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diff --git a/old/2015.txt b/old/2015.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..15c3336 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2015.txt @@ -0,0 +1,5310 @@ +The Project Gutenberg EBook of A Miscellany of Men, by G. K. Chesterton + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost +no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use +it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this +eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: A Miscellany of Men + +Author: G. K. Chesterton + +Release Date: November 5, 2008 [EBook #2015] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK A MISCELLANY OF MEN *** + + + + +Produced by Michael Pullen, Michael K. Johnson, and Joe Moretti + + + + + + + +A MISCELLANY OF MEN + +By G. K. Chesterton + + + +Contents + + THE SUFFRAGIST + + THE POET AND THE CHEESE + + THE THING + + THE MAN WHO THINKS BACKWARDS + + THE NAMELESS MAN + + THE GARDENER AND THE GUINEA + + THE VOTER AND THE TWO VOICES + + THE MAD OFFICIAL + + THE ENCHANTED MAN + + THE SUN WORSHIPPER + + THE WRONG INCENDIARY + + THE FREE MAN + + THE HYPOTHETICAL HOUSEHOLDER + + THE PRIEST OF SPRING + + THE REAL JOURNALIST + + THE SENTIMENTAL SCOT + + THE SECTARIAN OF SOCIETY + + THE FOOL + + THE CONSCRIPT AND THE CRISIS + + THE MISER AND HIS FRIENDS + + THE MYSTAGOGUE + + THE RED REACTIONARY + + THE SEPARATIST AND SACRED THINGS + + THE MUMMER + + THE ARISTOCRATIC 'ARRY + + THE NEW THEOLOGIAN + + THE ROMANTIC IN THE RAIN + + THE FALSE PHOTOGRAPHER + + THE SULTAN + + THE ARCHITECT OF SPEARS + + THE MAN ON TOP + + THE OTHER KIND OF MAN + + THE MEDIAEVAL VILLAIN + + THE DIVINE DETECTIVE + + THE ELF OF JAPAN + + THE CHARTERED LIBERTINE + + THE CONTENTED MAN + + THE ANGRY AUTHOR: HIS FAREWELL + + + + +THE SUFFRAGIST + +Rightly or wrongly, it is certain that a man both liberal and chivalric, +can and very often does feel a dis-ease and distrust touching +those political women we call Suffragettes. Like most other popular +sentiments, it is generally wrongly stated even when it is rightly felt. +One part of it can be put most shortly thus: that when a woman puts up +her fists to a man she is putting herself in the only posture in which +he is not afraid of her. He can be afraid of her speech and still more +of her silence; but force reminds him of a rusted but very real weapon +of which he has grown ashamed. But these crude summaries are never quite +accurate in any matter of the instincts. For the things which are the +simplest so long as they are undisputed invariably become the subtlest +when once they are disputed: which was what Joubert meant, I suppose, +when he said, "It is not hard to believe in God if one does not define +Him." When the evil instincts of old Foulon made him say of the poor, +"Let them eat grass," the good and Christian instincts of the poor +made them hang him on a lamppost with his mouth stuffed full of that +vegetation. But if a modern vegetarian aristocrat were to say to the +poor, "But why don't you like grass?" their intelligences would be much +more taxed to find such an appropriate repartee. And this matter of the +functions of the sexes is primarily a matter of the instincts; sex and +breathing are about the only two things that generally work best +when they are least worried about. That, I suppose, is why the same +sophisticated age that has poisoned the world with Feminism is also +polluting it with Breathing Exercises. We plunge at once into a forest +of false analogies and bad blundering history; while almost any man or +woman left to themselves would know at least that sex is quite different +from anything else in the world. + +There is no kind of comparison possible between a quarrel of man and +woman (however right the woman may be) and the other quarrels of slave +and master, of rich and poor, or of patriot and invader, with which the +Suffragists deluge us every day. The difference is as plain as noon; +these other alien groups never came into contact until they came into +collision. Races and ranks began with battle, even if they afterwards +melted into amity. But the very first fact about the sexes is that they +like each other. They seek each other: and awful as are the sins and +sorrows that often come of their mating, it was not such things that +made them meet. It is utterly astounding to note the way in which modern +writers and talkers miss this plain, wide, and overwhelming fact: one +would suppose woman a victim and nothing else. By this account ideal, +emancipated woman has, age after age, been knocked silly with a stone +axe. But really there is no fact to show that ideal, emancipated woman +was ever knocked silly; except the fact that she is silly. And that +might have arisen in so many other ways. Real responsible woman has +never been silly; and any one wishing to knock her would be wise (like +the streetboys) to knock and run away. It is ultimately idiotic to +compare this prehistoric participation with any royalties or rebellions. +Genuine royalties wish to crush rebellions. Genuine rebels wish to +destroy kings. The sexes cannot wish to abolish each other; and if we +allow them any sort of permanent opposition it will sink into something +as base as a party system. + +As marriage, therefore, is rooted in an aboriginal unity of instincts, +you cannot compare it, even in its quarrels, with any of the mere +collisions of separate institutions. You could compare it with the +emancipation of negroes from planters—if it were true that a white +man in early youth always dreamed of the abstract beauty of a black +man. You could compare it with the revolt of tenants against a +landlord—if it were true that young landlords wrote sonnets to +invisible tenants. You could compare it to the fighting policy of the +Fenians—if it were true that every normal Irishman wanted an +Englishman to come and live with him. But as we know there are no +instincts in any of these directions, these analogies are not only +false but false on the cardinal fact. I do not speak of the comparative +comfort or merit of these different things: I say they are different. It +may be that love turned to hate is terribly common in sexual matters: it +may be that hate turned to love is not uncommon in the rivalries of race +or class. But any philosophy about the sexes that begins with anything +but the mutual attraction of the sexes, begins with a fallacy; and all +its historical comparisons are as irrelevant and impertinent as puns. + +But to expose such cold negation of the instincts is easy: to express +or even half express the instincts is very hard. The instincts are very +much concerned with what literary people call "style" in letters or more +vulgar people call "style" in dress. They are much concerned with how +a thing is done, as well as whether one may do it: and the deepest +elements in their attraction or aversion can often only be conveyed +by stray examples or sudden images. When Danton was defending himself +before the Jacobin tribunal he spoke so loud that his voice was heard +across the Seine, in quite remote streets on the other side of the +river. He must have bellowed like a bull of Bashan. Yet none of us would +think of that prodigy except as something poetical and appropriate. None +of us would instinctively feel that Danton was less of a man or even +less of a gentleman, for speaking so in such an hour. But suppose we +heard that Marie Antoinette, when tried before the same tribunal, +had howled so that she could be heard in the Faubourg St. +Germain—well, I leave it to the instincts, if there are any left. +It is not wrong to howl. Neither is it right. It is simply a question +of the instant impression on the artistic and even animal parts of +humanity, if the noise were heard suddenly like a gun. + +Perhaps the nearest verbal analysis of the instinct may be found in +the gestures of the orator addressing a crowd. For the true orator must +always be a demagogue: even if the mob be a small mob, like the French +committee or the English House of Lords. And "demagogue," in the good +Greek meaning, does not mean one who pleases the populace, but one who +leads it: and if you will notice, you will see that all the instinctive +gestures of oratory are gestures of military leadership; pointing the +people to a path or waving them on to an advance. Notice that long +sweep of the arm across the body and outward, which great orators use +naturally and cheap orators artificially. It is almost the exact gesture +of the drawing of a sword. + +The point is not that women are unworthy of votes; it is not even that +votes are unworthy of women. It is that votes are unworthy of men, so +long as they are merely votes; and have nothing in them of this ancient +militarism of democracy. The only crowd worth talking to is the crowd +that is ready to go somewhere and do something; the only demagogue worth +hearing is he who can point at something to be done: and, if he points +with a sword, will only feel it familiar and useful like an elongated +finger. Now, except in some mystical exceptions which prove the rule, +these are not the gestures, and therefore not the instincts, of women. +No honest man dislikes the public woman. He can only dislike the +political woman; an entirely different thing. The instinct has nothing +to do with any desire to keep women curtained or captive: if such a +desire exists. A husband would be pleased if his wife wore a gold crown +and proclaimed laws from a throne of marble; or if she uttered oracles +from the tripod of a priestess; or if she could walk in mystical +motherhood before the procession of some great religious order. But that +she should stand on a platform in the exact altitude in which he stands; +leaning forward a little more than is graceful and holding her mouth +open a little longer and wider than is dignified—well, I only +write here of the facts of natural history; and the fact is that it is +this, and not publicity or importance, that hurts. It is for the modern +world to judge whether such instincts are indeed danger signals; and +whether the hurting of moral as of material nerves is a tocsin and a +warning of nature. + + + + +THE POET AND THE CHEESE + +There is something creepy in the flat Eastern Counties; a brush of the +white feather. There is a stillness, which is rather of the mind than of +the bodily senses. Rapid changes and sudden revelations of scenery, even +when they are soundless, have something in them analogous to a movement +of music, to a crash or a cry. Mountain hamlets spring out on us with +a shout like mountain brigands. Comfortable valleys accept us with open +arms and warm words, like comfortable innkeepers. But travelling in the +great level lands has a curiously still and lonely quality; lonely even +when there are plenty of people on the road and in the market-place. +One's voice seems to break an almost elvish silence, and something +unreasonably weird in the phrase of the nursery tales, "And he went a +little farther and came to another place," comes back into the mind. + +In some such mood I came along a lean, pale road south of the fens, and +found myself in a large, quiet, and seemingly forgotten village. It was +one of those places that instantly produce a frame of mind which, it may +be, one afterwards decks out with unreal details. I dare say that grass +did not really grow in the streets, but I came away with a curious +impression that it did. I dare say the marketplace was not literally +lonely and without sign of life, but it left the vague impression of +being so. The place was large and even loose in design, yet it had the +air of something hidden away and always overlooked. It seemed shy, like +a big yokel; the low roofs seemed to be ducking behind the hedges and +railings; and the chimneys holding their breath. I came into it in that +dead hour of the afternoon which is neither after lunch nor before tea, +nor anything else even on a half-holiday; and I had a fantastic feeling +that I had strayed into a lost and extra hour that is not numbered in +the twenty-four. + +I entered an inn which stood openly in the market-place yet was almost +as private as a private house. Those who talk of "public-houses" as if +they were all one problem would have been both puzzled and pleased with +such a place. In the front window a stout old lady in black with an +elaborate cap sat doing a large piece of needlework. She had a kind of +comfortable Puritanism about her; and might have been (perhaps she was) +the original Mrs. Grundy. A little more withdrawn into the parlour sat +a tall, strong, and serious girl, with a face of beautiful honesty and +a pair of scissors stuck in her belt, doing a small piece of needlework. +Two feet behind them sat a hulking labourer with a humorous face like +wood painted scarlet, with a huge mug of mild beer which he had not +touched, and probably would not touch for hours. On the hearthrug there +was an equally motionless cat; and on the table a copy of 'Household +Words'. + +I was conscious of some atmosphere, still and yet bracing, that I had +met somewhere in literature. There was poetry in it as well as piety; +and yet it was not poetry after my particular taste. It was somehow at +once solid and airy. Then I remembered that it was the atmosphere in +some of Wordsworth's rural poems; which are full of genuine freshness +and wonder, and yet are in some incurable way commonplace. This was +curious; for Wordsworth's men were of the rocks and fells, and not of +the fenlands or flats. But perhaps it is the clearness of still water +and the mirrored skies of meres and pools that produces this crystalline +virtue. Perhaps that is why Wordsworth is called a Lake Poet instead +of a mountain poet. Perhaps it is the water that does it. Certainly the +whole of that town was like a cup of water given at morning. + +After a few sentences exchanged at long intervals in the manner of +rustic courtesy, I inquired casually what was the name of the town. The +old lady answered that its name was Stilton, and composedly continued +her needlework. But I had paused with my mug in air, and was gazing at +her with a suddenly arrested concern. "I suppose," I said, "that it has +nothing to do with the cheese of that name." "Oh, yes," she answered, +with a staggering indifference, "they used to make it here." + +I put down my mug with a gravity far greater than her own. "But this +place is a Shrine!" I said. "Pilgrims should be pouring into it from +wherever the English legend has endured alive. There ought to be a +colossal statue in the market-place of the man who invented Stilton +cheese. There ought to be another colossal statue of the first cow who +provided the foundations of it. There should be a burnished tablet let +into the ground on the spot where some courageous man first ate Stilton +cheese, and survived. On the top of a neighbouring hill (if there +are any neighbouring hills) there should be a huge model of a Stilton +cheese, made of some rich green marble and engraven with some haughty +motto: I suggest something like 'Ver non semper viret; sed Stiltonia +semper virescit.'" The old lady said, "Yes, sir," and continued her +domestic occupations. + +After a strained and emotional silence, I said, "If I take a meal here +tonight can you give me any Stilton?" + +"No, sir; I'm afraid we haven't got any Stilton," said the immovable +one, speaking as if it were something thousands of miles away. + +"This is awful," I said: for it seemed to me a strange allegory of +England as she is now; this little town that had lost its glory; and +forgotten, so to speak, the meaning of its own name. And I thought it +yet more symbolic because from all that old and full and virile life, +the great cheese was gone; and only the beer remained. And even that +will be stolen by the Liberals or adulterated by the Conservatives. +Politely disengaging myself, I made my way as quickly as possible to +the nearest large, noisy, and nasty town in that neighbourhood, where I +sought out the nearest vulgar, tawdry, and avaricious restaurant. + +There (after trifling with beef, mutton, puddings, pies, and so on) I +got a Stilton cheese. I was so much moved by my memories that I wrote +a sonnet to the cheese. Some critical friends have hinted to me that my +sonnet is not strictly new; that it contains "echoes" (as they express +it) of some other poem that they have read somewhere. Here, at least, +are the lines I wrote: + + SONNET TO A STILTON CHEESE + + Stilton, thou shouldst be living at this hour + And so thou art. Nor losest grace thereby; + England has need of thee, and so have I— + She is a Fen. Far as the eye can scour, + League after grassy league from Lincoln tower + To Stilton in the fields, she is a Fen. + Yet this high cheese, by choice of fenland men, + Like a tall green volcano rose in power. + + Plain living and long drinking are no more, + And pure religion reading 'Household Words', + And sturdy manhood sitting still all day + Shrink, like this cheese that crumbles to its core; + While my digestion, like the House of Lords, + The heaviest burdens on herself doth lay. + +I confess I feel myself as if some literary influence, something that +has haunted me, were present in this otherwise original poem; but it is +hopeless to disentangle it now. + + + + +THE THING + +The wind awoke last night with so noble a violence that it was like +the war in heaven; and I thought for a moment that the Thing had broken +free. For wind never seems like empty air. Wind always sounds full and +physical, like the big body of something; and I fancied that the Thing +itself was walking gigantic along the great roads between the forests of +beech. + +Let me explain. The vitality and recurrent victory of Christendom have +been due to the power of the Thing to break out from time to time from +its enveloping words and symbols. Without this power all civilisations +tend to perish under a load of language and ritual. One instance of this +we hear much in modern discussion: the separation of the form from the +spirit of religion. But we hear too little of numberless other cases of +the same stiffening and falsification; we are far too seldom reminded +that just as church-going is not religion, so reading and writing are +not knowledge, and voting is not self-government. It would be easy to +find people in the big cities who can read and write quickly enough to +be clerks, but who are actually ignorant of the daily movements of the +sun and moon. + +The case of self-government is even more curious, especially as one +watches it for the first time in a country district. Self-government +arose among men (probably among the primitive men, certainly among the +ancients) out of an idea which seems now too simple to be understood. +The notion of self-government was not (as many modern friends and foes +of it seem to think) the notion that the ordinary citizen is to be +consulted as one consults an Encyclopaedia. He is not there to be asked +a lot of fancy questions, to see how he answers them. He and his fellows +are to be, within reasonable human limits, masters of their own lives. +They shall decide whether they shall be men of the oar or the wheel, of +the spade or the spear. The men of the valley shall settle whether the +valley shall be devastated for coal or covered with corn and vines; the +men of the town shall decide whether it shall be hoary with thatches or +splendid with spires. Of their own nature and instinct they shall gather +under a patriarchal chief or debate in a political market-place. And in +case the word "man" be misunderstood, I may remark that in this moral +atmosphere, this original soul of self-government, the women always have +quite as much influence as the men. But in modern England neither the +men nor the women have any influence at all. In this primary matter, the +moulding of the landscape, the creation of a mode of life, the people +are utterly impotent. They stand and stare at imperial and economic +processes going on, as they might stare at the Lord Mayor's Show. + +Round about where I live, for instance, two changes are taking place +which really affect the land and all things that live on it, whether for +good or evil. The first is that the urban civilisation (or whatever +it is) is advancing; that the clerks come out in black swarms and the +villas advance in red battalions. The other is that the vast estates +into which England has long been divided are passing out of the hands +of the English gentry into the hands of men who are always upstarts and +often actually foreigners. + +Now, these are just the sort of things with which self-government was +really supposed to grapple. People were supposed to be able to indicate +whether they wished to live in town or country, to be represented by a +gentleman or a cad. I do not presume to prejudge their decision; perhaps +they would prefer the cad; perhaps he is really preferable. I say that +the filling of a man's native sky with smoke or the selling of his roof +over his head illustrate the sort of things he ought to have some say +in, if he is supposed to be governing himself. But owing to the strange +trend of recent society, these enormous earthquakes he has to pass over +and treat as private trivialities. In theory the building of a villa +is as incidental as the buying of a hat. In reality it is as if all +Lancashire were laid waste for deer forests; or as if all Belgium +were flooded by the sea. In theory the sale of a squire's land to a +moneylender is a minor and exceptional necessity. In reality it is a +thing like a German invasion. Sometimes it is a German invasion. + +Upon this helpless populace, gazing at these prodigies and fates, comes +round about every five years a thing called a General Election. It +is believed by antiquarians to be the remains of some system of +self-government; but it consists solely in asking the citizen questions +about everything except what he understands. The examination paper of +the Election generally consists of some such queries as these: "I. Are +the green biscuits eaten by the peasants of Eastern Lithuania in your +opinion fit for human food? II. Are the religious professions of the +President of the Orange Free State hypocritical or sincere? III. Do you +think that the savages in Prusso-Portuguese East Bunyipland are as happy +and hygienic as the fortunate savages in Franco-British West Bunyipland? +IV. Did the lost Latin Charter said to have been exacted from Henry III +reserve the right of the Crown to create peers? V. What do you think of +what America thinks of what Mr. Roosevelt thinks of what Sir Eldon Gorst +thinks of the state of the Nile? VI. Detect some difference between the +two persons in frock-coats placed before you at this election." + +Now, it never was supposed in any natural theory of self-government that +the ordinary man in my neighbourhood need answer fantastic questions +like these. He is a citizen of South Bucks, not an editor of 'Notes and +Queries'. He would be, I seriously believe, the best judge of whether +farmsteads or factory chimneys should adorn his own sky-line, of whether +stupid squires or clever usurers should govern his own village. But +these are precisely the things which the oligarchs will not allow him to +touch with his finger. Instead, they allow him an Imperial destiny and +divine mission to alter, under their guidance, all the things that he +knows nothing about. The name of self-government is noisy everywhere: +the Thing is throttled. + +The wind sang and split the sky like thunder all the night through; +in scraps of sleep it filled my dreams with the divine discordances +of martyrdom and revolt; I heard the horn of Roland and the drums of +Napoleon and all the tongues of terror with which the Thing has gone +forth: the spirit of our race alive. But when I came down in the morning +only a branch or two was broken off the tree in my garden; and none of +the great country houses in the neighbourhood were blown down, as would +have happened if the Thing had really been abroad. + + + + +THE MAN WHO THINKS BACKWARDS + +The man who thinks backwards is a very powerful person to-day: indeed, +if he is not omnipotent, he is at least omnipresent. It is he who writes +nearly all the learned books and articles, especially of the scientific +or skeptical sort; all the articles on Eugenics and Social Evolution +and Prison Reform and the Higher Criticism and all the rest of it. But +especially it is this strange and tortuous being who does most of the +writing about female emancipation and the reconsidering of marriage. For +the man who thinks backwards is very frequently a woman. + +Thinking backwards is not quite easy to define abstractedly; and, +perhaps, the simplest method is to take some object, as plain as +possible, and from it illustrate the two modes of thought: the right +mode in which all real results have been rooted; the wrong mode, which +is confusing all our current discussions, especially our discussions +about the relations of the sexes. Casting my eye round the room, I +notice an object which is often mentioned in the higher and subtler of +these debates about the sexes: I mean a poker. I will take a poker and +think about it; first forwards and then backwards; and so, perhaps, show +what I mean. + +The sage desiring to think well and wisely about a poker will begin +somewhat as follows: Among the live creatures that crawl about this star +the queerest is the thing called Man. This plucked and plumeless bird, +comic and forlorn, is the butt of all the philosophies. He is the only +naked animal; and this quality, once, it is said, his glory, is now his +shame. He has to go outside himself for everything that he wants. He +might almost be considered as an absent-minded person who had gone +bathing and left his clothes everywhere, so that he has hung his hat +upon the beaver and his coat upon the sheep. The rabbit has white warmth +for a waistcoat, and the glow-worm has a lantern for a head. But man has +no heat in his hide, and the light in his body is darkness; and he must +look for light and warmth in the wild, cold universe in which he is +cast. This is equally true of his soul and of his body; he is the one +creature that has lost his heart as much as he has lost his hide. In a +spiritual sense he has taken leave of his senses; and even in a literal +sense he has been unable to keep his hair on. And just as this external +need of his has lit in his dark brain the dreadful star called religion, +so it has lit in his hand the only adequate symbol of it: I mean the red +flower called Fire. Fire, the most magic and startling of all material +things, is a thing known only to man and the expression of his sublime +externalism. It embodies all that is human in his hearths and all that +is divine on his altars. It is the most human thing in the world; seen +across wastes of marsh or medleys of forest, it is veritably the purple +and golden flag of the sons of Eve. But there is about this generous and +rejoicing thing an alien and awful quality: the quality of torture. Its +presence is life; its touch is death. Therefore, it is always necessary +to have an intermediary between ourselves and this dreadful deity; to +have a priest to intercede for us with the god of life and death; to +send an ambassador to the fire. That priest is the poker. Made of +a material more merciless and warlike than the other instruments of +domesticity, hammered on the anvil and born itself in the flame, the +poker is strong enough to enter the burning fiery furnace, and, like +the holy children, not be consumed. In this heroic service it is often +battered and twisted, but is the more honourable for it, like any other +soldier who has been under fire. + +Now all this may sound very fanciful and mystical, but it is the right +view of pokers, and no one who takes it will ever go in for any wrong +view of pokers, such as using them to beat one's wife or torture one's +children, or even (though that is more excusable) to make a policeman +jump, as the clown does in the pantomime. He who has thus gone back to +the beginning, and seen everything as quaint and new, will always see +things in their right order, the one depending on the other in degree of +purpose and importance: the poker for the fire and the fire for the man +and the man for the glory of God. + +This is thinking forwards. Now our modern discussions about everything, +Imperialism, Socialism, or Votes for Women, are all entangled in +an opposite train of thought, which runs as follows:—A modern +intellectual comes in and sees a poker. He is a positivist; he will not +begin with any dogmas about the nature of man, or any day-dreams about +the mystery of fire. He will begin with what he can see, the poker; and +the first thing he sees about the poker is that it is crooked. He says, +"Poor poker; it's crooked." Then he asks how it came to be crooked; and +is told that there is a thing in the world (with which his temperament +has hitherto left him unacquainted)—a thing called fire. He points +out, very kindly and clearly, how silly it is of people, if they want +a straight poker, to put it into a chemical combustion which will very +probably heat and warp it. "Let us abolish fire," he says, "and then +we shall have perfectly straight pokers. Why should you want a fire +at all?" They explain to him that a creature called Man wants a fire, +because he has no fur or feathers. He gazes dreamily at the embers for +a few seconds, and then shakes his head. "I doubt if such an animal is +worth preserving," he says. "He must eventually go under in the cosmic +struggle when pitted against well-armoured and warmly protected species, +who have wings and trunks and spires and scales and horns and shaggy +hair. If Man cannot live without these luxuries, you had better abolish +Man." At this point, as a rule, the crowd is convinced; it heaves up all +its clubs and axes, and abolishes him. At least, one of him. + +Before we begin discussing our various new plans for the people's +welfare, let us make a kind of agreement that we will argue in a +straightforward way, and not in a tail-foremost way. The typical modern +movements may be right; but let them be defended because they are right, +not because they are typical modern movements. Let us begin with the +actual woman or man in the street, who is cold; like mankind before the +finding of fire. Do not let us begin with the end of the last red-hot +discussion—like the end of a red hot poker. Imperialism may be +right. But if it is right, it is right because England has some divine +authority like Israel, or some human authority like Rome; not because we +have saddled ourselves with South Africa, and don't know how to get rid +of it. Socialism may be true. But if it is true, it is true because the +tribe or the city can really declare all land to be common land, not +because Harrod's Stores exist and the commonwealth must copy them. +Female suffrage may be just. But if it is just, it is just because women +are women, not because women are sweated workers and white slaves and +all sorts of things that they ought never to have been. Let not the +Imperialist accept a colony because it is there, nor the Suffragist +seize a vote because it is lying about, nor the Socialist buy up an +industry merely because it is for sale. + +Let us ask ourselves first what we really do want, not what recent legal +decisions have told us to want, or recent logical philosophies proved +that we must want, or recent social prophecies predicted that we shall +some day want. If there must be a British Empire, let it be British, and +not, in mere panic, American or Prussian. If there ought to be female +suffrage, let it be female, and not a mere imitation as coarse as +the male blackguard or as dull as the male clerk. If there is to be +Socialism, let it be social; that is, as different as possible from all +the big commercial departments of to-day. The really good journeyman +tailor does not cut his coat according to his cloth; he asks for more +cloth. The really practical statesman does not fit himself to existing +conditions, he denounces the conditions as unfit. History is like some +deeply planted tree which, though gigantic in girth, tapers away at +last into tiny twigs; and we are in the topmost branches. Each of us is +trying to bend the tree by a twig: to alter England through a distant +colony, or to capture the State through a small State department, or to +destroy all voting through a vote. In all such bewilderment he is wise +who resists this temptation of trivial triumph or surrender, and happy +(in an echo of the Roman poet) who remembers the roots of things. + + + + +THE NAMELESS MAN + +There are only two forms of government the monarchy or personal +government, and the republic or impersonal government. England is not a +government; England is an anarchy, because there are so many kings. +But there is one real advantage (among many real disadvantages) in the +method of abstract democracy, and that is this: that under impersonal +government politics are so much more personal. In France and America, +where the State is an abstraction, political argument is quite full +of human details—some might even say of inhuman details. But in +England, precisely because we are ruled by personages, these personages +do not permit personalities. In England names are honoured, and +therefore names are suppressed. But in the republics, in France +especially, a man can put his enemies' names into his article and his +own name at the end of it. + +This is the essential condition of such candour. If we merely made our +anonymous articles more violent, we should be baser than we are now. We +should only be arming masked men with daggers instead of cudgels. And I, +for one, have always believed in the more general signing of articles, +and have signed my own articles on many occasions when, heaven knows, +I had little reason to be vain of them. I have heard many arguments for +anonymity; but they all seem to amount to the statement that anonymity +is safe, which is just what I complain of. In matters of truth the fact +that you don't want to publish something is, nine times out of ten, a +proof that you ought to publish it. + +But there is one answer to my perpetual plea for a man putting his name +to his writing. There is one answer, and there is only one answer, and +it is never given. It is that in the modern complexity very often a +man's name is almost as false as his pseudonym. The prominent person +today is eternally trying to lose a name, and to get a title. For +instance, we all read with earnestness and patience the pages of the +'Daily Mail', and there are times when we feel moved to cry, "Bring to +us the man who thought these strange thoughts! Pursue him, capture +him, take great care of him. Bring him back to us tenderly, like some +precious bale of silk, that we may look upon the face of the man who +desires such things to be printed. Let us know his name; his social +and medical pedigree." But in the modern muddle (it might be said) +how little should we gain if those frankly fatuous sheets were indeed +subscribed by the man who had inspired them. Suppose that after every +article stating that the Premier is a piratical Socialist there were +printed the simple word "Northcliffe." What does that simple word +suggest to the simple soul? To my simple soul (uninstructed otherwise) +it suggests a lofty and lonely crag somewhere in the wintry seas towards +the Orkheys or Norway; and barely clinging to the top of this crag the +fortress of some forgotten chieftain. As it happens, of course, I +know that the word does not mean this; it means another Fleet Street +journalist like myself or only different from myself in so far as he has +sought to secure money while I have sought to secure a jolly time. + +A title does not now even serve as a distinction: it does not +distinguish. A coronet is not merely an extinguisher: it is a +hiding-place. + +But the really odd thing is this. This false quality in titles does not +merely apply to the new and vulgar titles, but to the old and historic +titles also. For hundreds of years titles in England have been +essentially unmeaning; void of that very weak and very human instinct in +which titles originated. In essential nonsense of application there is +nothing to choose between Northcliffe and Norfolk. The Duke of Norfolk +means (as my exquisite and laborious knowledge of Latin informs me) the +Leader of Norfolk. It is idle to talk against representative government +or for it. All government is representative government until it begins +to decay. Unfortunately (as is also evident) all government begins to +decay the instant it begins to govern. All aristocrats were first meant +as envoys of democracy; and most envoys of democracy lose no time in +becoming aristocrats. By the old essential human notion, the Duke of +Norfolk ought simply to be the first or most manifest of Norfolk men. + +I see growing and filling out before me the image of an actual Duke of +Norfolk. For instance, Norfolk men all make their voices run up very +high at the end of a sentence. The Duke of Norfolk's voice, therefore, +ought to end in a perfect shriek. They often (I am told) end sentences +with the word "together"; entirely irrespective of its meaning. Thus +I shall expect the Duke of Norfolk to say: "I beg to second the motion +together"; or "This is a great constitutional question together." I +shall expect him to know much about the Broads and the sluggish rivers +above them; to know about the shooting of water-fowl, and not to +know too much about anything else. Of mountains he must be wildly and +ludicrously ignorant. He must have the freshness of Norfolk; nay, even +the flatness of Norfolk. He must remind me of the watery expanses, the +great square church towers and the long level sunsets of East England. +If he does not do this, I decline to know him. + +I need not multiply such cases; the principle applies everywhere. Thus I +lose all interest in the Duke of Devonshire unless he can assure me that +his soul is filled with that strange warm Puritanism, Puritanism shot +with romance, which colours the West Country. He must eat nothing but +clotted cream, drink nothing but cider, reading nothing but 'Lorna +Doone', and be unacquainted with any town larger than Plymouth, which he +must regard with some awe, as the Central Babylon of the world. Again, I +should expect the Prince of Wales always to be full of the mysticism and +dreamy ardour of the Celtic fringe. + +Perhaps it may be thought that these demands are a little extreme; and +that our fancy is running away with us. Nevertheless, it is not my Duke +of Devonshire who is funny; but the real Duke of Devonshire. The point +is that the scheme of titles is a misfit throughout: hardly anywhere do +we find a modern man whose name and rank represent in any way his type, +his locality, or his mode of life. As a mere matter of social comedy, +the thing is worth noticing. You will meet a man whose name suggests a +gouty admiral, and you will find him exactly like a timid organist: +you will hear announced the name of a haughty and almost heathen grande +dame, and behold the entrance of a nice, smiling Christian cook. These +are light complications of the central fact of the falsification of all +names and ranks. Our peers are like a party of mediaeval knights who +should have exchanged shields, crests, and pennons. For the present rule +seems to be that the Duke of Sussex may lawfully own the whole of Essex; +and that the Marquis of Cornwall may own all the hills and valleys so +long as they are not Cornish. + +The clue to all this tangle is as simple as it is terrible. If England +is an aristocracy, England is dying. If this system IS the country, +as some say, the country is stiffening into more than the pomp and +paralysis of China. It is the final sign of imbecility in a people that +it calls cats dogs and describes the sun as the moon—and is very +particular about the preciseness of these pseudonyms. To be wrong, and +to be carefully wrong, that is the definition of decadence. The disease +called aphasia, in which people begin by saying tea when they mean +coffee, commonly ends in their silence. Silence of this stiff sort is +the chief mark of the powerful parts of modern society. They all seem +straining to keep things in rather than to let things out. For the kings +of finance speechlessness is counted a way of being strong, though it +should rather be counted a way of being sly. By this time the Parliament +does not parley any more than the Speaker speaks. Even the newspaper +editors and proprietors are more despotic and dangerous by what they do +not utter than by what they do. We have all heard the expression "golden +silence." The expression "brazen silence" is the only adequate phrase +for our editors. If we wake out of this throttled, gaping, and wordless +nightmare, we must awake with a yell. The Revolution that releases +England from the fixed falsity of its present position will be not less +noisy than other revolutions. It will contain, I fear, a great deal of +that rude accomplishment described among little boys as "calling names"; +but that will not matter much so long as they are the right names. + + + + +THE GARDENER AND THE GUINEA + +Strictly speaking, there is no such thing as an English Peasant. +Indeed, the type can only exist in community, so much does it depend on +cooperation and common laws. One must not think primarily of a French +Peasant; any more than of a German Measle. The plural of the word is its +proper form; you cannot have a Peasant till you have a peasantry. The +essence of the Peasant ideal is equality; and you cannot be equal all by +yourself. + +Nevertheless, because human nature always craves and half creates +the things necessary to its happiness, there are approximations and +suggestions of the possibility of such a race even here. The nearest +approach I know to the temper of a Peasant in England is that of the +country gardener; not, of course, the great scientific gardener attached +to the great houses; he is a rich man's servant like any other. I mean +the small jobbing gardener who works for two or three moderate-sized +gardens; who works on his own; who sometimes even owns his house; and +who frequently owns his tools. This kind of man has really some of the +characteristics of the true Peasant—especially the characteristics +that people don't like. He has none of that irresponsible mirth which +is the consolation of most poor men in England. The gardener is even +disliked sometimes by the owners of the shrubs and flowers; because +(like Micaiah) he prophesies not good concerning them, but evil. The +English gardener is grim, critical, self-respecting; sometimes even +economical. Nor is this (as the reader's lightning wit will flash back +at me) merely because the English gardener is always a Scotch gardener. +The type does exist in pure South England blood and speech; I have +spoken to the type. I was speaking to the type only the other evening, +when a rather odd little incident occurred. + +It was one of those wonderful evenings in which the sky was warm and +radiant while the earth was still comparatively cold and wet. But it +is of the essence of Spring to be unexpected; as in that heroic and +hackneyed line about coming "before the swallow dares." Spring never is +Spring unless it comes too soon. And on a day like that one might pray, +without any profanity, that Spring might come on earth as it was in +heaven. The gardener was gardening. I was not gardening. It is needless +to explain the causes of this difference; it would be to tell the +tremendous history of two souls. It is needless because there is a more +immediate explanation of the case: the gardener and I, if not equal in +agreement, were at least equal in difference. It is quite certain that +he would not have allowed me to touch the garden if I had gone down +on my knees to him. And it is by no means certain that I should have +consented to touch the garden if he had gone down on his knees to me. +His activity and my idleness, therefore, went on steadily side by side +through the long sunset hours. + +And all the time I was thinking what a shame it was that he was not +sticking his spade into his own garden, instead of mine: he knew about +the earth and the underworld of seeds, the resurrection of Spring and +the flowers that appear in order like a procession marshalled by a +herald. He possessed the garden intellectually and spiritually, while +I only possessed it politically. I know more about flowers than +coal-owners know about coal; for at least I pay them honour when they +are brought above the surface of the earth. I know more about gardens +than railway shareholders seem to know about railways: for at least I +know that it needs a man to make a garden; a man whose name is Adam. But +as I walked on that grass my ignorance overwhelmed me—and yet that +phrase is false, because it suggests something like a storm from the sky +above. It is truer to say that my ignorance exploded underneath me, like +a mine dug long before; and indeed it was dug before the beginning of +the ages. Green bombs of bulbs and seeds were bursting underneath me +everywhere; and, so far as my knowledge went, they had been laid by +a conspirator. I trod quite uneasily on this uprush of the earth; the +Spring is always only a fruitful earthquake. With the land all alive +under me I began to wonder more and more why this man, who had made the +garden, did not own the garden. If I stuck a spade into the ground, I +should be astonished at what I found there...and just as I thought this +I saw that the gardener was astonished too. + +Just as I was wondering why the man who used the spade did not profit by +the spade, he brought me something he had found actually in my soil. It +was a thin worn gold piece of the Georges, of the sort which are called, +I believe, Spade Guineas. Anyhow, a piece of gold. + +If you do not see the parable as I saw it just then, I doubt if I can +explain it just now. He could make a hundred other round yellow fruits: +and this flat yellow one is the only sort that I can make. How it came +there I have not a notion—unless Edmund Burke dropped it in his +hurry to get back to Butler's Court. But there it was: this is a cold +recital of facts. There may be a whole pirate's treasure lying under +the earth there, for all I know or care; for there is no interest in a +treasure without a Treasure Island to sail to. If there is a treasure it +will never be found, for I am not interested in wealth beyond the dreams +of avarice since I know that avarice has no dreams, but only insomnia. +And, for the other party, my gardener would never consent to dig up the +garden. + +Nevertheless, I was overwhelmed with intellectual emotions when I saw +that answer to my question; the question of why the garden did not +belong to the gardener. No better epigram could be put in reply than +simply putting the Spade Guinea beside the Spade. This was the only +underground seed that I could understand. Only by having a little more +of that dull, battered yellow substance could I manage to be idle while +he was active. I am not altogether idle myself; but the fact remains +that the power is in the thin slip of metal we call the Spade Guinea, +not in the strong square and curve of metal which we call the Spade. +And then I suddenly remembered that as I had found gold on my ground by +accident, so richer men in the north and west counties had found coal in +their ground, also by accident. + +I told the gardener that as he had found the thing he ought to keep it, +but that if he cared to sell it to me it could be valued properly, and +then sold. He said at first, with characteristic independence, that he +would like to keep it. He said it would make a brooch for his wife. But +a little later he brought it back to me without explanation. I could not +get a ray of light on the reason of his refusal; but he looked lowering +and unhappy. Had he some mystical instinct that it is just such +accidental and irrational wealth that is the doom of all peasantries? +Perhaps he dimly felt that the boy's pirate tales are true; and that +buried treasure is a thing for robbers and not for producers. Perhaps +he thought there was a curse on such capital: on the coal of the +coal-owners, on the gold of the gold-seekers. Perhaps there is. + + + + +THE VOTER AND THE TWO VOICES + +The real evil of our Party System is commonly stated wrong. It was +stated wrong by Lord Rosebery, when he said that it prevented the best +men from devoting themselves to politics, and that it encouraged a +fanatical conflict. I doubt whether the best men ever would devote +themselves to politics. The best men devote themselves to pigs and +babies and things like that. And as for the fanatical conflict in +party politics, I wish there was more of it. The real danger of the two +parties with their two policies is that they unduly limit the outlook of +the ordinary citizen. They make him barren instead of creative, because +he is never allowed to do anything except prefer one existing policy to +another. We have not got real Democracy when the decision depends upon +the people. We shall have real Democracy when the problem depends upon +the people. The ordinary man will decide not only how he will vote, but +what he is going to vote about. + +It is this which involves some weakness in many current aspirations +towards the extension of the suffrage; I mean that, apart from all +questions of abstract justice, it is not the smallness or largeness of +the suffrage that is at present the difficulty of Democracy. It is not +the quantity of voters, but the quality of the thing they are voting +about. A certain alternative is put before them by the powerful houses +and the highest political class. Two roads are opened to them; but they +must go down one or the other. They cannot have what they choose, but +only which they choose. To follow the process in practice we may put it +thus. The Suffragettes—if one may judge by their frequent ringing +of his bell—want to do something to Mr. Asquith. I have no notion +what it is. Let us say (for the sake of argument) that they want to +paint him green. We will suppose that it is entirely for that simple +purpose that they are always seeking to have private interviews with +him; it seems as profitable as any other end that I can imagine to such +an interview. Now, it is possible that the Government of the day might +go in for a positive policy of painting Mr. Asquith green; might give +that reform a prominent place in their programme. Then the party in +opposition would adopt another policy, not a policy of leaving Mr. +Asquith alone (which would be considered dangerously revolutionary), but +some alternative course of action, as, for instance, painting him red. +Then both sides would fling themselves on the people, they would both +cry that the appeal was now to the Caesar of Democracy. A dark and +dramatic air of conflict and real crisis would arise on both sides; +arrows of satire would fly and swords of eloquence flame. The Greens +would say that Socialists and free lovers might well want to paint Mr. +Asquith red; they wanted to paint the whole town red. Socialists would +indignantly reply that Socialism was the reverse of disorder, and that +they only wanted to paint Mr. Asquith red so that he might resemble +the red pillar-boxes which typified State control. The Greens would +passionately deny the charge so often brought against them by the Reds; +they would deny that they wished Mr. Asquith green in order that he +might be invisible on the green benches of the Commons, as certain +terrified animals take the colour of their environment. + +There would be fights in the street perhaps, and abundance of ribbons, +flags, and badges, of the two colours. One crowd would sing, "Keep the +Red Flag Flying," and the other, "The Wearing of the Green." But when +the last effort had been made and the last moment come, when two +crowds were waiting in the dark outside the public building to hear the +declaration of the poll, then both sides alike would say that it was now +for democracy to do exactly what it chose. England herself, lifting her +head in awful loneliness and liberty, must speak and pronounce judgment. +Yet this might not be exactly true. England herself, lifting her head in +awful loneliness and liberty, might really wish Mr. Asquith to be pale +blue. The democracy of England in the abstract, if it had been allowed +to make up a policy for itself, might have desired him to be black +with pink spots. It might even have liked him as he is now. But a huge +apparatus of wealth, power, and printed matter has made it practically +impossible for them to bring home these other proposals, even if they +would really prefer them. No candidates will stand in the spotted +interest; for candidates commonly have to produce money either from +their own pockets or the party's; and in such circles spots are not +worn. No man in the social position of a Cabinet Minister, perhaps, +will commit himself to the pale-blue theory of Mr. Asquith; therefore it +cannot be a Government measure, therefore it cannot pass. + +Nearly all the great newspapers, both pompous and frivolous, will +declare dogmatically day after day, until every one half believes +it, that red and green are the only two colours in the paint-box. THE +OBSERVER will say: "No one who knows the solid framework of politics or +the emphatic first principles of an Imperial people can suppose for +a moment that there is any possible compromise to be made in such a +matter; we must either fulfil our manifest racial destiny and crown the +edifice of ages with the august figure of a Green Premier, or we must +abandon our heritage, break our promise to the Empire, fling ourselves +into final anarchy, and allow the flaming and demoniac image of a Red +Premier to hover over our dissolution and our doom." The DAILY MAIL +would say: "There is no halfway house in this matter; it must be green +or red. We wish to see every honest Englishman one colour or the other." +And then some funny man in the popular Press would star the sentence +with a pun, and say that the DAILY MAIL liked its readers to be green +and its paper to be read. But no one would even dare to whisper that +there is such a thing as yellow. + +For the purposes of pure logic it is clearer to argue with silly +examples than with sensible ones: because silly examples are simple. But +I could give many grave and concrete cases of the kind of thing to which +I refer. In the later part of the Boer War both parties perpetually +insisted in every speech and pamphlet that annexation was inevitable and +that it was only a question whether Liberals or Tories should do it. It +was not inevitable in the least; it would have been perfectly easy to +make peace with the Boers as Christian nations commonly make peace with +their conquered enemies. Personally I think that it would have been +better for us in the most selfish sense, better for our pocket and +prestige, if we had never effected the annexation at all; but that is a +matter of opinion. What is plain is that it was not inevitable; it was +not, as was said, the only possible course; there were plenty of other +courses; there were plenty of other colours in the box. Again, in the +discussion about Socialism, it is repeatedly rubbed into the public mind +that we must choose between Socialism and some horrible thing that they +call Individualism. I don't know what it means, but it seems to mean +that anybody who happens to pull out a plum is to adopt the moral +philosophy of the young Horner—and say what a good boy he is for +helping himself. + +It is calmly assumed that the only two possible types of society are a +Collectivist type of society and the present society that exists at this +moment and is rather like an animated muck-heap. It is quite unnecessary +to say that I should prefer Socialism to the present state of things. I +should prefer anarchism to the present state of things. But it is simply +not the fact that Collectivism is the only other scheme for a more equal +order. A Collectivist has a perfect right to think it the only sound +scheme; but it is not the only plausible or possible scheme. We might +have peasant proprietorship; we might have the compromise of Henry +George; we might have a number of tiny communes; we might have +co-operation; we might have Anarchist Communism; we might have a hundred +things. I am not saying that any of these are right, though I cannot +imagine that any of them could be worse than the present social +madhouse, with its top-heavy rich and its tortured poor; but I say that +it is an evidence of the stiff and narrow alternative offered to the +civic mind, that the civic mind is not, generally speaking, conscious of +these other possibilities. The civic mind is not free or alert enough +to feel how much it has the world before it. There are at least ten +solutions of the Education question, and no one knows which Englishmen +really want. For Englishmen are only allowed to vote about the two +which are at that moment offered by the Premier and the Leader of the +Opposition. There are ten solutions of the drink question; and no one +knows which the democracy wants; for the democracy is only allowed to +fight about one Licensing Bill at a time. + +So that the situation comes to this: The democracy has a right to answer +questions, but it has no right to ask them. It is still the political +aristocracy that asks the questions. And we shall not be unreasonably +cynical if we suppose that the political aristocracy will always be +rather careful what questions it asks. And if the dangerous comfort and +self-flattery of modern England continues much longer there will be less +democratic value in an English election than in a Roman saturnalia of +slaves. For the powerful class will choose two courses of action, both +of them safe for itself, and then give the democracy the gratification +of taking one course or the other. The lord will take two things so much +alike that he would not mind choosing from them blindfold—and then +for a great jest he will allow the slaves to choose. + + + + +THE MAD OFFICIAL + +Going mad is the slowest and dullest business in the world. I have very +nearly done it more than once in my boyhood, and so have nearly all +my friends, born under the general doom of mortals, but especially of +moderns; I mean the doom that makes a man come almost to the end of +thinking before he comes to the first chance of living. + +But the process of going mad is dull, for the simple reason that a man +does not know that it is going on. Routine and literalism and a +certain dry-throated earnestness and mental thirst, these are the very +atmosphere of morbidity. If once the man could become conscious of his +madness, he would cease to be man. He studies certain texts in Daniel +or cryptograms in Shakespeare through monstrously magnifying spectacles, +which are on his nose night and day. If once he could take off the +spectacles he would smash them. He deduces all his fantasies about the +Sixth Seal or the Anglo-Saxon Race from one unexamined and invisible +first principle. If he could once see the first principle, he would see +that it is not there. + +This slow and awful self-hypnotism of error is a process that can occur +not only with individuals, but also with whole societies. It is hard +to pick out and prove; that is why it is hard to cure. But this mental +degeneration may be brought to one test, which I truly believe to be a +real test. A nation is not going mad when it does extravagant things, +so long as it does them in an extravagant spirit. Crusaders not cutting +their beards till they found Jerusalem, Jacobins calling each other +Harmodius and Epaminondas when their names were Jacques and Jules, these +are wild things, but they were done in wild spirits at a wild moment. + +But whenever we see things done wildly, but taken tamely, then the State +is growing insane. For instance, I have a gun license. For all I know, +this would logically allow me to fire off fifty-nine enormous field-guns +day and night in my back garden. I should not be surprised at a man +doing it; for it would be great fun. But I should be surprised at the +neighbours putting up with it, and regarding it as an ordinary thing +merely because it might happen to fulfill the letter of my license. + +Or, again, I have a dog license; and I may have the right (for all I +know) to turn ten thousand wild dogs loose in Buckinghamshire. I should +not be surprised if the law were like that; because in modern England +there is practically no law to be surprised at. I should not be +surprised even at the man who did it; for a certain kind of man, if he +lived long under the English landlord system, might do anything. But I +should be surprised at the people who consented to stand it. I should, +in other words, think the world a little mad if the incident, were +received in silence. + +Now things every bit as wild as this are being received in silence every +day. All strokes slip on the smoothness of a polished wall. All blows +fall soundless on the softness of a padded cell. For madness is a +passive as well as an active state: it is a paralysis, a refusal of +the nerves to respond to the normal stimuli, as well as an unnatural +stimulation. There are commonwealths, plainly to be distinguished here +and there in history, which pass from prosperity to squalor, or from +glory to insignificance, or from freedom to slavery, not only in +silence, but with serenity. The face still smiles while the limbs, +literally and loathsomely, are dropping from the body. These are peoples +that have lost the power of astonishment at their own actions. When they +give birth to a fantastic fashion or a foolish law, they do not start +or stare at the monster they have brought forth. They have grown used +to their own unreason; chaos is their cosmos; and the whirlwind is the +breath of their nostrils. These nations are really in danger of going +off their heads en masse; of becoming one vast vision of imbecility, +with toppling cities and crazy country-sides, all dotted with +industrious lunatics. One of these countries is modern England. + +Now here is an actual instance, a small case of how our social +conscience really works: tame in spirit, wild in result, blank in +realisation; a thing without the light of mind in it. I take this +paragraph from a daily paper:—"At Epping, yesterday, Thomas +Woolbourne, a Lambourne labourer, and his wife were summoned for +neglecting their five children. Dr. Alpin said he was invited by the +inspector of the N.S.P.C.C. to visit defendants' cottage. Both the +cottage and the children were dirty. The children looked exceedingly +well in health, but the conditions would be serious in case of illness. +Defendants were stated to be sober. The man was discharged. The woman, +who said she was hampered by the cottage having no water supply and +that she was ill, was sentenced to six weeks' imprisonment. The sentence +caused surprise, and the woman was removed crying, 'Lord save me!'" + +I know no name for this but Chinese. It calls up the mental picture of +some archaic and changeless Eastern Court, in which men with dried faces +and stiff ceremonial costumes perform some atrocious cruelty to the +accompaniment of formal proverbs and sentences of which the very meaning +has been forgotten. In both cases the only thing in the whole farrago +that can be called real is the wrong. If we apply the lightest touch of +reason to the whole Epping prosecution it dissolves into nothing. + +I here challenge any person in his five wits to tell me what that woman +was sent to prison for. Either it was for being poor, or it was for +being ill. Nobody could suggest, nobody will suggest, nobody, as a +matter of fact, did suggest, that she had committed any other crime. +The doctor was called in by a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty +to Children. Was this woman guilty of cruelty to children? Not in the +least. Did the doctor say she was guilty of cruelty to children? Not in +the least. Was these any evidence even remotely bearing on the sin of +cruelty? Not a rap. The worse that the doctor could work himself up +to saying was that though the children were "exceedingly" well, the +conditions would be serious in case of illness. If the doctor will tell +me any conditions that would be comic in case of illness, I shall attach +more weight to his argument. + +Now this is the worst effect of modern worry. The mad doctor has +gone mad. He is literally and practically mad; and still he is quite +literally and practically a doctor. The only question is the old one, +Quis docebit ipsum doctorem? Now cruelty to children is an utterly +unnatural thing; instinctively accursed of earth and heaven. But neglect +of children is a natural thing; like neglect of any other duty, it is +a mere difference of degree that divides extending arms and legs in +calisthenics and extending them on the rack. It is a mere difference of +degree that separates any operation from any torture. The thumb-screw +can easily be called Manicure. Being pulled about by wild horses can +easily be called Massage. The modern problem is not so much what people +will endure as what they will not endure. But I fear I interrupt.... The +boiling oil is boiling; and the Tenth Mandarin is already reciting the +"Seventeen Serious Principles and the Fifty-three Virtues of the Sacred +Emperor." + + + + +THE ENCHANTED MAN + +When I arrived to see the performance of the Buckinghamshire Players, +who acted Miss Gertrude Robins's POT LUCK at Naphill a short time ago, +it is the distressing, if scarcely surprising, truth that I entered very +late. This would have mattered little, I hope, to any one, but that late +comers had to be forced into front seats. For a real popular English +audience always insists on crowding in the back part of the hall; and +(as I have found in many an election) will endure the most unendurable +taunts rather than come forward. The English are a modest people; that +is why they are entirely ruled and run by the few of them that happen to +be immodest. In theatrical affairs the fact is strangely notable; and in +most playhouses we find the bored people in front and the eager people +behind. + +As far as the performance went I was quite the reverse of a bored +person; but I may have been a boring person, especially as I was thus +required to sit in the seats of the scornful. It will be a happy day in +the dramatic world when all ladies have to take off their hats and all +critics have to take off their heads. The people behind will have a +chance then. And as it happens, in this case, I had not so much taken +off my head as lost it. I had lost it on the road; on that strange +journey that was the cause of my coming in late. I have a troubled +recollection of having seen a very good play and made a very bad speech; +I have a cloudy recollection of talking to all sorts of nice people +afterwards, but talking to them jerkily and with half a head, as a man +talks when he has one eye on a clock. + +And the truth is that I had one eye on an ancient and timeless clock, +hung uselessly in heaven; whose very name has passed into a figure +for such bemused folly. In the true sense of an ancient phrase, I +was moonstruck. A lunar landscape a scene of winter moonlight had +inexplicably got in between me and all other scenes. If any one had +asked me I could not have said what it was; I cannot say now. Nothing +had occurred to me; except the breakdown of a hired motor on the ridge +of a hill. It was not an adventure; it was a vision. + +I had started in wintry twilight from my own door; and hired a small +car that found its way across the hills towards Naphill. But as +night blackened and frost brightened and hardened it I found the way +increasingly difficult; especially as the way was an incessant ascent. +Whenever we topped a road like a staircase it was only to turn into a +yet steeper road like a ladder. + +At last, when I began to fancy that I was spirally climbing the Tower +of Babel in a dream, I was brought to fact by alarming noises, stoppage, +and the driver saying that "it couldn't be done." I got out of the car +and suddenly forgot that I had ever been in it. + +From the edge of that abrupt steep I saw something indescribable, which +I am now going to describe. When Mr. Joseph Chamberlain delivered his +great patriotic speech on the inferiority of England to the Dutch parts +of South Africa, he made use of the expression "the illimitable veldt." +The word "veldt" is Dutch, and the word "illimitable" is Double Dutch. +But the meditative statesman probably meant that the new plains gave him +a sense of largeness and dreariness which he had never found in England. +Well, if he never found it in England it was because he never looked for +it in England. In England there is an illimitable number of illimitable +veldts. I saw six or seven separate eternities in cresting as many +different hills. One cannot find anything more infinite than a finite +horizon, free and lonely and innocent. The Dutch veldt may be a little +more desolate than Birmingham. But I am sure it is not so desolate as +that English hill was, almost within a cannon-shot of High Wycombe. + +I looked across a vast and voiceless valley straight at the moon, as if +at a round mirror. It may have been the blue moon of the proverb; for on +that freezing night the very moon seemed blue with cold. A deathly frost +fastened every branch and blade to its place. The sinking and softening +forests, powdered with a gray frost, fell away underneath me into an +abyss which seemed unfathomable. One fancied the world was soundless +only because it was bottomless: it seemed as if all songs and cries +had been swallowed in some unresisting stillness under the roots of the +hills. I could fancy that if I shouted there would be no echo; that if +I hurled huge stones there would be no noise of reply. A dumb devil had +bewitched the landscape: but that again does not express the best or +worst of it. All those hoary and frosted forests expressed something so +inhuman that it has no human name. A horror of unconsciousness lay on +them; that is the nearest phrase I know. It was as if one were looking +at the back of the world; and the world did not know it. I had taken the +universe in the rear. I was behind the scenes. I was eavesdropping upon +an unconscious creation. + +I shall not express what the place expressed. I am not even sure that it +is a thing that ought to be expressed. There was something heathen about +its union of beauty and death; sorrow seemed to glitter, as it does in +some of the great pagan poems. I understood one of the thousand poetical +phrases of the populace, "a God-forsaken place." Yet something was +present there; and I could not yet find the key to my fixed impression. +Then suddenly I remembered the right word. It was an enchanted place. It +had been put to sleep. In a flash I remembered all the fairy-tales about +princes turned to marble and princesses changed to snow. We were in a +land where none could strive or cry out; a white nightmare. The moon +looked at me across the valley like the enormous eye of a hypnotist; the +one white eye of the world. + +There was never a better play than POT LUCK; for it tells a tale with a +point and a tale that might happen any day among English peasants. There +were never better actors than the local Buckinghamshire Players: for +they were acting their own life with just that rise into exaggeration +which is the transition from life to art. But all the time I was +mesmerised by the moon; I saw all these men and women as enchanted +things. The poacher shot pheasants; the policeman tracked pheasants; the +wife hid pheasants; they were all (especially the policeman) as true +as death. But there was something more true to death than true to life +about it all: the figures were frozen with a magic frost of sleep or +fear or custom such as does not cramp the movements of the poor men of +other lands. I looked at the poacher and the policeman and the gun; then +at the gun and the policeman and the poacher; and I could find no name +for the fancy that haunted and escaped me. The poacher believed in the +Game Laws as much as the policeman. The poacher's wife not only believed +in the Game Laws, but protected them as well as him. She got a promise +from her husband that he would never shoot another pheasant. Whether he +kept it I doubt; I fancy he sometimes shot a pheasant even after that. +But I am sure he never shot a policeman. For we live in an enchanted +land. + + + + +THE SUN WORSHIPPER + +There is a shrewd warning to be given to all people who are in revolt. +And in the present state of things, I think all men are revolting in +that sense; except a few who are revolting in the other sense. But the +warning to Socialists and other revolutionaries is this: that as sure as +fate, if they use any argument which is atheist or materialistic, that +argument will always be turned against them at last by the tyrant and +the slave. To-day I saw one too common Socialist argument turned Tory, +so to speak, in a manner quite startling and insane. I mean that modern +doctrine, taught, I believe, by most followers of Karl Marx, which is +called the materialist theory of history. The theory is, roughly, this: +that all the important things in history are rooted in an economic +motive. In short, history is a science; a science of the search for +food. + +Now I desire, in passing only, to point out that this is not merely +untrue, but actually the reverse of the truth. It is putting it too +feebly to say that the history of man is not only economic. Man would +not have any history if he were only economic. The need for food is +certainly universal, so universal that it is not even human. Cows +have an economic motive, and apparently (I dare not say what ethereal +delicacies may be in a cow) only an economic motive. The cow eats grass +anywhere and never eats anything else. In short, the cow does fulfill +the materialist theory of history: that is why the cow has no history. +"A History of Cows" would be one of the simplest and briefest of +standard works. But if some cows thought it wicked to eat long grass +and persecuted all who did so; if the cow with the crumpled horn were +worshipped by some cows and gored to death by others; if cows began to +have obvious moral preferences over and above a desire for grass, then +cows would begin to have a history. They would also begin to have a +highly unpleasant time, which is perhaps the same thing. + +The economic motive is not merely not inside all history; it is actually +outside all history. It belongs to Biology or the Science of Life; that +is, it concerns things like cows, that are not so very much alive. Men +are far too much alive to get into the science of anything; for them we +have made the art of history. To say that human actions have depended +on economic support is like saying that they have depended on having two +legs. It accounts for action, but not for such varied action; it is a +condition, but not a motive; it is too universal to be useful. Certainly +a soldier wins the Victoria Cross on two legs; he also runs away on two +legs. But if our object is to discover whether he will become a V.C. or +a coward the most careful inspection of his legs will yield us little or +no information. In the same way a man will want food if he is a dreamy +romantic tramp, and will want food if he is a toiling and sweating +millionaire. A man must be supported on food as he must be supported +on legs. But cows (who have no history) are not only furnished more +generously in the matter of legs, but can see their food on a much +grander and more imaginative scale. A cow can lift up her eyes to the +hills and see uplands and peaks of pure food. Yet we never see the +horizon broken by crags of cake or happy hills of cheese. + +So far the cow (who has no history) seems to have every other advantage. +But history—the whole point of history—precisely is that +some two legged soldiers ran away while others, of similar anatomical +structure, did not. The whole point of history precisely is: some people +(like poets and tramps) chance getting money by disregarding it, while +others (such as millionaires) will absolutely lose money for the fun +of bothering about it. There would be no history if there were only +economic history. All the historical events have been due to the +twists and turns given to the economic instinct by forces that were not +economic. For instance, this theory traces the French war of Edward +III to a quarrel about the French wines. Any one who has even smelt the +Middle Ages must feel fifty answers spring to his lips; but in this case +one will suffice. There would have been no such war, then, if we all +drank water like cows. But when one is a man one enters the world +of historic choice. The act of drinking wine is one that requires +explanation. So is the act of not drinking wine. + +But the capitalist can get much more fun out of the doctrine. + +When strikes were splitting England right and left a little while ago, +an ingenious writer, humorously describing himself as a Liberal, said +that they were entirely due to the hot weather. The suggestion was +eagerly taken up by other creatures of the same kind, and I really do +not see why it was not carried farther and applied to other lamentable +uprisings in history. Thus, it is a remarkable fact that the weather is +generally rather warm in Egypt; and this cannot but throw a light on +the sudden and mysterious impulse of the Israelites to escape from +captivity. The English strikers used some barren republican formula +(arid as the definitions of the medieval schoolmen), some academic +shibboleth about being free men and not being forced to work except for +a wage accepted by them. Just in the same way the Israelites in Egypt +employed some dry scholastic quibble about the extreme difficulty of +making bricks with nothing to make them of. But whatever fantastic +intellectual excuses they may have put forward for their strange and +unnatural conduct in walking out when the prison door was open, there +can be no doubt that the real cause was the warm weather. Such a climate +notoriously also produces delusions and horrible fancies, such as Mr. +Kipling describes. And it was while their brains were disordered by the +heat that the Jews fancied that they were founding a nation, that they +were led by a prophet, and, in short, that they were going to be of some +importance in the affairs of the world. + +Nor can the historical student fail to note that the French monarchy was +pulled down in August; and that August is a month in summer. + +In spite of all this, however, I have some little difficulty myself +in accepting so simple a form of the Materialist Theory of History (at +these words all Marxian Socialists will please bow their heads three +times), and I rather think that exceptions might be found to the +principle. Yet it is not chiefly such exceptions that embarrass my +belief in it. + +No; my difficulty is rather in accounting for the strange coincidence by +which the shafts of Apollo split us exclusively along certain lines of +class and of economics. I cannot understand why all solicitors did not +leave off soliciting, all doctors leave off doctoring, all judges leave +off judging, all benevolent bankers leave off lending money at high +interest, and all rising politicians leave off having nothing to add to +what their right honourable friend told the House about eight years +ago. The quaint theoretic plea of the workers, that they were striking +because they were ill paid, seems to receive a sort of wild and hazy +confirmation from the fact that, throughout the hottest weather, judges +and other persons who are particularly well paid showed no disposition +to strike. I have to fall back therefore on metaphysical fancies of my +own; and I continue to believe that the anger of the English poor (to +steal a phrase from Sir Thomas Browne) came from something in man that +is other than the elements and that owes no homage unto the sun. + +When comfortable people come to talking stuff of that sort, it is really +time that the comfortable classes made a short summary and confession +of what they have really done with the very poor Englishman. The dawn of +the mediaeval civilisation found him a serf; which is a different thing +from a slave. He had security; although the man belonged to the land +rather than the land to the man. He could not be evicted; his rent could +not be raised. In practice, it came to something like this: that if the +lord rode down his cabbages he had not much chance of redress; but he +had the chance of growing more cabbages. He had direct access to the +means of production. + +Since then the centuries in England have achieved something different; +and something which, fortunately, is perfectly easy to state. There is +no doubt about what we have done. We have kept the inequality, but we +have destroyed the security. The man is not tied to the land, as in +serfdom; nor is the land tied to the man, as in a peasantry. The rich +man has entered into an absolute ownership of farms and fields; and (in +the modern industrial phrase) he has locked out the English people. They +can only find an acre to dig or a house to sleep in by accepting such +competitive and cruel terms as he chooses to impose. + +Well, what would happen then, over the larger parts of the planet, parts +inhabited by savages? Savages, of course, would hunt and fish. That +retreat for the English poor was perceived; and that retreat was cut +off. Game laws were made to extend over districts like the Arctic snows +or the Sahara. The rich man had property over animals he had no more +dreamed of than a governor of Roman Africa had dreamed of a giraffe. +He owned all the birds that passed over his land: he might as well have +owned all the clouds that passed over it. If a rabbit ran from Smith's +land to Brown's land, it belonged to Brown, as if it were his pet dog. +The logical answer to this would be simple: Any one stung on Brown's +land ought to be able to prosecute Brown for keeping a dangerous wasp +without a muzzle. + +Thus the poor man was forced to be a tramp along the roads and to sleep +in the open. That retreat was perceived; and that retreat was cut off. +A landless man in England can be punished for behaving in the only way +that a landless man can behave: for sleeping under a hedge in Surrey or +on a seat on the Embankment. His sin is described (with a hideous sense +of fun) as that of having no visible means of subsistence. + +The last possibility, of course, is that upon which all human beings +would fall back if they were sinking in a swamp or impaled on a spike +or deserted on an island. It is that of calling out for pity to the +passerby. That retreat was perceived; and that retreat was cut off. A +man in England can be sent to prison for asking another man for help in +the name of God. + +You have done all these things, and by so doing you have forced the poor +to serve the rich, and to serve them on the terms of the rich. They have +still one weapon left against the extremes of insult and unfairness: +that weapon is their numbers and the necessity of those numbers to the +working of that vast and slavish machine. And because they still had +this last retreat (which we call the Strike), because this retreat +was also perceived, there was talk of this retreat being also cut off. +Whereupon the workmen became suddenly and violently angry; and struck at +your Boards and Committees here, there, and wherever they could. And you +opened on them the eyes of owls, and said, "It must be the sunshine." +You could only go on saying, "The sun, the sun." That was what the man +in Ibsen said, when he had lost his wits. + + + + +THE WRONG INCENDIARY + +I stood looking at the Coronation Procession—I mean the one +in Beaconsfield; not the rather elephantine imitation of it which, I +believe, had some success in London—and I was seriously impressed. +Most of my life is passed in discovering with a deathly surprise that +I was quite right. Never before have I realised how right I was in +maintaining that the small area expresses the real patriotism: the +smaller the field the taller the tower. There were things in our local +procession that did not (one might even reverently say, could not) occur +in the London procession. One of the most prominent citizens in our +procession (for instance) had his face blacked. Another rode on a pony +which wore pink and blue trousers. I was not present at the Metropolitan +affair, and therefore my assertion is subject to such correction as the +eyewitness may always offer to the absentee. But I believe with some +firmness that no such features occurred in the London pageant. + +But it is not of the local celebration that I would speak, but of +something that occurred before it. In the field beyond the end of my +garden the materials for a bonfire had been heaped; a hill of every kind +of rubbish and refuse and things that nobody wants; broken chairs, dead +trees, rags, shavings, newspapers, new religions, in pamphlet form, +reports of the Eugenic Congress, and so on. All this refuse, material +and mental, it was our purpose to purify and change to holy flame on the +day when the King was crowned. The following is an account of the rather +strange thing that really happened. I do not know whether it was any +sort of symbol; but I narrate it just as it befell. + +In the middle of the night I woke up slowly and listened to what I +supposed to be the heavy crunching of a cart-wheel along a road of loose +stones. Then it grew louder, and I thought somebody was shooting out +cartloads of stones; then it seemed as if the shock was breaking big +stones into pieces. Then I realised that under this sound there was also +a strange, sleepy, almost inaudible roar; and that on top of it every +now and then came pigmy pops like a battle of penny pistols. Then I knew +what it was. I went to the window; and a great firelight flung across +two meadows smote me where I stood. "Oh, my holy aunt," I thought, +"they've mistaken the Coronation Day." + +And yet when I eyed the transfigured scene it did not seem exactly like +a bonfire or any ritual illumination. It was too chaotic, and too close +to the houses of the town. All one side of a cottage was painted pink +with the giant brush of flame; the next side, by contrast, was painted +as black as tar. Along the front of this ran a blackening rim or rampart +edged with a restless red ribbon that danced and doubled and devoured +like a scarlet snake; and beyond it was nothing but a deathly fulness of +light. + +I put on some clothes and went down the road; all the dull or startling +noises in that din of burning growing louder and louder as I walked. The +heaviest sound was that of an incessant cracking and crunching, as if +some giant with teeth of stone was breaking up the bones of the world. I +had not yet come within sight of the real heart and habitat of the fire; +but the strong red light, like an unnatural midnight sunset, powdered +the grayest grass with gold and flushed the few tall trees up to the +last fingers of their foliage. Behind them the night was black and +cavernous; and one could only trace faintly the ashen horizon beyond the +dark and magic Wilton Woods. As I went, a workman on a bicycle shot a +rood past me; then staggered from his machine and shouted to me to tell +him where the fire was. I answered that I was going to see, but thought +it was the cottages by the wood-yard. He said, "My God!" and vanished. + +A little farther on I found grass and pavement soaking and flooded, and +the red and yellow flames repainted in pools and puddles. Beyond were +dim huddles of people and a small distant voice shouting out orders. The +fire-engines were at work. I went on among the red reflections, which +seemed like subterranean fires; I had a singular sensation of being in a +very important dream. Oddly enough, this was increased when I found that +most of my friends and neighbours were entangled in the crowd. Only in +dreams do we see familiar faces so vividly against a black background of +midnight. I was glad to find (for the workman cyclist's sake) that +the fire was not in the houses by the wood-yard, but in the wood-yard +itself. There was no fear for human life, and the thing was seemingly +accidental; though there were the usual ugly whispers about rivalry and +revenge. But for all that I could not shake off my dream-drugged soul a +swollen, tragic, portentous sort of sensation, that it all had something +to do with the crowning of the English King, and the glory or the end +of England. It was not till I saw the puddles and the ashes in broad +daylight next morning that I was fundamentally certain that my midnight +adventure had not happened outside this world. + +But I was more arrogant than the ancient Emperors Pharaoh or +Nebuchadnezzar; for I attempted to interpret my own dream. The fire was +feeding upon solid stacks of unused beech or pine, gray and white piles +of virgin wood. It was an orgy of mere waste; thousands of good +things were being killed before they had ever existed. Doors, tables, +walking-sticks, wheelbarrows, wooden swords for boys, Dutch dolls for +girls I could hear the cry of each uncreated thing as it expired in the +flames. And then I thought of that other noble tower of needless things +that stood in the field beyond my garden; the bonfire, the mountain of +vanities, that is meant for burning; and how it stood dark and lonely in +the meadow, and the birds hopped on its corners and the dew touched and +spangled its twigs. And I remembered that there are two kinds of fires, +the Bad Fire and the Good Fire the last must surely be the meaning of +Bonfire. And the paradox is that the Good Fire is made of bad things, of +things that we do not want; but the Bad Fire is made of good things, +of things that we do want; like all that wealth of wood that might have +made dolls and chairs and tables, but was only making a hueless ash. + +And then I saw, in my vision, that just as there are two fires, so there +are two revolutions. And I saw that the whole mad modern world is a race +between them. Which will happen first—the revolution in which +bad things shall perish, or that other revolution, in which good things +shall perish also? One is the riot that all good men, even the most +conservative, really dream of, when the sneer shall be struck from the +face of the well-fed; when the wine of honour shall be poured down the +throat of despair; when we shall, so far as to the sons of flesh is +possible, take tyranny and usury and public treason and bind them into +bundles and burn them. And the other is the disruption that may come +prematurely, negatively, and suddenly in the night; like the fire in my +little town. + +It may come because the mere strain of modern life is unbearable; and in +it even the things that men do desire may break down; marriage and +fair ownership and worship and the mysterious worth of man. The two +revolutions, white and black, are racing each other like two railway +trains; I cannot guess the issue...but even as I thought of it, the +tallest turret of the timber stooped and faltered and came down in a +cataract of noises. And the fire, finding passage, went up with a spout +like a fountain. It stood far up among the stars for an instant, a +blazing pillar of brass fit for a pagan conqueror, so high that one +could fancy it visible away among the goblin trees of Burnham or along +the terraces of the Chiltern Hills. + + + + +THE FREE MAN + +The idea of liberty has ultimately a religious root; that is why men +find it so easy to die for and so difficult to define. It refers finally +to the fact that, while the oyster and the palm tree have to save +their lives by law, man has to save his soul by choice. Ruskin rebuked +Coleridge for praising freedom, and said that no man would wish the sun +to be free. It seems enough to answer that no man would wish to be the +sun. Speaking as a Liberal, I have much more sympathy with the idea of +Joshua stopping the sun in heaven than with the idea of Ruskin trotting +his daily round in imitation of its regularity. Joshua was a Radical, +and his astronomical act was distinctly revolutionary. For all +revolution is the mastering of matter by the spirit of man, the +emergence of that human authority within us which, in the noble words of +Sir Thomas Browne, "owes no homage unto the sun." + +Generally, the moral substance of liberty is this: that man is not meant +merely to receive good laws, good food or good conditions, like a +tree in a garden, but is meant to take a certain princely pleasure in +selecting and shaping like the gardener. Perhaps that is the meaning +of the trade of Adam. And the best popular words for rendering the real +idea of liberty are those which speak of man as a creator. We use the +word "make" about most of the things in which freedom is essential, as +a country walk or a friendship or a love affair. When a man "makes his +way" through a wood he has really created, he has built a road, like the +Romans. When a man "makes a friend," he makes a man. And in the third +case we talk of a man "making love," as if he were (as, indeed, he is) +creating new masses and colours of that flaming material an awful form +of manufacture. In its primary spiritual sense, liberty is the god in +man, or, if you like the word, the artist. + +In its secondary political sense liberty is the living influence of the +citizen on the State in the direction of moulding or deflecting it. Men +are the only creatures that evidently possess it. On the one hand, the +eagle has no liberty; he only has loneliness. On the other hand, ants, +bees, and beavers exhibit the highest miracle of the State influencing +the citizen; but no perceptible trace of the citizen influencing the +State. You may, if you like, call the ants a democracy as you may +call the bees a despotism. But I fancy that the architectural ant who +attempted to introduce an art nouveau style of ant-hill would have a +career as curt and fruitless as the celebrated bee who wanted to swarm +alone. The isolation of this idea in humanity is akin to its religious +character; but it is not even in humanity by any means equally +distributed. The idea that the State should not only be supported by +its children, like the ant-hill, but should be constantly criticised and +reconstructed by them, is an idea stronger in Christendom than any +other part of the planet; stronger in Western than Eastern Europe. And +touching the pure idea of the individual being free to speak and act +within limits, the assertion of this idea, we may fairly say, has been +the peculiar honour of our own country. For my part I greatly prefer the +Jingoism of Rule Britannia to the Imperialism of The Recessional. I have +no objection to Britannia ruling the waves. I draw the line when +she begins to rule the dry land—and such damnably dry land +too—as in Africa. And there was a real old English sincerity +in the vulgar chorus that "Britons never shall be slaves." We had no +equality and hardly any justice; but freedom we were really fond of. +And I think just now it is worth while to draw attention to the old +optimistic prophecy that "Britons never shall be slaves." + +The mere love of liberty has never been at a lower ebb in England than +it has been for the last twenty years. Never before has it been so easy +to slip small Bills through Parliament for the purpose of locking people +up. Never was it so easy to silence awkward questions, or to protect +high-placed officials. Two hundred years ago we turned out the Stuarts +rather than endanger the Habeas Corpus Act. Two years ago we abolished +the Habeas Corpus Act rather than turn out the Home Secretary. We passed +a law (which is now in force) that an Englishman's punishment shall not +depend upon judge and jury, but upon the governors and jailers who have +got hold of him. But this is not the only case. The scorn of liberty +is in the air. A newspaper is seized by the police in Trafalgar Square +without a word of accusation or explanation. The Home Secretary says +that in his opinion the police are very nice people, and there is an end +of the matter. A Member of Parliament attempts to criticise a peerage. +The Speaker says he must not criticise a peerage, and there the matter +drops. + +Political liberty, let us repeat, consists in the power of +criticising those flexible parts of the State which constantly require +reconsideration, not the basis, but the machinery. In plainer words, +it means the power of saying the sort of things that a decent but +discontented citizen wants to say. He does not want to spit on the +Bible, or to run about without clothes, or to read the worst page in +Zola from the pulpit of St. Paul's. Therefore the forbidding of these +things (whether just or not) is only tyranny in a secondary and special +sense. It restrains the abnormal, not the normal man. But the normal +man, the decent discontented citizen, does want to protest against +unfair law courts. He does want to expose brutalities of the police. +He does want to make game of a vulgar pawnbroker who is made a Peer. He +does want publicly to warn people against unscrupulous capitalists and +suspicious finance. If he is run in for doing this (as he will be) +he does want to proclaim the character or known prejudices of the +magistrate who tries him. If he is sent to prison (as he will be) he +does want to have a clear and civilised sentence, telling him when he +will come out. And these are literally and exactly the things that +he now cannot get. That is the almost cloying humour of the present +situation. I can say abnormal things in modern magazines. It is the +normal things that I am not allowed to say. I can write in some solemn +quarterly an elaborate article explaining that God is the devil; I can +write in some cultured weekly an aesthetic fancy describing how I +should like to eat boiled baby. The thing I must not write is rational +criticism of the men and institutions of my country. + +The present condition of England is briefly this: That no Englishman can +say in public a twentieth part of what he says in private. One cannot +say, for instance, that—But I am afraid I must leave out +that instance, because one cannot say it. I cannot prove my +case—because it is so true. + + + + +THE HYPOTHETICAL HOUSEHOLDER + +We have read of some celebrated philosopher who was so absent-minded +that he paid a call at his own house. My own absent-mindedness is +extreme, and my philosophy, of course, is the marvel of men and angels. +But I never quite managed to be so absent-minded as that. Some yards at +least from my own door, something vaguely familiar has always caught +my eye; and thus the joke has been spoiled. Of course I have quite +constantly walked into another man's house, thinking it was my own +house; my visits became almost monotonous. But walking into my own house +and thinking it was another man's house is a flight of poetic detachment +still beyond me. Something of the sensations that such an absent-minded +man must feel I really felt the other day; and very pleasant sensations +they were. The best parts of every proper romance are the first chapter +and the last chapter; and to knock at a strange door and find a nice +wife would be to concentrate the beginning and end of all romance. + +Mine was a milder and slighter experience, but its thrill was of the +same kind. For I strolled through a place I had imagined quite virgin +and unvisited (as far as I was concerned), and I suddenly found I was +treading in my own footprints, and the footprints were nearly twenty +years old. + +It was one of those stretches of country which always suggests an almost +unnatural decay; thickets and heaths that have grown out of what were +once great gardens. Garden flowers still grow there as wild flowers, +as it says in some good poetic couplet which I forget; and there is +something singularly romantic and disastrous about seeing things that +were so long a human property and care fighting for their own hand in +the thicket. One almost expects to find a decayed dog-kennel; with the +dog evolved into a wolf. + +This desolate garden-land had been even in my youth scrappily planned +out for building. The half-built or empty houses had appeared quite +threateningly on the edge of this heath even when I walked over it years +ago and almost as a boy. I was astonished that the building had gone +no farther; I suppose somebody went bankrupt and somebody else disliked +building. But I remember, especially along one side of this tangle or +coppice, that there had once been a row of half-built houses. The brick +of which they were built was a sort of plain pink; everything else was a +blinding white; the houses smoked with white dust and white sawdust; +and on many of the windows were rubbed those round rough disks of white +which always delighted me as a child. They looked like the white eyes of +some blind giant. + +I could see the crude, parched pink-and-white villas still; though I had +not thought at all of them for a quarter of my life; and had not thought +much of them even when I saw them. Then I was an idle, but eager youth +walking out from London; now I was a most reluctantly busy middle-aged +person, coming in from the country. Youth, I think, seems farther off +than childhood, for it made itself more of a secret. Like a prenatal +picture, distant, tiny, and quite distinct, I saw this heath on which I +stood; and I looked around for the string of bright, half-baked villas. +They still stood there; but they were quite russet and weather-stained, +as if they had stood for centuries. + +I remembered exactly what I had done on that day long ago. I had half +slid on a miry descent; it was still there; a little lower I had knocked +off the top of a thistle; the thistles had not been discouraged, but +were still growing. I recalled it because I had wondered why one knocks +off the tops of thistles; and then I had thought of Tarquin; and then I +had recited most of Macaulay's VIRGINIA to myself, for I was young. And +then I came to a tattered edge where the very tuft had whitened with +the sawdust and brick-dust from the new row of houses; and two or three +green stars of dock and thistle grew spasmodically about the blinding +road. + +I remembered how I had walked up this new one-sided street all those +years ago; and I remembered what I had thought. I thought that this +red and white glaring terrace at noon was really more creepy and more +lonesome than a glimmering churchyard at midnight. The churchyard could +only be full of the ghosts of the dead; but these houses were full of +the ghosts of the unborn. And a man can never find a home in the future +as he can find it in the past. I was always fascinated by that mediaeval +notion of erecting a rudely carpentered stage in the street, and acting +on it a miracle play of the Holy Family or the Last Judgment. And I +thought to myself that each of these glaring, gaping, new jerry-built +boxes was indeed a rickety stage erected for the acting of a real +miracle play; that human family that is almost the holy one, and that +human death that is near to the last judgment. + +For some foolish reason the last house but one in that imperfect row +especially haunted me with its hollow grin and empty window-eyes. +Something in the shape of this brick-and-mortar skeleton was attractive; +and there being no workmen about, I strolled into it for curiosity and +solitude. I gave, with all the sky-deep gravity of youth, a benediction +upon the man who was going to live there. I even remember that for the +convenience of meditation I called him James Harrogate. + +As I reflected it crawled back into my memory that I had mildly played +the fool in that house on that distant day. I had some red chalk in +my pocket, I think, and I wrote things on the unpapered plaster walls; +things addressed to Mr. Harrogate. A dim memory told me that I had +written up in what I supposed to be the dining-room: + + James Harrogate, thank God for meat, + Then eat and eat and eat and eat, + +or something of that kind. I faintly feel that some longer lyric +was scrawled on the walls of what looked like a bedroom, something +beginning: + + When laying what you call your head, + O Harrogate, upon your bed, + +and there all my memory dislimns and decays. But I could still see quite +vividly the plain plastered walls and the rude, irregular writing, +and the places where the red chalk broke. I could see them, I mean, in +memory; for when I came down that road again after a sixth of a century +the house was very different. + +I had seen it before at noon, and now I found it in the dusk. But its +windows glowed with lights of many artificial sorts; one of its low +square windows stood open; from this there escaped up the road a stream +of lamplight and a stream of singing. Some sort of girl, at least, +was standing at some sort of piano, and singing a song of healthy +sentimentalism in that house where long ago my blessing had died on the +wind and my poems been covered up by the wallpaper. I stood outside that +lamplit house at dusk full of those thoughts that I shall never express +if I live to be a million any better than I expressed them in red +chalk upon the wall. But after I had hovered a little, and was about to +withdraw, a mad impulse seized me. I rang the bell. I said in distinct +accents to a very smart suburban maid, "Does Mr. James Harrogate live +here?" + +She said he didn't; but that she would inquire, in case I was looking +for him in the neighbourhood; but I excused her from such exertion. I +had one moment's impulse to look for him all over the world; and then +decided not to look for him at all. + + + + +THE PRIEST OF SPRING + +The sun has strengthened and the air softened just before Easter Day. +But it is a troubled brightness which has a breath not only of novelty +but of revolution, There are two great armies of the human intellect +who will fight till the end on this vital point, whether Easter is to +be congratulated on fitting in with the Spring—or the Spring on +fitting in with Easter. + +The only two things that can satisfy the soul are a person and a +story; and even a story must be about a person. There are indeed +very voluptuous appetites and enjoyments in mere abstractions like +mathematics, logic, or chess. But these mere pleasures of the mind +are like mere pleasures of the body. That is, they are mere pleasures, +though they may be gigantic pleasures; they can never by a mere increase +of themselves amount to happiness. A man just about to be hanged may +enjoy his breakfast; especially if it be his favourite breakfast; and +in the same way he may enjoy an argument with the chaplain about heresy, +especially if it is his favourite heresy. But whether he can enjoy +either of them does not depend on either of them; it depends upon his +spiritual attitude towards a subsequent event. And that event is really +interesting to the soul; because it is the end of a story and (as some +hold) the end of a person. + +Now it is this simple truth which, like many others, is too simple for +our scientists to see. This is where they go wrong, not only about +true religion, but about false religions too; so that their account of +mythology is more mythical than the myth itself. I do not confine myself +to saying that they are quite incorrect when they state (for instance) +that Christ was a legend of dying and reviving vegetation, like Adonis +or Persephone. I say that even if Adonis was a god of vegetation, +they have got the whole notion of him wrong. Nobody, to begin with, is +sufficiently interested in decaying vegetables, as such, to make any +particular mystery or disguise about them; and certainly not enough to +disguise them under the image of a very handsome young man, which is a +vastly more interesting thing. If Adonis was connected with the fall +of leaves in autumn and the return of flowers in spring, the process of +thought was quite different. It is a process of thought which springs +up spontaneously in all children and young artists; it springs up +spontaneously in all healthy societies. It is very difficult to explain +in a diseased society. + +The brain of man is subject to short and strange snatches of sleep. A +cloud seals the city of reason or rests upon the sea of imagination; a +dream that darkens as much, whether it is a nightmare of atheism or a +daydream of idolatry. And just as we have all sprung from sleep with a +start and found ourselves saying some sentence that has no meaning, save +in the mad tongues of the midnight; so the human mind starts from its +trances of stupidity with some complete phrase upon its lips; a complete +phrase which is a complete folly. Unfortunately it is not like the dream +sentence, generally forgotten in the putting on of boots or the putting +in of breakfast. This senseless aphorism, invented when man's mind was +asleep, still hangs on his tongue and entangles all his relations to +rational and daylight things. All our controversies are confused by +certain kinds of phrases which are not merely untrue, but were +always unmeaning; which are not merely inapplicable, but were always +intrinsically useless. We recognise them wherever a man talks of "the +survival of the fittest," meaning only the survival of the survivors; or +wherever a man says that the rich "have a stake in the country," as +if the poor could not suffer from misgovernment or military defeat; or +where a man talks about "going on towards Progress," which only means +going on towards going on; or when a man talks about "government by the +wise few," as if they could be picked out by their pantaloons. "The wise +few" must mean either the few whom the foolish think wise or the very +foolish who think themselves wise. + +There is one piece of nonsense that modern people still find themselves +saying, even after they are more or less awake, by which I am +particularly irritated. It arose in the popularised science of the +nineteenth century, especially in connection with the study of myths and +religions. The fragment of gibberish to which I refer generally takes +the form of saying "This god or hero really represents the sun." Or +"Apollo killing the Python MEANS that the summer drives out the winter." +Or "The King dying in a western battle is a SYMBOL of the sun setting +in the west." Now I should really have thought that even the skeptical +professors, whose skulls are as shallow as frying-pans, might have +reflected that human beings never think or feel like this. Consider what +is involved in this supposition. It presumes that primitive man went out +for a walk and saw with great interest a big burning spot on the sky. He +then said to primitive woman, "My dear, we had better keep this quiet. +We mustn't let it get about. The children and the slaves are so very +sharp. They might discover the sun any day, unless we are very careful. +So we won't call it 'the sun,' but I will draw a picture of a man +killing a snake; and whenever I do that you will know what I mean. +The sun doesn't look at all like a man killing a snake; so nobody can +possibly know. It will be a little secret between us; and while the +slaves and the children fancy I am quite excited with a grand tale of +a writhing dragon and a wrestling demigod, I shall really MEAN this +delicious little discovery, that there is a round yellow disc up in the +air." One does not need to know much mythology to know that this is a +myth. It is commonly called the Solar Myth. + +Quite plainly, of course, the case was just the other way. The god +was never a symbol or hieroglyph representing the sun. The sun was a +hieroglyph representing the god. Primitive man (with whom my friend +Dombey is no doubt well acquainted) went out with his head full of gods +and heroes, because that is the chief use of having a head. Then he saw +the sun in some glorious crisis of the dominance of noon on the distress +of nightfall, and he said, "That is how the face of the god would shine +when he had slain the dragon," or "That is how the whole world would +bleed to westward, if the god were slain at last." + +No human being was ever really so unnatural as to worship Nature. No +man, however indulgent (as I am) to corpulency, ever worshipped a man +as round as the sun or a woman as round as the moon. No man, however +attracted to an artistic attenuation, ever really believed that the +Dryad was as lean and stiff as the tree. We human beings have never +worshipped Nature; and indeed, the reason is very simple. It is that all +human beings are superhuman beings. We have printed our own image upon +Nature, as God has printed His image upon us. We have told the enormous +sun to stand still; we have fixed him on our shields, caring no more +for a star than for a starfish. And when there were powers of Nature we +could not for the time control, we have conceived great beings in human +shape controlling them. Jupiter does not mean thunder. Thunder means the +march and victory of Jupiter. Neptune does not mean the sea; the sea is +his, and he made it. In other words, what the savage really said about +the sea was, "Only my fetish Mumbo could raise such mountains out of +mere water." What the savage really said about the sun was, "Only my +great great-grandfather Jumbo could deserve such a blazing crown." + +About all these myths my own position is utterly and even sadly simple. +I say you cannot really understand any myths till you have found that +one of them is not a myth. Turnip ghosts mean nothing if there are +no real ghosts. Forged bank-notes mean nothing if there are no real +bank-notes. Heathen gods mean nothing, and must always mean nothing, to +those of us that deny the Christian God. When once a god is admitted, +even a false god, the Cosmos begins to know its place: which is the +second place. When once it is the real God the Cosmos falls down before +Him, offering flowers in spring as flames in winter. "My love is like a +red, red rose" does not mean that the poet is praising roses under the +allegory of a young lady. "My love is an arbutus" does not mean that the +author was a botanist so pleased with a particular arbutus tree that he +said he loved it. "Who art the moon and regent of my sky" does not mean +that Juliet invented Romeo to account for the roundness of the moon. +"Christ is the Sun of Easter" does not mean that the worshipper is +praising the sun under the emblem of Christ. Goddess or god can clothe +themselves with the spring or summer; but the body is more than raiment. +Religion takes almost disdainfully the dress of Nature; and indeed +Christianity has done as well with the snows of Christmas as with the +snow-drops of spring. And when I look across the sun-struck fields, I +know in my inmost bones that my joy is not solely in the spring, for +spring alone, being always returning, would be always sad. There is +somebody or something walking there, to be crowned with flowers: and my +pleasure is in some promise yet possible and in the resurrection of the +dead. + + + + +THE REAL JOURNALIST + +Our age which has boasted of realism will fail chiefly through lack of +reality. Never, I fancy, has there been so grave and startling a divorce +between the real way a thing is done and the look of it when it is +done. I take the nearest and most topical instance to hand a newspaper. +Nothing looks more neat and regular than a newspaper, with its parallel +columns, its mechanical printing, its detailed facts and figures, its +responsible, polysyllabic leading articles. Nothing, as a matter +of fact, goes every night through more agonies of adventure, more +hairbreadth escapes, desperate expedients, crucial councils, random +compromises, or barely averted catastrophes. Seen from the outside, it +seems to come round as automatically as the clock and as silently as the +dawn. Seen from the inside, it gives all its organisers a gasp of relief +every morning to see that it has come out at all; that it has come out +without the leading article upside down or the Pope congratulated on +discovering the North Pole. + +I will give an instance (merely to illustrate my thesis of unreality) +from the paper that I know best. Here is a simple story, a little +episode in the life of a journalist, which may be amusing and +instructive: the tale of how I made a great mistake in quotation. There +are really two stories: the story as seen from the outside, by a +man reading the paper; and the story seen from the inside, by the +journalists shouting and telephoning and taking notes in shorthand +through the night. + +This is the outside story; and it reads like a dreadful quarrel. The +notorious G. K. Chesterton, a reactionary Torquemada whose one gloomy +pleasure was in the defence of orthodoxy and the pursuit of heretics, +long calculated and at last launched a denunciation of a brilliant +leader of the New Theology which he hated with all the furnace of his +fanatic soul. In this document Chesterton darkly, deliberately, and not +having the fear of God before his eyes, asserted that Shakespeare wrote +the line "that wreathes its old fantastic roots so high." This he said +because he had been kept in ignorance by Priests; or, perhaps, because +he thought craftily that none of his dupes could discover a curious and +forgotten rhyme called 'Elegy in a Country Churchyard'. Anyhow, that +orthodox gentleman made a howling error; and received some twenty-five +letters and post-cards from kind correspondents who pointed out the +mistake. + +But the odd thing is that scarcely any of them could conceive that it +was a mistake. The first wrote in the tone of one wearied of epigrams, +and cried, "What is the joke NOW?" Another professed (and practised, for +all I know, God help him) that he had read through all Shakespeare and +failed to find the line. A third wrote in a sort of moral distress, +asking, as in confidence, if Gray was really a plagiarist. They were a +noble collection; but they all subtly assumed an element of leisure and +exactitude in the recipient's profession and character which is far from +the truth. Let us pass on to the next act of the external tragedy. + +In Monday's issue of the same paper appeared a letter from the same +culprit. He ingenuously confessed that the line did not belong to +Shakespeare, but to a poet whom he called Grey. Which was another +cropper—or whopper. This strange and illiterate outbreak was +printed by the editor with the justly scornful title, "Mr. Chesterton +'Explains'?" Any man reading the paper at breakfast saw at once the +meaning of the sarcastic quotation marks. They meant, of course, "Here +is a man who doesn't know Gray from Shakespeare; he tries to patch it up +and he can't even spell Gray. And that is what he calls an Explanation." +That is the perfectly natural inference of the reader from the letter, +the mistake, and the headline—as seen from the outside. The +falsehood was serious; the editorial rebuke was serious. The stern +editor and the sombre, baffled contributor confront each other as the +curtain falls. + +And now I will tell you exactly what really happened. It is honestly +rather amusing; it is a story of what journals and journalists really +are. A monstrously lazy man lives in South Bucks partly by writing a +column in the Saturday Daily News. At the time he usually writes it +(which is always at the last moment) his house is unexpectedly invaded +by infants of all shapes and sizes. His Secretary is called away; and +he has to cope with the invading pigmies. Playing with children is a +glorious thing; but the journalist in question has never understood +why it was considered a soothing or idyllic one. It reminds him, not +of watering little budding flowers, but of wrestling for hours with +gigantic angels and devils. Moral problems of the most monstrous +complexity besiege him incessantly. He has to decide before the awful +eyes of innocence, whether, when a sister has knocked down a brother's +bricks, in revenge for the brother having taken two sweets out of his +turn, it is endurable that the brother should retaliate by scribbling on +the sister's picture book, and whether such conduct does not justify the +sister in blowing out the brother's unlawfully lighted match. + +Just as he is solving this problem upon principles of the highest +morality, it occurs to him suddenly that he has not written his Saturday +article; and that there is only about an hour to do it in. He wildly +calls to somebody (probably the gardener) to telephone to somewhere for +a messenger; he barricades himself in another room and tears his hair, +wondering what on earth he shall write about. A drumming of fists on +the door outside and a cheerful bellowing encourage and clarify his +thoughts; and he is able to observe some newspapers and circulars in +wrappers lying on the table. One is a dingy book catalogue; the second +is a shiny pamphlet about petrol; the third is a paper called The +Christian Commonwealth. He opens it anyhow, and sees in the middle of a +page a sentence with which he honestly disagrees. It says that the sense +of beauty in Nature is a new thing, hardly felt before Wordsworth. A +stream of images and pictures pour through his head, like skies chasing +each other or forests running by. "Not felt before Wordsworth!" he +thinks. "Oh, but this won't do... bare ruined choirs where late the +sweet birds sang... night's candles are burnt out... glowed with living +sapphires... leaving their moon-loved maze... antique roots fantastic... +antique roots wreathed high... what is it in As You Like It?" + +He sits down desperately; the messenger rings at the bell; the children +drum on the door; the servants run up from time to time to say the +messenger is getting bored; and the pencil staggers along, making +the world a present of fifteen hundred unimportant words, and making +Shakespeare a present of a portion of Gray's Elegy; putting "fantastic +roots wreathed high" instead of "antique roots peep out." Then the +journalist sends off his copy and turns his attention to the enigma +of whether a brother should commandeer a sister's necklace because the +sister pinched him at Littlehampton. That is the first scene; that is +how an article is really written. + +The scene now changes to the newspaper office. The writer of the article +has discovered his mistake and wants to correct it by the next day: +but the next day is Sunday. He cannot post a letter, so he rings up the +paper and dictates a letter by telephone. He leaves the title to his +friends at the other end; he knows that they can spell "Gray," as no +doubt they can: but the letter is put down by journalistic custom in a +pencil scribble and the vowel may well be doubtful. The friend writes +at the top of the letter "'G. K. C.' Explains," putting the initials in +quotation marks. The next man passing it for press is bored with these +initials (I am with him there) and crosses them out, substituting with +austere civility, "Mr. Chesterton Explains." But and now he hears +the iron laughter of the Fates, for the blind bolt is about to +fall—but he neglects to cross out the second "quote" (as we call +it) and it goes up to press with a "quote" between the last words. +Another quotation mark at the end of "explains" was the work of one +merry moment for the printers upstairs. So the inverted commas were +lifted entirely off one word on to the other and a totally innocent +title suddenly turned into a blasting sneer. But that would have +mattered nothing so far, for there was nothing to sneer at. In the same +dark hour, however, there was a printer who was (I suppose) so devoted +to this Government that he could think of no Gray but Sir Edward Grey. +He spelt it "Grey" by a mere misprint, and the whole tale was complete: +first blunder, second blunder, and final condemnation. + +That is a little tale of journalism as it is; if you call it egotistic +and ask what is the use of it I think I could tell you. You might +remember it when next some ordinary young workman is going to be hanged +by the neck on circumstantial evidence. + + + + +THE SENTIMENTAL SCOT + +Of all the great nations of Christendom, the Scotch are by far the most +romantic. I have just enough Scotch experience and just enough Scotch +blood to know this in the only way in which a thing can really be known; +that is, when the outer world and the inner world are at one. I know it +is always said that the Scotch are practical, prosaic, and puritan; that +they have an eye to business. I like that phrase "an eye" to business. + +Polyphemus had an eye for business; it was in the middle of his +forehead. It served him admirably for the only two duties which are +demanded in a modern financier and captain of industry: the two duties +of counting sheep and of eating men. But when that one eye was put out +he was done for. But the Scotch are not one-eyed practical men, though +their best friends must admit that they are occasionally business-like. +They are, quite fundamentally, romantic and sentimental, and this +is proved by the very economic argument that is used to prove their +harshness and hunger for the material. The mass of Scots have accepted +the industrial civilisation, with its factory chimneys and its famine +prices, with its steam and smoke and steel—and strikes. The mass +of the Irish have not accepted it. The mass of the Irish have clung to +agriculture with claws of iron; and have succeeded in keeping it. That +is because the Irish, though far inferior to the Scotch in art and +literature, are hugely superior to them in practical politics. You do +need to be very romantic to accept the industrial civilisation. It does +really require all the old Gaelic glamour to make men think that Glasgow +is a grand place. Yet the miracle is achieved; and while I was in +Glasgow I shared the illusion. I have never had the faintest illusion +about Leeds or Birmingham. The industrial dream suited the Scots. Here +was a really romantic vista, suited to a romantic people; a vision of +higher and higher chimneys taking hold upon the heavens, of fiercer +and fiercer fires in which adamant could evaporate like dew. Here were +taller and taller engines that began already to shriek and gesticulate +like giants. Here were thunderbolts of communication which already +flashed to and fro like thoughts. It was unreasonable to expect the +rapt, dreamy, romantic Scot to stand still in such a whirl of wizardry +to ask whether he, the ordinary Scot, would be any the richer. + +He, the ordinary Scot, is very much the poorer. Glasgow is not a rich +city. It is a particularly poor city ruled by a few particularly rich +men. It is not, perhaps, quite so poor a city as Liverpool, London, +Manchester, Birmingham, or Bolton. It is vastly poorer than Rome, Rouen, +Munich, or Cologne. A certain civic vitality notable in Glasgow may, +perhaps, be due to the fact that the high poetic patriotism of the Scots +has there been reinforced by the cutting common sense and independence +of the Irish. In any case, I think there can be no doubt of the main +historical fact. The Scotch were tempted by the enormous but unequal +opportunities of industrialism, because the Scotch are romantic. The +Irish refused those enormous and unequal opportunities, because the +Irish are clear-sighted. They would not need very clear sight by this +time to see that in England and Scotland the temptation has been a +betrayal. The industrial system has failed. + +I was coming the other day along a great valley road that strikes out of +the westland counties about Glasgow, more or less towards the east and +the widening of the Forth. It may, for all I know (I amused myself with +the fancy), be the way along which Wallace came with his crude army, +when he gave battle before Stirling Brig; and, in the midst of mediaeval +diplomacies, made a new nation possible. Anyhow, the romantic quality of +Scotland rolled all about me, as much in the last reek of Glasgow as in +the first rain upon the hills. The tall factory chimneys seemed trying +to be taller than the mountain peaks; as if this landscape were full +(as its history has been full) of the very madness of ambition. The +wageslavery we live in is a wicked thing. But there is nothing in which +the Scotch are more piercing and poetical, I might say more perfect, +than in their Scotch wickedness. It is what makes the Master of +Ballantrae the most thrilling of all fictitious villains. It is what +makes the Master of Lovat the most thrilling of all historical villains. +It is poetry. It is an intensity which is on the edge of madness or +(what is worse) magic. Well, the Scotch have managed to apply something +of this fierce romanticism even to the lowest of all lordships and +serfdoms; the proletarian inequality of today. You do meet now and then, +in Scotland, the man you never meet anywhere else but in novels; I mean +the self-made man; the hard, insatiable man, merciless to himself as +well as to others. It is not "enterprise"; it is kleptomania. He is +quite mad, and a much more obvious public pest than any other kind of +kleptomaniac; but though he is a cheat, he is not an illusion. He does +exist; I have met quite two of him. Him alone among modern merchants +we do not weakly flatter when we call him a bandit. Something of the +irresponsibility of the true dark ages really clings about him. Our +scientific civilisation is not a civilisation; it is a smoke nuisance. +Like smoke it is choking us; like smoke it will pass away. Only of one +or two Scotsmen, in my experience, was it true that where there is smoke +there is fire. + +But there are other kinds of fire; and better. The one great advantage +of this strange national temper is that, from the beginning of all +chronicles, it has provided resistance as well as cruelty. In Scotland +nearly everything has always been in revolt—especially loyalty. +If these people are capable of making Glasgow, they are also capable of +wrecking it; and the thought of my many good friends in that city makes +me really doubtful about which would figure in human memories as the +more huge calamity of the two. In Scotland there are many rich men so +weak as to call themselves strong. But there are not so many poor men +weak enough to believe them. + +As I came out of Glasgow I saw men standing about the road. They had +little lanterns tied to the fronts of their caps, like the fairies +who used to dance in the old fairy pantomimes. They were not, however, +strictly speaking, fairies. They might have been called gnomes, since +they worked in the chasms of those purple and chaotic hills. They worked +in the mines from whence comes the fuel of our fires. Just at the moment +when I saw them, moreover, they were not dancing; nor were they working. +They were doing nothing. Which, in my opinion (and I trust yours), was +the finest thing they could do. + + + + +THE SECTARIAN OF SOCIETY + +A fixed creed is absolutely indispensable to freedom. For while men are +and should be various, there must be some communication between them if +they are to get any pleasure out of their variety. And an intellectual +formula is the only thing that can create a communication that does not +depend on mere blood, class, or capricious sympathy. If we all start +with the agreement that the sun and moon exist, we can talk about our +different visions of them. The strong-eyed man can boast that he sees +the sun as a perfect circle. The shortsighted man may say (or if he is +an impressionist, boast) that he sees the moon as a silver blur. The +colour-blind man may rejoice in the fairy-trick which enables him to +live under a green sun and a blue moon. But if once it be held that +there is nothing but a silver blur in one man's eye or a bright circle +(like a monocle) in the other man's, then neither is free, for each is +shut up in the cell of a separate universe. + +But, indeed, an even worse fate, practically considered, follows from +the denim of the original intellectual formula. Not only does the +individual become narrow, but he spreads narrowness across the world +like a cloud; he causes narrowness to increase and multiply like a weed. +For what happens is this: that all the shortsighted people come together +and build a city called Myopia, where they take short-sightedness for +granted and paint short-sighted pictures and pursue very short-sighted +policies. Meanwhile all the men who can stare at the sun get together on +Salisbury Plain and do nothing but stare at the sun; and all the men who +see a blue moon band themselves together and assert the blue moon, not +once in a blue moon, but incessantly. So that instead of a small and +varied group, you have enormous monotonous groups. Instead of the +liberty of dogma, you have the tyranny of taste. + +Allegory apart, instances of what I mean will occur to every one; +perhaps the most obvious is Socialism. Socialism means the ownership +by the organ of government (whatever it is) of all things necessary to +production. If a man claims to be a Socialist in that sense he can be +any kind of man he likes in any other sense—a bookie, a Mahatma, +a man about town, an archbishop, a Margate nigger. Without recalling +at the moment clear-headed Socialists in all of these capacities, it +is obvious that a clear-headed Socialist (that is, a Socialist with a +creed) can be a soldier, like Mr. Blatchford, or a Don, like Mr. Ball, +or a Bathchairman like Mr. Meeke, or a clergyman like Mr. Conrad Noel, +or an artistic tradesman like the late Mr. William Morris. + +But some people call themselves Socialists, and will not be bound by +what they call a narrow dogma; they say that Socialism means far, far +more than this; all that is high, all that is free, all that is, etc., +etc. Now mark their dreadful fate; for they become totally unfit to be +tradesmen, or soldiers, or clergymen, or any other stricken human thing, +but become a particular sort of person who is always the same. When once +it has been discovered that Socialism does not mean a narrow economic +formula, it is also discovered that Socialism does mean wearing one +particular kind of clothes, reading one particular kind of books, +hanging up one particular kind of pictures, and in the majority of cases +even eating one particular kind of food. For men must recognise each +other somehow. These men will not know each other by a principle, like +fellow citizens. They cannot know each other by a smell, like dogs. So +they have to fall back on general colouring; on the fact that a man of +their sort will have a wife in pale green and Walter Crane's "Triumph of +Labour" hanging in the hall. + +There are, of course, many other instances; for modern society is almost +made up of these large monochrome patches. Thus I, for one, regret +the supersession of the old Puritan unity, founded on theology, but +embracing all types from Milton to the grocer, by that newer Puritan +unity which is founded rather on certain social habits, certain common +notions, both permissive and prohibitive, in connection with Particular +social pleasures. + +Thus I, for one, regret that (if you are going to have an aristocracy) +it did not remain a logical one founded on the science of heraldry; a +thing asserting and defending the quite defensible theory that physical +genealogy is the test; instead of being, as it is now, a mere machine of +Eton and Oxford for varnishing anybody rich enough with one monotonous +varnish. + +And it is supremely so in the case of religion. As long as you have a +creed, which every one in a certain group believes or is supposed to +believe, then that group will consist of the old recurring figures of +religious history, who can be appealed to by the creed and judged by it; +the saint, the hypocrite, the brawler, the weak brother. These people +do each other good; or they all join together to do the hypocrite good, +with heavy and repeated blows. But once break the bond of doctrine which +alone holds these people together and each will gravitate to his own +kind outside the group. The hypocrites will all get together and +call each other saints; the saints will get lost in a desert and call +themselves weak brethren; the weak brethren will get weaker and weaker +in a general atmosphere of imbecility; and the brawler will go off +looking for somebody else with whom to brawl. + +This has very largely happened to modern English religion; I have been +in many churches, chapels, and halls where a confident pride in having +got beyond creeds was coupled with quite a paralysed incapacity to +get beyond catchwords. But wherever the falsity appears it comes from +neglect of the same truth: that men should agree on a principle, that +they may differ on everything else; that God gave men a law that they +might turn it into liberties. + +There was hugely more sense in the old people who said that a wife +and husband ought to have the same religion than there is in all the +contemporary gushing about sister souls and kindred spirits and auras of +identical colour. As a matter of fact, the more the sexes are in violent +contrast the less likely they are to be in violent collision. The more +incompatible their tempers are the better. Obviously a wife's soul +cannot possibly be a sister soul. It is very seldom so much as a first +cousin. There are very few marriages of identical taste and temperament; +they are generally unhappy. But to have the same fundamental theory, to +think the same thing a virtue, whether you practise or neglect it, to +think the same thing a sin, whether you punish or pardon or laugh at +it, in the last extremity to call the same thing duty and the same thing +disgrace—this really is necessary to a tolerably happy marriage; +and it is much better represented by a common religion than it is by +affinities and auras. And what applies to the family applies to the +nation. A nation with a root religion will be tolerant. A nation with no +religion will be bigoted. Lastly, the worst effect of all is this: +that when men come together to profess a creed, they come courageously, +though it is to hide in catacombs and caves. But when they come together +in a clique they come sneakishly, eschewing all change or disagreement, +though it is to dine to a brass band in a big London hotel. For birds of +a feather flock together, but birds of the white feather most of all. + + + + +THE FOOL + +For many years I had sought him, and at last I found him in a club. I +had been told that he was everywhere; but I had almost begun to think +that he was nowhere. I had been assured that there were millions of him; +but before my late discovery I inclined to think that there were none of +him. After my late discovery I am sure that there is one; and I incline +to think that there are several, say, a few hundreds; but unfortunately +most of them occupying important positions. When I say "him," I mean the +entire idiot. + +I have never been able to discover that "stupid public" of which so many +literary men complain. The people one actually meets in trains or at tea +parties seem to me quite bright and interesting; certainly quite enough +so to call for the full exertion of one's own wits. And even when I have +heard brilliant "conversationalists" conversing with other people, the +conversation had much more equality and give and take than this age of +intellectual snobs will admit. I have sometimes felt tired, like other +people; but rather tired with men's talk and variety than with their +stolidity or sameness; therefore it was that I sometimes longed to find +the refreshment of a single fool. + +But it was denied me. Turn where I would I found this monotonous +brilliancy of the general intelligence, this ruthless, ceaseless sparkle +of humour and good sense. The "mostly fools" theory has been used in an +anti-democratic sense; but when I found at last my priceless ass, I +did not find him in what is commonly called the democracy; nor in the +aristocracy either. The man of the democracy generally talks quite +rationally, sometimes on the anti-democratic side, but always with an +idea of giving reasons for what he says and referring to the realities +of his experience. Nor is it the aristocracy that is stupid; at least, +not that section of the aristocracy which represents it in politics. +They are often cynical, especially about money, but even their +boredom tends to make them a little eager for any real information or +originality. If a man like Mr. Winston Churchill or Mr. Wyndham made up +his mind for any reason to attack Syndicalism he would find out what it +was first. Not so the man I found in the club. + +He was very well dressed; he had a heavy but handsome face; his black +clothes suggested the City and his gray moustaches the Army; but the +whole suggested that he did not really belong to either, but was one +of those who dabble in shares and who play at soldiers. There was some +third element about him that was neither mercantile nor military. His +manners were a shade too gentlemanly to be quite those of a gentleman. +They involved an unction and over-emphasis of the club-man: then I +suddenly remembered feeling the same thing in some old actors or old +playgoers who had modelled themselves on actors. As I came in he said, +"If I was the Government," and then put a cigar in his mouth which he +lit carefully with long intakes of breath. Then he took the cigar out +of his mouth again and said, "I'd give it 'em," as if it were quite a +separate sentence. But even while his mouth was stopped with the cigar +his companion or interlocutor leaped to his feet and said with great +heartiness, snatching up a hat, "Well, I must be off. Tuesday!". I +dislike these dark suspicions, but I certainly fancied I recognised the +sudden geniality with which one takes leave of a bore. + +When, therefore, he removed the narcotic stopper from his mouth it was +to me that he addressed the belated epigram. "I'd give it 'em." + +"What would you give them," I asked, "the minimum wage?" + +"I'd give them beans," he said. "I'd shoot 'em down shoot 'em down, +every man Jack of them. I lost my best train yesterday, and here's +the whole country paralysed, and here's a handful of obstinate fellows +standing between the country and coal. I'd shoot 'em down!" + +"That would surely be a little harsh," I pleaded. "After all, they +are not under martial law, though I suppose two or three of them have +commissions in the Yeomanry." + +"Commissions in the Yeomanry!" he repeated, and his eyes and face, which +became startling and separate, like those of a boiled lobster, made me +feel sure that he had something of the kind himself. + +"Besides," I continued, "wouldn't it be quite enough to confiscate their +money?" + +"Well, I'd send them all to penal servitude, anyhow," he said, "and I'd +confiscate their funds as well." + +"The policy is daring and full of difficulty," I replied, "but I do not +say that it is wholly outside the extreme rights of the republic. But +you must remember that though the facts of property have become +quite fantastic, yet the sentiment of property still exists. These +coal-owners, though they have not earned the mines, though they could +not work the mines, do quite honestly feel that they own the mines. +Hence your suggestion of shooting them down, or even of confiscating +their property, raises very—" + +"What do you mean?" asked the man with the cigar, with a bullying eye. +"Who yer talking about?" + +"I'm talking about what you were talking about," I replied; "as you put +it so perfectly, about the handful of obstinate fellows who are standing +between the country and the coal. I mean the men who are selling their +own coal for fancy prices, and who, as long as they can get those +prices, care as little for national starvation as most merchant princes +and pirates have cared for the provinces that were wasted or the peoples +that were enslaved just before their ships came home. But though I am a +bit of a revolutionist myself, I cannot quite go with you in the extreme +violence you suggest. You say—" + +"I say," he cried, bursting through my speech with a really splendid +energy like that of some noble beast, "I say I'd take all these blasted +miners and—" + +I had risen slowly to my feet, for I was profoundly moved; and I stood +staring at that mental monster. + +"Oh," I said, "so it is the miners who are all to be sent to penal +servitude, so that we may get more coal. It is the miners who are to be +shot dead, every man Jack of them; for if once they are all shot dead +they will start mining again...You must forgive me, sir; I know I seem +somewhat moved. The fact is, I have just found something. Something I +have been looking for for years." + +"Well," he asked, with no unfriendly stare, "and what have you found?" + +"No," I answered, shaking my head sadly, "I do not think it would be +quite kind to tell you what I have found." + +He had a hundred virtues, including the capital virtue of good humour, +and we had no difficulty in changing the subject and forgetting the +disagreement. He talked about society, his town friends and his country +sports, and I discovered in the course of it that he was a county +magistrate, a Member of Parliament, and a director of several important +companies. He was also that other thing, which I did not tell him. + +The moral is that a certain sort of person does exist, to whose glory +this article is dedicated. He is not the ordinary man. He is not the +miner, who is sharp enough to ask for the necessities of existence. He +is not the mine-owner, who is sharp enough to get a great deal more, by +selling his coal at the best possible moment. He is not the aristocratic +politician, who has a cynical but a fair sympathy with both economic +opportunities. But he is the man who appears in scores of public places +open to the upper middle class or (that less known but more powerful +section) the lower upper class. Men like this all over the country are +really saying whatever comes into their heads in their capacities of +justice of the peace, candidate for Parliament, Colonel of the Yeomanry, +old family doctor, Poor Law guardian, coroner, or above all, arbiter in +trade disputes. He suffers, in the literal sense, from softening of the +brain; he has softened it by always taking the view of everything most +comfortable for his country, his class, and his private personality. +He is a deadly public danger. But as I have given him his name at the +beginning of this article there is no need for me to repeat it at the +end. + + + + +THE CONSCRIPT AND THE CRISIS + +Very few of us ever see the history of our own time happening. And +I think the best service a modern journalist can do to society is to +record as plainly as ever he can exactly what impression was produced on +his mind by anything he has actually seen and heard on the outskirts of +any modern problem or campaign. Though all he saw of a railway strike +was a flat meadow in Essex in which a train was becalmed for an hour or +two, he will probably throw more light on the strike by describing this +which he has seen than by describing the steely kings of commerce and +the bloody leaders of the mob whom he has never seen—nor any one +else either. If he comes a day too late for the battle of Waterloo (as +happened to a friend of my grandfather) he should still remember that a +true account of the day after Waterloo would be a most valuable thing to +have. Though he was on the wrong side of the door when Rizzio was being +murdered, we should still like to have the wrong side described in +the right way. Upon this principle I, who know nothing of diplomacy or +military arrangements, and have only held my breath like the rest of +the world while France and Germany were bargaining, will tell quite +truthfully of a small scene I saw, one of the thousand scenes that were, +so to speak, the anterooms of that inmost chamber of debate. + +In the course of a certain morning I came into one of the quiet squares +of a small French town and found its cathedral. It was one of those gray +and rainy days which rather suit the Gothic. The clouds were leaden, +like the solid blue-gray lead of the spires and the jewelled windows; +the sloping roofs and high-shouldered arches looked like cloaks drooping +with damp; and the stiff gargoyles that stood out round the walls were +scoured with old rains and new. I went into the round, deep porch with +many doors and found two grubby children playing there out of the rain. +I also found a notice of services, etc., and among these I found the +announcement that at 11.30 (that is about half an hour later) there +would be a special service for the Conscripts, that is to say, the draft +of young men who were being taken from their homes in that little town +and sent to serve in the French Army; sent (as it happened) at an awful +moment, when the French Army was encamped at a parting of the ways. +There were already a great many people there when I entered, not only of +all kinds, but in all attitudes, kneeling, sitting, or standing +about. And there was that general sense that strikes every man from a +Protestant country, whether he dislikes the Catholic atmosphere or +likes it; I mean, the general sense that the thing was "going on all the +time"; that it was not an occasion, but a perpetual process, as if it +were a sort of mystical inn. + +Several tricolours were hung quite near to the altar, and the young men, +when they came in, filed up the church and sat right at the front. +They were, of course, of every imaginable social grade; for the French +conscription is really strict and universal. Some looked like young +criminals, some like young priests, some like both. Some were so +obviously prosperous and polished that a barrack-room must seem to +them like hell; others (by the look of them) had hardly ever been in so +decent a place. But it was not so much the mere class variety that most +sharply caught an Englishman's eye. It was the presence of just those +one or two kinds of men who would never have become soldiers in any +other way. + +There are many reasons for becoming a soldier. It may be a matter of +hereditary luck or abject hunger or heroic virtue or fugitive vice; it +may be an interest in the work or a lack of interest in any other work. +But there would always be two or three kinds of people who would never +tend to soldiering; all those kinds of people were there. A lad with red +hair, large ears, and very careful clothing, somehow conveyed across +the church that he had always taken care of his health, not even from +thinking about it, but simply because he was told, and that he was one +of those who pass from childhood to manhood without any shock of being a +man. In the row in front of him there was a very slight and vivid little +Jew, of the sort that is a tailor and a Socialist. By one of those +accidents that make real life so unlike anything else, he was the one +of the company who seemed especially devout. Behind these stiff or +sensitive boys were ranged the ranks of their mothers and fathers, with +knots and bunches of their little brothers and sisters. + +The children kicked their little legs, wriggled about the seats, and +gaped at the arched roof while their mothers were on their knees praying +their own prayers, and here and there crying. The gray clouds of +rain outside gathered, I suppose, more and more; for the deep church +continuously darkened. The lads in front began to sing a military hymn +in odd, rather strained voices; I could not disentangle the words, but +only one perpetual refrain; so that it sounded like + + Sacrarterumbrrar pour la patrie, + Valdarkararump pour la patrie. + +Then this ceased; and silence continued, the coloured windows growing +gloomier and gloomier with the clouds. In the dead stillness a child +started crying suddenly and incoherently. In a city far to the north a +French diplomatist and a German aristocrat were talking. + +I will not make any commentary on the thing that could blur the outline +of its almost cruel actuality. I will not talk nor allow any one else to +talk about "clericalism" and "militarism." Those who talk like that are +made of the same mud as those who call all the angers of the unfortunate +"Socialism." The women who were calling in the gloom around me on God +and the Mother of God were not "clericalists"; or, if they were, +they had forgotten it. And I will bet my boots the young men were not +"militarists"—quite the other way just then. The priest made a +short speech; he did not utter any priestly dogmas (whatever they are), +he uttered platitudes. In such circumstances platitudes are the only +possible things to say; because they are true. He began by saying that +he supposed a large number of them would be uncommonly glad not to go. +They seemed to assent to this particular priestly dogma with even +more than their alleged superstitious credulity. He said that war was +hateful, and that we all hated it; but that "in all things reasonable" +the law of one's own commonwealth was the voice of God. He spoke about +Joan of Arc; and how she had managed to be a bold and successful soldier +while still preserving her virtue and practising her religion; then he +gave them each a little paper book. To which they replied (after a brief +interval for reflection): + + Pongprongperesklang pour la patrie, + Tambraugtararronc pour la patrie. + +which I feel sure was the best and most pointed reply. + +While all this was happening feelings quite indescribable crowded +about my own darkening brain, as the clouds crowded above the darkening +church. They were so entirely of the elements and the passions that I +cannot utter them in an idea, but only in an image. It seemed to me +that we were barricaded in this church, but we could not tell what was +happening outside the church. The monstrous and terrible jewels of the +windows darkened or glistened under moving shadow or light, but the +nature of that light and the shapes of those shadows we did not know and +hardly dared to guess. The dream began, I think, with a dim fancy that +enemies were already in the town, and that the enormous oaken doors were +groaning under their hammers. Then I seemed to suppose that the town +itself had been destroyed by fire, and effaced, as it may be thousands +of years hence, and that if I opened the door I should come out on a +wilderness as flat and sterile as the sea. Then the vision behind the +veil of stone and slate grew wilder with earthquakes. I seemed to +see chasms cloven to the foundations of all things, and letting up an +infernal dawn. Huge things happily hidden from us had climbed out of +the abyss, and were striding about taller than the clouds. And when the +darkness crept from the sapphires of Mary to the sanguine garments of +St. John I fancied that some hideous giant was walking round the church +and looking in at each window in turn. + +Sometimes, again, I thought of that church with coloured windows as a +ship carrying many lanterns struggling in a high sea at night. Sometimes +I thought of it as a great coloured lantern itself, hung on an iron +chain out of heaven and tossed and swung to and fro by strong wings, the +wings of the princes of the air. But I never thought of it or the young +men inside it save as something precious and in peril, or of the things +outside but as something barbaric and enormous. + +I know there are some who cannot sympathise with such sentiments of +limitation; I know there are some who would feel no touch of the heroic +tenderness if some day a young man, with red hair, large ears, and +his mother's lozenges in his pocket, were found dead in uniform in the +passes of the Vosges. But on this subject I have heard many philosophies +and thought a good deal for myself; and the conclusion I have come to is +Sacrarterumbrrar pour la Pattie, and it is not likely that I shall alter +it now. + +But when I came out of the church there were none of these things, +but only a lot of Shops, including a paper-shop, on which the posters +announced that the negotiations were proceeding satisfactorily. + + + + +THE MISER AND HIS FRIENDS + +It is a sign of sharp sickness in a society when it is actually led by +some special sort of lunatic. A mild touch of madness may even keep a +man sane; for it may keep him modest. So some exaggerations in the State +may remind it of its own normal. But it is bad when the head is cracked; +when the roof of the commonwealth has a tile loose. + +The two or three cases of this that occur in history have always been +gibbeted gigantically. Thus Nero has become a black proverb, not +merely because he was an oppressor, but because he was also an +aesthete—that is, an erotomaniac. He not only tortured other +people's bodies; he tortured his own soul into the same red revolting +shapes. Though he came quite early in Roman Imperial history and was +followed by many austere and noble emperors, yet for us the Roman +Empire was never quite cleansed of that memory of the sexual madman. The +populace or barbarians from whom we come could not forget the hour when +they came to the highest place of the earth, saw the huge pedestal of +the earthly omnipotence, read on it Divus Caesar, and looked up and saw +a statue without a head. + +It is the same with that ugly entanglement before the Renaissance, from +which, alas, most memories of the Middle Ages are derived. Louis XI +was a very patient and practical man of the world; but (like many +good business men) he was mad. The morbidity of the intriguer and the +torturer clung about everything he did, even when it was right. And just +as the great Empire of Antoninus and Aurelius never wiped out Nero, so +even the silver splendour of the latter saints, such as Vincent de Paul, +has never painted out for the British public the crooked shadow of Louis +XI. Whenever the unhealthy man has been on top, he has left a horrible +savour that humanity finds still in its nostrils. Now in our time the +unhealthy man is on top; but he is not the man mad on sex, like Nero; or +mad on statecraft, like Louis XI; he is simply the man mad on money. Our +tyrant is not the satyr or the torturer; but the miser. + +The modern miser has changed much from the miser of legend and anecdote; +but only because he has grown yet more insane. The old miser had +some touch of the human artist about him in so far that he collected +gold—a substance that can really be admired for itself, like ivory +or old oak. An old man who picked up yellow pieces had something of the +simple ardour, something of the mystical materialism, of a child who +picks out yellow flowers. Gold is but one kind of coloured clay, but +coloured clay can be very beautiful. The modern idolater of riches is +content with far less genuine things. The glitter of guineas is like +the glitter of buttercups, the chink of pelf is like the chime of bells, +compared with the dreary papers and dead calculations which make the +hobby of the modern miser. + +The modern millionaire loves nothing so lovable as a coin. He is content +sometimes with the dead crackle of notes; but far more often with the +mere repetition of noughts in a ledger, all as like each other as eggs +to eggs. And as for comfort, the old miser could be comfortable, as many +tramps and savages are, when he was once used to being unclean. A man +could find some comfort in an unswept attic or an unwashed shirt. But +the Yankee millionaire can find no comfort with five telephones at his +bed-head and ten minutes for his lunch. The round coins in the miser's +stocking were safe in some sense. The round noughts in the millionaire's +ledger are safe in no sense; the same fluctuation which excites him with +their increase depresses him with their diminution. The miser at least +collects coins; his hobby is numismatics. The man who collects noughts +collects nothings. + +It may be admitted that the man amassing millions is a bit of an idiot; +but it may be asked in what sense does he rule the modern world. The +answer to this is very important and rather curious. The evil enigma +for us here is not the rich, but the Very Rich. The distinction is +important; because this special problem is separate from the old general +quarrel about rich and poor that runs through the Bible and all strong +books, old and new. The special problem to-day is that certain powers +and privileges have grown so world-wide and unwieldy that they are out +of the power of the moderately rich as well as of the moderately +poor. They are out of the power of everybody except a few +millionaires—that is, misers. In the old normal friction of normal +wealth and poverty I am myself on the Radical side. I think that a +Berkshire squire has too much power over his tenants; that a Brompton +builder has too much power over his workmen; that a West London doctor +has too much power over the poor patients in the West London Hospital. + +But a Berkshire squire has no power over cosmopolitan finance, for +instance. A Brompton builder has not money enough to run a Newspaper +Trust. A West End doctor could not make a corner in quinine and freeze +everybody out. The merely rich are not rich enough to rule the modern +market. The things that change modern history, the big national and +international loans, the big educational and philanthropic foundations, +the purchase of numberless newspapers, the big prices paid for peerages, +the big expenses often incurred in elections—these are getting too +big for everybody except the misers; the men with the largest of earthly +fortunes and the smallest of earthly aims. + +There are two other odd and rather important things to be said about +them. The first is this: that with this aristocracy we do not have the +chance of a lucky variety in types which belongs to larger and looser +aristocracies. The moderately rich include all kinds of people even +good people. Even priests are sometimes saints; and even soldiers are +sometimes heroes. Some doctors have really grown wealthy by curing their +patients and not by flattering them; some brewers have been known to +sell beer. But among the Very Rich you will never find a really generous +man, even by accident. They may give their money away, but they will +never give themselves away; they are egoistic, secretive, dry as old +bones. To be smart enough to get all that money you must be dull enough +to want it. + +Lastly, the most serious point about them is this: that the new miser +is flattered for his meanness and the old one never was. It was never +called self-denial in the old miser that he lived on bones. It is called +self-denial in the new millionaire if he lives on beans. A man like +Dancer was never praised as a Christian saint for going in rags. A +man like Rockefeller is praised as a sort of pagan stoic for his +early rising or his unassuming dress. His "simple" meals, his "simple" +clothes, his "simple" funeral, are all extolled as if they were +creditable to him. They are disgraceful to him: exactly as disgraceful +as the tatters and vermin of the old miser were disgraceful to him. To +be in rags for charity would be the condition of a saint; to be in rags +for money was that of a filthy old fool. Precisely in the same way, +to be "simple" for charity is the state of a saint; to be "simple" for +money is that of a filthy old fool. Of the two I have more respect for +the old miser, gnawing bones in an attic: if he was not nearer to God, +he was at least a little nearer to men. His simple life was a little +more like the life of the real poor. + + + + +THE MYSTAGOGUE + +Whenever you hear much of things being unutterable and indefinable and +impalpable and unnamable and subtly indescribable, then elevate your +aristocratic nose towards heaven and snuff up the smell of decay. It is +perfectly true that there is something in all good things that is beyond +all speech or figure of speech. But it is also true that there is in all +good things a perpetual desire for expression and concrete embodiment; +and though the attempt to embody it is always inadequate, the attempt is +always made. If the idea does not seek to be the word, the chances are +that it is an evil idea. If the word is not made flesh it is a bad word. + +Thus Giotto or Fra Angelico would have at once admitted theologically +that God was too good to be painted; but they would always try to paint +Him. And they felt (very rightly) that representing Him as a rather +quaint old man with a gold crown and a white beard, like a king of the +elves, was less profane than resisting the sacred impulse to express Him +in some way. That is why the Christian world is full of gaudy +pictures and twisted statues which seem, to many refined persons, more +blasphemous than the secret volumes of an atheist. The trend of good +is always towards Incarnation. But, on the other hand, those refined +thinkers who worship the Devil, whether in the swamps of Jamaica or the +salons of Paris, always insist upon the shapelessness, the wordlessness, +the unutterable character of the abomination. They call him "horror +of emptiness," as did the black witch in Stevenson's Dynamiter; they +worship him as the unspeakable name; as the unbearable silence. They +think of him as the void in the heart of the whirlwind; the cloud on +the brain of the maniac; the toppling turrets of vertigo or the endless +corridors of nightmare. It was the Christians who gave the Devil a +grotesque and energetic outline, with sharp horns and spiked tail. It +was the saints who drew Satan as comic and even lively. The Satanists +never drew him at all. + +And as it is with moral good and evil, so it is also with mental clarity +and mental confusion. There is one very valid test by which we may +separate genuine, if perverse and unbalanced, originality and revolt +from mere impudent innovation and bluff. The man who really thinks he +has an idea will always try to explain that idea. The charlatan who has +no idea will always confine himself to explaining that it is much too +subtle to be explained. The first idea may really be very outree or +specialist; it may really be very difficult to express to ordinary +people. But because the man is trying to express it, it is most probable +that there is something in it, after all. The honest man is he who is +always trying to utter the unutterable, to describe the indescribable; +but the quack lives not by plunging into mystery, but by refusing to +come out of it. + +Perhaps this distinction is most comically plain in the case of the +thing called Art, and the people called Art Critics. It is obvious that +an attractive landscape or a living face can only half express the holy +cunning that has made them what they are. It is equally obvious that +a landscape painter expresses only half of the landscape; a portrait +painter only half of the person; they are lucky if they express so much. +And again it is yet more obvious that any literary description of the +pictures can only express half of them, and that the less important +half. Still, it does express something; the thread is not broken that +connects God With Nature, or Nature with men, or men with critics. The +"Mona Lisa" was in some respects (not all, I fancy) what God meant her +to be. Leonardo's picture was, in some respects, like the lady. And +Walter Pater's rich description was, in some respects, like the picture. +Thus we come to the consoling reflection that even literature, in the +last resort, can express something other than its own unhappy self. + +Now the modern critic is a humbug, because he professes to be entirely +inarticulate. Speech is his whole business; and he boasts of being +speechless. Before Botticelli he is mute. But if there is any good in +Botticelli (there is much good, and much evil too) it is emphatically +the critic's business to explain it: to translate it from terms of +painting into terms of diction. Of course, the rendering will be +inadequate—but so is Botticelli. It is a fact he would be the +first to admit. But anything which has been intelligently received can +at least be intelligently suggested. Pater does suggest an intelligent +cause for the cadaverous colour of Botticelli's "Venus Rising from the +Sea." Ruskin does suggest an intelligent motive for Turner destroying +forests and falsifying landscapes. These two great critics were far too +fastidious for my taste; they urged to excess the idea that a sense +of art was a sort of secret; to be patiently taught and slowly learnt. +Still, they thought it could be taught: they thought it could be learnt. +They constrained themselves, with considerable creative fatigue, to find +the exact adjectives which might parallel in English prose what has been +clone in Italian painting. The same is true of Whistler and R. A. M. +Stevenson and many others in the exposition of Velasquez. They had +something to say about the pictures; they knew it was unworthy of the +pictures, but they said it. + +Now the eulogists of the latest artistic insanities (Cubism and Post +Impressionism and Mr. Picasso) are eulogists and nothing else. They +are not critics; least of all creative critics. They do not attempt +to translate beauty into language; they merely tell you that it is +untranslatable—that is, unutterable, indefinable, indescribable, +impalpable, ineffable, and all the rest of it. The cloud is their +banner; they cry to chaos and old night. They circulate a piece of paper +on which Mr. Picasso has had the misfortune to upset the ink and tried +to dry it with his boots, and they seek to terrify democracy by the good +old anti-democratic muddlements: that "the public" does not understand +these things; that "the likes of us" cannot dare to question the dark +decisions of our lords. + +I venture to suggest that we resist all this rubbish by the very simple +test mentioned above. If there were anything intelligent in such art, +something of it at least could be made intelligible in literature. Man +is made with one head, not with two or three. No criticism of Rembrandt +is as good as Rembrandt; but it can be so written as to make a man go +back and look at his pictures. If there is a curious and fantastic art, +it is the business of the art critics to create a curious and fantastic +literary expression for it; inferior to it, doubtless, but still akin to +it. If they cannot do this, as they cannot; if there is nothing in their +eulogies, as there is nothing except eulogy—then they are quacks +or the high-priests of the unutterable. If the art critics can say +nothing about the artists except that they are good it is because +the artists are bad. They can explain nothing because they have found +nothing; and they have found nothing because there is nothing to be +found. + + + + +THE RED REACTIONARY + +The one case for Revolution is that it is the only quite clean and +complete road to anything—even to restoration. Revolution alone +can be not merely a revolt of the living, but also a resurrection of the +dead. + +A friend of mine (one, in fact, who writes prominently on this paper) +was once walking down the street in a town of Western France, situated +in that area that used to be called La Vendee; which in that great +creative crisis about 1790 formed a separate and mystical soul of its +own, and made a revolution against a revolution. As my friend went down +this street he whistled an old French air which he had found, like Mr. +Gandish, "in his researches into 'istry," and which had somehow taken +his fancy; the song to which those last sincere loyalists went into +battle. I think the words ran: + + Monsieur de Charette. + Dit au gens d'ici. + Le roi va remettre. + Le fleur de lys. + +My friend was (and is) a Radical, but he was (and is) an Englishman, and +it never occurred to him that there could be any harm in singing archaic +lyrics out of remote centuries; that one had to be a Catholic to enjoy +the "Dies Irae," or a Protestant to remember "Lillibullero." Yet he was +stopped and gravely warned that things so politically provocative might +get him at least into temporary trouble. + +A little time after I was helping King George V to get crowned, by +walking round a local bonfire and listening to a local band. Just as a +bonfire cannot be too big, so (by my theory of music) a band cannot +be too loud, and this band was so loud, emphatic, and obvious, that I +actually recognised one or two of the tunes. And I noticed that quite a +formidable proportion of them were Jacobite tunes; that is, tunes that +had been primarily meant to keep George V out of his throne for ever. +Some of the real airs of the old Scottish rebellion were played, such +as "Charlie is My Darling," or "What's a' the steer, kimmer?" songs that +men had sung while marching to destroy and drive out the monarchy under +which we live. They were songs in which the very kinsmen of the present +King were swept aside as usurpers. They were songs in which the actual +words "King George" occurred as a curse and a derision. Yet they +were played to celebrate his very Coronation; played as promptly and +innocently as if they had been "Grandfather's Clock" or "Rule Britannia" +or "The Honeysuckle and the Bee." + +That contrast is the measure, not only between two nations, but between +two modes of historical construction and development. For there is not +really very much difference, as European history goes, in the time that +has elapsed between us and the Jacobite and between us and the Jacobin. +When George III was crowned the gauntlet of the King's Champion was +picked up by a partisan of the Stuarts. When George III was still on the +throne the Bourbons were driven out of France as the Stuarts had been +driven out of England. Yet the French are just sufficiently aware that +the Bourbons might possibly return that they will take a little trouble +to discourage it; whereas we are so certain that the Stuarts will never +return that we actually play their most passionate tunes as a compliment +to their rivals. And we do not even do it tauntingly. I examined the +faces of all the bandsmen; and I am sure they were devoid of irony: +indeed, it is difficult to blow a wind instrument ironically. We do it +quite unconsciously; because we have a huge fundamental dogma, which the +French have not. We really believe that the past is past. It is a very +doubtful point. + +Now the great gift of a revolution (as in France) is that it makes men +free in the past as well as free in the future. Those who have cleared +away everything could, if they liked, put back everything. But we who +have preserved everything—we cannot restore anything. Take, +for the sake of argument, the complex and many coloured ritual of the +Coronation recently completed. That rite is stratified with the separate +centuries; from the first rude need of discipline to the last fine shade +of culture or corruption, there is nothing that cannot be detected or +even dated. The fierce and childish vow of the lords to serve their lord +"against all manner of folk" obviously comes from the real Dark Ages; +no longer confused, even by the ignorant, with the Middle Ages. It comes +from some chaos of Europe, when there was one old Roman road across four +of our counties; and when hostile "folk" might live in the next village. +The sacramental separation of one man to be the friend of the fatherless +and the nameless belongs to the true Middle Ages; with their great +attempt to make a moral and invisible Roman Empire; or (as the +Coronation Service says) to set the cross for ever above the ball. +Elaborate local tomfooleries, such as that by which the Lord of the +Manor of Work-sop is alone allowed to do something or other, these +probably belong to the decay of the Middle Ages, when that great +civilisation died out in grotesque literalism and entangled heraldry. +Things like the presentation of the Bible bear witness to the +intellectual outburst at the Reformation; things like the Declaration +against the Mass bear witness to the great wars of the Puritans; and +things like the allegiance of the Bishops bear witness to the wordy and +parenthetical political compromises which (to my deep regret) ended the +wars of religion. + +But my purpose here is only to point out one particular thing. In all +that long list of variations there must be, and there are, things +which energetic modern minds would really wish, with the reasonable +modification, to restore. Dr. Clifford would probably be glad to see +again the great Puritan idealism that forced the Bible into an antique +and almost frozen formality. Dr. Horton probably really regrets the +old passion that excommunicated Rome. In the same way Mr. Belloc +would really prefer the Middle Ages; as Lord Rosebery would prefer +the Erastian oligarchy of the eighteenth century. The Dark Ages would +probably be disputed (from widely different motives) by Mr. Rudyard +Kipling and Mr. Cunninghame Graham. But Mr. Cunninghame Graham would +win. + +But the black case against Conservative (or Evolutionary) politics is +that none of these sincere men can win. Dr. Clifford cannot get back +to the Puritans; Mr. Belloc cannot get back to the mediaevals; because +(alas) there has been no Revolution to leave them a clear space for +building or rebuilding. Frenchmen have all the ages behind them, and can +wander back and pick and choose. But Englishmen have all the ages on top +of them, and can only lie groaning under that imposing tower, without +being able to take so much as a brick out of it. If the French decide +that their Republic is bad they can get rid of it; but if we decide that +a Republic was good, we should have much more difficulty. If the French +democracy actually desired every detail of the mediaeval monarchy, they +could have it. I do not think they will or should, but they could. If +another Dauphin were actually crowned at Rheims; if another Joan of Arc +actually bore a miraculous banner before him; if mediaeval swords shook +and blazed in every gauntlet; if the golden lilies glowed from every +tapestry; if this were really proved to be the will of France and the +purpose of Providence—such a scene would still be the lasting and +final justification of the French Revolution. + +For no such scene could conceivably have happened under Louis XVI. + + + + +THE SEPARATIST AND SACRED THINGS + +In the very laudable and fascinating extensions of our interest in +Asiatic arts or faiths, there are two incidental injustices which we +tend nowadays to do to our own records and our own religion. The first +is a tendency to talk as if certain things were not only present in the +higher Orientals, but were peculiar to them. Thus our magazines will +fall into a habit of wondering praise of Bushido, the Japanese chivalry, +as if no Western knights had ever vowed noble vows, or as if no Eastern +knights had ever broken them. Or again, our drawing-rooms will be full +of the praises of Indian renunciation and Indian unworldliness, as if no +Christians had been saints, or as if all Buddhists had been. But if the +first injustice is to think of human virtues as peculiarly Eastern, the +other injustice is a failure to appreciate what really is peculiarly +Eastern. It is too much taken for granted that the Eastern sort of +idealism is certainly superior and convincing; whereas in truth it is +only separate and peculiar. All that is richest, deepest, and subtlest +in the East is rooted in Pantheism; but all that is richest, deepest, +and subtlest in us is concerned with denying passionately that Pantheism +is either the highest or the purest religion. + +Thus, in turning over some excellent books recently written on the +spirit of Indian or Chinese art and decoration, I found it quietly and +curiously assumed that the artist must be at his best if he flows with +the full stream of Nature; and identifies himself with all things; so +that the stars are his sleepless eyes and the forests his far-flung +arms. Now in this way of talking both the two injustices will be found. +In so far as what is claimed is a strong sense of the divine in all +things, the Eastern artists have no more monopoly of it than they have +of hunger and thirst. + +I have no doubt that the painters and poets of the Far East do exhibit +this; but I rebel at being asked to admit that we must go to the Far +East to find it. Traces of such sentiments can be found, I fancy, even +in other painters and poets. I do not question that the poet Wo Wo (that +ornament of the eighth dynasty) may have written the words: "Even the +most undignified vegetable is for this person capable of producing +meditations not to be exhibited by much weeping." But, I do not +therefore admit that a Western gentleman named Wordsworth (who made +a somewhat similar remark) had plagiarised from Wo Wo, or was a mere +Occidental fable and travesty of that celebrated figure. I do not deny +that Tinishona wrote that exquisite example of the short Japanese poem +entitled "Honourable Chrysanthemum in Honourable Hole in Wall." But I do +not therefore admit that Tennyson's little verse about the flower in the +cranny was not original and even sincere. + +It is recorded (for all I know) of the philanthropic Emperor Bo, that +when engaged in cutting his garden lawn with a mower made of alabaster +and chrysoberyl, he chanced to cut down a small flower; whereupon, being +much affected, he commanded his wise men immediately to take down upon +tablets of ivory the lines beginning: "Small and unobtrusive blossom +with ruby extremities." But this incident, touching as it is, does not +shake my belief in the incident of Robert Burns and the daisy; and I am +left with an impression that poets are pretty much the same everywhere +in their poetry—and in their prose. + +I have tried to convey my sympathy and admiration for Eastern art and +its admirers, and if I have not conveyed them I must give it up and go +on to more general considerations. I therefore proceed to say—with +the utmost respect, that it is Cheek, a rarefied and etherealised form +of Cheek, for this school to speak in this way about the mother that +bore them, the great civilisation of the West. The West also has its +magic landscapes, only through our incurable materialism they look +like landscapes as well as like magic. The West also has its symbolic +figures, only they look like men as well as symbols. It will be answered +(and most justly) that Oriental art ought to be free to follow its own +instinct and tradition; that its artists are concerned to suggest one +thing and our artists another; that both should be admired in their +difference. Profoundly true; but what is the difference? It is certainly +not as the Orientalisers assert, that we must go to the Far East for a +sympathetic and transcendental interpretation of Nature. We have paid +a long enough toll of mystics and even of madmen to be quit of that +disability. + +Yet there is a difference, and it is just what I suggested. The Eastern +mysticism is an ecstasy of unity; the Christian mysticism is an ecstasy +of creation, that is of separation and mutual surprise. The latter says, +like St. Francis, "My brother fire and my sister water"; the former +says, "Myself fire and myself water." Whether you call the Eastern +attitude an extension of oneself into everything or a contraction of +oneself into nothing is a matter of metaphysical definition. The +effect is the same, an effect which lives and throbs throughout all the +exquisite arts of the East. This effect is the Sing called rhythm, a +pulsation of pattern, or of ritual, or of colours, or of cosmic theory, +but always suggesting the unification of the individual with the world. +But there is quite another kind of sympathy the sympathy with a +thing because it is different. No one will say that Rembrandt did not +sympathise with an old woman; but no one will say that Rembrandt painted +like an old woman. No one will say that Reynolds did not appreciate +children; but no one will say he did it childishly. The supreme instance +of this divine division is sex, and that explains (what I could never +understand in my youth) why Christendom called the soul the bride of +God. For real love is an intense realisation of the "separateness" of +all our souls. The most heroic and human love-poetry of the world is +never mere passion; precisely because mere passion really is a melting +back into Nature, a meeting of the waters. And water is plunging +and powerful; but it is only powerful downhill. The high and human +love-poetry is all about division rather than identity; and in the great +love-poems even the man as he embraces the woman sees her, in the same +instant, afar off; a virgin and a stranger. + +For the first injustice, of which we have spoken, still recurs; and if +we grant that the East has a right to its difference, it is not realised +in what we differ. That nursery tale from nowhere about St. George and +the Dragon really expresses best the relation between the West and the +East. There were many other differences, calculated to arrest even +the superficial eye, between a saint and a dragon. But the essential +difference was simply this: that the Dragon did want to eat St. George; +whereas St. George would have felt a strong distaste for eating the +Dragon. In most of the stories he killed the Dragon. In many of the +stories he not only spared, but baptised it. But in neither case did the +Christian have any appetite for cold dragon. The Dragon, however, +really has an appetite for cold Christian—and especially for cold +Christianity. This blind intention to absorb, to change the shape of +everything and digest it in the darkness of a dragon's stomach; this is +what is really meant by the Pantheism and Cosmic Unity of the East. The +Cosmos as such is cannibal; as old Time ate his children. The Eastern +saints were saints because they wanted to be swallowed up. The Western +saint, like St. George, was sainted by the Western Church precisely +because he refused to be swallowed. The same process of thought that has +prevented nationalities disappearing in Christendom has prevented the +complete appearance of Pantheism. All Christian men instinctively resist +the idea of being absorbed into an Empire; an Austrian, a Spanish, a +British, or a Turkish Empire. But there is one empire, much larger and +much more tyrannical, which free men will resist with even stronger +passion. The free man violently resists being absorbed into the empire +which is called the Universe. He demands Home Rule for his nationality, +but still more Home Rule for his home. Most of all he demands Home +Rule for himself. He claims the right to be saved, in spite of Moslem +fatalism. He claims the right to be damned in spite of theosophical +optimism. He refuses to be the Cosmos; because he refuses to forget it. + + + + +THE MUMMER + +The night before Christmas Eve I heard a burst of musical voices so +close that they might as well have been inside the house instead of +just outside; so I asked them inside, hoping that they might then seem +farther away. Then I realised that they were the Christmas Mummers, who +come every year in country parts to enact the rather rigid fragments of +the old Christmas play of St. George, the Turkish Knight, and the Very +Venal Doctor. I will not describe it; it is indescribable; but I will +describe my parallel sentiments as it passed. + +One could see something of that half-failure that haunts our artistic +revivals of mediaeval dances, carols, or Bethlehem Plays. There are +elements in all that has come to us from the more morally simple +society of the Middle Ages: elements which moderns, even when they are +mediaevalists, find it hard to understand and harder to imitate. The +first is the primary idea of Mummery itself. If you will observe a child +just able to walk, you will see that his first idea is not to dress up +as anybody—but to dress up. Afterwards, of course, the idea +of being the King or Uncle William will leap to his lips. But it is +generally suggested by the hat he has already let fall over his nose, +from far deeper motives. Tommy does not assume the hat primarily because +it is Uncle William's hat, but because it is not Tommy's hat. It is a +ritual investiture; and is akin to those Gorgon masks that stiffened the +dances of Greece or those towering mitres that came from the mysteries +of Persia. For the essence of such ritual is a profound paradox: the +concealment of the personality combined with the exaggeration of the +person. The man performing a rite seeks to be at once invisible and +conspicuous. It is part of that divine madness which all other creatures +wonder at in Man, that he alone parades this pomp of obliteration and +anonymity. Man is not, perhaps, the only creature who dresses himself, +but he is the only creature who disguises himself. Beasts and birds do +indeed take the colours of their environment; but that is not in order +to be watched, but in order not to be watched; it is not the formalism +of rejoicing, but the formlessness of fear. It is not so with men, whose +nature is the unnatural. Ancient Britons did not stain themselves blue +because they lived in blue forests; nor did Georgian beaux and belles +powder their hair to match an Arctic landscape; the Britons were not +dressing up as kingfishers nor the beaux pretending to be polar bears. +Nay, even when modern ladies paint their faces a bright mauve, it is +doubted by some naturalists whether they do it with the idea of escaping +notice. So merry-makers (or Mummers) adopt their costume to heighten +and exaggerate their own bodily presence and identity; not to sink it, +primarily speaking, in another identity. It is not Acting—that +comparatively low profession-comparatively I mean. It is Mummery; +and, as Mr. Kensit would truly say, all elaborate religious ritual is +Mummery. That is, it is the noble conception of making Man something +other and more than himself when he stands at the limit of human things. +It is only careful faddists and feeble German philosophers who want to +wear no clothes; and be "natural" in their Dionysian revels. Natural +men, really vigorous and exultant men, want to wear more and more +clothes when they are revelling. They want worlds of waistcoats and +forests of trousers and pagodas of tall hats toppling up to the stars. + +Thus it is with the lingering Mummers at Christmas in the country. If +our more refined revivers of Miracle Plays or Morrice Dances tried to +reconstruct the old Mummers' Play of St. George and the Turkish Knight +(I do not know why they do not) they would think at once of picturesque +and appropriate dresses. St. George's panoply would be pictured from +the best books of armour and blazonry: the Turkish Knight's arms and +ornaments would be traced from the finest Saracenic arabesques. When my +garden door opened on Christmas Eve and St. George of England entered, +the appearance of that champion was slightly different. His face was +energetically blacked all over with soot, above which he wore an +aged and very tall top hat; he wore his shirt outside his coat like a +surplice, and he flourished a thick umbrella. Now do not, I beg you, +talk about "ignorance"; or suppose that the Mummer in question (he is a +very pleasant Ratcatcher, with a tenor voice) did this because he knew +no better. Try to realise that even a Ratcatcher knows St. George of +England was not black, and did not kill the Dragon with an umbrella. +The Rat-catcher is not under this delusion; any more than Paul Veronese +thought that very good men have luminous rings round their heads; any +more than the Pope thinks that Christ washed the feet of the twelve in +a Cathedral; any more than the Duke of Norfolk thinks the lions on a +tabard are like the lions at the Zoo. These things are denaturalised +because they are symbols; because the extraordinary occasion must hide +or even disfigure the ordinary people. Black faces were to mediaeval +mummeries what carved masks were to Greek plays: it was called being +"vizarded." My Rat-catcher is not sufficiently arrogant to suppose for +a moment that he looks like St. George. But he is sufficiently humble to +be convinced that if he looks as little like himself as he can, he will +be on the right road. + +This is the soul of Mumming; the ostentatious secrecy of men in +disguise. There are, of course, other mediaeval elements in it which +are also difficult to explain to the fastidious mediaevalists of to-day. +There is, for instance, a certain output of violence into the void. It +can best be defined as a raging thirst to knock men down without the +faintest desire to hurt them. All the rhymes with the old ring have the +trick of turning on everything in which the rhymsters most sincerely +believed, merely for the pleasure of blowing off steam in startling +yet careless phrases. When Tennyson says that King Arthur "drew all the +petty princedoms under him," and "made a realm and ruled," his grave +Royalism is quite modern. Many mediaevals, outside the mediaeval +republics, believed in monarchy as solemnly as Tennyson. But that older +verse + + When good King Arthur ruled this land + He was a goodly King— + He stole three pecks of barley-meal + To make a bag-pudding. + +is far more Arthurian than anything in The Idylls of the King. There are +other elements; especially that sacred thing that can perhaps be called +Anachronism. All that to us is Anachronism was to mediaevals merely +Eternity. But the main excellence of the Mumming Play lies still, +I think, in its uproarious secrecy. If we cannot hide our hearts in +healthy darkness, at least we can hide our faces in healthy blacking. +If you cannot escape like a philosopher into a forest, at least you can +carry the forest with you, like a Jack-in-the-Green. It is well to walk +under universal ensigns; and there is an old tale of a tyrant to whom +a walking forest was the witness of doom. That, indeed, is the very +intensity of the notion: a masked man is ominous; but who shall face a +mob of masks? + + + + +THE ARISTOCRATIC 'ARRY + +The Cheap Tripper, pursued by the curses of the aesthetes and the +antiquaries, really is, I suppose, a symptom of the strange and almost +unearthly ugliness of our diseased society. The costumes and customs +of a hundred peasantries are there to prove that such ugliness does +not necessarily follow from mere poverty, or mere democracy, or mere +unlettered simplicity of mind. + +But though the tripper, artistically considered, is a sign of our +decadence, he is not one of its worst signs, but relatively one of its +best; one of its most innocent and most sincere. Compared with many +of the philosophers and artists who denounce him; he looks like a God +fearing fisher or a noble mountaineer. His antics with donkeys and +concertinas, crowded charabancs, and exchanged hats, though clumsy, are +not so vicious or even so fundamentally vulgar as many of the amusements +of the overeducated. People are not more crowded on a char-a-banc than +they are at a political "At Home," or even an artistic soiree; and if +the female trippers are overdressed, at least they are not overdressed +and underdressed at the same time. It is better to ride a donkey than to +be a donkey. It is better to deal with the Cockney festival which asks +men and women to change hats, rather than with the modern Utopia that +wants them to change heads. + +But the truth is that such small, but real, element of vulgarity as +there is indeed in the tripper, is part of a certain folly and falsity +which is characteristic of much modernity, and especially of the very +people who persecute the poor tripper most. There is something in the +whole society, and even especially in the cultured part of it, that does +things in a clumsy and unbeautiful way. + +A case occurs to me in the matter of Stonehenge, which I happened to +visit yesterday. Now to a person really capable of feeling the poetry of +Stonehenge it is almost a secondary matter whether he sees Stonehenge +at all. The vast void roll of the empty land towards Salisbury, the gray +tablelands like primeval altars, the trailing rain-clouds, the vapour +of primeval sacrifices, would all tell him of a very ancient and +very lonely Britain. It would not spoil his Druidic mood if he +missed Stonehenge. But it does spoil his mood to find +Stonehenge—surrounded by a brand-new fence of barbed wire, with a +policeman and a little shop selling picture post-cards. + +Now if you protest against this, educated people will instantly answer +you, "Oh, it was done to prevent the vulgar trippers who chip stones and +carve names and spoil the look of Stonehenge." It does not seem to +occur to them that barbed wire and a policeman rather spoil the look of +Stonehenge. The scratching of a name, particularly when performed +with blunt penknife or pencil by a person of imperfect School Board +education, can be trusted in a little while to be indistinguishable from +the grayest hieroglyphic by the grandest Druid of old. But nobody could +get a modern policeman into the same picture with a Druid. This really +vital piece of vandalism was done by the educated, not the uneducated; +it was done by the influence of the artists or antiquaries who wanted +to preserve the antique beauty of Stonehenge. It seems to me curious to +preserve your lady's beauty from freckles by blacking her face all over; +or to protect the pure whiteness of your wedding garment by dyeing it +green. + +And if you ask, "But what else could any one have done, what could the +most artistic age have done to save the monument?" I reply, "There are +hundreds of things that Greeks or Mediaevals might have done; and I have +no notion what they would have chosen; but I say that by an instinct in +their whole society they would have done something that was decent and +serious and suitable to the place. Perhaps some family of knights or +warriors would have the hereditary duty of guarding such a place. If so +their armour would be appropriate; their tents would be appropriate; +not deliberately—they would grow like that. Perhaps some religious +order such as normally employ nocturnal watches and the relieving of +guard would protect such a place. Perhaps it would be protected by all +sorts of rituals, consecrations, or curses, which would seem to you +mere raving superstition and silliness. But they do not seem to me one +twentieth part so silly, from a purely rationalist point of view, as +calmly making a spot hideous in order to keep it beautiful." + +The thing that is really vulgar, the thing that is really vile, is to +live in a good place Without living by its life. Any one who settles +down in a place without becoming part of it is (barring peculiar +personal cases, of course) a tripper or wandering cad. For instance, +the Jew is a genuine peculiar case. The Wandering Jew is not a wandering +cad. He is a highly civilised man in a highly difficult position; the +world being divided, and his own nation being divided, about whether he +can do anything else except wander. + +The best example of the cultured, but common, tripper is the educated +Englishman on the Continent. We can no longer explain the quarrel by +calling Englishmen rude and foreigners polite. Hundreds of Englishmen +are extremely polite, and thousands of foreigners are extremely rude. +The truth of the matter is that foreigners do not resent the rude +Englishman. What they do resent, what they do most justly resent, is +the polite Englishman. He visits Italy for Botticellis or Flanders +for Rembrandts, and he treats the great nations that made these things +courteously—as he would treat the custodians of any museum. It +does not seem to strike him that the Italian is not the custodian of the +pictures, but the creator of them. He can afford to look down on such +nations—when he can paint such pictures. + +That is, in matters of art and travel, the psychology of the cad. +If, living in Italy, you admire Italian art while distrusting Italian +character, you are a tourist, or cad. If, living in Italy, you admire +Italian art while despising Italian religion, you are a tourist, or cad. +It does not matter how many years you have lived there. Tourists will +often live a long time in hotels without discovering the nationality +of the waiters. Englishmen will often live a long time in Italy without +discovering the nationality of the Italians. But the test is simple. If +you admire what Italians did without admiring Italians—you are a +cheap tripper. + +The same, of course, applies much nearer home. I have remarked elsewhere +that country shopkeepers are justly offended by London people, who, +coming among them, continue to order all their goods from London. It is +caddish to wink and squint at the colour of a man's wine, like a wine +taster; and then refuse to drink it. It is equally caddish to wink and +squint at the colour of a man's orchard, like a landscape painter; and +then refuse to buy the apples. It is always an insult to admire a thing +and not use it. But the main point is that one has no right to see +Stonehenge without Salisbury Plain and Salisbury: One has no right to +respect the dead Italians without respecting the live ones. One has no +right to visit a Christian society like a diver visiting the deep-sea +fishes—fed along a lengthy tube by another atmosphere, and seeing +the sights without breathing the air. It is very real bad manners. + + + + +THE NEW THEOLOGIAN + +It is an old story that names do not fit things; it is an old story +that the oldest forest is called the New Forest, and that Irish stew is +almost peculiar to England. But these are traditional titles that tend, +of their nature, to stiffen; it is the tragedy of to-day that even +phrases invented for to-day do not fit it. The forest has remained new +while it is nearly a thousand years old; but our fashions have grown old +while they were still new. + +The extreme example of this is that when modern wrongs are attacked, +they are almost always attacked wrongly. People seem to have a positive +inspiration for finding the inappropriate phrase to apply to an +offender; they are always accusing a man of theft when he has been +convicted of murder. They must accuse Sir Edward Carson of outrageous +rebellion, when his offence has really been a sleek submission to +the powers that be. They must describe Mr. Lloyd George as using his +eloquence to rouse the mob, whereas he has really shown considerable +cleverness in damping it down. It was probably under the same impulse +towards a mysterious misfit of names that people denounced Dr. Inge as +"the Gloomy Dean." + +Now there is nothing whatever wrong about being a Dean; nor is there +anything wrong about being gloomy. The only question is what dark but +sincere motives have made you gloomy. What dark but sincere motives +have made you a Dean. Now the address of Dr. Inge which gained him +this erroneous title was mostly concerned with a defence of the modern +capitalists against the modern strikers, from whose protest he appeared +to anticipate appalling results. Now if we look at the facts about that +gentleman's depression and also about his Deanery, we shall find a very +curious state of things. + +When Dr. Inge was called "the Gloomy Dean" a great injustice was done +him. He had appeared as the champion of our capitalist community against +the forces of revolt; and any one who does that exceeds in optimism +rather than pessimism. A man who really thinks that strikers have +suffered no wrong, or that employers have done no wrong—such a man +is not a Gloomy Dean, but a quite wildly and dangerously happy Dean. A +man who can feel satisfied with modern industrialism must be a man with +a mysterious fountain of high spirits. And the actual occasion is not +less curious; because, as far as I can make out, his title to gloom +reposes on his having said that our worker's demand high wages, while +the placid people of the Far East will quite cheerfully work for less. + +This is true enough, of course, and there does not seem to be much +difficulty about the matter. Men of the Far East will submit to very low +wages for the same reason that they will submit to "the punishment known +as Li, or Slicing"; for the same reason that they will praise polygamy +and suicide; for the same reason that they subject the wife utterly to +the husband or his parents; for the same reason that they serve their +temples with prostitutes for priests; for the same reason that they +sometimes seem to make no distinction between sexual passion and sexual +perversion. They do it, that is, because they are Heathens; men with +traditions different from ours about the limits of endurance and the +gestures of self-respect. They may be very much better than we are in +hundreds of other ways; and I can quite understand a man (though +hardly a Dean) really preferring their historic virtues to those of +Christendom. A man may perhaps feel more comfortable among his Asiatic +coolies than among his European comrades: and as we are to allow the +Broadest Thought in the Church, Dr. Inge has as much right to his heresy +as anybody else. It is true that, as Dr. Inge says, there are numberless +Orientals who will do a great deal of work for very little money; and +it is most undoubtedly true that there are several high-placed and +prosperous Europeans who like to get work done and pay as little as +possible for it. + +But I cannot make out why, with his enthusiasm for heathen habits and +traditions, the Dean should wish to spread in the East the ideas which +he has found so dreadfully unsettling in the West. If some thousands of +years of paganism have produced the patience and industry that Dean Inge +admires, and if some thousand years of Christianity have produced +the sentimentality and sensationalism which he regrets, the obvious +deduction is that Dean Inge would be much happier if he were a heathen +Chinese. Instead of supporting Christian missions to Korea or Japan, he +ought to be at the head of a great mission in London for converting the +English to Taoism or Buddhism. There his passion for the moral beauties +of paganism would have free and natural play; his style would improve; +his mind would begin slowly to clear; and he would be free from all +sorts of little irritating scrupulosities which must hamper even the +most Conservative Christian in his full praise of sweating and the sack. + +In Christendom he will never find rest. The perpetual public criticism +and public change which is the note of all our history springs from a +certain spirit far too deep to be defined. It is deeper than democracy; +nay, it may often appear to be non-democratic; for it may often be the +special defence of a minority or an individual. It will often leave the +ninety-and-nine in the wilderness and go after that which is lost. It +will often risk the State itself to right a single wrong; and do justice +though the heavens fall. Its highest expression is not even in the +formula of the great gentlemen of the French Revolution who said that +all men were free and equal. Its highest expression is rather in the +formula of the peasant who said that a man's a man for a' that. If there +were but one slave in England, and he did all the work while the rest +of us made merry, this spirit that is in us would still cry aloud to +God night and day. Whether or no this spirit was produced by, it clearly +works with, a creed which postulates a humanised God and a vividly +personal immortality. Men must not be busy merely like a swarm, or even +happy merely like a herd; for it is not a question of men, but of a +man. A man's meals may be poor, but they must not be bestial; there must +always be that about the meal which permits of its comparison to +the sacrament. A man's bed may be hard, but it must not be abject or +unclean: there must always be about the bed something of the decency of +the death-bed. + +This is the spirit which makes the Christian poor begin their terrible +murmur whenever there is a turn of prices or a deadlock of toil +that threatens them with vagabondage or pauperisation; and we cannot +encourage the Dean with any hope that this spirit can be cast out. +Christendom will continue to suffer all the disadvantages of being +Christian: it is the Dean who must be gently but firmly altered. He had +absent-mindedly strayed into the wrong continent and the wrong creed. I +advise him to chuck it. + +But the case is more curious still. To connect the Dean with Confucian +temples or traditions may have appeared fantastic; but it is not. Dr. +Inge is not a stupid old Tory Rector, strict both on Church and State. +Such a man might talk nonsense about the Christian Socialists being +"court chaplains of King Demos" or about his own superb valour in +defying the democracy that rages in the front pews of Anglican churches. +We should not expect a mere old-fashioned country clergyman to know that +Demos has never been king in England and precious seldom anywhere else; +we should not expect him to realise that if King Demos had any chaplains +they would be uncommonly poorly paid. But Dr. Inge is not old-fashioned; +he considers himself highly progressive and advanced. He is a New +Theologian; that is, he is liberal in theology—and nothing else. +He is apparently in sober fact, and not as in any fantasy, in sympathy +with those who would soften the superior claim of our creed by urging +the rival creeds of the East; with those who would absorb the virtues of +Buddhism or of Islam. He holds a high seat in that modern Parliament of +Religions where all believers respect each other's unbelief. + +Now this has a very sharp moral for modern religious reformers. When +next you hear the "liberal" Christian say that we should take what is +best in Oriental faiths, make quite sure what are the things that people +like Dr. Inge call best; what are the things that people like Dr. Inge +propose to take. You will not find them imitating the military valour of +the Moslem. You will not find them imitating the miraculous ecstasy of +the Hindoo. The more you study the "broad" movement of today, the more +you will find that these people want something much less like Chinese +metaphysics, and something much more like Chinese Labour. You will find +the levelling of creeds quite unexpectedly close to the lowering of +wages. Dr. Inge is the typical latitudinarian of to-day; and was never +more so than when he appeared not as the apostle of the blacks, but as +the apostle of the blacklegs. Preached, as it is, almost entirely +among the prosperous and polite, our brotherhood with Buddhism or +Mohammedanism practically means this—that the poor must be as meek +as Buddhists, while the rich may be as ruthless as Mohammedans. That is +what they call the reunion of all religions. + + + + +THE ROMANTIC IN THE RAIN + +The middle classes of modern England are quite fanatically fond of +washing; and are often enthusiastic for teetotalism. I cannot therefore +comprehend why it is that they exhibit a mysterious dislike of rain. +Rain, that inspiring and delightful thing, surely combines the qualities +of these two ideals with quite a curious perfection. Our philanthropists +are eager to establish public baths everywhere. Rain surely is a public +bath; it might almost be called mixed bathing. The appearance of persons +coming fresh from this great natural lustration is not perhaps polished +or dignified; but for the matter of that, few people are dignified when +coming out of a bath. But the scheme of rain in itself is one of an +enormous purification. It realises the dream of some insane hygienist: +it scrubs the sky. Its giant brooms and mops seem to reach the starry +rafters and Starless corners of the cosmos; it is a cosmic spring +cleaning. + +If the Englishman is really fond of cold baths, he ought not to grumble +at the English climate for being a cold bath. In these days we are +constantly told that we should leave our little special possessions and +join in the enjoyment of common social institutions and a common social +machinery. I offer the rain as a thoroughly Socialistic institution. It +disregards that degraded delicacy which has hitherto led each gentleman +to take his shower-bath in private. It is a better shower-bath, because +it is public and communal; and, best of all, because somebody else pulls +the string. + +As for the fascination of rain for the water drinker, it is a fact the +neglect of which I simply cannot comprehend. The enthusiastic water +drinker must regard a rainstorm as a sort of universal banquet and +debauch of his own favourite beverage. Think of the imaginative +intoxication of the wine drinker if the crimson clouds sent down claret +or the golden clouds hock. Paint upon primitive darkness some such +scenes of apocalypse, towering and gorgeous skyscapes in which champagne +falls like fire from heaven or the dark skies grow purple and tawny with +the terrible colours of port. All this must the wild abstainer feel, as +he rolls in the long soaking grass, kicks his ecstatic heels to heaven, +and listens to the roaring rain. It is he, the water drinker, who +ought to be the true bacchanal of the forests; for all the forests are +drinking water. Moreover, the forests are apparently enjoying it: the +trees rave and reel to and fro like drunken giants; they clash boughs +as revellers clash cups; they roar undying thirst and howl the health of +the world. + +All around me as I write is a noise of Nature drinking: and Nature makes +a noise when she is drinking, being by no means refined. If I count +it Christian mercy to give a cup of cold water to a sufferer, shall I +complain of these multitudinous cups of cold water handed round to all +living things; a cup of water for every shrub; a cup of water for every +weed? I would be ashamed to grumble at it. As Sir Philip Sidney said, +their need is greater than mine—especially for water. + +There is a wild garment that still carries nobly the name of a wild +Highland clan: a elan come from those hills where rain is not so much an +incident as an atmosphere. Surely every man of imagination must feel +a tempestuous flame of Celtic romance spring up within him whenever he +puts on a mackintosh. I could never reconcile myself to carrying all +umbrella; it is a pompous Eastern business, carried over the heads of +despots in the dry, hot lands. Shut up, an umbrella is an unmanageable +walking stick; open, it is an inadequate tent. For my part, I have no +taste for pretending to be a walking pavilion; I think nothing of my +hat, and precious little of my head. If I am to be protected against +wet, it must be by some closer and more careless protection, something +that I can forget altogether. It might be a Highland plaid. It might be +that yet more Highland thing, a mackintosh. + +And there is really something in the mackintosh of the military +qualities of the Highlander. The proper cheap mackintosh has a blue and +white sheen as of steel or iron; it gleams like armour. I like to think +of it as the uniform of that ancient clan in some of its old and misty +raids. I like to think of all the Macintoshes, in their mackintoshes, +descending on some doomed Lowland village, their wet waterproofs +flashing in the sun or moon. For indeed this is one of the real beauties +of rainy weather, that while the amount of original and direct light +is commonly lessened, the number of things that reflect light is +unquestionably increased. There is less sunshine; but there are more +shiny things; such beautifully shiny things as pools and puddles and +mackintoshes. It is like moving in a world of mirrors. + +And indeed this is the last and not the least gracious of the casual +works of magic wrought by rain: that while it decreases light, yet it +doubles it. If it dims the sky, it brightens the earth. It gives the +roads (to the sympathetic eye) something of the beauty of Venice. +Shallow lakes of water reiterate every detail of earth and sky; we +dwell in a double universe. Sometimes walking upon bare and lustrous +pavements, wet under numerous lamps, a man seems a black blot on all +that golden looking-glass, and could fancy he was flying in a yellow +sky. But wherever trees and towns hang head downwards in a pigmy puddle, +the sense of Celestial topsy-turvydom is the same. This bright, wet, +dazzling confusion of shape and shadow, of reality and reflection, will +appeal strongly to any one with the transcendental instinct about this +dreamy and dual life of ours. It will always give a man the strange +sense of looking down at the skies. + + + + +THE FALSE PHOTOGRAPHER + +When, as lately, events have happened that seem (to the fancy, at least) +to test if not stagger the force of official government, it is +amusing to ask oneself what is the real weakness of civilisation, ours +especially, when it contends with the one lawless man. I was reminded of +one weakness this morning in turning over an old drawerful of pictures. + +This weakness in civilisation is best expressed by saying that it cares +more for science than for truth. It prides itself on its "methods" +more than its results; it is satisfied with precision, discipline, good +communications, rather than with the sense of reality. But there are +precise falsehoods as well as precise facts. Discipline may only mean +a hundred men making the same mistake at the same minute. And good +communications may in practice be very like those evil communications +which are said to corrupt good manners. Broadly, we have reached a +"scientific age," which wants to know whether the train is in the +timetable, but not whether the train is in the station. I take one +instance in our police inquiries that I happen to have come across: the +case of photography. + +Some years ago a poet of considerable genius tragically disappeared, +and the authorities or the newspapers circulated a photograph of him, so +that he might be identified. The photograph, as I remember it, depicted +or suggested a handsome, haughty, and somewhat pallid man with his head +thrown back, with long distinguished features, colourless thin hair and +slight moustache, and though conveyed merely by the head and shoulders, +a definite impression of height. If I had gone by that photograph I +should have gone about looking for a long soldierly but listless man, +with a profile rather like the Duke of Connaught's. + +Only, as it happened, I knew the poet personally; I had seen him a great +many times, and he had an appearance that nobody could possibly forget, +if seen only once. He had the mark of those dark and passionate Westland +Scotch, who before Burns and after have given many such dark eyes and +dark emotions to the world. But in him the unmistakable strain, Gaelic +or whatever it is, was accentuated almost to oddity; and he looked +like some swarthy elf. He was small, with a big head and a crescent of +coal-black hair round the back of a vast dome of baldness. Immediately +under his eyes his cheekbones had so high a colour that they might have +been painted scarlet; three black tufts, two on the upper lip and one +under the lower, seemed to touch up the face with the fierce moustaches +of Mephistopheles. His eyes had that "dancing madness" in them which +Stevenson saw in the Gaelic eyes of Alan Breck; but he sometimes +distorted the expression by screwing a monstrous monocle into one of +them. A man more unmistakable would have been hard to find. You could +have picked him out in any crowd—so long as you had not seen his +photograph. + +But in this scientific picture of him twenty causes, accidental and +conventional, had combined to obliterate him altogether. The limits +of photography forbade the strong and almost melodramatic colouring +of cheek and eyebrow. The accident of the lighting took nearly all the +darkness out of the hair and made him look almost like a fair man. The +framing and limitation of the shoulders made him look like a big man; +and the devastating bore of being photographed when you want to write +poetry made him look like a lazy man. Holding his head back, as people +do when they are being photographed (or shot), but as he certainly never +held it normally, accidentally concealed the bald dome that dominated +his slight figure. Here we have a clockwork picture, begun and finished +by a button and a box of chemicals, from which every projecting feature +has been more delicately and dexterously omitted than they could +have been by the most namby-pamby flatterer, painting in the weakest +water-colours, on the smoothest ivory. + +I happen to possess a book of Mr. Max Beerbohm's caricatures, one of +which depicts the unfortunate poet in question. To say it represents +an utterly incredible hobgoblin is to express in faint and inadequate +language the license of its sprawling lines. The authorities thought it +strictly safe and scientific to circulate the poet's photograph. They +would have clapped me in an asylum if I had asked them to circulate +Max's caricature. But the caricature would have been far more likely to +find the man. + +This is a small but exact symbol of the failure of scientific +civilisation. It is so satisfied in knowing it has a photograph of a man +that it never asks whether it has a likeness of him. Thus declarations, +seemingly most detailed, have flashed along the wires of the world ever +since I was a boy. We were told that in some row Boer policemen had +shot an Englishman, a British subject, an English citizen. A long time +afterwards we were quite casually informed that the English citizen was +quite black. Well, it makes no difference to the moral question; black +men should be shot on the same ethical principles as white men. But +it makes one distrust scientific communications which permitted so +startling an alteration of the photograph. I am sorry we got hold of a +photographic negative in which a black man came out white. Later we were +told that an Englishman had fought for the Boers against his own flag, +which would have been a disgusting thing to do. Later, it was admitted +that he was an Irishman; which is exactly as different as if he had been +a Pole. Common sense, with all the facts before it, does see that black +is not white, and that a nation that has never submitted has a right to +moral independence. But why does it so seldom have all the facts before +it? Why are the big aggressive features, such as blackness or the Celtic +wrath, always left out in such official communications, as they were +left out in the photograph? My friend the poet had hair as black as an +African and eyes as fierce as an Irishman; why does our civilisation +drop all four of the facts? Its error is to omit the arresting +thing—which might really arrest the criminal. It strikes first the +chilling note of science, demanding a man "above the middle height, chin +shaven, with gray moustache," etc., which might mean Mr. Balfour or Sir +Redvers Buller. It does not seize the first fact of impression, as that +a man is obviously a sailor or a Jew or a drunkard or a gentleman or a +nigger or an albino or a prize-fighter or an imbecile or an American. +These are the realities by which the people really recognise each other. +They are almost always left out of the inquiry. + + + + +THE SULTAN + +There is one deep defect in our extension of cosmopolitan and Imperial +cultures. That is, that in most human things if you spread your butter +far you spread it thin. But there is an odder fact yet: rooted in +something dark and irrational in human nature. That is, that when you +find your butter thin, you begin to spread it. And it is just when you +find your ideas wearing thin in your own mind that you begin to spread +them among your fellow-creatures. It is a paradox; but not my paradox. +There are numerous cases in history; but I think the strongest case is +this. That we have Imperialism in all our clubs at the very time when we +have Orientalism in all our drawing-rooms. + +I mean that the colonial ideal of such men as Cecil Rhodes did not arise +out of any fresh creative idea of the Western genius, it was a fad, +and like most fads an imitation. For what was wrong with Rhodes was not +that, like Cromwell or Hildebrand, he made huge mistakes, nor even that +he committed great crimes. It was that he committed these crimes and +errors in order to spread certain ideas. And when one asked for the +ideas they could not be found. Cromwell stood for Calvinism, Hildebrand +for Catholicism: but Rhodes had no principles whatever to give to the +world. He had only a hasty but elaborate machinery for spreading the +principles that he hadn't got. What he called his ideals were the dregs +of a Darwinism which had already grown not only stagnant, but poisonous. +That the fittest must survive, and that any one like himself must be the +fittest; that the weakest must go to the wall, and that any one he could +not understand must be the weakest; that was the philosophy which +he lumberingly believed through life, like many another agnostic old +bachelor of the Victorian era. All his views on religion (reverently +quoted in the Review of Reviews) were simply the stalest ideas of his +time. It was not his fault, poor fellow, that he called a high hill +somewhere in South Africa "his church." It was not his fault, I mean, +that he could not see that a church all to oneself is not a church at +all. It is a madman's cell. It was not his fault that he "figured out +that God meant as much of the planet to be Anglo-Saxon as possible." +Many evolutionists much wiser had "figured out" things even more +babyish. He was an honest and humble recipient of the plodding popular +science of his time; he spread no ideas that any cockney clerk in +Streatham could not have spread for him. But it was exactly because he +had no ideas to spread that he invoked slaughter, violated justice, and +ruined republics to spread them. + +But the case is even stronger and stranger. Fashionable Imperialism not +only has no ideas of its own to extend; but such ideas as it has are +actually borrowed from the brown and black peoples to whom it seeks to +extend them. The Crusading kings and knights might be represented +as seeking to spread Western ideas in the East. But all that our +Imperialist aristocrats could do would be to spread Eastern ideas in the +East. For that very governing class which urges Occidental Imperialism +has been deeply discoloured with Oriental mysticism and Cosmology. + +The same society lady who expects the Hindoos to accept her view of +politics has herself accepted their view of religion. She wants first +to steal their earth, and then to share their heaven. The same Imperial +cynic who wishes the Turks to submit to English science has himself +submitted to Turkish philosophy, to a wholly Turkish view of despotism +and destiny. + +There is an obvious and amusing proof of this in a recent life of +Rhodes. The writer admits with proper Imperial gloom the fact that +Africa is still chiefly inhabited by Africans. He suggests Rhodes in +the South confronting savages and Kitchener in the North facing Turks, +Arabs, and Soudanese, and then he quotes this remark of Cecil Rhodes: +"It is inevitable fate that all this should be changed; and I should +like to be the agent of fate." That was Cecil Rhodes's one small genuine +idea; and it is an Oriental idea. + +Here we have evident all the ultimate idiocy of the present Imperial +position. Rhodes and Kitchener are to conquer Moslem bedouins and +barbarians, in order to teach them to believe only in inevitable fate. +We are to wreck provinces and pour blood like Niagara, all in order to +teach a Turk to say "Kismet"; which he has said since his cradle. We +are to deny Christian justice and destroy international equality, all in +order to teach an Arab to believe he is "an agent of fate," when he has +never believed anything else. If Cecil Rhodes's vision could come true +(which fortunately is increasingly improbable), such countries as Persia +or Arabia would simply be filled with ugly and vulgar fatalists in +billycocks, instead of with graceful and dignified fatalists in turbans. +The best Western idea, the idea of spiritual liberty and danger, of a +doubtful and romantic future in which all things may happen—this +essential Western idea Cecil Rhodes could not spread, because (as he +says himself) he did not believe in it. + +It was an Oriental who gave to Queen Victoria the crown of an Empress +in addition to that of a Queen. He did not understand that the title of +King is higher than that of Emperor. For in the East titles are meant +to be vast and wild; to be extravagant poems: the Brother of the Sun and +Moon, the Caliph who lives for ever. But a King of England (at least in +the days of real kings) did not bear a merely poetical title; but rather +a religious one. He belonged to his people and not merely they to him. +He was not merely a conqueror, but a father—yes, even when he was +a bad father. But this sort of solid sanctity always goes with local +affections and limits: and the Cecil Rhodes Imperialism set up not the +King, but the Sultan; with all the typically Eastern ideas of the magic +of money, of luxury without uproar; of prostrate provinces and a chosen +race. Indeed Cecil Rhodes illustrated almost every quality essential to +the Sultan, from the love of diamonds to the scorn of woman. + + + + +THE ARCHITECT OF SPEARS + +The other day, in the town of Lincoln, I suffered an optical illusion +which accidentally revealed to me the strange greatness of the Gothic +architecture. Its secret is not, I think, satisfactorily explained +in most of the discussions on the subject. It is said that the Gothic +eclipses the classical by a certain richness and complexity, at once +lively and mysterious. This is true; but Oriental decoration is equally +rich and complex, yet it awakens a widely different sentiment. No +man ever got out of a Turkey carpet the emotions that he got from a +cathedral tower. Over all the exquisite ornament of Arabia and India +there is the presence of something stiff and heartless, of something +tortured and silent. Dwarfed trees and crooked serpents, heavy flowers +and hunchbacked birds accentuate by the very splendour and contrast of +their colour the servility and monotony of their shapes. It is like the +vision of a sneering sage, who sees the whole universe as a pattern. +Certainly no one ever felt like this about Gothic, even if he happens +to dislike it. Or, again, some will say that it is the liberty of the +Middle Ages in the use of the comic or even the coarse that makes the +Gothic more interesting than the Greek. There is more truth in this; +indeed, there is real truth in it. Few of the old Christian cathedrals +would have passed the Censor of Plays. We talk of the inimitable +grandeur of the old cathedrals; but indeed it is rather their gaiety +that we do not dare to imitate. We should be rather surprised if a +chorister suddenly began singing "Bill Bailey" in church. Yet that would +be only doing in music what the mediaevals did in sculpture. They put +into a Miserere seat the very scenes that we put into a music hall +song: comic domestic scenes similar to the spilling of the beer and the +hanging out of the washing. But though the gaiety of Gothic is one of +its features, it also is not the secret of its unique effect. We see +a domestic topsy-turvydom in many Japanese sketches. But delightful +as these are, with their fairy tree-tops, paper houses, and toddling, +infantile inhabitants, the pleasure they give is of a kind quite +different from the joy and energy of the gargoyles. Some have even been +so shallow and illiterate as to maintain that our pleasure in medieval +building is a mere pleasure in what is barbaric, in what is rough, +shapeless, or crumbling like the rocks. This can be dismissed after the +same fashion; South Sea idols, with painted eyes and radiating bristles, +are a delight to the eye; but they do not affect it in at all the +same way as Westminster Abbey. Some again (going to another and almost +equally foolish extreme) ignore the coarse and comic in mediaevalism; +and praise the pointed arch only for its utter purity and simplicity, as +of a saint with his hands joined in prayer. Here, again, the uniqueness +is missed. There are Renaissance things (such as the ethereal silvery +drawings of Raphael), there are even pagan things (such as the +Praying Boy) which express as fresh and austere a piety. None of these +explanations explain. And I never saw what was the real point about +Gothic till I came into the town of Lincoln, and saw it behind a row of +furniture-vans. + +I did not know they were furniture-vans; at the first glance and in the +smoky distance I thought they were a row of cottages. A low stone wall +cut off the wheels, and the vans were somewhat of the same colour as the +yellowish clay or stone of the buildings around them. I had come across +that interminable Eastern plain which is like the open sea, and all the +more so because the one small hill and tower of Lincoln stands up in it +like a light-house. I had climbed the sharp, crooked streets up to this +ecclesiastical citadel; just in front of me was a flourishing and richly +coloured kitchen garden; beyond that was the low stone wall; beyond +that the row of vans that looked like houses; and beyond and above that, +straight and swift and dark, light as a flight of birds, and terrible as +the Tower of Babel, Lincoln Cathedral seemed to rise out of human sight. + +As I looked at it I asked myself the questions that I have asked here; +what was the soul in all those stones? They were varied, but it was not +variety; they were solemn, but it was not solemnity; they were farcical, +but it was not farce. What is it in them that thrills and soothes a man +of our blood and history, that is not there in an Egyptian pyramid or +an Indian temple or a Chinese pagoda? All of a sudden the vans I had +mistaken for cottages began to move away to the left. In the start this +gave to my eye and mind I really fancied that the Cathedral was moving +towards the right. The two huge towers seemed to start striding across +the plain like the two legs of some giant whose body was covered with +the clouds. Then I saw what it was. + +The truth about Gothic is, first, that it is alive, and second, that +it is on the march. It is the Church Militant; it is the only fighting +architecture. All its spires are spears at rest; and all its stones are +stones asleep in a catapult. In that instant of illusion, I could hear +the arches clash like swords as they crossed each other. The mighty +and numberless columns seemed to go swinging by like the huge feet of +imperial elephants. The graven foliage wreathed and blew like banners +going into battle; the silence was deafening with all the mingled noises +of a military march; the great bell shook down, as the organ shook up +its thunder. The thirsty-throated gargoyles shouted like trumpets from +all the roofs and pinnacles as they passed; and from the lectern in +the core of the cathedral the eagle of the awful evangelist clashed his +wings of brass. + +And amid all the noises I seemed to hear the voice of a man shouting in +the midst like one ordering regiments hither and thither in the fight; +the voice of the great half-military master-builder; the architect of +spears. I could almost fancy he wore armour while he made that church; +and I knew indeed that, under a scriptural figure, he had borne in +either hand the trowel and the sword. + +I could imagine for the moment that the whole of that house of life had +marched out of the sacred East, alive and interlocked, like an army. +Some Eastern nomad had found it solid and silent in the red circle of +the desert. He had slept by it as by a world-forgotten pyramid; and been +woke at midnight by the wings of stone and brass, the tramping of the +tall pillars, the trumpets of the waterspouts. On such a night every +snake or sea-beast must have turned and twisted in every crypt or corner +of the architecture. And the fiercely coloured saints marching eternally +in the flamboyant windows would have carried their glorioles like +torches across dark lands and distant seas; till the whole mountain of +music and darkness and lights descended roaring on the lonely Lincoln +hill. So for some hundred and sixty seconds I saw the battle-beauty of +the Gothic; then the last furniture-van shifted itself away; and I saw +only a church tower in a quiet English town, round which the English +birds were floating. + + + + +THE MAN ON TOP + +There is a fact at the root of all realities to-day which cannot be +stated too simply. It is that the powers of this world are now not +trusted simply because they are not trustworthy. This can be quite +clearly seen and said without any reference to our several passions or +partisanships. It does not follow that we think such a distrust a wise +sentiment to express; it does not even follow that we think it a good +sentiment to entertain. But such is the sentiment, simply because such +is the fact. The distinction can be quite easily defined in an example. +I do not think that private workers owe an indefinite loyalty to their +employer. But I do think that patriotic soldiers owe a more or less +indefinite loyalty to their leader in battle. But even if they ought to +trust their captain, the fact remains that they often do not trust him; +and the fact remains that he often is not fit to be trusted. + +Most of the employers and many of the Socialists seem to have got a very +muddled ethic about the basis of such loyalty; and perpetually try to +put employers and officers upon the same disciplinary plane. I should +have thought myself that the difference was alphabetical enough. It has +nothing to do with the idealising of war or the materialising of trade; +it is a distinction in the primary purpose. There might be much more +elegance and poetry in a shop under William Morris than in a regiment +under Lord Kitchener. But the difference is not in the persons or the +atmosphere, but in the aim. The British Army does not exist in order +to pay Lord Kitchener. William Morris's shop, however artistic and +philanthropic, did exist to pay William Morris. If it did not pay the +shopkeeper it failed as a shop; but Lord Kitchener does not fail if he +is underpaid, but only if he is defeated. The object of the Army is the +safety of the nation from one particular class of perils; therefore, +since all citizens owe loyalty to the nation, all citizens who are +soldiers owe loyalty to the Army. But nobody has any obligation to make +some particular rich man richer. A man is bound, of course, to consider +the indirect results of his action in a strike; but he is bound to +consider that in a swing, or a giddy-go-round, or a smoking concert; +in his wildest holiday or his most private conversation. But direct +responsibility like that of a soldier he has none. He need not aim +solely and directly at the good of the shop; for the simple reason that +the shop is not aiming solely and directly at the good of the nation. +The shopman is, under decent restraints, let us hope, trying to get what +he can out of the nation; the shop assistant may, under the same decent +restraints, get what he can out of the shopkeeper. All this distinction +is very obvious. At least I should have thought so. + +But the primary point which I mean is this. That even if we do take the +military view of mercantile service, even if we do call the rebellious +shop assistant "disloyal"—that leaves exactly where it was the +question of whether he is, in point of fact, in a good or bad shop. +Granted that all Mr. Poole's employees are bound to follow for ever the +cloven pennon of the Perfect Pair of Trousers, it is all the more true +that the pennon may, in point of fact, become imperfect. Granted that +all Barney Barnato's workers ought to have followed him to death or +glory, it is still a Perfectly legitimate question to ask which he was +likely to lead them to. Granted that Dr. Sawyer's boy ought to die for +his master's medicines, we may still hold an inquest to find out if he +died of them. While we forbid the soldier to shoot the general, we may +still wish the general were shot. + +The fundamental fact of our time is the failure of the successful man. +Somehow we have so arranged the rules of the game that the winners are +worthless for other purposes; they can secure nothing except the prize. +The very rich are neither aristocrats nor self-made men; they are +accidents—or rather calamities. All revolutionary language is +a generation behind the times in talking of their futility. A +revolutionist would say (with perfect truth) that coal-owners know next +to nothing about coal-mining. But we are past that point. Coal-owners +know next to nothing about coal-owning. They do not develop and defend +the nature of their own monopoly with any consistent and courageous +policy, however wicked, as did the old aristocrats with the monopoly of +land. They have not the virtues nor even the vices of tyrants; they have +only their powers. It is the same with all the powerful of to-day; it is +the same, for instance, with the high-placed and high-paid official. Not +only is the judge not judicial, but the arbiter is not even arbitrary. +The arbiter decides, not by some gust of justice or injustice in his +soul like the old despot dooming men under a tree, but by the permanent +climate of the class to which he happens to belong. The ancient wig of +the judge is often indistinguishable from the old wig of the flunkey. + +To judge about success or failure one must see things very simply; one +must see them in masses, as the artist, half closing his eyes against +details, sees light and shade. That is the only way in which a just +judgment can be formed as to whether any departure or development, such +as Islam or the American Republic, has been a benefit upon the whole. +Seen close, such great erections always abound in ingenious detail and +impressive solidity; it is only by seeing them afar off that one can +tell if the Tower leans. + +Now if we thus take in the whole tilt or posture of our modern state, +we shall simply see this fact: that those classes who have on the whole +governed, have on the whole failed. If you go to a factory you will +see some very wonderful wheels going round; you will be told that the +employer often comes there early in the morning; that he has great +organising power; that if he works over the colossal accumulation of +wealth he also works over its wise distribution. All this may be true of +many employers, and it is practically said of all. + +But if we shade our eyes from all this dazzle of detail; if we simply +ask what has been the main feature, the upshot, the final fruit of the +capitalist system, there is no doubt about the answer. The special and +solid result of the reign of the employers has been—unemployment. +Unemployment not only increasing, but becoming at last the very pivot +upon which the whole process turns. + +Or, again, if you visit the villages that depend on one of the great +squires, you will hear praises, often just, of the landlord's good sense +or good nature; you will hear of whole systems of pensions or of care +for the sick, like those of a small and separate nation; you will see +much cleanliness, order, and business habits in the offices and accounts +of the estate. But if you ask again what has been the upshot, what has +been the actual result of the reign of landlords, again the answer is +plain. At the end of the reign of landlords men will not live on the +land. The practical effect of having landlords is not having tenants. +The practical effect of having employers is that men are not employed. +The unrest of the populace is therefore more than a murmur against +tyranny; it is against a sort of treason. It is the suspicion that +even at the top of the tree, even in the seats of the mighty, our very +success is unsuccessful. + + + + +THE OTHER KIND OF MAN + +There are some who are conciliated by Conciliation Boards. There are +some who, when they hear of Royal Commissions, breathe again—or +snore again. There are those who look forward to Compulsory Arbitration +Courts as to the islands of the blest. These men do not understand the +day that they look upon or the sights that their eyes have seen. + +The almost sacramental idea of representation, by which the few may +incarnate the many, arose in the Middle Ages, and has done great things +for justice and liberty. It has had its real hours of triumph, as when +the States General met to renew France's youth like the eagle's; or +when all the virtues of the Republic fought and ruled in the figure of +Washington. It is not having one of its hours of triumph now. The +real democratic unrest at this moment is not an extension of the +representative process, but rather a revolt against it. It is no good +giving those now in revolt more boards and committees and compulsory +regulations. It is against these very things that they are revolting. +Men are not only rising against their oppressors, but against their +representatives or, as they would say, their misrepresentatives. +The inner and actual spirit of workaday England is coming out not in +applause, but in anger, as a god who should come out of his tabernacle +to rebuke and confound his priests. + +There is a certain kind of man whom we see many times in a day, but whom +we do not, in general, bother very much about. He is the kind of man of +whom his wife says that a better husband when he's sober you couldn't +have. She sometimes adds that he never is sober; but this is in anger +and exaggeration. Really he drinks much less and works much more than +the modern legend supposes. But it is quite true that he has not the +horror of bodily outbreak, natural to the classes that contain ladies; +and it is quite true that he never has that alert and inventive sort +of industry natural to the classes from which men can climb into great +wealth. He has grown, partly by necessity, but partly also by temper, +accustomed to have dirty clothes and dirty hands normally and without +discomfort. He regards cleanliness as a kind of separate and special +costume; to be put on for great festivals. He has several really curious +characteristics, which would attract the eyes of sociologists, if they +had any eyes. For instance, his vocabulary is coarse and abusive, in +marked contrast to his actual spirit, which is generally patient and +civil. He has an odd way of using certain words of really horrible +meaning, but using them quite innocently and without the most distant +taint of the evils to which they allude. He is rather sentimental; and, +like most sentimental people, not devoid of snobbishness. At the +same time, he believes the ordinary manly commonplaces of freedom and +fraternity as he believes most of the decent traditions of Christian +men: he finds it very difficult to act according to them, but this +difficulty is not confined to him. He has a strong and individual sense +of humour, and not much power of corporate or militant action. He is not +a Socialist. Finally, he bears no more resemblance to a Labour Member +than he does to a City Alderman or a Die-Hard Duke. This is the Common +Labourer of England; and it is he who is on the march at last. + +See this man in your mind as you see him in the street, realise that it +is his open mind we wish to influence or his empty stomach we wish to +cure, and then consider seriously (if you can) the five men, including +two of his own alleged oppressors, who were summoned as a Royal +Commission to consider his claims when he or his sort went out on strike +upon the railways. I knew nothing against, indeed I knew nothing about, +any of the gentlemen then summoned, beyond a bare introduction to +Mr. Henderson, whom I liked, but whose identity I was in no danger of +confusing with that of a railway-porter. I do not think that any old +gentleman, however absent-minded, would be likely on arriving at Euston, +let us say, to hand his Gladstone-bag to Mr. Henderson or to attempt to +reward that politician with twopence. Of the others I can only judge +by the facts about their status as set forth in the public Press. The +Chairman, Sir David Harrell, appeared to be an ex-official distinguished +in (of all things in the world) the Irish Constabulary. I have no +earthly reason to doubt that the Chairman meant to be fair; but I am not +talking about what men mean to be, but about what they are. The police +in Ireland are practically an army of occupation; a man serving in them +or directing them is practically a soldier; and, of course, he must +do his duty as such. But it seems truly extraordinary to select as one +likely to sympathise with the democracy of England a man whose whole +business in life it has been to govern against its will the democracy +of Ireland. What should we say if Russian strikers were offered the +sympathetic arbitration of the head of the Russian Police in Finland +or Poland? And if we do not know that the whole civilised world sees +Ireland with Poland as a typical oppressed nation, it is time we did. +The Chairman, whatever his personal virtues, must be by instinct +and habit akin to the capitalists in the dispute. Two more of the +Commissioners actually were the capitalists in the dispute. Then +came Mr. Henderson (pushing his trolley and cheerily crying, "By your +leave."), and then another less known gentleman who had "corresponded" +with the Board of Trade, and had thus gained some strange claim to +represent the very poor. + +Now people like this might quite possibly produce a rational enough +report, and in this or that respect even improve things. Men of +that kind are tolerably kind, tolerably patriotic, and tolerably +business-like. But if any one supposes that men of that kind can +conceivably quiet any real 'quarrel with the Man of the Other Kind, the +man whom I first described, it is frantic. The common worker is angry +exactly because he has found out that all these boards consist of the +same well-dressed Kind of Man, whether they are called Governmental or +Capitalist. If any one hopes that he will reconcile the poor, I say, as +I said at the beginning, that such a one has not looked on the light of +day or dwelt in the land of the living. + +But I do not criticise such a Commission except for one most practical +and urgent purpose. It will be answered to me that the first Kind of Man +of whom I spoke could not really be on boards and committees, as modern +England is managed. His dirt, though necessary and honourable, would +be offensive: his speech, though rich and figurative, would be almost +incomprehensible. Let us grant, for the moment, that this is so. This +Kind of Man, with his sooty hair or sanguinary adjectives, cannot be +represented at our committees of arbitration. Therefore, the other Kind +of Man, fairly prosperous, fairly plausible, at home at least with the +middle class, capable at least of reaching and touching the upper class, +he must remain the only Kind of Man for such councils. + +Very well. If then, you give at any future time any kind of compulsory +powers to such councils to prevent strikes, you will be driving the +first Kind of Man to work for a particular master as much as if you +drove him with a whip. + + + + +THE MEDIAEVAL VILLAIN + +I see that there have been more attempts at the whitewashing of King +John. + +But the gentleman who wrote has a further interest in the matter; for he +believes that King John was innocent, not only on this point, but as a +whole. He thinks King John has been very badly treated; though I am not +sure whether he would attribute to that Plantagenet a saintly merit or +merely a humdrum respectability. + +I sympathise with the whitewashing of King John, merely because it is +a protest against our waxwork style of history. Everybody is in a +particular attitude, with particular moral attributes; Rufus is always +hunting and Coeur-de-Lion always crusading; Henry VIII always marrying, +and Charles I always having his head cut off; Alfred rapidly and in +rotation making his people's clocks and spoiling their cakes; and +King John pulling out Jews' teeth with the celerity and industry of +an American dentist. Anything is good that shakes all this stiff +simplification, and makes us remember that these men were once alive; +that is, mixed, free, flippant, and inconsistent. It gives the mind +a healthy kick to know that Alfred had fits, that Charles I prevented +enclosures, that Rufus was really interested in architecture, that Henry +VIII was really interested in theology. + +And as these scraps of reality can startle us into more solid +imagination of events, so can even errors and exaggerations if they are +on the right side. It does some good to call Alfred a prig, Charles I a +Puritan, and John a jolly good fellow; if this makes us feel that they +were people whom we might have liked or disliked. I do not myself think +that John was a nice gentleman; but for all that the popular picture of +him is all wrong. Whether he had any generous qualities or not, he had +what commonly makes them possible, dare-devil courage, for instance, and +hotheaded decision. But, above all, he had a morality which he broke, +but which we misunderstand. + +The mediaeval mind turned centrally upon the pivot of Free Will. In +their social system the mediaevals were too much PARTI-PER-PALE, as +their heralds would say, too rigidly cut up by fences and quarterings +of guild or degree. But in their moral philosophy they always thought of +man as standing free and doubtful at the cross-roads in a forest. While +they clad and bound the body and (to some extent) the mind too stiffly +and quaintly for our taste, they had a much stronger sense than we have +of the freedom of the soul. For them the soul always hung poised like an +eagle in the heavens of liberty. Many of the things that strike a modern +as most fantastic came from their keen sense of the power of choice. + +For instance, the greatest of the Schoolmen devotes folios to the minute +description of what the world would have been like if Adam had refused +the apple; what kings, laws, babies, animals, planets would have been +in an unfallen world. So intensely does he feel that Adam might have +decided the other way that he sees a complete and complex vision of +another world, a world that now can never be. + +This sense of the stream of life in a man that may turn either way +can be felt through all their popular ethics in legend, chronicle, and +ballad. It is a feeling which has been weakened among us by two heavy +intellectual forces. The Calvinism of the seventeenth century and the +physical science of the nineteenth, whatever other truths they may have +taught, have darkened this liberty with a sense of doom. We think of +bad men as something like black men, a separate and incurable kind of +people. The Byronic spirit was really a sort of operatic Calvinism. It +brought the villain upon the stage; the lost soul; the modern version +of King John. But the contemporaries of King John did not feel like that +about him, even when they detested him. They instinctively felt him to +be a man of mixed passions like themselves, who was allowing his evil +passions to have much too good a time of it. They might have spoken of +him as a man in considerable danger of going to hell; but they would +have not talked of him as if he had come from there. In the ballads of +Percy or Robin Hood it frequently happens that the King comes upon the +scene, and his ultimate decision makes the climax of the tale. But we +do not feel, as we do in the Byronic or modern romance, that there is +a definite stage direction "Enter Tyrant." Nor do we behold a deus ex +machina who is certain to do all that is mild and just. The King in the +ballad is in a state of virile indecision. Sometimes he will pass from +a towering passion to the most sweeping magnanimity and friendliness; +sometimes he will begin an act of vengeance and be turned from it by +a jest. Yet this august levity is not moral indifference; it is moral +freedom. It is the strong sense in the writer that the King, being +the type of man with power, will probably sometimes use it badly and +sometimes well. In this sense John is certainly misrepresented, for he +is pictured as something that none of his own friends or enemies saw. In +that sense he was certainly not so black as he is painted, for he lived +in a world where every one was piebald. + +King John would be represented in a modern play or novel as a kind +of degenerate; a shifty-eyed moral maniac with a twist in his soul's +backbone and green blood in his veins. The mediaevals were quite capable +of boiling him in melted lead, but they would have been quite incapable +of despairing of his soul in the modern fashion. A striking a fortiori +case is that of the strange mediaeval legend of Robert the Devil. +Robert was represented as a monstrous birth sent to an embittered woman +actually in answer to prayers to Satan, and his earlier actions are +simply those of the infernal fire let loose upon earth. Yet though he +can be called almost literally a child of hell, yet the climax of the +story is his repentance at Rome and his great reparation. That is the +paradox of mediaeval morals: as it must appear to the moderns. We must +try to conceive a race of men who hated John, and sought his blood, and +believed every abomination about him, who would have been quite capable +of assassinating or torturing him in the extremity of their anger. And +yet we must admit that they would not really have been fundamentally +surprised if he had shaved his head in humiliation, given all his goods +to the poor, embraced the lepers in a lazar-house, and been canonised +as a saint in heaven. So strongly did they hold that the pivot of Will +should turn freely, which now is rusted, and sticks. + +For we, whatever our political opinions, certainly never think of our +public men like that. If we hold the opinion that Mr. Lloyd George is a +noble tribune of the populace and protector of the poor, we do not admit +that he can ever have paltered with the truth or bargained with the +powerful. If we hold the equally idiotic opinion that he is a red and +rabid Socialist, maddening mobs into mutiny and theft, then we expect +him to go on maddening them—and us. We do not expect him, let +us say, suddenly to go into a monastery. We have lost the idea of +repentance; especially in public things; that is why we cannot +really get rid of our great national abuses of economic tyranny and +aristocratic avarice. Progress in the modern sense is a very dismal +drudge; and mostly consists of being moved on by the police. We move on +because we are not allowed to move back. But the really ragged prophets, +the real revolutionists who held high language in the palaces of kings, +they did not confine themselves to saying, "Onward, Christian soldiers," +still less, "Onward, Futurist soldiers"; what they said to high emperors +and to whole empires was, "Turn ye, turn ye, why will ye die?" + + + + +THE DIVINE DETECTIVE + +Every person of sound education enjoys detective stories, and there +are even several points on which they have a hearty superiority to +most modern books. A detective story generally describes six living +men discussing how it is that a man is dead. A modern philosophic story +generally describes six dead men discussing how any man can possibly be +alive. But those who have enjoyed the roman policier must have noted +one thing, that when the murderer is caught he is hardly ever hanged. +"That," says Sherlock Holmes, "is the advantage of being a private +detective"; after he has caught he can set free. The Christian Church +can best be defined as an enormous private detective, correcting +that official detective—the State. This, indeed, is one of the +injustices done to historic Christianity; injustices which arise from +looking at complex exceptions and not at the large and simple fact. We +are constantly being told that theologians used racks and thumbscrews, +and so they did. Theologians used racks and thumbscrews just as they +used thimbles and three-legged stools, because everybody else used them. +Christianity no more created the mediaeval tortures than it did the +Chinese tortures; it inherited them from any empire as heathen as the +Chinese. + +The Church did, in an evil hour, consent to imitate the commonwealth and +employ cruelty. But if we open our eyes and take in the whole picture, +if we look at the general shape and colour of the thing, the real +difference between the Church and the State is huge and plain. The +State, in all lands and ages, has created a machinery of punishment, +more bloody and brutal in some places than others, but bloody and brutal +everywhere. The Church is the only institution that ever attempted to +create a machinery of pardon. The Church is the only thing that ever +attempted by system to pursue and discover crimes, not in order to +avenge, but in order to forgive them. The stake and rack were merely the +weaknesses of the religion; its snobberies, its surrenders to the +world. Its speciality—or, if you like, its oddity—was this +merciless mercy; the unrelenting sleuthhound who seeks to save and not +slay. + +I can best illustrate what I mean by referring to two popular plays +on somewhat parallel topics, which have been successful here and in +America. The Passing of the Third Floor Back is a humane and reverent +experiment, dealing with the influence of one unknown but divine figure +as he passes through a group of Squalid characters. I have no desire to +make cheap fun of the extremely abrupt conversions of all these people; +that is a point of art, not of morals; and, after all, many conversions +have been abrupt. This saviour's method of making people good is to tell +them how good they are already; and in the case of suicidal outcasts, +whose moral backs are broken, and who are soaked with sincere +self-contempt, I can imagine that this might be quite the right way. +I should not deliver this message to authors or members of Parliament, +because they would so heartily agree with it. + +Still, it is not altogether here that I differ from the moral of Mr. +Jerome's play. I differ vitally from his story because it is not a +detective story. There is in it none of this great Christian idea of +tearing their evil out of men; it lacks the realism of the saints. +Redemption should bring truth as well as peace; and truth is a fine +thing, though the materialists did go mad about it. Things must be +faced, even in order to be forgiven; the great objection to "letting +sleeping dogs lie" is that they lie in more senses than one. But in Mr. +Jerome's Passing of the Third Floor Back the redeemer is not a divine +detective, pitiless in his resolve to know and pardon. Rather he is a +sort of divine dupe, who does not pardon at all, because he does not +see anything that is going on. It may, or may not, be true to say, "Tout +comprendre est tout pardonner." But it is much more evidently true to +say, "Rien comprendre est rien Pardonner," and the "Third Floor Back" +does not seem to comprehend anything. He might, after all, be a quite +selfish sentimentalist, who found it comforting to think well of his +neighbours. There is nothing very heroic in loving after you have been +deceived. The heroic business is to love after you have been undeceived. + +When I saw this play it was natural to compare it with another play +which I had not seen, but which I have read in its printed version. +I mean Mr. Rann Kennedy's Servant in the House, the success of which +sprawls over so many of the American newspapers. This also is concerned +with a dim, yet evidently divine, figure changing the destinies of a +whole group of persons. It is a better play structurally than the other; +in fact, it is a very fine play indeed; but there is nothing +aesthetic or fastidious about it. It is as much or more than the other +sensational, democratic, and (I use the word in a sound and good sense) +Salvationist. + +But the difference lies precisely in this—that the Christ of Mr. +Kennedy's play insists on really knowing all the souls that he loves; +he declines to conquer by a kind of supernatural stupidity. He pardons +evil, but he will not ignore it. In other words, he is a Christian, and +not a Christian Scientist. The distinction doubtless is partly explained +by the problems severally selected. Mr. Jerome practically supposes +Christ to be trying to save disreputable people; and that, of course, +is naturally a simple business. Mr. Kennedy supposes Him to be trying +to save the reputable people, which is a much larger affair. The chief +characters in The Servant in the House are a popular and strenuous +vicar, universally respected, and his fashionable and forcible wife. +It would have been no good to tell these people they had some good in +them—for that was what they were telling themselves all day long. +They had to be reminded that they had some bad in them—instinctive +idolatries and silent treasons which they always tried to forget. It is +in connection with these crimes of wealth and culture that we face the +real problem of positive evil. The whole of Mr. Blatchford's controversy +about sin was vitiated throughout by one's consciousness that whenever +he wrote the word "sinner" he thought of a man in rags. But here, again, +we can find truth merely by referring to vulgar literature—its +unfailing fountain. Whoever read a detective story about poor people? +The poor have crimes; but the poor have no secrets. And it is because +the proud have secrets that they need to be detected before they are +forgiven. + + + + +THE ELF OF JAPAN + +There are things in this world of which I can say seriously that I +love them but I do not like them. The point is not merely verbal, but +psychologically quite valid. Cats are the first things that occur to me +as examples of the principle. Cats are so beautiful that a creature from +another star might fall in love with them, and so incalculable that he +might kill them. Some of my friends take quite a high moral line about +cats. Some, like Mr. Titterton, I think, admire a cat for its moral +independence and readiness to scratch anybody "if he does not behave +himself." Others, like Mr. Belloe, regard the cat as cruel and secret, a +fit friend for witches; one who will devour everything, except, indeed, +poisoned food, "so utterly lacking is it in Christian simplicity and +humility." For my part, I have neither of these feelings. I admire cats +as I admire catkins; those little fluffy things that hang on trees. They +are both pretty and both furry, and both declare the glory of God. And +this abstract exultation in all living things is truly to be called +Love; for it is a higher feeling than mere affectional convenience; it +is a vision. It is heroic, and even saintly, in this: that it asks for +nothing in return. I love all the eats in the street as St. Francis of +Assisi loved all the birds in the wood or all the fishes in the sea; not +so much, of course, but then I am not a saint. But he did not wish to +bridle a bird and ride on its back, as one bridles and rides on a horse. +He did not wish to put a collar round a fish's neck, marked with the +name "Francis," and the address "Assisi"—as one does with a dog. +He did not wish them to belong to him or himself to belong to them; +in fact, it would be a very awkward experience to belong to a lot of +fishes. But a man does belong to his dog, in another but an equally +real sense with that in which the dog belongs to him. The two bonds of +obedience and responsibility vary very much with the dogs and the men; +but they are both bonds. In other words, a man does not merely love a +dog; as he might (in a mystical moment) love any sparrow that perched +on his windowsill or any rabbit that ran across his path. A man likes a +dog; and that is a serious matter. + +To me, unfortunately perhaps (for I speak merely of individual taste), a +cat is a wild animal. A cat is Nature personified. Like Nature, it is +so mysterious that one cannot quite repose even in its beauty. But like +Nature again, it is so beautiful that one cannot believe that it is +really cruel. Perhaps it isn't; and there again it is like Nature. Men +of old time worshipped cats as they worshipped crocodiles; and those +magnificent old mystics knew what they were about. The moment in which +one really loves cats is the same as that in which one (moderately and +within reason) loves crocodiles. It is that divine instant when a man +feels himself—no, not absorbed into the unity of all things (a +loathsome fancy)—but delighting in the difference of all things. +At the moment when a man really knows he is a man he will feel, however +faintly, a kind of fairy-tale pleasure in the fact that a crocodile is +a crocodile. All the more will he exult in the things that are more +evidently beautiful than crocodiles, such as flowers and birds and +eats—which are more beautiful than either. But it does not follow +that he will wish to pick all the flowers or to cage all the birds or to +own all the cats. + +No one who still believes in democracy and the rights of man will admit +that any division between men and men can be anything but a fanciful +analogy to the division between men and animals. But in the sphere of +such fanciful analogy there are even human beings whom I feel to be like +eats in this respect: that I can love them without liking them. I +feel it about certain quaint and alien societies, especially about the +Japanese. The exquisite old Japanese draughtsmanship (of which we shall +see no more, now Japan has gone in for Progress and Imperialism) had a +quality that was infinitely attractive and intangible. Japanese pictures +were really rather like pictures made by cats. They were full of +feathery softness and of sudden and spirited scratches. If any one will +wander in some gallery fortunate enough to have a fine collection of +those slight water-colour sketches on rice paper which come from the +remote East, he will observe many elements in them which a fanciful +person might consider feline. There is, for instance, that odd enjoyment +of the tops of trees; those airy traceries of forks and fading twigs, up +to which certainly no artist, but only a cat could climb. There is that +elvish love of the full moon, as large and lucid as a Chinese lantern, +hung in these tenuous branches. That moon is so large and luminous +that one can imagine a hundred cats howling under it. Then there is the +exhaustive treatment of the anatomy of birds and fish; subjects in which +cats are said to be interested. Then there is the slanting cat-like eye +of all these Eastern gods and men—but this is getting altogether +too coincident. We shall have another racial theory in no time +(beginning "Are the Japs Cats?"), and though I shall not believe in +my theory, somebody else might. There are people among my esteemed +correspondents who might believe anything. It is enough for me to say +here that in this small respect Japs affect me like cats. I mean that I +love them. I love their quaint and native poetry, their instinct of easy +civilisation, their unique unreplaceable art, the testimony they bear +to the bustling, irrepressible activities of nature and man. If I were +a real mystic looking down on them from a real mountain, I am sure I +should love them more even than the strong winged and unwearied birds +or the fruitful, ever multiplying fish. But, as for liking them, as one +likes a dog—that is quite another matter. That would mean trusting +them. + +In the old English and Scotch ballads the fairies are regarded very much +in the way that I feel inclined to regard Japs and cats. They are not +specially spoken of as evil; they are enjoyed as witching and wonderful; +but they are not trusted as good. You do not say the wrong words or give +the wrong gifts to them; and there is a curious silence about what would +happen to you if you did. Now to me, Japan, the Japan of Art, was always +a fairyland. What trees as gay as flowers and peaks as white as +wedding cakes; what lanterns as large as houses and houses as frail as +lanterns!… but... but... the missionary explained (I read in the +paper) that the assertion and denial about the Japanese use of torture +was a mere matter of verbal translation. "The Japanese would not call +twisting the thumbs back 'torture.'" + + + + +THE CHARTERED LIBERTINE + +I find myself in agreement with Mr. Robert Lynd for his most just remark +in connection with the Malatesta case, that the police are becoming +a peril to society. I have no attraction to that sort of atheist +asceticism to which the purer types of Anarchism tend; but both an +atheist and an ascetic are better men than a spy; and it is ignominious +to see one's country thus losing her special point of honour about +asylum and liberty. It will be quite a new departure if we begin to +protect and whitewash foreign policemen. I always understood it was +only English policemen who were absolutely spotless. A good many of us, +however, have begun to feel with Mr. Lynd, and on all sides authorities +and officials are being questioned. But there is one most graphic and +extraordinary fact, which it did not lie in Mr. Lynd's way to touch +upon, but which somebody really must seize and emphasise. It is +this: that at the very time when we are all beginning to doubt these +authorities, we are letting laws pass to increase their most capricious +powers. All our commissions, petitions, and letters to the papers +are asking whether these authorities can give an account of their +stewardship. And at the same moment all our laws are decreeing that they +shall not give any account of their stewardship, but shall become yet +more irresponsible stewards. Bills like the Feeble-Minded Bill and +the Inebriate Bill (very appropriate names for them) actually arm with +scorpions the hand that has chastised the Malatestas and Maleckas with +whips. The inspector, the doctor, the police sergeant, the well-paid +person who writes certificates and "passes" this, that, or the other; +this sort of man is being trusted with more authority, apparently +because he is being doubted with more reason. In one room we are asking +why the Government and the great experts between them cannot sail a +ship. In another room we are deciding that the Government and experts +shall be allowed, without trial or discussion, to immure any one's body, +damn any one's soul, and dispose of unborn generations with the levity +of a pagan god. We are putting the official on the throne while he is +still in the dock. + +The mere meaning of words is now strangely forgotten and falsified; as +when people talk of an author's "message," without thinking whom it +is from; and I have noted in these connections the strange misuse of +another word. It is the excellent mediaeval word "charter." I remember +the Act that sought to save gutter-boys from cigarettes was called +"The Children's Charter." Similarly the Act which seeks to lock up as +lunatics people who are not lunatics was actually called a "charter" of +the feeble-minded. Now this terminology is insanely wrong, even if the +Bills are right. Even were they right in theory they would be applied +only to the poor, like many better rules about education and cruelty. +A woman was lately punished for cruelty because her children were not +washed when it was proved that she had no water. From that it will be an +easy step in Advanced Thought to punishing a man for wine-bibbing when +it is proved that he had no wine. Rifts in right reason widen down the +ages. And when we have begun by shutting up a confessedly kind +person for cruelty, we may yet come to shutting up Mr. Tom Mann for +feeblemindedness. + +But even if such laws do good to children or idiots, it is wrong to use +the word "charter." A charter does not mean a thing that does good to +people. It means a thing that grants people more rights and liberties. +It may be a good thing for gutter-boys to be deprived of their +cigarettes: it might be a good thing for aldermen to be deprived of +their cigars. But I think the Goldsmiths' Company would be very much +surprised if the King granted them a new charter (in place of their +mediaeval charter), and it only meant that policemen might pull the +cigars out of their mouths. It may be a good thing that all drunkards +should be locked up: and many acute statesmen (King John, for instance) +would certainly have thought it a good thing if all aristocrats could +be locked up. But even that somewhat cynical prince would scarcely have +granted to the barons a thing called "the Great Charter" and then locked +them all up on the strength of it. If he had, this interpretation of the +word "charter" would have struck the barons with considerable surprise. +I doubt if their narrow mediaeval minds could have taken it in. + +The roots of the real England are in the early Middle Ages, and no +Englishman will ever understand his own language (or even his own +conscience) till he understands them. And he will never understand them +till he understands this word "charter." I will attempt in a moment +to state in older, more suitable terms, what a charter was. In modern, +practical, and political terms, it is quite easy to state what a charter +was. A charter was the thing that the railway workers wanted last +Christmas and did not get; and apparently will never get. It is called +in the current jargon "recognition"; the acknowledgment in so many words +by society of the immunities or freedoms of a certain set of men. If +there had been railways in the Middle Ages there would probably have +been a railwaymen's guild; and it would have had a charter from the +King, defining their rights. A charter is the expression of an idea +still true and then almost universal: that authority is necessary +for nothing so much as for the granting of liberties. Like everything +mediaeval, it ramified back to a root in religion; and was a sort of +small copy of the Christian idea of man's creation. Man was free, not +because there was no God, but because it needed a God to set him free. +By authority he was free. By authority the craftsmen of the guilds were +free. Many other great philosophers took and take the other view: +the Lucretian pagans, the Moslem fatalists, the modern monists and +determinists, all roughly confine themselves to saying that God gave +man a law. The mediaeval Christian insisted that God gave man a charter. +Modern feeling may not sympathise with its list of liberties, which +included the liberty to be damned; but that has nothing to do with the +fact that it was a gift of liberties and not of laws. This was mirrored, +however dimly, in the whole system. There was a great deal of gross +inequality; and in other aspects absolute equality was taken +for granted. But the point is that equality and inequality were +ranks—or rights. There were not only things one was forbidden +to do; but things one was forbidden to forbid. A man was not only +definitely responsible, but definitely irresponsible. The holidays of +his soul were immovable feasts. All a charter really meant lingers alive +in that poetic phrase that calls the wind a "chartered" libertine. + +Lie awake at night and hear the wind blowing; hear it knock at every +man's door and shout down every man's chimney. Feel how it takes +liberties with everything, having taken primary liberty for itself; feel +that the wind is always a vagabond and sometimes almost a housebreaker. +But remember that in the days when free men had charters, they held that +the wind itself was wild by authority; and was only free because it had +a father. + + + + +THE CONTENTED MAN + +The word content is not inspiring nowadays; rather it is irritating +because it is dull. It prepares the mind for a little sermon in the +style of the Vicar of Wakefield about how you and I should be satisfied +with our countrified innocence and our simple village sports. The word, +however, has two meanings, somewhat singularly connected; the "sweet +content" of the poet and the "cubic content" of the mathematician. Some +distinguish these by stressing the different syllables. Thus, it might +happen to any of us, at some social juncture, to remark gaily, "Of the +content of the King of the Cannibal Islands' Stewpot I am content to be +ignorant"; or "Not content with measuring the cubic content of my safe, +you are stealing the spoons." And there really is an analogy between the +mathematical and the moral use of the term, for lack of the observation +of which the latter has been much weakened and misused. + +The preaching of contentment is in disrepute, well deserved in so far +that the moral is really quite inapplicable to the anarchy and insane +peril of our tall and toppling cities. Content suggests some kind of +security; and it is not strange that our workers should often think +about rising above their position, since they have so continually to +think about sinking below it. The philanthropist who urges the poor to +saving and simple pleasures deserves all the derision that he gets. To +advise people to be content with what they have got may or may not be +sound moral philosophy. + +But to urge people to be content with what they haven't got is a piece +of impudence hard for even the English poor to pardon. But though the +creed of content is unsuited to certain special riddles and wrongs, +it remains true for the normal of mortal life. We speak of divine +discontent; discontent may sometimes be a divine thing, but content must +always be the human thing. It may be true that a particular man, in his +relation to his master or his neighbour, to his country or his enemies, +will do well to be fiercely unsatisfied or thirsting for an angry +justice. But it is not true, no sane person can call it true, that man +as a whole in his general attitude towards the world, in his posture +towards death or green fields, towards the weather or the baby, will be +wise to cultivate dissatisfaction. In a broad estimate of our earthly +experience, the great truism on the tablet remains: he must not covet +his neighbour's ox nor his ass nor anything that is his. In highly +complex and scientific civilisations he may sometimes find himself +forced into an exceptional vigilance. But, then, in highly complex and +scientific civilisations, nine times out of ten, he only wants his own +ass back. + +But I wish to urge the case for cubic content; in which (even more than +in moral content) I take a personal interest. Now, moral content has +been undervalued and neglected because of its separation from the other +meaning. It has become a negative rather than a positive thing. In some +accounts of contentment it seems to be little more than a meek despair. + +But this is not the true meaning of the term; it should stand for the +idea of a positive and thorough appreciation of the content of anything; +for feeling the substance and not merely the surface of experience. +"Content" ought to mean in English, as it does in French, being pleased; +placidly, perhaps, but still positively pleased. Being contented with +bread and cheese ought not to mean not caring what you eat. It ought +to mean caring for bread and cheese; handling and enjoying the cubic +content of the bread and cheese and adding it to your own. Being +content with an attic ought not to mean being unable to move from it and +resigned to living in it. It ought to mean appreciating what there is +to appreciate in such a position; such as the quaint and elvish slope of +the ceiling or the sublime aerial view of the opposite chimney-pots. And +in this sense contentment is a real and even an active virtue; it is not +only affirmative, but creative. The poet in the attic does not forget +the attic in poetic musings; he remembers whatever the attic has of +poetry; he realises how high, how starry, how cool, how unadorned and +simple—in short, how Attic is the attic. + +True contentment is a thing as active as agriculture. It is the power of +getting out of any situation all that there is in it. It is arduous and +it is rare. The absence of this digestive talent is what makes so +cold and incredible the tales of so many people who say they have been +"through" things; when it is evident that they have come out on the +other side quite unchanged. A man might have gone "through" a plum +pudding as a bullet might go through a plum pudding; it depends on the +size of the pudding—and the man. But the awful and sacred question +is "Has the pudding been through him?" Has he tasted, appreciated, and +absorbed the solid pudding, with its three dimensions and its three +thousand tastes and smells? Can he offer himself to the eyes of men as +one who has cubically conquered and contained a pudding? + +In the same way we may ask of those who profess to have passed through +trivial or tragic experiences whether they have absorbed the content +of them; whether they licked up such living water as there was. It is a +pertinent question in connection with many modern problems. + +Thus the young genius says, "I have lived in my dreary and squalid +village before I found success in Paris or Vienna." The sound +philosopher will answer, "You have never lived in your village, or you +would not call it dreary and squalid." + +Thus the Imperialist, the Colonial idealist (who commonly speaks and +always thinks with a Yankee accent) will say, "I've been right away from +these little muddy islands, and seen God's great seas and prairies." The +sound philosopher will reply, "You have never been in these islands; you +have never seen the weald of Sussex or the plain of Salisbury; otherwise +you could never have called them either muddy or little." + +Thus the Suffragette will say, "I have passed through the paltry duties +of pots and pans, the drudgery of the vulgar kitchen; but I have come +out to intellectual liberty." The sound philosopher will answer, "You +have never passed through the kitchen, or you never would call it +vulgar. Wiser and stronger women than you have really seen a poetry +in pots and pans; naturally, because there is a poetry in them." It is +right for the village violinist to climb into fame in Paris or Vienna; +it is right for the stray Englishman to climb across the high shoulder +of the world; it is right for the woman to climb into whatever cathedrae +or high places she can allow to her sexual dignity. But it is wrong that +any of these climbers should kick the ladder by which they have climbed. +But indeed these bitter people who record their experiences really +record their lack of experiences. It is the countryman who has not +succeeded in being a countryman who comes up to London. It is the +clerk who has not succeeded in being a clerk who tries (on vegetarian +principles) to be a countryman. And the woman with a past is generally a +woman angry about the past she never had. + +When you have really exhausted an experience you always reverence and +love it. The two things that nearly all of us have thoroughly and really +been through are childhood and youth. And though we would not have them +back again on any account, we feel that they are both beautiful, because +we have drunk them dry. + + + + +THE ANGRY AUTHOR: HIS FAREWELL + +I have republished all these old articles of mine because they cover +a very controversial period, in which I was in nearly all the +controversies, whether I was visible there or no. And I wish to gather +up into this last article a valedictory violence about all such things; +and then pass to where, beyond these voices, there is peace—or in +other words, to the writing of Penny Dreadfuls; a noble and much-needed +work. But before I finally desert the illusions of rationalism for +the actualities of romance, I should very much like to write one last +roaring, raging book telling all the rationalists not to be so utterly +irrational. The book would be simply a string of violent vetoes, like +the Ten Commandments. I would call it "Don'ts for Dogmatists; or Things +I am Tired Of." + +This book of intellectual etiquette, like most books of etiquette, would +begin with superficial things; but there would be, I fancy, a wailing +imprecation in the words that could not be called artificial; it might +begin thus:— + +(1) Don't use a noun and then an adjective that crosses out the noun. +An adjective qualifies, it cannot contradict. Don't say, "Give me a +patriotism that is free from all boundaries." It is like saying, "Give +me a pork pie with no pork in it." Don't say, "I look forward to that +larger religion that shall have no special dogmas." It is like saying, +"I look forward to that larger quadruped who shall have no feet." A +quadruped means something with four feet; and a religion means something +that commits a man to some doctrine about the universe. Don't let +the meek substantive be absolutely murdered by the joyful, exuberant +adjective. + +(2) Don't say you are not going to say a thing, and then say it. This +practice is very flourishing and successful with public speakers. The +trick consists of first repudiating a certain view in unfavourable +terms, and then repeating the same view in favourable terms. Perhaps the +simplest form of it may be found in a landlord of my neighbourhood, who +said to his tenants in an election speech, "Of course I'm not going to +threaten you, but if this Budget passes the rents will go up." The thing +can be done in many forms besides this. "I am the last man to +mention party politics; but when I see the Empire rent in pieces by +irresponsible Radicals," etc. "In this hall we welcome all creeds. We +have no hostility against any honest belief; but only against that black +priestcraft and superstition which can accept such a doctrine as," etc. +"I would not say one word that could ruffle our relations with Germany. +But this I will say; that when I see ceaseless and unscrupulous +armament," etc. Please don't do it. Decide to make a remark or not to +make a remark. But don't fancy that you have somehow softened the saying +of a thing by having just promised not to say it. + +(3) Don't use secondary words as primary words. "Happiness" (let us say) +is a primary word. You know when you have the thing, and you jolly well +know when you haven't. "Progress" is a secondary word; it means the +degree of one's approach to happiness, or to some such solid ideal. But +modern controversies constantly turn on asking, "Does Happiness help +Progress?" Thus, I see in the New Age this week a letter from Mr. +Egerton Swann, in which he warns the world against me and my friend Mr. +Belloc, on the ground that our democracy is "spasmodic" (whatever that +means); while our "reactionism is settled and permanent." It never +strikes Mr. Swann that democracy means something in itself; while +"reactionism" means nothing—except in connection with democracy. +You cannot react except from something. If Mr. Swann thinks I have ever +reacted from the doctrine that the people should rule, I wish he would +give me the reference. + +(4) Don't say, "There is no true creed; for each creed believes itself +right and the others wrong." Probably one of the creeds is right and +the others are wrong. Diversity does show that most of the views must +be wrong. It does not by the faintest logic show that they all must be +wrong. I suppose there is no subject on which opinions differ with more +desperate sincerity than about which horse will win the Derby. These are +certainly solemn convictions; men risk ruin for them. The man who puts +his shirt on Potosi must believe in that animal, and each of the other +men putting their last garments upon other quadrupeds must believe in +them quite as sincerely. They are all serious, and most of them are +wrong. But one of them is right. One of the faiths is justified; one of +the horses does win; not always even the dark horse which might stand +for Agnosticism, but often the obvious and popular horse of Orthodoxy. +Democracy has its occasional victories; and even the Favourite has been +known to come in first. But the point here is that something comes in +first. That there were many beliefs does not destroy the fact that there +was one well-founded belief. I believe (merely upon authority) that the +world is round. That there may be tribes who believe it to be triangular +or oblong does not alter the fact that it is certainly some shape, and +therefore not any other shape. Therefore I repeat, with the wail of +imprecation, don't say that the variety of creeds prevents you from +accepting any creed. It is an unintelligent remark. + +(5) Don't (if any one calls your doctrine mad, which is likely enough), +don't answer that madmen are only the minority and the sane only the +majority. The sane are sane because they are the corporate substance of +mankind; the insane are not a minority because they are not a mob. The +man who thinks himself a man thinks the next man a man; he reckons his +neighbour as himself. But the man who thinks he is a chicken does not +try to look through the man who thinks he is glass. The man who thinks +himself Jesus Christ does not quarrel with the man who thinks himself +Rockefeller; as would certainly happen if the two had ever met. But +madmen never meet. It is the only thing they cannot do. They can talk, +they can inspire, they can fight, they can found religions; but they +cannot meet. Maniacs can never be the majority; for the simple reason +that they can never be even a minority. If two madmen had ever agreed +they might have conquered the world. + +(6) Don't say that the idea of human equality is absurd, because some +men are tall and some short, some clever and some stupid. At the height +of the French Revolution it was noticed that Danton was tall and Murat +short. In the wildest popular excitement of America it is known that +Rockefeller is stupid and that Bryan is clever. The doctrine of human +equality reposes upon this: That there is no man really clever who has +not found that he is stupid. That there is no big man who has not felt +small. Some men never feel small; but these are the few men who are. + +(7) Don't say (O don't say) that Primitive Man knocked down a woman +with a club and carried her away. Why on earth should he? Does the male +sparrow knock down the female sparrow with a twig? Does the male giraffe +knock down the female giraffe with a palm tree? Why should the male +have had to use any violence at any time in order to make the female a +female? Why should the woman roll herself in the mire lower than the +sow or the she-bear; and profess to have been a slave where all these +creatures were creators; where all these beasts were gods? Do not +talk such bosh. I implore you, I supplicate you not to talk such bosh. +Utterly and absolutely abolish all such bosh—and we may yet +begin to discuss these public questions properly. But I fear my list of +protests grows too long; and I know it could grow longer for ever. The +reader must forgive my elongations and elaborations. I fancied for the +moment that I was writing a book. + + + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of A Miscellany of Men, by G. 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