the poet&#8217;s over-zealousness in answering
+the calumnies of Salmasius cost him his eye-sight, which, if true, was
+surely regrettable. Salmasius died dishonoured and disgraced, as such a
+cowardly brute deserved to die; Milton still holds his glorious place
+in England&#8217;s literary history. So it was, so it is, so it ever will be.</p>
+
+<p>Greatness is always envied&mdash;it is only mediocrity that can boast of a
+host of friends. &#8220;When you have resolved to be great,&#8221; says Emerson,
+&#8220;abide by yourself, and do not weakly try to reconcile yourself with
+the world.&#8221; It is impossible to quote one single instance of a truly
+great man existing without calumniators. And the Life Literary without
+any enemies would be a shabby go-cart; or, as our American cousins put
+it, a &#8220;one-horse concern.&#8221; Some lines that were taught to me when I was
+a child seem apposite to this subject, and I quote them here for the
+benefit of any struggling units of the Life Literary who may haply be
+in need:&mdash;</p>
+
+<div class="center"><div class="poem"><div class="stanza">
+<div>You have no enemies, you say?</div>
+<div class="i1">Alas! my friend, the boast is poor&mdash;</div>
+<div>He who has mingled in the fray</div>
+<div class="i1">Of duty, that the brave endure,</div>
+<div><i>Must</i> have made foes! If you have none,</div>
+<div>Small is the work that you have done;</div>
+<div>You&#8217;ve hit no traitor on the hip,</div>
+<div><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_333" id="Page_333">[Pg 333]</a></span>You&#8217;ve dashed no cup from perjured lip,</div>
+<div>You&#8217;ve never turned the wrong to right&mdash;</div>
+<div>You&#8217;ve been a coward in the fight!<a name="FNanchor_5_5" id="FNanchor_5_5"></a><a href="#Footnote_5_5" >[5]</a></div>
+</div></div></div>
+
+<p>But it is perhaps time that I should drop the masculine personal
+pronoun for the feminine, and, being a woman, treat of the Life
+Literary from the woman&#8217;s point of view. In olden days the profession
+of literature was looked upon as a terrible thing for a woman to
+engage in, and the observations of some very kindly and chivalrous
+writers on this subject are not without pathos. To quote one example
+only, can anything be more quaintly droll at this time of day than the
+following:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;Of all the sorrows in which the female character may participate there
+are few more affecting than those of an Authoress&mdash;often insulated
+and unprotected in society&mdash;with all the sensibility of the sex,
+encountering miseries which break the spirits of men!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This delicate expression of sympathy for a woman&#8217;s literary struggles
+was written by the elder Disraeli as late as 1840. Truly we have
+raced along the rails of progress since then at express speed&mdash;and
+the &#8220;affecting&#8221; sorrows of an &#8220;Authoress&#8221; (with a capital A) now
+affect nobody except in so far as they make &#8220;copy&#8221; for the callow
+journalist to hang a string of cheap sneers upon. The Authoress must
+take part with the Author in the general rough-and-tumble of life&mdash;and
+she cannot too quickly learn the truth that when once she enters
+the literary arena, where men are already fisticuffing and elbowing
+each other remorselessly, she will be met chiefly with<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_334" id="Page_334">[Pg 334]</a></span> &#8220;kicks and
+no ha&#8217;pence.&#8221; She must fight like the rest, unless she prefers to
+lie down and be walked over. If she elects to try for a first place,
+it will take her all her time to win it, and, when won, to hold it;
+and, in the event of her securing success, she must not expect any
+chivalrous consideration from the opposite sex, or any special kindness
+and sympathy from her own. For the men will consider her &#8220;out of her
+sphere&#8221; if she writes books instead of producing babies, and the
+women will, in nine cases out of ten, begrudge her the freedom and
+independence she enjoys, particularly if such freedom and independence
+be allied to fortune and fame. This all goes without saying. It has to
+be understood and accepted uncomplainingly. The &#8220;old-fashioned&#8221; grace
+of chivalry to women, once so proudly lauded by poets and essayists
+as the distinguishing trait of all manly men, is not to be relied on
+in the Life Literary&mdash;for there it is as dead as door-nails. Men can
+be found in the literary profession who will do anything to &#8220;down&#8221; a
+woman in the same calling, and, if they cannot for shame&#8217;s sake do it
+openly, they will do it behind her back. &#8220;&#8217;Tis pitiful, &#8217;tis wondrous
+pitiful&#8221;&mdash;for the men! But if the woman concerned has studied her art
+to any purpose she will accept calumny as a compliment, slander as
+a votive wreath, and &#8220;envy, hatred, and all uncharitableness&#8221; (from
+which, with pious hypocrisy, the most envious and uncharitable persons
+pray &#8220;Good Lord deliver us&#8221; every Sunday) as so many tokens and
+proofs of her admitted power. And none of these things need disturb
+the equanimity of the Life Literary. &#8220;Can<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_335" id="Page_335">[Pg 335]</a></span> any man cast me out of the
+Universe? He cannot; but whithersoever I may go there will be the
+sun and the moon, and the stars and visions, and communion with the
+gods!&#8221;<a name="FNanchor_6_6" id="FNanchor_6_6"></a><a href="#Footnote_6_6" >[6]</a></p>
+
+<p>Speaking as a woman, I can quite understand and appreciate all the
+little difficulties, irritations, and trials incident to a woman&#8217;s
+career in literature; and though I myself welcome such difficulties
+as so many incentives to fresh effort, I know that there are many of
+my sex who, growing weary and discouraged, are not able to adopt this
+attitude. And looking back into the past, one is bound to see a host of
+brilliant women done to death by cruel injustice and misrepresentation,
+a state of things which is quite likely to be continued as long as
+humanity endures.</p>
+
+<p>But no useful object is served by brooding over this apparently
+incurable evil. &#8220;The noble army of martyrs&#8221; who praise the Lord in the
+&#8220;Te Deum&#8221; are likely to be of the sex feminine. But what does that
+matter? It is more glorious to be martyred than to die of over-eating
+and general plethora. Moreover mental or intellectual martyrdom is a
+necessary ingredient for the &#8220;happy&#8221; life&mdash;a touch of it is like the
+toothache, helping one to be duly thankful when the pain ceases. For,
+if we never understood trouble, we should never taste the full measure
+of joy.</p>
+
+<p>One thing can be very well dispensed with by both men and women who
+look for happiness in the Life Literary, and that is the uneasy
+hankering after what is called &#8220;Fame.&#8221; Fame has a habit of setting its
+halo on the elected brows without<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_336" id="Page_336">[Pg 336]</a></span> any outside advice or assistance.
+Those authors who are destined for it will assuredly win it, though
+all the world should intervene; those for whom it is not intended must
+content themselves with the temporary notoriety of pretty newspaper
+puffs and &#8220;stock&#8221; compliments, such as &#8220;the renowned&#8221; or &#8220;well-known&#8221;
+or &#8220;admired&#8221; author or authoress, and be glad and grateful for these
+meaningless terms, inasmuch as the higher Fame itself at its utmost is
+only a brief and very often inaccurate &#8220;line in history.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>The rewards and emoluments of the happy life, such as I have always
+found the Life Literary to be, are manifold and frequently incongruous.
+They may be considered in two sections&mdash;the outward or apparent and the
+interior or invisible. Concerning these I can only, of course, speak
+from my own experience. The outward or apparent occur (so far as I
+myself am concerned) as follows:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>1. Certain payments, small or large, made by publishers who undertake
+to present one&#8217;s brain work to the world in print, and who do the best
+they can for their authors, as well as for themselves.</p>
+
+<p>2. Public appreciation and condemnation, about equally divided.</p>
+
+<p>3. Critical praise and censure, six of one and half-a-dozen of the
+other.</p>
+
+<p>4. Endless requests for autographs.</p>
+
+<p>5. Innumerable begging letters.</p>
+
+<p>6. Imperative, sometimes threatening, demands for &#8220;interviews.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>7. Hundreds of love-letters.</p>
+
+<p>8. Continual offers of marriage. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_337" id="Page_337">[Pg 337]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>9. Shoals of MSS. sent by literary aspirants to be &#8220;placed&#8221; or
+&#8220;recommended.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>10. Free circulation of lies, caricatures, and slanders concerning
+oneself, one&#8217;s personality, friends, ways of work, and general
+surroundings.</p>
+
+<p>11. The grudging and bitter animosity of rival contemporaries.</p>
+
+<p>12. Persistent public and private mis-representation of one&#8217;s
+character, aims, and intentions.</p>
+
+<p>But all these things taken together weigh very little when compared
+with the other side of the medal&mdash;the interior and invisible delight
+and charm of the Life Literary&mdash;the unpurchasable and never-failing
+happiness which no external advantage can give, no inimical influence
+take away. It is well-nigh impossible to enumerate the pleasures that
+attend the lover and servant of Literature; they are multitudinous,
+and, like all things spiritual, outweigh all things temporal. Here are
+just a few among the kindly and constant favours of the gods:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>1. The power and affluence of creative thought.</p>
+
+<p>2. A perpetual sense of intimate participation in the wonders of Nature
+and Art.</p>
+
+<p>3. A keen perception of the beautiful.</p>
+
+<p>4. Intense delight in the genius of all great men and women.</p>
+
+<p>5. A cheerful and contented spirit.</p>
+
+<p>6. Constant variety of occupation.</p>
+
+<p>7. Joy in simple things.</p>
+
+<p>8. The love of friends that are tried and true.</p>
+
+<p>9. The never-wearying interest of working to try and give pleasure to
+one&#8217;s reading public.</p>
+
+<p>10. The gifts and glories of Imagination. </p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_338" id="Page_338">[Pg 338]</a></span></p>
+
+<p>11. Tranquillity of mind.</p>
+
+<p>12. Firm faith in noble ideals.</p>
+
+<p>And, to quote from Walt Whitman what the inward sense of the
+&#8220;happiness&#8221; of the Life Literary really is, the disciple of Literature
+may say:&mdash;</p>
+
+<p>&#8220;I will show that there is no imperfection in the present and can be
+none in the future. And I will show that, whatever happens to anybody,
+it may be turned to beautiful results.&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>Were all the lives in the world offered to me for my choice, from the
+estate of queens to that of commoners, I would choose the Life Literary
+in preference to any other, as ensuring the greatest happiness. It
+is full of the most lasting pleasure, it offers the most varied
+entertainment, all the arts and sciences group themselves naturally
+around it as with it and of it&mdash;for the literary student is, or should
+be, as devout a lover of music as of poetry, as ardent an admirer
+of painting and sculpture as of history and philosophy&mdash;that is, if
+complete enjoyment of the literary gift is to be possessed completely.</p>
+
+<p>I take it, of course, for granted, in this matter of the &#8220;happy&#8221; life,
+that the individual concerned, whether male or female, is neither
+dyspeptic nor bilious, nor afflicted with the incurable <i>ennui</i> of
+utter selfishness, nor addicted to dram or drug drinking. Because under
+unnatural conditions the mind itself becomes unnatural, and the Life
+Literary is no more productive of happiness than any other life that is
+self-poisoned at its source. But, given a sane mind in a sound body, a
+clear brain, a quick perception, a keen imagination, a warm heart, and
+a never-to-be-parted-with ideal of humanity<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_339" id="Page_339">[Pg 339]</a></span> at its best, noblest and
+purest, then the Life Literary, with all the advantages it bestows, the
+continuous education it fosters, the refinement of taste it engenders,
+the love and sympathy of unknown thousands of one&#8217;s fellow-creatures
+which it brings, is the sweetest, most satisfying, most healthful
+and happy life in the world. Moreover it is a life of power and
+responsibility&mdash;a life that forms character and tests courage. We
+soon learn to know the force of a Thinker in our midst, whether man
+or woman. We soon realize who it is that sends the lightning of
+truth across our murky sky, when we see a sudden swarm of cowards
+scurrying away from the storm and trying to shelter themselves under a
+haystack of lies; and we invariably respect whosoever has the valour
+of his or her opinions, and the strength to enunciate them boldly and
+convincingly with a supreme indifference to conventional conveniences.
+For &#8220;To know the truth,&#8221; says an Arabian sage, &#8220;is a great thing for
+thyself; but to tell the truth to others is a greater thing for the
+world!&#8221;</p>
+
+<h3>FOOTNOTES:</h3>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_5_5" id="Footnote_5_5"></a><a href="#FNanchor_5_5">[5]</a> The late Charles Mackay, LL.D.</p>
+
+<p><a name="Footnote_6_6" id="Footnote_6_6"></a><a href="#FNanchor_6_6">[6]</a> Epictetus.</p>
+
+<hr />
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_340" id="Page_340">[Pg 340]</a></span></p>
+
+<h2>THE SOUL OF THE NATION</h2>
+
+<p>At the present time, and during the present time&#8217;s singularly loose
+notions of manners, morals, and dignity of behaviour, it was perhaps
+to be expected that some one or other of the daily newspapers would,
+in sagacious appreciation of free &#8220;copy,&#8221; start a public discussion on
+the religious faith of this Christian Empire. It was perhaps as equally
+probable that considering the remarkable laxity of certain bishops
+and ordained ministers of the gospel generally, a &#8220;press&#8221; question
+should be put to the House of Tom, Dick and Harry&mdash;&#8220;Do We Believe?&#8221;
+Granting the premises, it was hardly to be wondered at that Tom, Dick
+and Harry should straightway arise in their strength and reply to the
+question,&mdash;and not only Tom, Dick and Harry of the laity, but Tom,
+Dick and Harry of the clergy likewise. Great was the discussion,&mdash;fast
+and furious waged the war of words, and the Penny Daily which provoked
+the combat was thus conveniently supplied with material for which
+the proprietors,&mdash;most of them Sons of Israel,&mdash;had nothing to pay.
+And now, the arguments being heard and ended, nobody is a whit the
+wiser, though some few may be several whits the sadder. For to speak
+honestly, nothing more reprehensible has ever smirched the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_341" id="Page_341">[Pg 341]</a></span> career of
+an English journal than the fact that it should have lent itself to the
+advertized questioning of the nation&#8217;s religious faith. It was an open
+flaunting of infidelity in the face of the civilized world. To talk
+of the &#8220;conversion&#8221; of India, China or Japan, while a leading British
+newspaper openly invites the notoriety-hunting section of the British
+public to air their opinions of the Christian Faith in its columns,
+just as if the Faith itself were on public trial in a Christian
+country, is only one example of the many forms of utter Humbug in which
+we are nowadays so unfortunately prone to indulge. Our sometimes-called
+&#8220;heathen&#8221; ally, Japan, has lately taught us many lessons which perhaps
+we knew once and have forgotten, and which perhaps we need to learn
+again,&mdash;such as valour without conceit, strength without roughness,
+and endurance without complaint,&mdash;but one of the greatest lessons of
+all she has given us is that of her people&#8217;s pious reverence for the
+Unseen and Eternal, and their belief in the ever-present &#8220;Spirits
+of the Dead&#8221; whom they honour and will not shame. What a deplorable
+contrast we make in our pandering to the lowest tastes of the mob when,
+without a word of protest, we permit <i>our</i> &#8220;Spirits of the Dead,&#8221;&mdash;the
+spirits of our gallant forefathers who fought for the pure Faith of
+England and sealed it with their blood,&mdash;to be degraded and insulted by
+a cheap newspaper discussion on the most private and sacred emotions
+of the soul, as though such a discussion were of a character suited to
+take its place among police-cases and quack medical advertisements!
+True, we are constantly being made aware that the British Press is no
+longer the clean,<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_342" id="Page_342">[Pg 342]</a></span> sane, strong and reliable institution it once was,
+when &#8220;personalities&#8221; were deemed vulgar, and lies dishonourable,&mdash;and
+therefore we perhaps ought not to feel very greatly surprised when
+the name and possible attributes of the Almighty Creator Himself are
+dragged through the purlieus of &#8220;up-to-date&#8221; journalism,&mdash;but surely
+there is something very deplorable and disgraceful in the fact that
+any one professing to be a follower of the Christian Faith should have
+replied to what can only be termed, considering the quarter from whence
+it came, an ironical demand, &#8220;Do We Believe?&#8221; The best and wisest
+answer would have been complete silence on the part of the public. No
+more effectual &#8220;snubbing&#8221; to the non-Christian faction could have been
+given. But unfortunately there are a certain class of persons whose
+prime passion is to see themselves in print, and to this end they will
+commit any folly and write any letter to the newspapers, even if it
+be only to state that primroses were seen somewhat early in bloom in
+their back yards. And such, chiefly, were the kind of men and women who
+poured themselves into the channels of the &#8220;Do We Believe?&#8221; discussion,
+like water running down the streets into gutters and mains,&mdash;never
+seeming to realize that to the thinking and intellectual world, their
+foolish letters, addressed to such a public quarter, merely proved
+their utter loss of respect for themselves, not only as professing
+Christians and subjects of a Christian Empire, but as men and women. No
+real follower of a Faith&mdash;any Faith&mdash;would be so lost to every sense of
+decency as to discuss it in a daily newspaper. As for the clergy who
+took part in the boresome<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_343" id="Page_343">[Pg 343]</a></span> palaver, one can only marvel at them and
+ask why they did not &#8220;veto&#8221; the whole thing at once? A penny paper is
+not the Hall of Pontius Pilate. As ministers of Christ they might have
+protested against a modern-vulgar &#8220;mock&#8221; trial of their Master. It was
+in their power to do so, and such a protest would have redounded to
+their honour. At any rate, they might themselves have abstained from
+joining in the foolish and unnecessary gabble. For gabble it was, and
+gabble it is. No useful cause has been served thereby and no advantage
+gained. The Sons of Israel have asked a question,&mdash;and some of the
+unwise among professing Christians, being caught in the Israelitish
+trap, have answered it. The manner in which both question was put and
+answer given, was unworthy of a country where the Christian Faith is
+the guiding light of the realm. Matters of religion are of course
+open to discussion in the treatise or book intended for quiet library
+reading, or even in the better-class magazines, but to hawk sacred
+subjects of personal sentiment and national creed about in the daily
+wear of newspaper columns which equally include murders, divorces,
+bigamies, stocks and shares, and the general <i>débris</i> cast off as
+flotsam and jetsam in the turgid waves of Mankind&#8217;s ever-recurring
+mischief against itself, was to the last degree reprehensible and
+regrettable. And this, if only for the possible impression likely to
+be created by such an action among the peoples of those countries to
+whom, with ridiculous inconsistency, we presume to send missionaries
+for the purpose of &#8220;converting&#8221; them to a Creed we ourselves drag
+through the mire of doubt in our daily press. Fortunately, however, the
+matter, <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_344" id="Page_344">[Pg 344]</a></span>deplorably as it has exhibited our &#8220;religion&#8221; to the eyes of
+&#8220;heathen&#8221; nations, has now come to an end. It has worked no change,&mdash;it
+has strengthened no weak places,&mdash;it has helped no struggling effort
+towards good. The Soul of the Nation has not been moved thereby, and
+it is the Soul of the Nation&mdash;that great, silent patient and labouring
+Soul with which all religion has to do,&mdash;that Soul, which the Christian
+Creed, ever since it was first preached in Britain, has raised to such
+a height of supremacy and power, that it needs all its reserve of sober
+courage and devout humility to help it bear its honours greatly. For
+has it not been said&mdash;&#8220;Let him that thinketh he standeth, take heed
+lest he fall!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>One may look upon the innate spirit of Revivalism, exemplified in the
+hysteric wave of preaching, praying and psalm-singing that has recently
+spread over Wales and other districts, as so much instinctive and
+natural popular rebellion against the insidious flood of atheism which
+has for the past ten years been striving to poison all the channels
+of man&#8217;s better health and saner condition,&mdash;rebellion too against
+the apathetic coldness and shameless indifference of the ordained
+clergy to the clamorous needs of those neglected &#8220;flocks&#8221; which
+they are elected to serve. &#8220;Enough,&#8221; say the People, &#8220;of shams and
+shows!&mdash;enough of ministers who only minister to themselves and their
+own convenience!&mdash;enough of the preaching of the Gospel by men who do
+not and will not fulfil a single one of its commands in their own lives
+and actions! Let us have something forcible and earnest,&mdash;let us be
+permitted to <i>feel</i>, even though we shout and sing ourselves<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_345" id="Page_345">[Pg 345]</a></span> hoarse
+with the emotion which has been seething in us for years,&mdash;an emotion
+which we cannot explain to ourselves, but which craves, with a passion
+beyond all speech, for some touch of Heaven, some closer comprehension
+of that &#8216;After-Death,&#8217; which God keeps back from us like a prize or a
+punishment for His obedient or rebellious children! Anything is better
+than the cold dead inertia of the Churches, sunk as they are in a blind
+lethargy from which they only bestir themselves dully when a chance
+is offered to them of engaging in some petty personal quarrel. We are
+weary of priestly humbug, selfishness and inefficiency&mdash;we will gather
+ourselves together and re-assert our faith in the world to come, as
+true disciples of the Lord!&#8221; And whether such Revivalists elect to
+march under the banner of Cocoa Cadbury, (an excellent advertisement
+for Cadbury,) or any other emblazoned device of a successful trading
+concern, is not a matter of much moment. Starving folk will march
+anywhere,&mdash;under anything or anybody,&mdash;if they are promised nourishment
+at the end of the journey. And the Soul of the Nation is, at this
+present period of time, starving to the point of inanition in all forms
+of spiritual food. The Good Shepherd gave His life for the sheep, but
+the underlings who care not for the flock have let the wolves into the
+fold.</p>
+
+<p>A thing which would appear to be frequently forgotten by those who hold
+Governmental authority, is that the most vital, most powerful and most
+active principle of a Nation is this spark of the Divine which for
+want of any clearer mode of description we call the Soul. The Soul of
+a single<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_346" id="Page_346">[Pg 346]</a></span> individual man or woman is the mere copy in miniature of the
+Soul of a race, or the Soul of a world. An involuntary, half-conscious,
+but nevertheless resistless impetus towards ultimate Good is the Soul&#8217;s
+original quality and inborn Ideal. For, if the human weakness of the
+fleshly creature impel it towards temporary phases of evil, sooner
+or later the Soul will set to work to pull it out of the stifling
+quagmire. Material Nature is, as we all know, a remedial agent, and
+wherever mischief is wrought she seeks to amend it. Spiritual Nature
+is a still stronger healer. For every injury self-inflicted or wrought
+by others on the immortal Soul she has a saving balm,&mdash;and for every
+inch of progress which the Soul essays to make along the lines leading
+to good, she helps it forward a mile. Individuals find this out very
+soon in their own personal experience,&mdash;Nations discover it more
+slowly, first, because they have a longer time to live and learn than
+the individual unit,&mdash;and secondly because, moving in great masses,
+their periods of transit from one epoch of civilization to another
+must necessarily be more laborious and difficult. But in all epochs,
+in all eras, the Soul wins. The fiery leaven which is of God, works
+through the lump in various strange and complex forms till the whole is
+leavened. And those nations in which the Soul, or Spirit of the Ideal,
+is crushed and kept down by the iron hand of Materialism, are very soon
+seen to fall back in the rear of progress,&mdash;so far back indeed that
+we are fain to speak of them as &#8220;decaying nations,&#8221; though of a truth
+no decay is possible to them, but only temporary retrogression, which
+will in<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_347" id="Page_347">[Pg 347]</a></span> due course revert to progress again when the Soul is once more
+allowed to have its way. But Governments whose common law of procedure
+is to put this Soul or &#8220;spirit of the Ideal,&#8221; in the background as a
+kind of myth or chimera, and who seek to settle everything pertaining
+to the interests of the people by what they term &#8220;practical&#8221; methods,
+(which often prove wholly <i>un</i>practical,) are naturally prone to forget
+that whatever they do, whatever they say, the busy Soul of the Nation
+is altogether outside and above them, fighting for itself, often
+desperately and piteously, and struggling to make use of its wings and
+rise higher and ever higher despite its hobbles of iron and feet of
+clay. Religion is supposed to give it this, its demanded freedom of
+noble flight, and the Christian religion, above all religions in the
+world, with its consoling teaching that out of sorrow cometh joy, and
+out of Death is born Life, should make for the happiness and peace of
+every living creature. But when the very ministers of that glorious
+Faith cast doubt upon it, and live their own lives in direct opposition
+to it,&mdash;when undevout and therefore limited scientists dissect a midge
+of truth in order to launch a leviathan of fallacious theory,&mdash;when
+there is no <span class="smaller">ONE</span> pure and simple Church of Christ where all
+may meet in honest worship of His perfect Creed, but only a million
+Sects which blaspheme His Divine memory by their outrageous and petty
+quarrels one with the other,&mdash;it is no matter for surprise that a
+strong revulsion of feeling should set in, or that the Soul of the
+Nation, conceiving itself grievously wronged and neglected, should
+try to find some fresh path of its own heavenward,&mdash;some <span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_348" id="Page_348">[Pg 348]</a></span>way out of
+mere Sham&mdash;in the belief that if it obeys its own instinctive desire
+towards the Highest Ideal, God will not suffer it to go far astray.
+For the quarrels of the Churches are the second crucifixion of Christ.
+The apathy of the priesthood is the deliberate casting away to sin
+of the people. Where there is no unity, there is no force; and the
+divine founder of Christianity Himself has told us that a house divided
+against itself shall not stand.</p>
+
+<p>Yet when one comes to think of it, it is the strangest thing in the
+world that Christians should quarrel, seeing how plain and clear
+are the instructions left to them for their guidance by the Master
+whom they profess to serve. The New Testament is easy reading. Its
+commands are brief and concise enough. There would seem to be no
+room for discussion or difference. Why should there be followers of
+Luther, Wesley, or any other limited human preacher or teacher, when
+all that is necessary is that we should be followers of Christ? The
+Soul of the Nation asks no more than this Gospel of Love, lovingly
+imparted,&mdash;it seeks but for the one firm faith in the eternal things
+which are its birthright,&mdash;a faith held purely, and wholly undoubted
+by those whose high mission is to teach it to each generation in
+turn,&mdash;it craves no more than that touch of heavenly sympathy which
+makes the whole world kin&mdash;that holy link which binds all mankind
+together in one strong knot of indissoluble spiritual belief in the
+love and justice; the Unseen Force behind Creation, which will surely,
+out of the verities of that same love and justice, grant us a future
+life wherein will be made clear to us the reason and necessity of
+our strange<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_349" id="Page_349">[Pg 349]</a></span> sufferings, martyrdoms, disappointments and losses in
+this present mere brief episode of living. The Soul of the Nation
+does not in itself ask reward for its good deeds,&mdash;nor does it weakly
+complain if punishment be inflicted upon it for its evil ones,&mdash;but
+it does demand justice,&mdash;it does ask why, for no conscious fault of
+its own, it should be born, only to die. Were this question never to
+be answered, then the mathematical exactitude with which everything,
+small or great, is balanced in the universe would be a merely elaborate
+scheme of unnecessary fallacy, irrationally designed for the delusion
+of creatures who are not worth the trouble of deluding. No one who
+is sane and morally healthy can contemplate such an idea as this for
+a moment,&mdash;it follows therefore that Man, living as he does between
+two Infinities, and endowed with a brain which can spiritually
+consider both without reeling, must be guided by some great and
+illimitably wise destiny towards ends he knows not, but which he
+may be reverently permitted to believe are for his better progress,
+greater happiness and higher understanding, and that he needs, out
+of all things in the world, a Faith, by which his soul shall be kept
+strong and pure, his mind steady, and his sympathies active. No mockery
+of Christianity, such as that of Servian priests who have publicly
+blessed regicides,&mdash;no cruel tyranny, such as that of the Greek Church
+which dares to appeal to a God of Love while the mighty masses of the
+Russian people remain steeped in misery, and are, by very wretchedness,
+driven to crime,&mdash;no cold Conventionality of Form and Custom, such as
+is practised in fashionable London<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_350" id="Page_350">[Pg 350]</a></span> &#8220;West End&#8221; churches where society
+humbugs gather together to listen smirkingly to the civil cant of other
+society humbugs in surplices, who, passing for ministers of Christ,
+almost fear to preach the Gospel as it was written, lest its plain
+blunt truths should offend some highly-placed personage,&mdash;none of this
+kind of &#8220;religion&#8221; at all is of use,&mdash;but faith,&mdash;real faith&mdash;real
+aspiration&mdash;real uplifting to the Ideal of all things noble, all things
+great, wise, helpful and true. This, at the present crucial moment of
+time, is what the Soul of the Nation demands,&mdash;and not only the Soul
+of our own beloved and glorious Nation, but the Souls of all nations
+whatsoever on the globe. They stand up,&mdash;each in place, each on its
+own spiritual plane,&mdash;stern, strong and beautiful;&mdash;like the fabled
+statue of Memnon they face the sunrise, and at the first touch of the
+first ray of glory they speak. Their voices are as thunder among the
+spheres,&mdash;they demand what they deserve,&mdash;justice, hope, comfort,
+uplifting! To the mystic High Altar of the Infinite and Eternal they
+lift their praying hands, and to the priests of all religions they
+appeal. &#8220;Give us the Way, the Truth and the Life! Cease your own
+wranglings and petty disputations,&mdash;have done with mere human dogma
+concerning the matters of life and death,&mdash;let us see the <span class="smaller">MAN</span>,
+Christ,&mdash;He who suffered our sorrows, and knew our need,&mdash;the Brother,
+the Friend, the Helper, for whom, in braver days than these, men gladly
+gave their lives to sword and fire and the jaws of wild beasts,&mdash;is
+there no manhood left now of such undaunted mettle?&mdash;is there not
+one who will think of <span class="smaller">US</span>, the Nations, who hunger for the<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_351" id="Page_351">[Pg 351]</a></span>
+glorious vitality of Faith, which, like the blood in our veins, keeps
+us warm and young and vigorous? Or must we perish in the devil-clutch
+of Materialism, and go down to the depths, thrust there by the very men
+who have been elected to hold us close to God? We demand our rights
+in the Divine and Eternal Love!&mdash;and these rights, born in us from
+the beginning, we will have, even if all present-existing human forms
+and fabrics of creed go down in our struggle for the one pure faith
+under whose holy influence we shall become stronger and wiser, and
+better able to understand our work and place in creation! The gates of
+Life shall not be shut upon us;&mdash;we will not accept the materialist&#8217;s
+latter-day testimony that death shall be the end of all. For if there
+be an Eternal Good we are part of its being and share in its Eternal
+attributes. And we say,&mdash;we Souls of the Nations,&mdash;to all our preachers
+and teachers and representatives of the Divine on earth&mdash;Lift us up!
+Do not cast us down! Be yourselves the models of what you would have
+<span class="smaller">US</span> become!&mdash;so shall we be willing and ready to learn from
+you,&mdash;so shall we honour, love and patiently follow you. But if you,
+as ministers of religion, show yourselves worse hypocrites than the
+very sinners whom the law condemns, then beware of us and our just
+vengeance! For you take from us our very life-blood, when you cheat us
+of the hope of Heaven!&#8221;</p>
+
+<p>This is true. A Nation robbed of its faith, is like a human body robbed
+of its heart&mdash;it has neither pulse nor motion,&mdash;it is the mere corpse
+of itself lying prone in the dust of perishable waste things. And the
+fact that grave retribution will<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_352" id="Page_352">[Pg 352]</a></span> follow the steps of those who assist
+in bringing it to this doom cannot be doubted. Such retribution has
+then been visited heavily on over-prosperous peoples, who, misled by
+special pleaders in the cause of Materialism have set God aside out
+of their countings as a non-proven quantity. The &#8220;non-proven&#8221; has
+always proved itself with crushing swiftness and authority in the
+fall of great powers, the shaking of great thrones, and the ruin and
+degradation of great names,&mdash;while very often a calamitous climax of
+misery and disaster has befallen an entire civilization and brought it
+to utter decay. Such occurrences are traceable through all history,
+and always appear to result from the same cause,&mdash;the crushing out of
+the vital principle, the spiritual starving of the Soul of a Nation.
+Heaven has not denied or diminished its bounteous nourishment and
+blessing,&mdash;for, in our own day, the wonders of Science have opened out
+to our view such infinite reaches of the Ideal as should double and
+treble our perception of the glories yet to be unfolded to us when we
+have &#8220;shuffled off this mortal coil&#8221;&mdash;while at the same time, nothing
+in all our changing phases of progress has yet occurred to alter the
+simple and noble teaching of Christ, or to make such instruction
+otherwise than sane, pure and helpful for every man, woman and child
+ever born. Indeed, it would seem with the marvellous new penetration
+we have gained into the secrets of the earth, air and light, that the
+Infinite Creator is approaching His creature even more nearly, with
+fresh pledges of help and promise such as His Messenger brought in the
+words: &#8220;Fear not, little flock,&mdash;it is your<span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_353" id="Page_353">[Pg 353]</a></span> Father&#8217;s good pleasure to
+give you the Kingdom.&#8221; And to the Soul of the Nation that &#8220;Kingdom&#8221; is
+everything. In that kingdom it hopes to find all it has loved and lost,
+all it has striven for and failed to win, all that it has prayed for,
+wept for, worked for. Yet to-day between that aspiring Soul and its
+immortal Inheritance stand two deadly enemies,&mdash;a contentious Churchdom
+and a capitalized Press,&mdash;the one hypocrite, the other materialist.
+And the satirical demand &#8220;Do we Believe?&#8221; is but an echo of Pilate&#8217;s
+question &#8220;What is truth?&#8221;&mdash;a question immediately followed by Truth&#8217;s
+crucifixion. Nevertheless the Soul of the Nation&mdash;our nation, our
+empire&mdash;is becoming aware of its enemies. It is instinctively conscious
+of threatening evil, and is on the alert to save Itself if others
+will not save it. But its way out of the labyrinth of difficulty will
+probably be neither through Church nor Press,&mdash;nor will it be aided
+by &#8220;revival&#8221; meetings or Salvationist assemblies. Its path will be
+cloven straight,&mdash;not crookedly; for the British Nation, above all
+other nations in the world, does most easily sicken of priestly Sham
+and subsidized Journalism. And the sane, strong Soul of it&mdash;that Soul
+which in its native intrinsic virtue, is devoutly God-fearing, pure and
+true, will find means to shake off its pressing foes and stand free.
+For priestcraft and dogma are like prison chains fastened upon the
+progressive spirit of humanity, and they have nothing in common with
+the simple teaching of Christ, which is the only real Christianity.</p>
+
+<p><span class="pagenum"><a name="Page_354" id="Page_354">[Pg 354]</a></span></p>
+
+<p class="center"><span class="smcap">Butler &amp; Tanner,<br />The Selwood Printing Works,<br />Frome, and
+London.</span></p>
+
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author	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-01-22 18:47:46 -0800
committer	nfenwick <nfenwick@pglaf.org>	2025-01-22 18:47:46 -0800
commit	b11ec022355b01d7aaaa96bd903a963a442cd6bd (patch)
tree	feeadde76411e694c8fcf20dc924df0364e12c9b