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+ text-decoration: none; + font-size: 70%; + padding-left: 2px; + padding-right: 2px; + } + +/* Borders */ + .bbox { + border: solid silver 1px; + margin-left: 10%; + margin-right: 10%; + padding: 2em 1em; + } + +</style> +</head> + +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Mountain Meditations, by L. Lind-af-Hageby + +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: Mountain Meditations + and some subjects of the day and the war + +Author: L. Lind-af-Hageby + +Release Date: June 30, 2009 [EBook #29277] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MOUNTAIN MEDITATIONS *** + + + + +Produced by Audrey Longhurst, adhere and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net + + + + + + +</pre> + + +<!-- global div, contains entire document--> +<div style="margin:auto; max-width: 40em;"> + +<div class="vskip"></div> +<div class="bbox center"> + +<h1>MOUNTAIN <br /> +MEDITATIONS</h1> + +<span class="spaced">AND SOME SUBJECTS OF<br /> +THE DAY AND THE WAR<br /><br /></span> + + +<span><i>By</i> L. LIND-AF-HAGEBY<br /></span> + +<span style="font-size: 80%">AUTHOR OF “AUGUST STRINDBERG: <br /> +THE SPIRIT OF REVOLT”</span> + +<div class="vskip"></div> +<img src="images/device.png" width="160" height="165" +title="publisher's device" alt="publisher's device" /> +<div class="vskip"></div> + +<span class="spaced">LONDON: GEORGE ALLEN & UNWIN LTD.<br /> +RUSKIN HOUSE 40 MUSEUM STREET, W.C. 1</span> +</div> + +<div class="vskip"></div> +<div class="center"> +<div class="vskip"></div> +<span><i>First published in 1917</i></span> +<div class="vskip"></div> +<span>(<i>All rights reserved</i>)</span> +</div> + +<div class="vskip"></div> +<!-- TABLE of CONTENTS. --> +<div class="center" style="font-size: 80%"> + +<table class="toc" summary="table of contents"> + +<tr> +<th colspan="2" class="center" style="font-size: 150%; padding-bottom: 2ex"> +<b>CONTENTS</b></th> +</tr> + +<tr> + <td class="tocl"></td> + <td class="tocr" style="font-size: 80%"><b>PAGE</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="toc"> + <td class="tocl"><a href="#MOUNTAIN-TOPS"><b>MOUNTAIN-TOPS</b></a></td> + <td class="tocr"><b>7</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="toc"> + <td class="tocl"><a href="#THE_BORDERLAND"><b>THE BORDERLAND</b></a></td> + <td class="tocr"><b>44</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="toc"> + <td class="tocl"><a href="#REFORMERS"><b>REFORMERS</b></a></td> + <td class="tocr"><b>84</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="toc"> + <td class="tocl"><a href="#NATIONALITY"><b>NATIONALITY</b></a></td> + <td class="tocr"><b>131</b></td> +</tr> + +<tr class="toc"> + <td class="tocl"><a href="#RELIGION_IN_TRANSITION"> + <b>RELIGION IN TRANSITION</b></a></td> + <td class="tocr"><b>179</b></td> +</tr> +</table> + +</div> +<!--End of TABLE of CONTENTS--> + +<hr /> + +<div> +<!-- Page 7 --> +<a name="MOUNTAIN-TOPS" id="MOUNTAIN-TOPS"></a> +<span class='pagenum'> + <a name="Page_7" id="Page_7">7</a> +</span> +</div> + + +<h2>MOUNTAIN-TOPS</h2> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Frères de l'aigle! Aimez la montagne sauvage!</span> +<span class="i0">Surtout à ces moments où vient un vent d'orage.</span> +<!--TO DO--> +<span class="i0 smcap" style="margin-left: 15em">Victor Hugo.</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>I belong to the great and mystic brotherhood of mountain +worshippers. We are a motley crowd drawn from all lands and all ages, +and we are certainly a peculiar people. The sight and smell of the +mountain affect us like nothing else on earth. In some of us they +arouse excessive physical energy and lust of conquest in a manner not +unlike that which suggests itself to the terrier at the sight of a +rat. We must master the heights above, and we become slaves to the +climbing impulse, itinerant purveyors of untold energy, marking the +events of our lives on peaks and passes. We may merit to the full +Ruskin's scathing indictment of those who look upon the Alps as soaped +poles in a bear-garden which we set ourselves “to climb and +slide down again with shrieks of delight,” we +<!-- Page 8 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_8" id="Page_8">8</a></span> +may become top-fanatics and record-breakers, “red with cutaneous +eruption of conceit,” but we are happy with a happiness which +passeth the understanding of the poor people in the plains.</p> + +<p>Others experience no acceleration of physical energy, but a strange +rousing of all their mental faculties. Prosaic, they become +poetical—the poetry may be unutterable, but it is there; +commonplace, they become eccentric; severely practical, they become +dreamers and loiterers upon the hillside. The sea, the wood, the +meadow cannot compete with the mountain in egging on the mind of man +to incredible efforts of expression. The songs, the rhapsodies, the +poems, the æsthetic ravings of mountain worshippers have a dionysian +flavour which no other scenery can impart.</p> + +<p>Yesterday I left the turmoil of a conference in Geneva and reached +home amongst my delectable mountains. I took train for the foot of the +hills and climbed for many hours through drifts of snow. This morning +I have been deliciously mad. First I greeted the sun from my open +chalet window as it rose over the range on my left and lit up the +great glacier before me, throwing the distant hills into a glorious +dream-world of blue and +<!-- Page 9 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_9" id="Page_9">9</a></span> +purple. Then I plunged into the huge drifts of clean snow which the +wind had piled up outside my door. I laughed with joy as I breathed +the pure air, laden with the scent of pines and the diamond-dust of +snow. I never was more alive, the earth was never more beautiful, the +heavens were never nearer than they are to-day. Who says we are +prisoners of darkness? Who says we are puppets of the devil? Who says +God must only be worshipped in creeds and churches? Here are the +glories of the mountains, beauty divine, peace perfect, power +unfathomable, love inexhaustible, a never failing source of hope and +light for our struggling human race. I am vaguely aware of the +unreasonableness of my delirium of mountain joy, but I revel in +it. And I sing with Sir Lewis Morris—</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">More it is than ease,</span> +<span class="i0">Palace and pomp, honours and luxuries,</span> +<span class="i0">To have seen white presences upon the hills,</span> +<span class="i0">To have heard the voices of the eternal gods.</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The emotions engendered by mountain scenery defy analysis. They may +be classified and labelled, but not explained. I turn to my library of +books by mountain-lovers +<!-- Page 10 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_10" id="Page_10">10</a></span> +—climbers, artists, poets, scientists. Though we are solitaries +in our communion with the Deity, though we worship in great spaces of +solitude and silence and seek rejuvenescence in utter human +loneliness, we do not despise counsels of sympathy and approval. The +strife rewarded, the ascent accomplished, we are profoundly grateful +for the yodel of human fellowship. And—let me whisper it in +confidence—we do not despise the cooking-pots. For the mountains +have a curious way of lifting you up to the uttermost confines of the +spirit and then letting you down to the lowest dominions of the +flesh.</p> + +<p>“Examine the nature of your own emotion (if you feel it) at +the sight of the Alps,” says Ruskin, “and you find all the +brightness of that emotion hanging like dew on a gossamer, on a +curious web of subtle fancy and imperfect knowledge.” Such a +result of our examination would but add to our confusion. Ruskin's +mind was so permeated with adoration of mountain scenery that his +attempts at cool analysis of his own sensations failed, as would those +of a priest who, worshipping before the altar, tried at the same time +to give an analytical account of his state of mind. Ruskin +<!-- Page 11 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_11" id="Page_11">11</a></span> +is the stern high priest of the worshippers of mountains; to him they +are cathedrals designed by their glory and their gloom to lift +humanity out of its baser self into the realization of high destinies. +The fourth volume of <i>Modern Painters</i> was the fount of +inspiration from which Leslie Stephen and the early members of the +Alpine Club drank their first draughts of mountaineering +enthusiasm. But the disciples never reached the heights of the +teacher. Listen to the exposition by the Master of the services +appointed to the hills:</p> + +<p>“To fill the thirst of the human heart for the beauty of +God's working—to startle its lethargy with a deep and pure +agitation of astonishment—are their higher missions. They are as +a great and noble architecture, first giving shelter, comfort, and +rest; and covered also with mighty sculpture and painted +legend.”</p> + +<p>There is a solemn stateliness about Ruskin's descriptions of the +mountains, which in the last passage of the chapter on <i>The Mountain +Gloom</i> rises to the impassioned cadences of the prophet.</p> + +<p>He could tolerate no irreverent spirits in the sanctuary of the +mountain. Leslie Stephen's +<!-- Page 12 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_12" id="Page_12">12</a></span> +remark that the Alps were improved by tobacco smoke became a +profanity. One shudders at the thought of the reprimand which +Stevenson would have drawn down upon himself had his flippant messages +from the Alps come before that austere critic. In a letter to Charles +Baxter, Stevenson complained of how “rotten” he had been +feeling “alone with my weasel-dog and my German maid, on the top +of a hill here, heavy mist and thin snow all about me and the devil to +pay in general.” And worse still are the lines sent to a +friend—</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Figure me to yourself, I pray—</span> +<span class="i1">A man of my peculiar cut—</span> +<span class="i0">Apart from dancing and deray,</span> +<span class="i1">Into an Alpine valley shut;</span> +</div> + +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Shut in a kind of damned hotel,</span> +<span class="i1">Discountenanced by God and man;</span> +<span class="i0">The food?—Sir, you would do as well</span> +<span class="i1">To cram your belly full of bran.</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The soul of Ruskin was born and fashioned for the mountains. His +first visit to Switzerland in 1833 brought him to “the Gates of +the Hills—opening for me a new life—to cease no more +except at the Gates of the Hills whence +<!-- Page 13 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_13" id="Page_13">13</a></span> +one returns not. It is not possible to imagine,” he adds of his +first sight of the Alps, “in any time of the world a more +blessed entrance into life for a child of such temperament as +mine.... I went down that evening from the garden terrace of +Schaffhausen with my devotion fixed in all of it that was to be sacred +and useful.”<a name="FNanchor" id="FNanchor"></a> +<a href="#Fnote" class="fnanchor">[1]</a></p> + +<div class="footnote"><p> +<a name="Fnote" id="Fnote"></a> +<a href="#FNanchor"><span class="label">[1]</span></a> +<i>Life of Ruskin</i>, by Sir Edward Cooke (George Allen and Unwin Ltd.). +</p></div> + +<p>That profound stirring of the depths of the soul which Ruskin +avowed as the impetus to his life's work is only possible when the +mind is fired by a devotion to the mountains which brooks no +rival. “For, to myself, mountains are the beginning and the end +of all natural scenery,” he wrote in <i>The Mountain Glory</i>; +“in them, and in the forms of inferior landscape that lead to +them, my affections are wholly bound up.” And he completely and +forever reversed Dante's dismal conception of scenery befitting souls +in purgatory by saying that “the best image which the world can +give of Paradise is in the slope of the meadows, orchards, and +cornfields on the sides of a great Alp, with its purple rocks and +eternal snows above.”</p> + +<p>No lover of mountains has approached Ruskin +<!-- Page 14 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_14" id="Page_14">14</a></span> +in intensity of veneration. Emile Javelle is not far away. Javelle +climbed as by a religious impulse; his imagination was filled by +Alpine shapes; he, like Ruskin, had forfeited his heart to the +invisible snow-maiden that dwells above the clouds. When Javelle was a +child his uncle showed him a collection of plants, and amongst them +the “Androsace ... rochers du Mont Blanc.” This roused the +desire to climb; the faded bit of moss with the portion of earth still +clinging to the roots became a sacred relic beckoning him to the +shrine of the white mountain. In the same way Ruskin, mature and +didactic, yet withal so beautifully childlike, tells us “that a +wild bit of ferny ground under a fir or two, looking as if possibly +one might see a hill if one got to the other side, will instantly give +me intense delight because the shadow, the hope of the hills is in +them.” Both lovers showed the same disdain of the mere +climber. Javelle's Alpine memories record his sense of aloofness from +the general type of member of the Alpine Club.</p> + +<p>Whilst Ruskin's communion with the mountains found an outlet in +prolific literary output, and a system of art and ethics destined to +<!-- Page 15 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_15" id="Page_15">15</a></span> +leaven the mass of human thought, the infinitude and grandeur of +mountain scenery had a dispersive effect on Javelle's mind. I can so +well understand him. He wandered over the chain of Valais—my +mountains (each worshipper has his special idols)—the Dent du +Midi, the Vaudois Alps, and the Bernese Oberland in search of beauty, +more and more beauty. He ascended peak after peak, attracted by an +irresistible force, permeated by a desire for new points of view, +forgetful of the haunts of men.</p> + +<p>And when, between times, Javelle tried to write a book, a great and +learned book on rhetoric, he could never finish it. For seven years he +laboured at preparing it, collecting notes, seeking corroborative +evidence. His Alpine climbing had taught him the elusiveness of +isolated peaks of knowledge. He saw that rhetoric is dependent on +æsthetics and æsthetics on psychology and sociology and philosophy, +and all on anthropology; that there are no frontiers and no finality +and no knowledge which is not relative and imperfect. It was all a +question of different tops and points of view, and so the book was not +finished when he died, still in search of the super-mountain +<!-- Page 16 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_16" id="Page_16">16</a></span> +of the widest and largest view, still crying out his motto, +“Onward, higher and higher still! You must reach the +top!”</p> + +<p>Beware, O fellow mountaineers, of such ambitions. For that way +madness lies. I know the lure and the shock. As I write this I sit +gazing across the valley upon the mountain on my right. It is known by +the name of the Black Head; it has a sombre shape, it has never been +known to smile. It towers above me with a cone-shaped top, a figure of +might and dominion. For a dozen years it has checked my tendency to +idealistic flights by reminding me of the inexorable laws of +Nature. It is true it does not conceal the smiling glacier in front of +me, with its ceaseless play of light and shadow, colour and form, but +it arrests the fancy by its massive immovability. And yet, when I +leave my little abode of bliss and wander forth into the heights above +(ah, humiliation that there should be heights above), I find my black +top subjected to a process of shrinking. As I reach the top it +ignominiously permits itself to be flattened out to a mere ridge +without a head, a Lilliputian hill bemoaning its own +insignificance.</p> + +<div> +<!-- Page 17 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_17" id="Page_17">17</a></span> +</div> + +<p>Such are the illusions of the mountain play. Yet the climb and the +heights have ever served man as a symbol of the search for certainty. +Lecky invokes the heights as the only safe place from which to view +history and discover the great permanent forces through which nations +are moved to improvement or decay. Schopenhauer compares philosophy to +an Alpine road, often bringing the wanderer to the edge of the chasm, +but rewarding him as he ascends with oblivion of the discords and +irregularities of the world. Nietzsche's wisdom becomes pregnant upon +lonely mountains; he claims that whosoever seeks to enter into this +wisdom “must be accustomed to live on mountain-tops and see +beneath him the wretched ephemeral gossip of politics and national +egoism.”</p> + +<p>But the mountain-tops make sport of the certainties of philosophers +as well as of those of fools. The safest plan is to ascend them +without too heavy an encumbrance of theories. You may then meet +fairies and goblins who beckon you to the caves of mystery, you may +stray into the hills of Arcadia and meet Pan himself. “Sweet the +piping of him who sat upon the rocks and fluted to the morning +sea.” +<!-- Page 18 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_18" id="Page_18">18</a></span> +You may even find yourself on Olympus, the mount of a thousand folds, +listening to the everlasting assault upon the Gods by the Titans, sons +of strife. And if you are very patient you may witness Zeus, the +lightning-gatherer, pierce the black clouds and rend the sky, +illuminating hill and vale with the fierce light which makes even the +battle of Troy intelligible.</p> + +<p>You may bathe your soul in that Natura Maligna which only reveals +its blessings to pagans and poets. Byron is the chosen bard of the +destructive might of the mountains—</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i6">Ye toppling crags of ice!</span> +<span class="i0">Ye avalanches, whom a breath draws down</span> +<span class="i0">In mountainous o'erwhelming, come and crush me!</span> +<hr class="elliplg" /> +<span class="i0">The mists boil up around the glaciers; clouds</span> +<span class="i0">Rise curling fast beneath me, white and sulphury,</span> +<span class="i0">Like foam from the roused ocean of deep Hell,</span> +<span class="i0">Whose every wave breaks on a living shore,</span> +<span class="i0">Heaped with the damned like pebbles.</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>He had the nature-mystic's thirst for a touch of the untamed power +of Nature, for communion with the magnificence of death, shaking the +mountain with wind and falling snow, with leaping rock and +earth-eating +<!-- Page 19 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_19" id="Page_19">19</a></span> +torrent. Such would fain die that they may experience the joys of +being possessed by Nature. For they have entered on the marriage of +life and death, heaven and hell, and out of the roaring cataclysm of +destruction they rise winged with a new life.</p> + +<p>Whilst the poets chant the awful power of the distant mountain, +Byron comes to us out of the mountain, fashioned by its force, +intoxicated by the wine of its wild life. Mountain climbers meet with +strange and unexpected bedfellows in the course of their +wanderings. In his cry for the baptism of the wild winds of the +mountain, Matthew Arnold approaches Byron closely—</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Ye storm-winds of Autumn</span> +<hr class="ellipsm" /> +<span class="i0">Ye are bound for the mountains—</span> +<span class="i1">Ah, with you let me go</span> +<hr class="ellipsm" /> +<span class="i0">Hark! fast by the window</span> +<span class="i1">The rushing winds go,</span> +<span class="i0">To the ice-cumber'd gorges,</span> +<span class="i1">The vast seas of snow.</span> +<span class="i0">There the torrents drive upward</span> +<span class="i1">Their rock-strangled hum,</span> +<span class="i0">There the avalanche thunders</span> +<span class="i1">The hoarse torrent dumb.</span> +<span class="i0">—I come, O ye mountains!</span> +<span class="i1">Ye torrents, I come!</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div> +<!-- Page 20 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_20" id="Page_20">20</a></span> +</div> + +<p>Shelley sings exquisitely of its grandeur, its ceaseless motion; he +voices the wonderment of man before the complex problem of Mont Blanc. +But his mind has never participated in the revels on the mountain, he +has not lost and barely recovered his soul in adventurous +crevasses. He retains something of the old horror of the desolate +heights—</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">A desert peopled by the storms alone,</span> +<span class="i0">Save when the eagle brings some hunter's bone,</span> +<span class="i0">And the wolf tracks her there. How hideously,</span> +<span class="i0">Its shapes are heaped around! rude, bare, and high,</span> +<span class="i0">Ghastly, and scarred, and riven.—Is this the scene</span> +<span class="i0">Where the old Earthquake-dæmon taught her young</span> +<span class="i0">Ruin?</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>There is a trace of the same awe in Coleridge's deathless hymn to +Mont Blanc—</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">On thy bald, awful head, O sovran Blanc,</span> +<hr class="ellipsm" /> +<span class="i0">O dread and silent mount!</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>Nearly all the poets have been moved by the primitive sense of +their awe-commanding power. Wordsworth never forgets the blackness, +though he is, above all, the bard of mountain light and sweetness, of +warbling birds and maiden's haycocks. The poet does not +<!-- Page 21 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_21" id="Page_21">21</a></span> +lose the blessed gift of wonder possessed by children and savages. And +nothing in Nature can startle the mind like the sight of a mighty +range of mountains. They recall primitive feelings of fear before the +great unknown, they tower above the human form with a colossal +imperturbability which withers our importance and confuses our +standards of value. Victor Hugo never quite freed himself from the +mediæval dread of the mountains or the mediæval speculation on their +meaning. His letters to his wife from the Alps and Pyrenees record his +impressions with a painstaking and detailed accuracy which does not +forget the black-and-yellow spider performing somersaults on an +imperceptible thread hung from one brier to another. The emotion after +an hour on the Rigi-Kulm “is immense.” “The tourist +comes here to get a point of view; the thinker finds here an immense +book in which each rock is a letter, each lake is a phrase, each +village is an accent; from it arise, like a smoke, two thousand years +of memories.”</p> + +<p>Here speaks the true panoramic man, the man whose mind attains to +fulness of expression on mountain-tops from which the whole landscape +of life may be contemplated. And +<!-- Page 22 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_22" id="Page_22">22</a></span> +yet he notes the “ominous configuration of Mount Pilatus” +and its terrible form, and writes of adjoining mountains as +“these hump-backed, goitred giants crouching around me in the +darkness.” The Rigi appears as “a dark and monstrous +perpendicular wall.”</p> + +<p>His mind is occupied with the presence of idiots in the Alps. He +finds an explanation: “It is not granted to all intelligences to +co-habit with such marvels and to keep from morning till evening +without intoxication and without stupor, turning a visual radius of +fifty leagues across the earth around a circumference of three +hundred.” On the Rigi his musings on the magnificence of the +view are checked by the presence of a cretin. Behold the contrast! An +idiot with a goitre and an enormous face, a blank stare, and a stupid +laugh is sole participator with Victor Hugo in this “marvellous +festival of the mountains.”</p> + +<p>“Oh! abysm!” he cries; “the Alps were the +spectacle, the spectator was an idiot! I forgot myself in this +frightful antithesis: man face to face with nature; Nature in her +superbest aspect, man in his most miserable debasement. What could be +the significance of this mysterious +<!-- Page 23 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_23" id="Page_23">23</a></span> +contrast? What was the sense of this irony in a solitude? Have I the +right to believe that the landscape was designed for him—the +cretin, and the irony for me—the chance visitor?”</p> + +<p>The idiot and the mountain shared, no doubt, a supreme indifference +to the commotion which their proximity had set up in the poet's +mind. With his love of antithesis Hugo had seized the picture of the +glories of the mountain wasting themselves before the gaze of the +senseless idiot. Apart from geographical conditions and hygienic +defects there is an interesting æsthetic problem connected with the +presence of idiots in the mountains. It is not only the idiot who is +indifferent to the beauties of the Alps; the sane and healthy peasant +whose eyes wander over the glaciers and snow-fields as he rests for a +few minutes from hoeing his potatoes is not moved by the sight to +ecstatic delight.</p> + +<p>I have many dear friends amongst peasants. They are richly endowed +with common sense and kindness of heart; their brains can compete +favourably with those of the folk of any other country. Their hard +struggle with a rebellious soil has given them a quiet determination +<!-- Page 24 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_24" id="Page_24">24</a></span> +and tenacity of purpose which are the root of Alpine enterprise and +resourcefulness. They possess character and independence in a high +degree—mental reflexes of the peaks of freedom, ever before +their eyes. But they, children of the mountain, born and bred amidst +its beauties, are surprisingly insensitive to beauty.</p> + +<p>I remember one exquisite sunset—one of those superlative +sunsets that burn themselves into the consciousness with a joy akin to +pain, and of which only a few are allotted to each human life. I stood +watching the sinking sun throw a crimson net over the snow mountains +as the shadow of night crept slowly up the hillside. The sky took on +an opal light in which were merged and transcended all the colours of +the day. Every pinnacle and rock was lit up as by a heavenly fire, the +pines were outlined like black sentinels against the sky, guardians of +that merciful green life from which we spring and to which we +return. My old friend the goat-herd and daily messenger from the +highest pastures stood beside me. “Beautiful, Pierre,” I +said, “and in this you have lived all your life.”</p> + +<p>“Yes,” he said, slowly shifting the pipe +<!-- Page 25 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_25" id="Page_25">25</a></span> +from the left side of his mouth to the right; “the cheese is fat +and good in the mountains, and the milk is not poisonous as it is in +the plains, but it is hard work for the back to carry it down twice a +day.” He looked at me as if searching for better +understanding. “But I will tell you something nice,” he +added, by way of stirring up my sluggish imagination; “the +little brown cow has calved, and this autumn we are going to kill the +old cow, and we shall have good meat all the winter.”</p> + +<p>Far be it from me to join in the thoughtless generalizations about +the obtuseness of the Alpine peasant which have disfigured some of the +literature of climbing. These climbers have shown infinitely greater +obtuseness before Alpine realities than the peasants derided by them. +True, a star may compete in vain with a cheese in suggesting visions +of joy, but our supercilious climbers forget that their admiration of +nature's marvels is generally built up on a substratum of +cheese—or the equivalent of cheese—plentifully supplied by +the labour of others. There is another class of climbers who idealize +the peasant and the guide, and who write of Alpine peasant-life as if +it were +<!-- Page 26 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_26" id="Page_26">26</a></span> +nothing but a series of perilous ascents nobly undertaken for the +advancement of humanity.</p> + +<p>I can understand the indifference of the peasant to the visions +around him. After a hard day's scything or woodcutting on slopes so +steep that the resistance of one's hob-nailed boots seems like that of +soft soap, I have felt profoundly healthy and ready to go to bed +without listening to any lyrics on the Alps. And even the thought of +Tennyson's “awful rose of dawn” would not have roused me +before the labour of the next day.</p> + +<p>But we—how proud I am of that “we”!—who +have chosen hard labour on the mountain know something which the mere +visitors (though they be members of many Alpine Clubs) know not. We +have a sense of home which no other habitation can impart—a +passionate love of the soil, a unity with the little patch that is our +own, bringing joys undimmed by any descriptions of other-worldly +possessions. Our trees may be wrecked by an avalanche, our garden plot +may be obliterated by a land slip; the stone walls we build up in +defiance of the snow are always pulled down by mountain sprites. Our +agriculture is precarious, and +<!-- Page 27 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_27" id="Page_27">27</a></span> +every carrot is bought by the sweat of our brow. The struggle keeps +pace with our love—there is a tenfold sweetness in the fruit we +reap. And when fate compels us to leave our mountains we are pursued +by restlessness. We know no peace, no home elsewhere. We do assume the +airs of Victor Hugo's cretin when we are placed face to face with the +riches of Crœsus or the splendours of Pharaoh.</p> + +<p>We must reluctantly admit that the phenomenon of cold indifference +to mountain scenery may occur without any corresponding degree of +idiocy. In the <i>Playground of Europe</i>, Leslie Stephen told us +that a man who preserves a stolid indifference in face of mountain +beauty must be of the “essentially pachydermatous order.” +He commented at length on the peculiar temperament of those who have +expressed dislike of his perfect playground—Chateaubriand, +Johnson, Addison, Bishop Berkeley. Bishop Berkeley, who crossed Mont +Cenis on New Year's Day 1714, complained that he was “put out of +humour by the most horrible precipices.” There is huge comfort +to be drawn from Stephen's pages descriptive of the +“simple-minded abhorrence of mountains,” and from his +categorical declaration +<!-- Page 28 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_28" id="Page_28">28</a></span> +that love of the sublime shapes of the Alps springs from “a +delicate and cultivated taste.” But we are puzzled by the +presence outside the pale of some who cannot rightly be called +“pachydermatous.” I am turning over the pages of Sarah +Bernhardt's autobiographical revelations. “I adore the sea and +the plain,” she writes, “but I neither care for mountains +nor for forests. Mountains seem to crush me, and forests to stifle +me.” Strange that the high priestess of expression, the +interpreter of every phase of human passion and sorrow, she who dies +terribly twice a day, and mercilessly conducts us to the attenuated +air and dizzy heights of intense emotion, should feel no kinship with +the mountains. It may be that they are antagonistic to the fine arts +of simulation and will brook no companionship of feeling that is not +real. And her stage-worn heart is certainly not in alliance with +Fiona Macleod's <i>Lonely Hunter</i>.</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">But my heart is a lonely hunter that hunts on</span> +<span class="i0">A lonely hill.</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>We might assume that the traditional wildness of the great +tragedienne would have found a chord of sympathy in the avalanche or +in +<!-- Page 29 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_29" id="Page_29">29</a></span> +the fierce torrent breaking over the rocks. Rousseau's hysteria and +wild assaults on the conventions of Society and literature have been +traced to the mountains. Lord Morley emphasizes that Rousseau +“required torrents, rocks, dark forests, mountains, and +precipices,” and that no plains, however beautiful, ever seemed +so in his eyes. There is naturally a complete divergence of opinion +between lovers and haters of mountains as to their effect on the +literary mind. We like to associate peaks of genius with peaks of +granite. Ruskin found fault with Shakespeare's lack of impression from +a more sublime country as shown by the sacrilegious lines—</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Rush on his host, as doth the melted snow</span> +<span class="i0">Upon the valleys whose low vassal seat</span> +<span class="i0">The Alps doth spit, and void his rheum upon.</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>There are anomalies in the capacity for æsthetic enjoyment of +mountain scenery which exclude some minds which we should expect to +find amongst the devotees and include others for whom we might look +amongst the scoffers. Dickens was profoundly affected by the +mountain-presence. His letters show the true rapture. Of the scenery +of the St. +<!-- Page 30 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_30" id="Page_30">30</a></span> +Gothard he writes: “Oh God! what a beautiful country it is. How +poor and shrunken, beside it, is Italy in its brightest aspect!” +He sees “places of terrible grandeur unsurpassable, I should +imagine, in the world.” Going up the Col de Balme, he finds the +wonders “above and beyond one's wildest expectations.” He +cannot imagine anything in nature “more stupendous or +sublime.” His impressions are so prodigious that he would rave +were he to write about them. At the hospice of the Great St. Bernard +he awakes, believing for a moment that he had “died in the night +and passed into the unknown world.” Tyndall's scientific ballast +cannot keep him from soaring in a similar manner. His <i>Glaciers of +the Alps</i> contains some highly strung sentences of +delight. “Surely,” he writes of sunset seen near the +Jungfrau, “if beauty be an object of worship, these glorious +mountains with rounded shoulders of the purest white, snow-crested, +and star-gemmed, were well calculated to excite sentiments of +adoration.” His wealth of words increases with the splendour of +the views in which he revels; he becomes a poet in prose, he calls up +symbol and simile, he strains language to +<!-- Page 31 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_31" id="Page_31">31</a></span> +express the inexpressible. The sky of the mountain is “rosy +violet,” which blends with “the deep zenithal blue”; +it wears “a strange and supernatural air”; he sees clear +spaces of amber and ethereal green; the blue light in the cave of the +glacier presents an aspect of “magical beauty.” There is +true worship of the idol in the following lines descriptive of sunrise +on Mont Blanc:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>The mountain rose for a time cold and grand, +with no apparent stain upon his snows. Suddenly the sunbeams struck +his crown and converted it into a boss of gold. For some time it +remained the only gilded summit in view, holding communion with the +dawn, while all the others waited in silence. These, in the order of +their heights, came afterwards, relaxing, as the sunbeams struck each +in succession, into a blush and smile.</p></div> + +<p>Tyndall holds the mastership of polychromatic description of the +beauties of the mountain; he makes us feel his own response to their +call to the depths of æsthetic perception in the human soul. Words +gush forth from him in a fervour of gratitude for the pleasures of the +eye. He may measure and weigh, he may set out as an emissary of cold +scientific investigation: he returns hot with admiration and raving of +the marvels of God upon the +<!-- Page 32 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_32" id="Page_32">32</a></span> +hills. But even he reaches a point where the realization of the utter +inadequacy of expression paralyses the desire to convey the emotion to +others. “I was absolutely struck dumb by the extraordinary +majesty of this scene,” he writes of one evening, “and +watched it silently till the red light faded from the highest +summits.”</p> + +<p>Verestchagin astonished his wife by painting his studies of snow in +the Himalayas at an altitude of 14,000 feet, tormented by hunger and +thirst and supported by two coolies, who held him on each side. She +had the pluck and the endurance to follow him on his long climbs, but +being a less exalted mortal, her sense of fitness was unduly strained +by the intensity of Verestchagin's devotion to clouds and +mountain-tops. “His face is so frightfully swollen,” she +tells us, “that his eyes look merely like two wrinkles, the sun +scorches his head, his hand can scarcely hold the palette, and yet he +insists on finishing his sketches. I cannot imagine,” she +reflects, “how Verestchagin could make such studies.” +There were, nevertheless, occasions when the inaction, following on +intense æsthetic emotion, stayed Verestchagin's busy brush. One day, +relates +<!-- Page 33 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_33" id="Page_33">33</a></span> +Madame Verestchagin, he went out to sketch the sunset:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>He prepared his palette, but the sight was +so beautiful that he waited in order to examine it better. Several +thousand feet below us all was wrapped in a pure blue shadow; the +summits of the peaks were resplendent in purple flames. Verestchagin +waited and waited and would not begin his sketch. “By and by, by +and by,” said he; “I want to look at it still; it is +splendid!” He continued to wait, he waited until the end of the +evening—until the sun was set and the mountains were enveloped +in dark shadows. Then he shut up his paint-box and returned +home.</p></div> + +<p>As I read these lines I find myself wondering how many paint-boxes +have been shut up by the sight of the mountains. I know many have been +opened, and, amongst these, not a few which might have served humanity +better by remaining shut. But we may safely assume that despite the +general tendency of mountain worshippers to attempt to paint—in +colours strong and language divine—the effect on their minds, +there are exceptional instances of noble and self-imposed +dumbness. Not the dumbness which is practising the old device +of—</p> + +<div class="blocknarrow"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Reculer pour mieux sauter,</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<div> +<!-- Page 34 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_34" id="Page_34">34</a></span> +</div> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">but a genuine silence of humility before +the mysteries of nature. We sigh in vain for a glimpse of these +exceptional souls. They resist our best climbing qualifications and +are as inaccessible as the mists above our highest tops. And we +prefer, naturally, our talking companions, those who shrink not from +the task of ready interpretation.</p> + +<p>“The Alps form a book of nature as wide and mysterious as +Life,” says Frederic Harrison in his <i>Alpine Jubilee</i>, in +one of those clear-cut and well-measured passages of mountain homage, +which are balm to the tormented hearts of those who feel themselves +afloat on the clouds of mystery. “To know, to feel, to +understand the Alps is to know, to feel, to understand +Humanity.”</p> + +<p>I am not at all sure this is true; it is probably entirely untrue. +Humanity—in the abstract—is apt to suffer an enforced +reduction in magnitude and importance when seen from Alpine +heights. But it is one of those phrases which we hug instinctively as +the bearers of food for hungry hearts. We do not want Leslie Stephen's +reminder of metaphysical riddles, “Where does Mont Blanc end and +where do I begin?” We do not +<!-- Page 35 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_35" id="Page_35">35</a></span> +want to be paralysed by philosophic doubt for the rest of our mortal +lives on the hills. We prefer to be stirred to emotional life by those +who are transported by love of beauty to the realms of unreason.</p> + +<p>In the autobiography of Princess Hélène Racowitza—the +tragically beloved of Ferdinand Lassalle—there is evidence of +such transport. She has but reached one of the commonplaces of tourist +ventures. From the Wengern Alp she watches the play of night and dawn +on the Jungfrau:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Again and again the glory of God drew me to +the window. In the immense stillness of the loneliness of the +mountains, the thundering of the avalanches that crashed from time to +time from the opposite heights was the only sound. It was as if one +heard the breath of God, and in deepest reverence one's heart stood +almost still.</p></div> + +<p>She beholds the moon pale and the summit of the Jungfrau glitter in +“a thousand prismatic colours” from the rising sun:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Once more I was shaken to the depths of my +soul, thankful that I was allowed to witness this and to enjoy it +thus. A great joy leapt up in my heart, which more surely than the +most fervent prayer of thanks penetrated to the infinite goodness of +the great Almighty.</p></div> + +<div> +<!-- Page 36 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_36" id="Page_36">36</a></span> +</div> + +<p>The sincerity of the religious feeling is enhanced by its +simplicity. The more complex experiences of the true mystical nature +retain the same intensity of devotional fervour. Anna Kingsford, whose +interpretations of the inner meaning of Christianity place her in the +foremost rank of modern mystics, was caught up to God by the beauty of +the mountains. Her friend and biographer, Edward Maitland, describes +their effect on one in whom a fiercely artistic soul did combat with a +frail and suffering body. It was whilst near the mountains that she +conceived her beautiful utterance on the Poet:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"> +<p>But the personality of the Poet is Divine: and being Divine, it +hath no limits.</p> + +<p>He is supreme and ubiquitous in consciousness: his heart beats in +every Element.</p> + +<p>The Pulses of all the infinite Deep of Heaven vibrate in his own: +and responding to their strength and their plenitude, he feels more +intensely than other men.</p> + +<p>Not merely he sees and examines these Rocks and Trees: these +variable Waters, and these glittering Peaks.</p> + +<p>Not merely he hears this plaintive Wind, these rolling Peals:</p> + +<p>But he <span class="smcap">is</span> all these: and with +them—nay, <span class="smcap">in</span> them—he rejoices +and weeps, he shines and aspires, he sighs and thunders.</p> + +<div> +<!-- Page 37 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_37" id="Page_37">37</a></span> +</div> + +<p>And when he sings, it is not he—the Man—whose Voice is heard: it +is the voice of all the Manifold Nature herself.</p> + +<p>In his Verse the Sunshine laughs; the Mountains give forth their +sonorous Echoes; the swift Lightnings flash.</p> + +<p>The great continual cadence of universal Life moves and becomes +articulate in human language.</p> + +<p>O Joy profound! O boundless Selfhood! O Godlike Personality!</p> + +<p>All the Gold of the Sunset is thine; the Pillars of Chrysolite; and +the purple Vault of Immensity!</p></div> + +<p>Anna Kingsford did not consciously seek the mountains to find there +the release of imprisoned powers of utterance. The mountains sought +her by their beauty and called forth the true mystic's ecstasy of +communion. Mystics of all times and all religions have found +inspiration and strength of spirit on the hilltops; they have forsaken +the haunts of men for the silence of the heights, preparing themselves +by meditation and self-purification to receive the Beatific +Vision. They have gone up alone in anguish and uncertainty, they have +come down inspired bearers of transcendental tidings to men. These +messengers of the spirit have known the joys of illumination and the +secret of the strength of the hills.</p> + +<div> +<!-- Page 38 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_38" id="Page_38">38</a></span> +</div> + +<p>Others have sought in agony and mortification of mind the vision +which was denied them. For in chasing away the images of sin they +forgot to make room for the images of beauty. With Simeon Stylites, +they point to their barren sojourn on the hills:</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">Three winters that my soul might grow to thee,</span> +<span class="i0">I lived up there on yonder mountain-side,</span> +<span class="i0">My right leg chained into the crag, I lay</span> +<span class="i0">Pent in a roofless close of ragged stones.</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>It is to the rarefied perception of beauty that we may trace the +quickening of spirit which artists and poets experience on the +mountains. Heine, going to the Alps with winter in his soul, +“withered and dead,” finds new hope and a new spring. The +melodies of poetry return, he feels once again his valour as a soldier +in the war of liberation of humanity.</p> + +<p>The process of unburdening hearts has been continuous since we +discovered the boundless capacity of the hills to hide our shame and +discharge our thunder. Petrarch set the example on the top of Mont +Ventoux when he deliberately recollected and wept over his past +uncleanness and the carnal corruptions of his soul. I never tire of +that dearly sentimental +<!-- Page 39 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_39" id="Page_39">39</a></span> +mixture of world-weariness and nature-study which Elisée Reclus called +the <i>History of a Mountain</i>. “I was sad, downcast, weary of +my life. Fate had dealt hardly with me: it had robbed me of all who +were dear to me, had ruined my plans, frustrated all my hopes. People +whom I called my friends had turned against me when they beheld me +assailed by misfortune; all mankind with its conflicting interests and +its unrestrained passions appeared repulsive in my eyes.” Thus +he invites us to follow him towards the lofty blue peaks. In the +course of his wanderings he finds Nature's peace and freedom, and as +his love of the mountains expands, kind tolerance returns to his +heart. He takes geological and meteorological notes, he studies men +and beasts on the peaks, and never forgets to draw moralizing +comparisons. The climb is to him the symbol of “the toilsome +path of virtue,” the difficult passes, the treacherous crevasses +reminders of temptations to be overcome by a sanctified will.</p> + +<p>I am afraid modern climbers show scant regard for Elisée Reclus' +rules for moral exercises. Many are moved by an exuberance of physical +energy which rejoices in battle +<!-- Page 40 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_40" id="Page_40">40</a></span> +with Nature. They love the struggle and the danger, the exercise and +the excitement. They find health and good temper, jollity and +good-fellowship, through their exertions. They glory shamelessly in +useless scrambles which demand the sweat of their brow and the +concentrated attention of their minds. They seek to emulate the +chamois and the monkey in hanging on to rocks and insecure footholds. +When they do not climb, they fill libraries with descriptions of their +achievements, dull and unintelligible to the uninitiated, +bloodstirring and excellent to the members of the brotherhood. They +write in a jargon of their own of chimneys and buttresses and basins +and ribs, of boulders and saddles and moraine-hopping. They become +rampant at the thought of the stout, unworthy people who are now +dragged to the tops by the help of rope-chains and railings. They +sarcastically remark that they may have to abandon certain +over-exploited peaks through the danger of falling sardine-tins. They +issue directions for climbing calculated to chase away the poet from +the snow-fields, as when Sir Martin Conway says that a certain glacier +must be “struck at the right corner of its +<!-- Page 41 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_41" id="Page_41">41</a></span> +snout,” and “its drainage stream flows from the left +corner.”</p> + +<p>They do not hesitate to admit that they would continue to climb +even if there were no views to be enjoyed from the tops. “I am +free to confess,” wrote A. F. Mummery, “that I would still +climb, even though there were no scenery to look at.” And +Mrs. Aubrey Le Blond echoes this sentiment in a defiant challenge to +their uncomprehending critics. “To further confound the +enemy,” she writes, “we do not hide the fact that were no +view obtainable from the summit a true climber would still continue to +climb.”</p> + +<p>Why do they climb? The motives are many—the result joy. Yes, +joy, even in the providential escapes and the “bad five +minutes,” beloved by our naïve scribes of the ice-axe, in the +perils and death which they court for the sake of adventure and +exploration. Sir Martin Conway speaks of the systematic climber as the +man for whom climbing takes the place of fishing and shooting. How +depressingly banal! Yet Sir Martin Conway has written some of the +finest tributes to the glories of the Alps, and has shown himself a +master of artistic interpretation of their +<!-- Page 42 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_42" id="Page_42">42</a></span> +wealth of beauty. Whymper excels in matter-of-fact history of climbs, +yet there is an undercurrent of reverence for the mysteries of +Nature's beauty.</p> + +<p>The expert cragsman climbs to attain acrobatic efficiency, and may +aim at nothing higher than inspired legs. Mrs. Peck climbed to +establish the equality of the sexes. Mr. and Mrs. Bullock Workman +climbed in the Himalayas with strong determination to name a mountain +Mount Bullock Workman. They did, and the mountain, which attains +19,450 feet, is none the worse. Climbers are exceedingly human in +their love of getting to the top before fellow-climbers. Here they +follow the ordinary rules for human conduct in commerce, politics, and +literature. There have been some loud and unseemly quarrels as to +honours and fame attendant on the first successful conquest of a +desirable peak. It has been generally held that if you cannot get a +mountain to yourself you can at any rate devise a new route. But I +cannot bring myself to speak harshly of such failings. The utmost I +will say is that it were better if such enthusiasm were tempered with +a little humour.</p> + +<p>Mark Twain saw through that deadly seriousness +<!-- Page 43 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_43" id="Page_43">43</a></span> +of the pure climber. He saw the fatuity of mere peak-hunting. It +impressed him strongly even on the Rigi-Kulm. “We climbed and +climbed,” he writes in <i>A Tramp Abroad</i>, “and we kept +on climbing; we reached about forty summits: there was always another +one just ahead.”</p> + +<p>But the pure climber is always a fountain of delight, even though +he does not see himself as others see him. The pages of Conway, +Mummery, Sir Claud Schuster, and Bruce abound in gems of nature-lore, +ever fresh and ever alluring. As I search for more self-revelation in +my books by mountain-lovers, I find myself observed through the +window. It is only a cow on her way to the hollow tree into which the +water courses out of the earth. But the cow brings me back to the +strenuous Alpine life, and I find myself concluding, as I replace the +books on their shelves, that I do not care why men climb so long as +they climb in spirit and body.</p> + + +<div> +<!-- Page 44 --> +<a name="THE_BORDERLAND" id="THE_BORDERLAND"></a> +<span class='pagenum'> + <a name="Page_44" id="Page_44">44</a> +</span> +</div> + + +<h2>THE BORDERLAND</h2> + +<p>This evening the blind man came up the path from the village. I was +sitting on a stump of pine listening to the merry peal of the bells of +the little village church below. He carried a milk-can, and felt his +way with a long staff, with which he tapped the stones in front of +him. He hesitated for a moment as he passed me, as if vaguely +conscious of a disturbing presence. We have been good friends, the +blind man and I, and have had many a talk on this, our common +path. But to-night I sat silent, wondering. For a message had reached +me that a friend had been killed in battle. A man strong and active in +body, intensely alive and sensitive in soul. One of those whom we can +never think of as dead, so wholly do they belong to life.</p> + +<p>The blind man stopped at a little distance. He chose a place where +the trees have been cleared and the snow mountains spread themselves +<!-- Page 45 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_45" id="Page_45">45</a></span> +for the feast of the eyes of those who can see. He put his milk-can +and his staff on the ground, and stood for a moment with head bowed as +if crushed by his infirmity. Then he threw up his hands and raised his +head, as though a sudden vision had come to him—his whole body +tense and expectant, like that of a man who strains every nerve to +catch a message from the hills across the valley. For a minute he +remained still, as if receiving something in his hands borne by the +silence. Then he picked up his staff and his can. He turned round and +faced me for a moment before resuming his journey. There was a smile +on his lips and a strange radiance in his sightless eyes, and I wished +that I, too, might see what he had seen.</p> + +<p>For the darkness with which we are afflicted lay heavily around me, +and seemed greater even than the blindness of the eyes. The war has +brought the mystery of death to our hearts with pitiless +insistence. Every bullet that finds its mark kills more than the +soldier who falls. Ties of love and friendship are shattered hour by +hour and day by day, as the guns of war roar out their message of +destruction. We are all partners in a gigantic +<!-- Page 46 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_46" id="Page_46">46</a></span> +Dance of Death such as Holbein never imagined. To him Death was the +wily and insistent enemy of human activity and hope, a spy watching in +the doorway for an opportunity to snap the thread of life. We have +cajoled and magnified Death until he has outgrown all natural +proportions; through centuries of war and preparation for war we have +appealed to him to settle our national differences. We have outdone +the earthquake and the cyclone in valid claims upon his power and +presence; we have outwitted pestilence and famine in our efforts to +hold his attention. We, of the twentieth century, have attained +mastery in the art of killing. We kill by fire and bursting shell, we +kill by mine and gas. We dive under the surface of the water to +surprise our enemy, we fly in the air and sow fire and devastation +upon the earth. We have chained science to our chariot of Death, we +have made giant tools of killing which mow down regiments of men at +great distances. We send out fumes of poison which envelop groups of +human beings, killing them gently, and emphasizing the triumph of art +by leaving them in attitudes simulating life. We project shells so +powerful +<!-- Page 47 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_47" id="Page_47">47</a></span> +that men disappear in the explosion, melted, disintegrated by its +destructive force.</p> + +<p>And when long-distance scientific methods of man-killing fall short +of the passions of the fray or the exigencies of the fight, we return +to the primitive ways of savages, and kill by dagger and knife, by +bayonet and fist. Thus millions of men are slain in this war, which +has achieved superiority over all other wars in history by the number +of its dead and its gigantic destructiveness. And other millions of +men and women are plunged into sorrow and mourning for the dead, and +to them the meaning of life is hidden behind a veil of tears and +blood.</p> + +<p>There is an incongruity about death on the battlefield which +assails the mind. The incongruity is there notwithstanding the +probability that the soldier who faces the fire of the enemy will be +killed. It defies the mathematical calculation of chances. It rises +naturally as a protest against the sudden termination of life at its +fullest. Death after a long illness, at the eventide of life, partakes +of the order of falling leaves and autumnal oblivion. It may come +softly as sleep when the day's work is done; it may come mercifully +<!-- Page 48 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_48" id="Page_48">48</a></span> +to end bodily pain and wretchedness. There are moments in every life +when the ebb of physical force is so low that death seems but a step +across the border—a change by which we desire to cure the +weariness of thought. The soldier goes into battle charged with youth +and life, buoyant with energy of muscle and nerve. Death seizes him at +the noontide of life and leaves us blindly groping for other-worldly +compensation.</p> + +<p>The present war is being fought against a background of questions +which cannot be suppressed by discipline or the mere fulfilment of +patriotic duty. The old acceptance of the social order is passing +away. The old acceptance of religious nescience is passing away; there +is a new impatience to reach the foundation of things, a popular +clamour for explanation of the riddles of life. Out of the +decivilizing forces of war, its tumult and wreckage, there emerges a +new quest for truth. Simple souls are troubled with a warlike desire +for evidence of immortality. The parson's exhortations to live by +faith and unreasoning acceptance of ecclesiastical doctrine fall on +inattentive ears. “There is a shocking recrudescence of +superstition and devil-worship,” +<!-- Page 49 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_49" id="Page_49">49</a></span> +said a clergyman to me the other day; “people consult fraudulent +mediums and fortune-tellers.”</p> + +<p>I listened to him and remembered an afternoon's visit to a bereaved +mother. She is a charwoman endowed with the scientific mind. Her son +had been killed by an exploding shell. Only a fragment or two had been +necessary for the task. Jimmy had no chance. Courage and energy had +never failed him. The spirit that dwelt within his thin and somewhat +stunted body would have rejoiced in battle with a lion. But shells are +no respecters of spirit. Jimmy had successfully fought poverty and +ill-health; he had risen from a newspaper-boy's existence to the dizzy +heights of a milkman's cart. His pale face with its prominent eyes and +rich, chestnut forelock bore an expression of indomitable Cockney +confidence in the ultimate decency of things. He had always been kind +to his mother. “More like a girl than a boy,” she said, +“in the way he cared for his home and looked after me.” +And now Jimmy was dead: the message had come that he would not +return. “And why is he dead,” said the mother to me, +“and where is he?” She +<!-- Page 50 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_50" id="Page_50">50</a></span> +was sitting in her kitchen, which bore its usual aspect of order and +cleanliness. But her face looked as if some disordering power had +passed over her. “I asked our curate to explain where Jimmy +is,” she continued, “and he told me that doubt is a sin, +and that we shall meet again on the day of resurrection. And when I +told him that I felt Jimmy quite close to me in this kitchen, a week +after his death, and that I thought I heard his voice calling me, the +curate said I ought not to think of such things. Faith and hard work +were the best cure for such fancies, he said.”</p> + +<p>“But do you know what I did?” she added in a whisper, +intended to deceive the curate, “I went to one of those mediums +that Mrs. Jones knows about. I paid a shilling, and we all sat in a +ring, and the medium saw Jimmy and described him, just as he is in his +uniform and cap, a little over the right ear, and the scar across his +nose—you know, the scar from the fall down the front steps when +he was nine—and all smiling, and showing the missing +tooth. 'Jimmy wants you to know that he is happy, very happy,' she +said, and then Jimmy came and spoke through the medium. 'Mother,' he +said to me, 'I want you to +<!-- Page 51 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_51" id="Page_51">51</a></span> +give my pipe with the silver band to Charlie, and don't make no bones +about it.' Then I knew it was Jimmy, for Jimmy always used to say +'don't make no bones about it.' And now I feel he is alive somewhere, +and I shall go again to the medium and find out more.”</p> + +<p>I thought of this when the clergyman complained of the prevalence +of superstition and visits to mediums. I suggested that he should +investigate the subject of spiritualism and the reasons for its appeal +to sorrow-stricken relatives and friends of soldiers. The suggestion +was indignantly rejected. Religion was to him a theory based on +revelation vouchsafed thousands of years ago; it was now a system of +stereotyped belief and conduct, strangely removed from the +perplexities and anguish of the individual soul. His academic mind +recoiled from the grotesque and trivial messages associated with +séances and the performances of professional psychics.</p> + +<p>We are wont to contemplate immortality in much the same manner as +we contemplate the moon. It is something remote and incapable of +active interference in our daily life and tasks. It sheds a pale and +pleasant light on our earthly pilgrimage, and we in our turn +<!-- Page 52 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_52" id="Page_52">52</a></span> +render homage to the mellow beauty which it imparts to our poetic +imagination. Only children cry for the moon. We know it is +unattainable.</p> + +<p>The rejection of the crude theories of spiritualism is not +altogether the result of wilful blindness. In our innermost minds, in +the region beyond the grasp of the brain and its ready +generalizations, we hunger for inexpressible reality, for life beyond +the stars. We have eaten of the tree of sense-knowledge: we have seen, +heard, felt, tasted. We want a reality above the traffic and deception +of the senses. Vaguely, but insistently we feel the call to the life +of the spirit, and when its definition eludes us, we prefer silence +and faith. It is then that the familiar prattle of the séance-room +offends us. We sought freedom, light, absolution from the trammels of +personality, and we are told that the dead appear in bodies and +clothes, that they toil and fret, that they inhabit houses and +cities. Our plains Elysian suffer an invasion of lawyers and +physicians, of merchants and moneylenders. The weariness of repetition +pursues us.</p> + +<p>And yet we may be more completely the victims of illusion than our +vendor of spiritualistic +<!-- Page 53 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_53" id="Page_53">53</a></span> +revelation. We who cherish the belief in immortality forget that death +can be naught but the shedding of a form. The substance is +unchanged. The fabric of the mind is woven day by day by impressions +and ideas, by experience and action. Nobody questions the commonplace +phenomena of the shaping of individuality and character. Habits, +occupation, tastes, and desires mould a distinct personality out of +the common clay. The experience of death cannot dissolve the +personality. The death-process can neither whitewash a man's sin nor +exalt him beyond his virtue.</p> + +<p>And thus it is that he who dearly loved a joke may joke still, and +he who thought he was collecting fine old pictures may still indulge +his taste. Delusions! Not impossible or even unlikely. Kant +demonstrated once for all our complete enslavement by phenomena and +our inability to approach things-in-themselves. Spiritualistic +interpretation of post-mortem conditions offers no +exception. Imagination continues to master our souls. Spiritualism +offends us by offering bread-and-butter when we expect moonshine.</p> + +<p>We are loath to part with the belief that +<!-- Page 54 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_54" id="Page_54">54</a></span> +death transforms the character by one great stroke of spiritual +lightning. Vanity, envy, meanness, greed, the foibles and frailties of +human nature, repel us when we imagine their persistence in others +after death. We infinitely prefer the thought that they should be +purged and radiant with spiritual effulgence. We are not so sure about +ourselves, for the objective classification of the qualities which go +to form our own character is a difficult achievement. And the idea of +dispensing with essential parts of our mental equipment does not +commend itself to us. There is a point in all our philosophy where +speculation seeks the natural repose of the unknowable. It is quickly +reached when we attempt to probe the mystery of selfhood.</p> + +<p>The plain question whether the dead can communicate with the living +persists in spite of the imperfections of the answer. The war has made +it paramount, and only second in importance to the crucial query: Do +they live? There is a clamour for evidence, signs, messages, +testimony. The human heart cries out for comfort. “Yesterday he +breathed the same air, felt and thought as I do. To-day he lies dead, +his body shattered, his hopes +<!-- Page 55 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_55" id="Page_55">55</a></span> +wrecked, his happy laughter silent. Does he know? Does he feel and +remember? Is there an eternal gulf of silence between us?”</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">O! for the touch of a vanished hand,</span> +<span class="i0">And the sound of a voice that is still.</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The Church tries vainly to ban the new inquisitiveness. The +intercourse with familiar spirits is condemned as a theological +offence, a vainglorious and futile storming of the citadel of God. The +secret of the tomb must be preserved, though the masses of Christendom +have ceased to believe in the long and mouldering sleep of the +centuries before the summons to the Judgment. They are no longer +scorched by the threat of eternal fire, nor soothed by the hope of +clouds and harps. The love that is in them would not tolerate the +infliction of an eternity of torture on a fellow-soul, and their +conception of the love of God cannot place Him below the promptings of +human mercy. The reason that is in them is not attracted by the +promise of a heaven of rosy inaction and strifeless rest. The contrast +of heaven and hell, so powerful a corrective of human waywardness in +mediæval times, fails +<!-- Page 56 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_56" id="Page_56">56</a></span> +to impress the modern mind. The windows of experience and knowledge +have been opened too widely, the powers and manifold possibilities of +the earth lie open and tempt to the search for a super-mundane world, +not poorer and more complex, but richer and more lavish in creative +force.</p> + +<p>The law supports the opposition of the Church and frowns on the +practice of mediumship and clairvoyance. The law denies the +possibility of spirit intercourse and forbids the exercise of +supernormal faculties in exploring the untrodden realms of the +future. Prosecutions are instituted under the old Witchcraft and +Vagrancy Acts, and psychic practitioners are fined or sent to prison +in the hope of stemming the tide of inquiry. The law and the spirit +were ever at variance. But it is difficult to understand why those who +mourn, and who ask questions, should be deprived of the comfort which +they may find through visits to professional mediums. The risk of +deception and false pretences is there, it is true, but that risk +exists everywhere. There are lawyers, politicians, and physicians who +tell “fortunes” and practise “witchcraft” of +their own brand, decidedly more +<!-- Page 57 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_57" id="Page_57">57</a></span> +harmful and disruptive than the visions of the unlettered +clairvoyant.</p> + +<p>The magistrate, who sends a clairvoyant to prison because he is +convinced that all claims to psychic gifts and to communion with +discarnate spirits are fraudulent, is not troubled by his ignorance, +and the evidence of psychic research is not acceptable in his +court. He typifies the perpetual official, ever ready to suppress new +and evolutionary thought. After all, psychic science fares no worse +than the physical sciences in the judgment of respectable +mediocrity. The progress of science in the nineteenth century was one +long conquest of territory in the land of the impossible. Inventors +and inventions have met with incredulity and mockery. Railways, +steamships, aeroplanes, telegraphy, telephony and cinematographs have +all emerged from the region of “impossibilities.” +Röntgen-rays and radium have descended from the sphere of +miracles.</p> + +<p>Experience should endow us with cautiousness in proclaiming +impossibilities of the future. The study of psychic science has +imposed no greater strain on my reason than the attempt to explain the +mysteries of biology and astronomy. Observation and classification do +not +<!-- Page 58 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_58" id="Page_58">58</a></span> +necessarily imply elucidation. The miracle of the fœtus taking +human shape and soul, or of the oak rising out of the acorn and the +brown earth is to me as baffling as the materialization of a +spirit. The marvels of the cell-life and the daily chemistry which +maintain the body charm my attention as much as the mysterious clouds +of light with which spirits are wont to signalize their presence in +the séance-room. I have sat for hours on a summer night by the +Mediterranean watching the phosphorescent waves throw a luminous spray +over the shore, and meditating on the inexhaustible fertility of the +sea. And I have watched with the same intense wonder the phenomena of +the soul illuminated by the <i>daimon</i> of inner vision and the +infinite manifestations of the power of spirit over matter. From the +point of view of science there is no clearly defined frontier between +the natural and the supernatural, the commonplace and the +miraculous. All is soil for the plough, all defies our designs for +complete explanation. From the point of view of religious emotion, +there is the greatest possible difference between the sciences of +psychic force and those that seek to probe the mysteries +<!-- Page 59 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_59" id="Page_59">59</a></span> +of the physical world. The question of the immortality of the human +soul is infinitely more engrossing than that of the formation of the +skull of neolithic man. The strictly evidential demonstration of +communion between the living and the dead might be almost negligible +in quantity, and yet the importance of one rap from the world of +discarnate spirits, scientifically demonstrated, would outweigh tomes +of theories in physics.</p> + +<p>True, those who live in the spirit need no demonstrations provided +by scientific investigators of psychic problems. The mystic +consciousness with its intuition of immortality, its sensitiveness to +the vibration of life on all planes and in all forms <i>knows</i>, and +in knowledge transcends alike the boundaries of religionists and +scientists. The mystic may smile at the labour expended during the +last fifty years on establishing a strictly evidential basis for the +study of transcendental facts. He has conquered the inherited +blindness of our race, and sees spirit not as a supernatural +demonstration, vouchsafed now and then to doubting humanity, but as +the living Presence of which he is joyously a part. He does not fall +into the common error of forgetting that +<!-- Page 60 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_60" id="Page_60">60</a></span> +we are spirits sheathed in flesh, but bearing within ourselves the +power over matter which is destined to achieve the miraculous. He can +dispense with a medium, being himself a fountain of light, and +experiencing the wondrous self-illumination of which Thomas Treherne +sang—</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i2">O Joy! O wonder and delight!</span> +<span class="i2">O sacred mystery!</span> +<span class="i2">My soul a spirit infinite!</span> +<span class="i2">An image of the Deity!</span> +<span class="i2">A pure substantial light!</span> +<span class="i0">That being greatest which doth nothing seem!</span> +<hr class="ellipsm" /> +<span class="i2">O wondrous Self! O sphere of light,</span> +<span class="i2">O sphere of joy most fair;</span> +<span class="i2">O act, O power infinite;</span> +<span class="i2">O subtile and unbounded air!</span> +<span class="i2">O living orb of sight!</span> +<span class="i0">Thou which within me art, yet me! Thou eye</span> +<span class="i0">And temple of His whole infinity!</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>But the spiritual raptures of the mystics of all ages have not +moved souls struggling in the outer darkness for tangible proofs of +immortality. To them the application of the methods approved by reason +and tested by scientific application will ever be welcome. They know +that the mind of man has wrested +<!-- Page 61 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_61" id="Page_61">61</a></span> +secret after secret from the earth by observation, by experiment, by +deduction. They know that the great generalizations of +science—the theories of the indestructibility of matter, of +gravitation, of the conservation of energy—are but counters of +mind exchanged in default of elusive realities. They know that the +pressure of research has reduced many of the lesser generalizations +and theories to a fluid and amorphous state. “Immutable” +laws have been turned into faulty conclusions, hastily drawn and +readily abandoned before the advance of new facts. The fixity of the +elements in chemistry, the undulatory movement of light, the stability +of the planetary orbits, the indestructibility of the atom, are all +abstractions which have been subjected to the reforming processes of +new thought.</p> + +<p>Progress in physics has been marked by bold hypotheses dealing with +imponderable forces, and by experiments disclosing hidden properties +of matter. The hypothetical ether has been as fruitful in the +liberation of thought as the demonstration of the existence of the +X-rays.</p> + +<p>The application of methods of scientific accuracy to the physical +phenomena of spiritualism +<!-- Page 62 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_62" id="Page_62">62</a></span> +involves no revolution in mental processes or reversal of the laws of +logic. The publication of the results of the classical experiments in +materialization undertaken in 1874 by Sir William Crookes with the +medium Florence Cooke caused incredulous amazement, for the simple +reason that the custodians of science had not applied themselves to +the lessons afforded by the continuous shifting of their +frontiers. Crookes' report that Katie King, the spirit who took +material form during the séances, was a perfect, though mysterious +replica of the natural-born human being, roused no general scientific +interest. He asserted that Katie was physiologically complete. That +she walked, talked, expressed intelligence and feeling, that she had a +regularly beating heart and sound lungs. He further pointed out that +the personality of Katie in appearance and character differed +considerably from that of the medium, and that it was impossible to +regard the materialized form as but a phantasm of the living. A +stupendous discovery or a pitiful figment of a lunatic brain! But no +flash of lightning rent the halls of learning; Sir William Crookes' +researches into radiant matter could safely be accepted as workable +<!-- Page 63 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_63" id="Page_63">63</a></span> +intellectual ground, but not his researches into spiritual +dynamics.</p> + +<p>And yet there was no unorthodoxy in his methods of research; he +imposed strict conditions of experimental control. There is a strange +reluctance in accepting the necessity for “mediums” in +psychic manifestations. If these things are possible, we are told, why +not here, now, anywhere, in broad daylight? Why mystifying circles, +cabinets, and subdued light? Our scoffers forget that scientific +investigation always requires a medium and method. The need of the +telescope and the microscope is not questioned, but the thought of the +planchette evokes ridicule. The practical success of wireless +telegraphy depends on the use of an adequate medium for the +transmission of electricity. The most meagre training suffices to +prevent the declaration that if wireless messages cannot be sent +without apparatus they cannot be sent at all.</p> + +<p>Notwithstanding the indifference of the majority of scientists, the +problems of spirit intercourse have proved sufficiently attractive to +stimulate a vast amount of experimentation and theorizing. The study +of mediumship has necessarily become the study of consciousness +<!-- Page 64 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_64" id="Page_64">64</a></span> +and the occult powers of the human mind. In the centre a handful of +fearless scientists: Crookes, Wallace, Richet, Flammarion, Morselli, +Baraduc, Myers, Lombroso, Lodge, and Barrett; in the inner circle a +number of academic investigators, disdaining alike the premature +proclamation of phenomenal results and the obstinate denial of facts; +in the outer circle an ever-growing mass of souls clamouring for the +crumbs of evidence, hungry for something personal and soul-warming in +our dealings with the Divine dispensation.</p> + +<p>The annals of psychic science—in different tongues and of +different continents—are largely devoted to the investigation of +trance, clairvoyance, clairaudience, telepathy, hypnotism, dreams, +premonitions, automatic writing, visions, and messages from the dying, +multiple personality, and all the phenomena associated with the +subconscious self. Many students have dispensed with the spirit +hypothesis as an unnecessary and embarrassing complication in a +subject already overburdened with difficulties. Spirit messages are to +them examples of the activity of the subliminal self, and a medium is +a person gifted—or cursed—with extraordinary subconscious +force and +<!-- Page 65 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_65" id="Page_65">65</a></span> +lucidity. Materializations, they argue, are produced through the +effluvia of the living and controlled by the subliminal forces of the +participators in the séance. Spirits are nothing but +thought-forms. The painstaking investigation recorded in the +<i>Proceedings</i> and <i>Journal of the Society for Psychical +Research</i> has to a great extent been carried on by inquirers +unencumbered by any bias towards “spookery.” But the +theories in elaboration of psycho-pathological vagaries and +dissociation of personality which have been substituted for the spirit +hypothesis certainly do not err on the side of intelligible +explication. They have but deepened the mystery and show the vista of +new and unexplored paths in psychic science.</p> + +<p>Others, again, who are not unwilling to believe that the phenomena +are produced by the action of intelligences other than that of the +medium, abandon further study because of the meagreness of the +intellectual results. They have waited on the visitors from another +world, notebook in hand, plying them with careful questions intended +to increase our modest store of knowledge. The replies were +unsatisfactory, commonplace, sometimes ludicrous. Attempts to write a +passable textbook +<!-- Page 66 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_66" id="Page_66">66</a></span> +on life in the spirit world have failed lamentably. The indignation of +the sorely disappointed scientist was voiced by the late Professor +Hugo Münsterberg, of Harvard, in his <i>Psychology of Life</i>:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Thousands and thousands of spirits have +appeared; the ghosts of the greatest men have said their say, and yet +the substance of it has always been the absurdest silliness. Not one +inspiring thought has yet been transmitted by this mystical way; only +the most vulgar trivialities. It has never helped to find the truth; +it has never brought forth anything but nervous fear and +superstition.</p></div> + +<p>His denunciation embraces the whole subject of spiritualistic +evidence and ends in utter pessimism—</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Our belief in immortality must rest on the +gossip which departed spirits utter in dark rooms through the mouths +of hypnotized business mediums, and our deepest personality comes to +light when we scribble disconnected phrases in automatic writing. Is +life then really still worth living?</p></div> + +<p>I have every sympathy with the complaint. But our psychologist +forgot that life is largely made up of trivialities, and that the +spirits of the dead, if they really wish to make themselves known to +us, can do so with greater +<!-- Page 67 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_67" id="Page_67">67</a></span> +certainty of being recognized by reminding us of events and objects +with which they are associated in our memory than by presenting us +with a corrected version of the nebular theory. The average medium and +the average gathering of inquirers are not distinguished by any great +intellectual achievement. The general educational level may be low and +the total capacity to sift and weigh evidence may fall short of that +of an undergraduates' debating society. Yet the evidence produced may +not only be entirely soul-satisfying to the participants, but +perfectly acceptable to a critic contented with the average quality of +evidence current in a court of law. It may even be true that the +evidential value rises with the number of trivialities recorded.</p> + +<p>And “the truth” which Professor Münsterberg sought in +vain is demonstrated to others through the same trivial evidence, as +is shown by the verdict of Alfred Russel Wallace:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Spiritualism demonstrates by direct +evidence, as conclusive as the nature of the case admits, that the +so-called dead are still alive; that our friends are often with us, +though unseen, and give direct proof of a future life—proof +which so many crave, but for want of which so many live and die in +anxious doubt. How valuable the certainty to be gained from +<!-- Page 68 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_68" id="Page_68">68</a></span> +spiritual communications! A clergyman, a friend of mine, who witnessed +the phenomena, and who before was in a state of the greatest +depression, caused by the death of his son, said to me, “I am +now full of confidence and cheerfulness. I am a changed +man.”</p></div> + +<p>It is not unnatural that the answers given to those who ask for +admittance to the closed door of the mysteries of the human soul +should be pitched in the same key as the inquiry. Disappointment is +not uncommon. I have taken part in séances of every kind, with +cautious investigators devoid of all spiritualistic bias, with +unsophisticated believers in a supernatural source of all psychic +phenomena, with scoffers convinced that every medium is an impostor, +and that nothing but a little common sense is needed for the +exposure. The results have been largely dependent on the mentality of +the investigators. Failure to understand this is responsible for much +of the disappointment and contempt with which otherwise intelligent +critics have dismissed the subject. The accumulated thought-power, the +collective mind of those who participate, profoundly influence the +medium and the quality of the communications received. +<!-- Page 69 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_69" id="Page_69">69</a></span> +One stubborn soul may wreck the meeting. I remember an evening at the +house of Mr. W. T. Stead. There had been a series of highly successful +demonstrations of “spirit voices,” distinctly audible and +perfectly intelligible. A well-known minister of the Church visible +joined the circle—a man clothed in all the outward signs of +spirituality, uniting clerical decorum with an emotional fervour in +preaching which had made him a popular favourite. Though feeling has +now and then led him into unconventional paths of theological thought, +fate has surely marked him for the adornment of a bishopric. He came +to study the alleged powers of the medium. He doubted everything and +everybody. The easy faith and unquestioning acceptance of miraculous +events of which he was not ashamed whilst in the pulpit had now been +exchanged for vigilant suspicion and impatient analysis. He plied the +medium with questions, bludgeoned her with requests for evidence that +she was not deluded or deluding. He turned himself into +cross-examining counsel, proud of his discrimination and his immunity +against the insidious appeal of the supernatural. He succeeded. The +medium was confounded, she +<!-- Page 70 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_70" id="Page_70">70</a></span> +lost her power; the phenomena did not occur. The atmosphere was +chilled. Some of us felt we would rather have been visited by the +village blacksmith than by this priestly exponent of sweet-faced +materialism.</p> + +<p>I do not deny that I have often been struck with the intellectual +poverty of messages from the spirit world. They are often silly, and +not seldom untruthful. The silliness and the untruthfulness are +faithful reflections of common human failings, and only show that +heavenly wisdom is as unattainable through the average spiritualistic +channels as it is in the Houses of Parliament or the courts of +law.</p> + +<p>I can imagine a radiant and purely spiritual being attempting to +convey a true description of the state of spiritual bliss to a circle +of men and women representative of cultured thought, and practical +efficiency in the affairs of the world. Let the circle include a few +university professors, some successful men of business, a couple of +judges, a sprinkling of journalists, an archdeacon or two, and some +authors of repute. Let them all be actuated by a strong desire to +obtain reliable information and to give a fair and unprejudiced +hearing to the visitor.</p> + +<div> +<!-- Page 71 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_71" id="Page_71">71</a></span> +</div> + +<p>The visitor is necessarily hampered by the necessity for a +medium. It may be that the senior judge is gifted with psychic powers +and that the method of communication chosen is that of trance.</p> + +<p>The learned brain-cells would transmit the message up to a certain +point, but when an effort was made to depict unfathomed depths and +heights of transcendental experience, the judicial mind would rebel. +The sense of logic would be strained. The conception of the possible +would be violated. A fearful consciousness of being guilty of uttering +lies would persist, in spite of efforts to subdue reason. Language +would break in the attempt to find words for the inexpressible, the +message would be blurred and incoherent. The judge might pull himself +together, feeling that the turbulent thought-waves of contending +counsel form a much safer ground on which to pronounce truth than the +fourth-dimensional hurricane with which he had just battled. And the +audience might turn with relief to the thought of dinner outside +Bedlam.</p> + +<p>By some wild flights of imagination we may picture another kind of +circle. Let a poet be the medium; Swedenborg, Dante, Blake, +<!-- Page 72 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_72" id="Page_72">72</a></span> +Socrates, Jacob Böhme, Tasso, Milton, Eckart, Ruysbroek, St. Teresa, +Joan of Arc, Emerson, Shelley, and a few more visionaries, and +dreamers be of the circle. Let our Radiant Being try again. The +vibrations of the combined psychic force would respond more readily to +the world-strangeness of the visitor. There would be fewer mental +obstacles raised by the sense of the impossible. The restraints of +logic would be more easily overcome. The avenues of supersensual +impressions would be open. The medium would transmit the message to a +point far beyond that possible to our psychic judge, and the audience +would encourage him by their readiness to grasp the revelations +made. The language of mysticism, philosophy, and poetry would be +strained to its utmost capacity. Then a sense of incompleteness, of +deficiency, of hopeless relativity would overcome the audience. The +medium had exerted every spiritual faculty to receive the truth. But +the visitor could not convey celestial realities to terrene minds.</p> + +<p>Every true artist in words, or colour, or sound is always haunted +by the inexpressible—by spiritual impotence to overcome the laws +of imprisonment in the flesh. He clutches +<!-- Page 73 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_73" id="Page_73">73</a></span> +at symbol and suggestion, at parable and fable, conscious of the truth +that the unreal is the most real.</p> + +<p>The goats have gathered round me as I sit musing in the +gloaming. The leading goat is a handsome animal, generally respected +and feared by the rest of the herd. He has excellent knowledge, +inherited and acquired, of the uses of mountains, and his venerable +beard adorns a head of undisputed male ascendancy in the tribe. I bear +him a grudge. He is in the habit of eating my sapling pines, carefully +planted by me and carelessly nipped in the bud by him. I have +expostulated with him in a variety of ways—some gentle, others +forceful, but he is incorrigible. He will not understand that my +young pines are beautiful, and that they are expected to grow into +fine trees. He has no sense of beauty, of symmetry, of fitness. He is +only a beast. He has no soul—I pause, remembering the +ineffectual attempts of my Radiant Being to inspire human souls with a +greater vision. Are we not all goats before the gaze of more finely +organized creatures?</p> + +<p>The evolutionist need not be disheartened by the thought. Nature is +unexhausted. Desire +<!-- Page 74 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_74" id="Page_74">74</a></span> +and experience are ever creating new forms, new organs. A child's book +of beasts will supply the requisite suggestion: the neck of the +giraffe, the stripes of the tiger, the tail of the beaver may, without +offence, provide analogies for the faith in organic human +perfectibility. The processes of natural selection and variation +cannot have been brought to a standstill; they must be at work now and +may yet—should surroundings and necessity create the +demand—halve the neck of the giraffe, give snow-white lamb's +clothing to the tiger, and turn the rudder of the beaver into the +prehensile tail of the monkey. There is no biological completion, no +finitude. It is only a matter of time—sufficient time—and +our bodies may become as strangely interesting to posterity as are to +us the dinosaurs and mammoths of the remote past.</p> + +<p>Mind is not arrested by formal obstacles. It builds, destroys, and +rebuilds. It may take a million years to fashion a useful organ. +Slowness is no deterrent. The powers that shaped the genius of +Michelangelo and Shakespeare out of the rude brain of savage man +needed time, but the achievement was worthy of the labour. To-day +there are signs and +<!-- Page 75 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_75" id="Page_75">75</a></span> +portents that psychic faculties once possessed by the very few are in +process of development in the many, that new senses are awakened which +will find contact with realities hitherto unperceived. The +imperfections of mediumship and the remoteness of a psychic +super-humanity, godlike in wisdom and ethereal in constitution, do not +conceal the trend of mental evolution. The medium is often a strange +blend of spiritual and carnal tendencies, of knowledge and ignorance, +of delicate perception and denseness. Those who expect saintliness as +the first attribute of psychic advancement will certainly be +disillusioned. These gifts and graces may appear, not only without +any corresponding degree of culture and learning, but associated with +a certain vulgarity of thought and conduct. The psychic is essentially +impressionable, liable to mental contagion, easily stirred by +suggestion. The tendency to instability, to emotional excess, is part +of this receptivity which culminates in the state of being +“controlled.” An untrained psychic who is mastered by his +impressions, instead of being their master, may easily be induced to +tell lies and give false messages by a visitor who is determined to +<!-- Page 76 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_76" id="Page_76">76</a></span> +discover fraud. The same psychic may rise to unaccustomed levels of +spiritual clearsight in the presence of a visitor who demands the +truth only.</p> + +<p>The ladder of psychic development is long and arduous to mount. The +number of the climbers steadily diminishes as the top is +reached. Here, as elsewhere, there is a common crowd, content with the +steps nearest the earth, in morals a faithful reflection of average +humanity. They are neither better nor worse, they are merely +different. They are the masons of the mind, a race of builders, +addicted to a workmanship of their own.</p> + +<p>To a discerning psychologist they are profoundly interesting, +heralds of a new race and a new age; to an unsophisticated alienist +they are merely insane, dangerous victims of sick brains. The whole +fabric of evidence relating to lunacy would be broken up by the +admission that these strange people who fall into trance and speak +unknown tongues or convey messages from the dead are sane. Current +theories of psycho-pathology would be hopelessly disturbed by the +admission that there may be a super-sanity in which clairvoyance and +clairaudience are normal and +<!-- Page 77 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_77" id="Page_77">77</a></span> +healthy manifestations of life. A person who professes to be an +exponent of psychometry, who recalls circumstances and events from the +“aura” of inanimate objects, such as a letter or a glove, +is naturally classed with the insane. Hallucinations <i>en masse</i> +are proffered as explanation of the physical phenomena which take +place. Thus only can orthodox psychiatry remain unperturbed when heavy +objects are lifted without any apparent cause, when unearthly sounds +and voices are produced, when human forms take shape, are seen, and +disappear.</p> + +<p>The study of psychic faculties is above all a study of +consciousness. Maeterlinck speaks of “the gravest problem that +can thrill mankind, the knowledge of the future.” The knowledge +of the present, of the hidden powers and graces within our souls, is +even more thrilling. I can imagine no science of greater importance, +no investigation more worthy of devotion. The profundity of the +problems is but an incitement. We have not hesitated to tabulate the +stars, to weave precious conjectures as to their courses and +destinies. Is the human soul more remote and inscrutable? We are +assured that it has five windows and +<!-- Page 78 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_78" id="Page_78">78</a></span> +no more, that it is useless to look for others. But when an increasing +number of explorers in the house of life tell us that there are six or +seven or more, we may at any rate listen and follow their directions. +Obscurantism is revelling in proclaiming prohibited areas of +investigation.</p> + +<p>I recognize that the problem is complicated by the mixture of truth +and falsehood, of genuine psychic powers and counterfeit +practices. There are impostors and parasites who by dint of glib +tongues and nimble wit deceive the foolish and the +credulous. Browning's Sludge is not entirely extinct. Honest workers +who turn their gifts to professional uses and who depend on the +patronage of the public are subject to peculiar temptations. They are +visited by the worldly and the covetous, they are exploited by +sensation-mongers and fraud-hunters, they are subjected to conditions +entirely inimical to spiritual poise and lucidity. Some resort to +fraud. The report that the medium failed to satisfy the client is apt +to interfere with business, and failure is, therefore, shunned. But +the law does not trouble to distinguish between the honest and the +dishonest person who claims psychic gifts. From +<!-- Page 79 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_79" id="Page_79">79</a></span> +the legal point of view it is all pretence. It is imperatively +necessary that genuine psychic gifts should be protected from the +depredations of frivolity as well as from the interference of an +obsolete law. We have some idea of protecting great and uncommon gifts +in music, mathematics, and poetry, but we leave psychic gifts without +help or training. An institute for the study of Psychic Science in all +its branches, with facilities for training and assisting individual +gifts, would remove some of the worst features of the present +system. A genuine psychic should be the holder of some form of +certificate or licence entitling him to use his gifts for the benefit +of others.</p> + +<p>Of course, the subject bristles with difficulties, but I do not see +that they are more insuperable than those which presented themselves +when first the idea of registering and licensing the medical and legal +professions presented itself. And those who are indignant at the +thought of the clairvoyant charging a fee may profitably reflect on +the general assumption that the labourer is worthy of his hire. The +deans and bishops who discourse so eloquently on the sins of the +necromancers are not, I believe, renouncing the material +<!-- Page 80 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_80" id="Page_80">80</a></span> +benefits and emoluments of their priestly calling.</p> + +<p>I do not look to visits to professional mediums for initiation into +the higher mysteries of the human spirit. They may show the +casket—precious as an indication of the contents, but of little +value to those who are bent on finding the jewel within. And I agree +that no advanced soul is “controlled” by a discarnate +spirit, but rises through aspiration and self-restraint to union with +higher intelligences. I can see no light or love in the attitude of +those professors of Christianity who denounce all spiritualistic +tendencies as anti-Christian. It seems to me that the whole Christian +faith is spiritualistic in the widest sense of the word. The Old and +the New Testaments are permeated with the belief in the reality of +communication between the living and the dead. The injunction in the +Old Testament against sorcerers and wizards was intended to check +tendencies to unreasonable and dangerous superstition.</p> + +<p>Moses may have had excellent reasons for forbidding occult +practices amongst the Jews. Saul, who had put away those that had +familiar spirits and the wizards out of the land, was +<!-- Page 81 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_81" id="Page_81">81</a></span> +not unlike some modern adversaries of spiritualism when in the day of +his trouble and fear he consulted the medium of Endor. The accepted +prophets of Israel were, after all, typical of mediumship. “And +the Spirit of the Lord will come upon thee, and thou shalt prophesy +with them, and shalt be turned into another man.” They practised +bold fortune-telling in matters large and small, national and +cosmic. To-day they would surely be imprisoned as rogues and vagabonds +under the Vagrancy Act. The New Testament contains no direct +prohibition of the use of psychic powers and many stories of dreams, +visions, and premonitions.</p> + +<p>“Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same +Spirit,” wrote St. Paul in the First Epistle to the +Corinthians. “For to one is given, by the Spirit, the word of +wisdom; to another the word of knowledge, by the same Spirit.... To +another the working of miracles; to another prophecy; to another +discerning of spirits; to another divers kinds of tongues; to another +the interpretation of tongues.... And God hath set some in the Church; +first, apostles, secondarily prophets, thirdly teachers, after that +miracles, then gifts of healings, helps, +<!-- Page 82 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_82" id="Page_82">82</a></span> +governments, diversities of tongues.” The praises of charity and +prophecy are sung by the Apostle—a strange combination in +harmony to those who now seek to separate the Christian faith from its +supernatural origins. Christianity exhorts us not to believe every +spirit, but to “try the spirits whether they are of God,” +whilst the ecclesiastic bids us chase away the spirits, which he +assumes to be of Satan.</p> + +<p>The dull materialism which smothers all signs of independent +spiritual experience is the negation of all the forces which animated +the Master. The earthly life of Christ, with its supernatural +manifestations, its miracles, and its wonders, was the supreme +demonstration of the spiritualistic conception of the power of +transcending matter. The appearance of Moses and Elias on the Mount of +Transfiguration, whether regarded as a vision or as a materialization, +was of the order of the phenomena which are now banned as +anti-Christian.</p> + +<p>No; those who, having wandered in the darkness of death and +blindness, find a ray of light within their own being need not fear +the judgment of the Mediator. Here in the +<!-- Page 83 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_83" id="Page_83">83</a></span> +freedom of the mountains I feel something of the inscrutable +certainty, the joy of a secret conviction, that wisdom waits on our +tortuous paths in the Borderland.</p> + + +<div> +<!-- Page 84 --> +<a name="REFORMERS" id="REFORMERS"></a> +<span class='pagenum'> + <a name="Page_84" id="Page_84">84</a> +</span> +</div> + + +<h2>REFORMERS</h2> + +<p>Of all generalizations—false and semi-false—the one +dividing human beings into those who are content with the world as it +is and those who wish to reform it is the most comforting to me. No +division of sheep and goats was ever more blatantly simple. Some are +born dull-witted, conservative, insensitive, unimaginative—they +cling passive to the old planet, content to be whirled round in the +purposeless dance of the heavenly bodies. Others are chronic sufferers +from divine discontent—they open their eyes with critical +intent, they are always conscious of the oblique, the unrighteous, the +worthless in their surroundings. They have a sense of power, a will to +change things. To them the world is a lump of dough, to be shaped and +trimmed into good, serviceable bread.</p> + +<p>I know the division is unreal and that reformatory ardour in one +direction is not seldom combined with flint-hearted indifference in +another. But the proposition is good and +<!-- Page 85 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_85" id="Page_85">85</a></span> +sufficient for everyday purposes, and acts as an admirable stimulus in +the Camp of the Challengers.</p> + +<p>Who can deny that reformers are more interesting than preservers? +They vibrate with life and creative energy, they defy impossibilities, +they carry enthusiasm aloft on their banners of assault on the +existing order of things. Our preservers seem tame and stale +indeed. They hobble about the borders of the well-cultivated garden of +custom and propriety, they find admirable shelter against the fierce +winds of revolt in the offices of bureaucracy. Officialdom is their +divinity and respectability their key to life. They may be +necessary—as buffers—but they depress us by their +dulness.</p> + +<p>Reformers can be dull too, but they are redeemed by the homage +which they pay to spiritual adventures. They are narrow-minded, but +their narrow-mindedness is relieved by intensity of purpose. They are +not seldom aggressive, argumentative, unpleasant, but they refresh the +dry world by being thoroughly alive. It seems, indeed, as if life were +only made tolerable through the ferment of the desire to reform. Even +the most stagnant +<!-- Page 86 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_86" id="Page_86">86</a></span> +pools of the human soul are sometimes stirred by the breeze of +change. We all hope, we all look forward, we all grope for a future +which will be better than the present. In some the hope is firmly +rooted to earth and man-made conventions, in others it soars to +other-worldly perfection.</p> + +<p>The world teems with causes and movements that rouse the +imagination and press human lives into the service of the future. The +genesis and development of causes show similar features wherever and +whenever they appear. A soul is astir with an idea, a resentment, a +call for change. Others heed the message, respond to the cry for +action, feel that this idea, this one idea, is the most important in +the world. Societies and leagues are formed, opposition is +encountered, and the leader becomes sanctified through abuse and +resentment. The idea is embraced by hundreds and thousands; it becomes +a doctrine, a creed, a mental atmosphere in which men live and have +their being. Fierce battles take place between the adherents of the +idea and the opponents. Blind prejudice and hatred are +encountered. Martyrs are made. The crusade is hallowed by suffering +and sacrifice. +<!-- Page 87 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_87" id="Page_87">87</a></span> +It becomes an impelling spiritual necessity, an expression of +religion. Gradually the forces of the opposition are +weakened. Concessions and compromises are offered. There are signs of +the contagiousness of the idea even in the house of the +adversaries. The triumph comes with time, and the turbulent waves of +controversy recede into gentle ripples of approval. And for many a +cause for which men have suffered and died, posterity has but a +yawn. “Just think of it—all that fuss and all that turmoil +over something so obvious.”</p> + +<p>Seen superficially, this is a fairly accurate account of the fate +of movements for the reform of some glaring injustice, some hoary +cruelty of the past. But is it true? Is the world slowly but surely +getting better—are the monsters of ignorance and tyranny slain +one by one by our great reformers and laid to rest for ever in a grave +of ignominy? We accept the axiom that slavery has been abolished. Of +all causes that commanded devotion, struggle, persistency, the +anti-slavery movement stands forth as a moral protest of supreme +import. Wilberforce and Lincoln, Harriet Beecher Stowe, and Clarkson +fought for a principle which may well be regarded as the very soul of +<!-- Page 88 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_88" id="Page_88">88</a></span> +civilization. The Civil War brought the ideals of human rights and +equality into bloody conflict with the forces of oppression and +commercial exploitation. The new +consciousness<!--Typo: consciousnees--> of human fellowship made white +men lay down their lives for the freedom of black men. A worthy cause, +a sublime offering, a task to which we would like to say “Done, +done, once and for all time!” But is it done? Slavery is not +only inherent in every savage and barbaric race, it is not only +paramount in the mind of the Arab trader. Once the social bulwark of +the ancient civilizations of Babylon, Egypt, and India, of Greece and +Rome, it persisted in Europe throughout the Middle Ages, and survived +as serfdom of one kind or another through centuries of advancing +culture. The desire for power over fellow-beings, for opportunities to +control their lives and exploit their labour, is apparently +irradicable. Slavery is still amongst us in a hundred forms and under +new names. All military conquest involves the ancient practices of +serfdom. The conquered nations become slaves of the invader; by +obedience they live, by disobedience they die. The persistence of +slavery seems, then, to be a demonstration +<!-- Page 89 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_89" id="Page_89">89</a></span> +of the unchangeability of human nature and of the ultimate +hopelessness of idealist causes. In every reform accomplished the +practical application is local, transitory, dependent on racial and +geographical conditions. There is obviously a great change in our +penal methods. We do not mutilate our criminals or scalp them for the +preservation of their souls, and we have lost confidence in the rack +and the thumb-screw. But we need only transport ourselves to other +lands and study other people's views of judicial necessities, and we +shall find that the punitive systems of the thirteenth or the +eighteenth centuries are still with us. Theoretically the blood of +the black and the white man is of the same good quality, and yet very +little provocation is needed for the outbreak of race riots. Negroes +and negresses who have given offence to white people need harbour no +illusions concerning the restraining influences of our Western +civilization.</p> + +<p>Like a mountain in eruption the war has thrown up the sordid +passions, the hidden reserves of destructive hate and cruelty in our +common human soul. In war all things are permissible. To murder, to +maim, to +<!-- Page 90 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_90" id="Page_90">90</a></span> +destroy, to deceive, to make hideous waste of fertile land, to cause +weeping and wailing amongst the innocent—these are the +necessities of warfare. They are the commonplace incidents of +war. There are others. It brings to the surface strata of human nature +to which culture has never descended. It explodes our humanitarian +theories by a series of well-directed mines. The ancient horrors of +devices for the punishment of the enemy are feeble competitors with +our modern inventions. Our poison gas, our burning oil, our metallic +monsters that spit death on the enemy and crush his fine defences, our +flying bomb-throwers, all show that we have not as yet succumbed to +humanitarian or Christian ethics. There have been some startling +illustrations of the folly of assuming that we have safely and +irrevocably traversed certain stages of human indifference. We +shuddered at the revelations which called Florence Nightingale to the +Crimea; we now shudder at the heartless carelessness revealed by +Commissions and Reports. The triumph of Red Cross organization, the +mass of charitable and voluntary effort to relieve suffering, the +heroism and splendour of individual sacrifice, soften, but do not +reverse, +<!-- Page 91 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_91" id="Page_91">91</a></span> +the impression of a general humanitarian débâcle.</p> + +<p>We may, of course, take shelter behind the jejune explanation that +there are two worlds with two moralities. One is war and the other is +peace. We may affectionately survey the hospitals and orphanages, the +institutions for the blind and the mute, the asylums and the charities +with which each belligerent country pays tribute to the virtues of the +merciful life. Whatever we do, we cannot dispel the darkness by a +frenzied denunciation of war. The monster is not outside ourselves; it +is created and sustained by the hardness of our hearts and the +obtuseness of our brains. The responsibility is ours in war as well as +in peace. Reformers of all ages have battled with the wickedness of +the world, they have stormed stronghold after stronghold of social +iniquity. Their failures are no less conspicuous than their +successes. Human nature is infinitely pliable and infinitely +resistant.</p><!--Typo: resistent--> + +<p>Is it, then, all a matter of change and recurrence? Do culture and +morality grow like flowers in a garden, obedient to the will and taste +of the gardener, but destined to fade and die with the turn of the +season? Do not +<!-- Page 92 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_92" id="Page_92">92</a></span> +the civilizations of the past with their perfection of knowledge and +art mock our faith in the permanency of human achievement? Babylon +and Egypt, Athens and Rome carried the seed of corruption within their +husk of glory. They had elaborate systems of social organization, of +laws, of elucidation of the mysteries of life. They saw beauty and +pursued it, in colour and sound, by word and chisel. The gods were +kind to them, and now and then dispensed with altar and temple. Divine +presences revealed themselves in brook and cornfield, on mountain-tops +and in the faces of animals. Reformers of all kinds were amongst them: +men of the sword with dreams of Empire and conquest for the good of +the nation, priests who demanded sacrifice in the name of a god, +orators who by skilful laying of words taught the art of philosophic +calm. Problems faced them, social iniquities troubled them; they +grappled with morals and strove to build up a better and happier +future.</p> + +<p>I was sinking into a reverie over the fall of Babylon and the +problems of recurrence when Marie-Joseph arrived. Marie-Joseph is my +oldest and dearest peasant friend. She +<!-- Page 93 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_93" id="Page_93">93</a></span> +is over seventy and devoted to hard work. Her face is rosy and +wrinkled, and when she laughs it becomes a mass of merry furrows. Her +body gives one the impression of an animated board. It is strikingly +flat and stiff, and proudly erect. She works in the fields and tends +the cows, and when she bends down to hoe the potatoes or cut the +grass, she just folds herself in two. The stiff straight back in the +neat black dress is different from all the other toiling backs on the +slopes. When I look down from the mountain-tops to the pastures and +plots below, I can always distinguish the back of Marie-Joseph from +the others. To-day she brought me a present of milk and potatoes, and +we sat down to chat over a cup of coffee—nay, four cups of +coffee, for Marie-Joseph has no cranky ideas about abstinence from +food and drink, and I must, perforce, pretend I have none. I love her +and her ways, though she always manages to disturb me when I wish to +work or think. Writing and thinking are not work to Marie-Joseph. She +is wholly innocent of the former dissipation and carries out the +latter function without any trouble or fuss. She is, therefore, +justified in disposing of my painful +<!-- Page 94 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_94" id="Page_94">94</a></span> +efforts with a contemptuous shrug of her wooden shoulders.</p> + +<p>“Marie-Joseph,” I said cautiously, when I had watched +the third cup of coffee disappear, and duly discussed butter and +cheese, wine and cows, “do you think the world is getting +better?” She was slicing a chunk of bread with her capacious +pocket-knife, and stopped short. Her small bright blue eyes peered at +me curiously. “I mean, do you believe there is real +progress—that we are better than we used to be?”</p> + +<p>The knife came dancing down on the plate. “Better?” she +said; “not at all; we are worse. Why, when I was young we used +constantly to have processions and carry le Bon Dieu, and I tell you +the harvest was different from what it is now. And the young girls +were modest then; they all wore aprons, and our curé used to insist on +them wearing aprons, for, said he, all women should wear +aprons.”</p> + +<p>“All women should wear aprons,” I repeated +mechanically, as my thoughts flitted back to Babylon.</p> + +<p>Marie-Joseph saw and misinterpreted my disappointment. “Did +you grasp what I +<!-- Page 95 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_95" id="Page_95">95</a></span> +said?” she asked; “there is no modesty nowadays. And you +people who come from England,” she added sternly, “with +your short skirts and your peculiar ways, don't improve +matters.”</p> + +<p>I felt duly rebuked, and during the rest of the hour which Marie-Joseph +wasted on me, I sought to re-establish myself in her opinion by +discoursing on the merits of <i>soupe au fromage</i>.</p> + +<p>We all have our chosen test of moral worth, and perhaps our +judgment of the decline and rise of social virtue is as easily swayed +by personal predilection as was that of Marie-Joseph. To me the +persistence of the same cruel and stupid customs throughout the +centuries is a source of perplexed pessimism. I cannot brush aside the +problem by a facile reference to reincarnation. If John the brigand +was a cut-throat and a robber in his twentieth appearance on this +planet, why should he persist in these idiosyncrasies in his +twenty-third return as George the politician and successful captain of +industry? This is not at all a fair representation of the theory of +reincarnation, I shall be told. It is not, but it is one of those to +which we are +<!-- Page 96 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_96" id="Page_96">96</a></span> +driven in the desperation of impatience. A friend of mine, a high +authority on matters theosophical, knows of a potent explanation and +anodyne for moral impatience. Humanity, he tells me, is always being +recruited from Mars. Mars, in spite of its canals, is a low and +wicked planet, with a reptilian population. When the Martians advance +a little beyond the moral status of their fellow-creatures and close +their bloodthirsty eyes in death, their spirits are wafted to our +planet, there to take on new garments of flesh. The influx of brutal +souls is perennial. This explains why, Churches and missionary effort +notwithstanding, we have always savages, cannibals, and barbarians +(and Prussian militarists?) with us. But there is comfort in the +other side of the picture. When we in our turn have learnt all the +lessons of this miserable globe of folly, when we have mastered all +the virtues and shed all the vices, when we long to be free from the +trammels of sense and appetite and sickness and ambition, we are +transferred to Mercury. Mercury is a highly evolved planet, a +spiritualized existence, free from the obsessions of sex and greed, an +abode of love and freedom.</p> + +<div> +<!-- Page 97 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_97" id="Page_97">97</a></span> +</div> + +<p>Oh, how I sigh for Mercury!</p> + +<p>Supposing this sinful earth is only a school for reformed Martians; +supposing human nature and history always repeat themselves, and the +end is as the beginning and the beginning as the end? The first steps +in education accomplished, the scholars would be removed to better +premises, and to a more advanced course of instruction. But the old +school would receive new pupils and go on in the same humdrum +way. There would be the same harsh teachers, the same ignorance and +obstinacy, the same punishment and suffering. The worst of it is that +Mercury does not seem exempt from the general curse of nothingness +which seems to brood over all physical existence. There is no +stability even in solar systems. Even we puny creatures can divine +something of their birth and death. Out of whirling nebulæ suns and +planets are born; souls slowly evolve on worlds which were once balls +of fire. There are endless diversity and specialization, myriads of +creatures rise out of the furnace of life. Some gain ascendancy and +lay claim to mental supremacy, to science and religion and the +overlordship of the universe. I am sure +<!-- Page 98 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_98" id="Page_98">98</a></span> +Mars, Mercury, and Tellus are equally prone to this weakness. One +day—in the uncountably many of solar mornings—there is a +collision, a breaking up of all the old forms through contact with +some mysterious roving mass of burning matter. The planets with their +kings and prophets disappear in fire and gas, The perturbation in the +vast Cosmos of Change is probably not greater than that caused by the +fall of an old and rotten tree before the cleansing winds of +spring.</p> + +<p>All mankind clings to the hope that something escapes destruction +and rises unchangeable and eternal above the domain of nothingness. In +that hope we strive for better things and go forth to reform life, and +in the striving we find our spirit. We know we are shortsighted and +sometimes blind, and that the fight is often hopeless. But the joy, +the imperishable joy, lies in the struggle. Don Quixote is +inexpressibly dear to us because he personifies the ridiculous tasks +which we attempt, though we know them to be ridiculous.</p> + +<p>There is a human need which is always paramount, yet surprisingly +little recognized. It is the need of an enemy. Life is a perpetual +<!-- Page 99 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_99" id="Page_99">99</a></span> +looking forward to a time when we shall have conquered. We are +happiest when we see the enemy in all his ugliness and wickedness, and +can draw our swords without any doubt as to his presence. We prefer +solid dragons of evil to flitting butterflies of sin. We are ever in +search of the enemy in our schemes of reform, our political wrangles, +our moral crusades. The growth of individuality is indissolubly bound +up with cognizance of the enemy. He may be hiding in the bowels of the +earth, defying the attempt to tame the soil to our advantage; he may +be mocking our efforts to find scientific solutions to the riddles of +nature; he may be encamped in our own souls, confounding our goodness +and demolishing our moral defences. But he must be there. Without him +life would be stagnant, energy and virtue purposeless.</p> + +<p>War satisfies the human hunger for a sight of the enemy. All the +vague sense of evil which in peace-time makes the morality of our +next-door neighbour a matter of anxious concern to us is now +solidified in hatred of the foe of the country. Smaller enmities are +patched, national brotherhood is recognized. +<!-- Page 100 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_100" id="Page_100">100</a></span> +The country at war with us becomes the target of all our moral +bullets. Tyranny, cruelty, lust, greed, and all manner of abomination +dwell there; its people are the servants of Antichrist.</p> + +<p>The evil seen in the enemy stimulates unseen good in the masses, to +whom the sacrifices of war would be impossible but for the conviction +that the nations have been sharply divided into sheep and goats. The +abolition of war will come about when we have learnt to eliminate sham +enemies and to recognize the real one within our own hearts. In our +present stage of cosmic education, the idea of a negative peace is +entirely repellent. Now and then, after a bout of too much talking or +too much doing, we may dwell tenderly on the thought of complete +inaction and stillness. A nightmare is an excellent means of inducing +a desire for dreamless sleep. But normal, natural humanity shuns +complete rest. Hence the notorious failure—mental and +physical—of complete holidays. We must attack something, and if +there is no work to attack, we attack the inanimate stupidity of our +surroundings. It is strange that the laborious task once achieved +should so often become +<!-- Page 101 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_101" id="Page_101">101</a></span> +the thing abhorred. Scales fall from our eyes, perspective is +restored, and we see what a trumpery affair held us enthralled. I have +often thought with dismay of the effect on scores of reformers, whom I +know, if the reform to which they have sworn allegiance should be +accomplished. To many this would be a personal disaster of the gravest +kind. For years they have poured their mental energy and their +devotion into one channel. The enemy was always there, to be beaten at +sunrise and cursed at sunset. The cause inspired high ideals and hard +work; self and selfish matters were neglected in the pursuit of +victory. Life eventually became identified with the cause and its +vicissitudes, and, like the picture in Olive Schreiner's story, the +work took on brighter and more wonderful colour, whilst the painter +became paler and paler. Narrowness of vision and purpose became +essential conditions of efficiency, and gradually human attributes +became sharpened into fanatical weapons of assault. Few reformers live +to see the triumph of their cause, and fewer still succeed in +preserving equilibrium of judgment.</p> + +<p>There is, verily, every excuse for the pointed energy of +reformers. The world is full of +<!-- Page 102 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_102" id="Page_102">102</a></span> +horrors that cry aloud for extirpation; one head cannot easily harbour +knowledge of all the strongholds of wickedness. True, those who are +called by the spirit to become missionaries of mercy can harbour a +greater measure of sympathy than the average man. The average man +suffers through incapacity to reach the fountain of spiritual +replenishment at which the saints refresh their parched throats. An +acute sensitiveness to the suffering of others, without a +corresponding power to reach the sources of comfort, leads to the +abyss of madness. Nature imposes limits to sympathy in most minds, +barriers of forgetfulness without which healthy thought is +impossible. The danger to the mind of indulging in unlimited sympathy +has been emphasized by the most divergent students of psychological +law. Herbert Spencer analysed it with characteristic +thoroughness. Nietzsche went farther. He reacted violently against the +onslaughts of pity in his own soul, and in philosophical self-defence +inverted the promptings of compassion. The war has shown the human +need of self-defence against excessive sympathy. We are surfeited +with horrors on land and sea; the ghastly truth +<!-- Page 103 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_103" id="Page_103">103</a></span> +of a carnage which exceeds anything known in history, of maimed and +broken lives, of starving and homeless people, is shunned lest we lose +our reason in impotent and disruptive pity. The man of bayonet and +bomb, who a short time ago spent mildly exciting days over his desk in +the City, and who was anxiously concerned over the indisposition of +his neighbour's cat, has made himself a heart of steel for the +purposes of the war. If sympathy interfered with the issue of every +bullet and the thrust of every bayonet, there would be an end to +military efficiency. The civilian has not seldom gone far beyond the +needs of emotional self-defence and equipped himself with a heart of +stone. The perfect Man of Sympathy—controlling His sympathy, yet +radiating it to all the world and its sins—was Jesus Christ. His +compassion had none of the corrosive qualities which drove Nietzsche +to distraction. He could retain the consciousness of all the suffering +which men inflict on fellow-creatures and yet keep ever abundant the +measure of His pity and the regenerating power of His love. He saw the +root of our evil, the one cause and the one remedy. He is the catholic +and consistent reformer, whilst +<!-- Page 104 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_104" id="Page_104">104</a></span> +we—we of the smaller measure—flounder in the web of a +hundred causes.</p> + +<p>Each cause can be endowed with an importance which outdoes all the +others. Education—can any one deny the overwhelming need of +proper concentration on its possibilities? “Here we have a +generation of ignorant, selfish, immoral creatures, devoid of a sense +of social responsibility,” says our first reformer; “why, +the remedy is obvious: let us begin with the children in the +schools. Is any one so dense as not to perceive the all-pervading +importance of the guidance we give to the young?”</p> + +<p>“It is no use beginning with the children whilst those who +teach them are so hopelessly sunk in materialism and stupidity,” +says our second reformer. “Look at the education laws; they are +all ill-conceived and ill-administered. Education is not only a +failure; it is a dead-weight of falsehood and class tyranny which +hampers progress. Let us go straight for socialism and equal human +rights and opportunities. Your education is only used to perpetuate +industrial slavery and to keep the children of the working classes +ignorant of the blood-sucking system into whose meshes +<!-- Page 105 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_105" id="Page_105">105</a></span> +they will be thrown unless we combine and make our influence felt +now.”</p> + +<p>“You are neglecting the most obvious duties which should come +first,” says the quiet and motherly voice of the third reformer; +“infants die by the hundred thousand owing to neglect. There +will soon be no babies for you to instruct either in materialism or +socialism. The race will die out whilst you talk. Look at the slums +and the careless, ignorant mothers; we want infant-welfare work, we +want a new baby cult, we want to teach people parental +responsibility.”</p> + +<p>“Nonsense,” breaks in the virile voice of the fourth +reformer; “what you want is to take people away from the slums, +to bring them back to the country. Land nationalization is what we +need—a free, healthy life, far removed from the factories that +kill soul and body by the grinding monotony of existence. Man was made +for life on the soil, for contact with sun and wind, flowers and +trees. They will give health and life to your babies.”</p> + +<p>“Your schemes have only a secondary +importance”—the voice of a prominent suffragist is now +heard. “Give women the vote and +<!-- Page 106 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_106" id="Page_106">106</a></span> +these reforms will follow. Men have made all these abominable laws and +customs; women will bring in just and human laws and change all social +life. As for the suggestion that country life will improve the +standard of living, I can only say that it is made in ignorance of the +real conditions. Look at the farm labourer's wife and her +home-life. She is often the most miserable, worn-out creature, who +tries in vain to keep the children and herself properly fed and +clothed. Her life is a long travesty of the laws of health.”</p> + +<p>“Naturally,” comments the temperance reformer, +“whilst you allow the labourer to soak himself in drink and to +spend his money at the public-house. Drink is the root of all our +social troubles: it ruins the body and corrupts the mind, it poisons +the unborn children, fills our prisons and asylums. You may legislate +and equalize opportunities as much as you please; so long as you allow +the cursed liberty of drink there can be no health and no human +decency. Prohibition is the most urgent of all our needs.”</p> + +<p>An athletic-looking young man, rosy-cheeked and clear-eyed, who had +been listening with a somewhat supercilious smile, now joins in +<!-- Page 107 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_107" id="Page_107">107</a></span> +the debate. “There would be no need for you to bother about +drink if you could persuade people to give up +flesh-eating. Vegetarianism is the cure of all ills. It drives away +disease and the craving for stimulants, it gives you pure blood and a +desire for the really simple life. I live in a tent on ninepence a day +and sleep in the open. I grow my own fruit and vegetables and do my +own cooking. Thoreau is my master and Carpenter my friend. I hate +smoky cities with their slums and their shambles and your whole sickly +civilization.”</p> + +<p>“Sickly!” repeats a Christian Scientist, with +reproachful emphasis on the word. The speaker is a woman of sixty, +whose face bears the stamp of successful self-discipline and a sound +physique. “I have seen vegetarians who looked extremely +sickly. Before I became a Christian Scientist I, too, sought health by +various systems of diet. Now I know that all disease is but an error +of mortal mind, and in <i>Science and Health</i>, by Mrs. Eddy, we are +told——”</p> + +<p>She was not allowed to finish her sentence, for a Congregational +minister, famous for his pulpit denunciations of sin, has risen and +<!-- Page 108 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_108" id="Page_108">108</a></span> +gravely waves his hand to ensure a respectful hearing. “All you +people,” he says, in a voice vibrating with solemn indignation, +“are pursuing fleeting shadows. The kingdom of God is +within. This false cult of health by self-hypnotism, or health by +living like the beasts in the field, gives undue weight to things +which, after all, relate to the body. It is the <i>soul</i> of man +that is important, not where he lives or what he eats. We need the +fear of God and the thirst for His mercy; we need the Divine guidance +which will transform and sanctify our social relations.”</p> + +<p>“And pray how has the Church dealt with the war?” cries +the pacifist who has now risen, his eyes ablaze with denunciation of +the minister. “The Christian Church—established or +unestablished—is nothing but the handmaid of the politician and +the State, the servile echo of capitalists and diplomatists. You talk +of Divine guidance and the sanctification of life. How do you respect +life and the teaching of Jesus Christ? Jesus said, 'Love your enemies, +bless them that curse you, do good to them that hate you, pray for +them that despitefully use you and persecute you.' You, His professed +followers, bless war and its +<!-- Page 109 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_109" id="Page_109">109</a></span> +orgies of hate. You stand by hypocritically thanking God for your own +sanctity, whilst Christians drench battlefields with the blood of +Christians. The abolition of war is the reform to which you should all +bend your lives and direct your prayers. Even now you have not learnt +your lesson. Your social order, your laws, your constitution, your +personal liberties, your lives and those of your children, are thrown +to the Juggernaut of war, and yet you continue your futile pursuit of +shadows. Without peace there can be no reform.”</p> + +<p>I have joined in the debate, I have heard all these voices. They +are familiar to me with the familiarity of the songs of our +childhood. Their sentiment is true, oh so true! yet so sadly +inadequate. The reformers are valiant and true, and every one has +hitched his waggon to his pet star. Happiest are those who do not +encounter the cross-influence of rival stars or see the irony of our +human limitation of sight and achievement. The blood-red cross of the +crusader will stand no admixture of colour. The soul dominated by one +idea gains ground. Henri Dunant, Florence Nightingale, Elizabeth Fry, +General Booth, Josephine Butler—these succeed by dint of their +singleness +<!-- Page 110 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_110" id="Page_110">110</a></span> +of purpose. The narrowness serves to concentrate the strength and +accelerate the work.</p> + +<p>The reformer may be bigoted and unreasonable, but he must be an +optimist whilst pursuing his object. He must believe in life and in +the inherent goodness of the earth. He must be a stranger to the +dyspeptic melancholy through which Carlyle saw the world as a +“noisy inanity” and life as an incomprehensible +monstrosity. Macbeth is called to denounce life as “a tale told +by an idiot, full of sound and fury,” and “signifying +nothing.” Macbeth must be shunned by the reformer as the monk +repels the visits of Satan in the desert. He must share the +hopefulness of Sir Thomas More. Utopia is possible here, now, and +everywhere, though execution is likely to be the penalty of too close +application to principles.</p> + +<p>He must not fear the companionship of the crank. He had better +recognize that he is one. What is a crank? The dictionary is somewhat +vague as to the meaning. I find that the verb is unravelled as +“bend, wind, turn, twist, wind in and out, crankle, +crinkle.” The last two appeal to me strongly. How I have +crankled and crinkled over wrongs and horrors +<!-- Page 111 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_111" id="Page_111">111</a></span> +which I have discovered on my little path! No crank can see his +crankiness at the time of crankling, though sometimes he sees it +afterwards. The crank is a person who holds views which to us seem +ridiculous. The man who first objected to cannibalism was a crank. The +man who first thought lunatics should not be chained to walls or left +naked on unsavoury beds of straw was a crank. Galileo was an +intellectual crank of the shameless type. Shelley is the beautiful +crank of all times, champion of forlorn causes, the inspired rebel of +the spirit.</p> + +<p>There are small and noisy and irritating cranks. I have met scores +of them. They are intense, but shortsighted. Some are delightfully +ingenuous, with the lovable simplicity of the child. Others are of a +morbid and carping disposition, with an inordinate sense of their own +importance.</p> + +<p>I have for many years been the privileged though unworthy recipient +of confidences and schemes for the elimination of all manner of +cruelty and wickedness from the world. My office in Piccadilly has +received within its sympathetic walls a procession of born cranks, of +souls charged with high missions for the +<!-- Page 112 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_112" id="Page_112">112</a></span> +betterment of the world. Faddists, eccentrics, dreamers, mystics, +workers chained to lifelong slavery by their dominant idea, have +poured out their plans to me. Sometimes visitors came who clearly had +crossed the unguarded frontier between sanity and insanity, +interesting and pathetic and clever, yet of the great order of God's +fools. They were not unhappy, for their path was brilliantly lit by an +idea, whilst the rest of the world was plunged in darkness. They would +scold me and pity me because I refused to follow their light, but they +were never unkind.</p> + +<p>There is an old blue easy-chair in the office, dilapidated and +springless, in which I have deposited my cranks. I always choose a +hard, uncomfortable seat opposite, from which I conduct my defence +against the insidious appeal of the visitors. Their faces do not fade +from my memory. They haunt me with a gentle refrain of the +world-as-it-might-be. The world as they would like it to be is +certainly not always habitable, but it is generally one of exuberant +imaginative verdure.</p> + +<p>Here is the man who wants to abolish sex. He believes in spirit. He +is timid and womanly, his mind is pure and inexpressibly shocked at +<!-- Page 113 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_113" id="Page_113">113</a></span> +the carnal desires which disfigure the otherwise fair picture of +humanity. Love, marriage, procreation, cannot these be purged from +the base and degrading obsessions of sex? By abstinence, by +concentration, we may eliminate them. Surely the story of the Fall +makes it quite clear that we were never meant to perpetuate such gross +mistakes.... Here is the woman who believes sex to be the source of +all good, all life, all joy. She holds a medical degree and is +passionately opposed to the emancipation of womanhood. She is +unmarried, and dresses with old-fashioned emphasis of the eternal +feminine. With a soft and languid smile she deprecates the fate which +sent her to the medical school instead of the +nursery. “Why,” she tells me, with radiant eyes, +“everything is sex; poetry, painting, sculpture, religion are +sex. Women who suppress their sexual nature by pursuing the chimerical +advantages of votes and professions are guilty of +race-suicide. Race-suicide must be stopped.” There is the +believer in the immediate return of Jesus Christ and the approaching +end of the world. He comes as a convert with a message, and laden with +books of prophecy. A year ago he was still a successful man of +<!-- Page 114 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_114" id="Page_114">114</a></span> +business, and a gay soul with no inclination towards the holy +life. The merry twinkle in his eye has disappeared, and in its place I +see the dull glow of an obsessing idea. “What is the good of all +your struggle and your agitation?” he says; “everything +will come right and the wicked will be punished. Join me in +proclaiming the coming of the Lord. Let people be warned and repent in +time.” There is the lively, mercurial lady in green who deals in +statesmanship and high politics, who knows everybody of importance, +and who controls the fate of nations through her magic influence +behind the scenes. To-day she has been to the War Office, yesterday +the Home Office trembled at her approach, to-morrow certain officials +in high diplomatic circles will know to their cost what she thinks of +them. There is the pompous lady of a hundred committees. She has a +passion for committees, and no sooner has she formed one or sat on one +than she discovers the general unworthiness of the assembly. She comes +to expose people, to prove how utterly incapable they are of managing +affairs.</p> + +<p>The priestess of some system of New Thought arrives. She is +pleasant and unruffled. “Can you deny,” she asks, +“that nothing exists for +<!-- Page 115 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_115" id="Page_115">115</a></span> +you but that which you allow to enter your mind?” No, I +cannot. “Very well, then, you can control the universe by +thought. You can gain happiness, health, peace of mind, and long +life. By thought and meditation you can make for yourself a world of +harmony, a consciousness which excludes everything that is ugly and +painful and jarring.” I murmur that this is no doubt possible, +but it seems a trifle selfish whilst so many human souls are +struggling in the sea of trouble. I am sharply pulled up. “I +thought you would be too immersed in the wretched folly of agitation +to understand,” she says; “I came to show you the better +way.” She is followed by the clothes enthusiast. He wears +sandals and has discarded the abomination of starched linen. “We +are forming a Society for the Revival of Greek Clothing,” he +announces. “From the æsthetic and the hygienic points of view, +nothing is more important than the clothes we wear.” I venture +on a feeble Teufelsdröckh joke. He does not condescend to +listen. “We must get rid of hideous trousers and feet-strangling +skirts [I am lost in admiration over the indictment of the skirt, for +I remember a certain reception in Washington +<!-- Page 116 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_116" id="Page_116">116</a></span> +in the days of the snake-skirt when I stumbled and fell at a moment +when a little dignity would have been my most precious possession]; we +must wear loose white draperies amenable to the air and the +washtub.” I quite agree, but raise some practical obstacles and +a few conventional pegs of delay. They prove intolerable, and my +visitor departs convinced that I am not one of the elect.</p> + +<p>Missionaries of dietetics come in a motley procession. There is the +man who believes we can eat anything provided we masticate everything +with bovine thoroughness; there is the man who believes that we ought +to eat nothing during long bouts of purgative fasting, and who lives +cheerfully and inexpensively on hot water during two yearly periods of +twenty days. There is the woman who has found the nearest approach to +nectar and ambrosia in the uncooked fruits and vegetables of the +earth, which, properly pounded, are digested, and make of our sluggish +bodies fit receptacles for Olympian wisdom. There are the people who +have discovered the one cause of all disease. It may be uric acid or +cell proliferation or hard water—there is always a complementary +cure. I listened one day with much interest +<!-- Page 117 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_117" id="Page_117">117</a></span> +to an exposition of the evils of salt. Salted food, I was told, is the +cause of our troubles. We are salted and dried until all power of +recuperation is driven out of our nerves and muscles. I was asked to +study the subject. The theory was well supported by scientific +reasoning and evidence, and on the following evening I had thoroughly +entered into the saltless ideal. A vision of the dispirited haddock +had materially assisted my conclusion when a visitor was announced. He +was preceded by a card showing impressively that he was a man of +learning in theories of disease. “I have come,” he said, +“in the hope that you will take an interest in my experiments +and conclusions with regard to disease in general. I have discovered +that the one cure for rheumatism, consumption, and cancer is salt, +plenty of common salt.”</p> + +<p>The trouble with all these people is not that they are all +wrong. They are probably all right. It is a question of angles and +quality of the grey matter of the brain. The trouble is the limitation +of experience and outlook imposed by fate upon each individual.</p> + +<p>A league or society is theoretically the one human institution +which is akin to heaven. +<!-- Page 118 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_118" id="Page_118">118</a></span> +You have an object and a programme. You know you are occupied with the +most important task in the world. But you feel powerless alone. You +send out your appeal for support and kindred souls flock to your +banner. Can anything be more soul-satisfying than a community of those +who think alike, who feel alike, and who work for the same end? +Anarchy is impossible, and you decide on a constitution and rules for +the management of your spiritual brotherhood. A committee is appointed +to control the affairs of the union, and officials to carry out its +wishes. Now you have the ideal of which you dreamt, the pure +collective force which should prove irresistible. Friends within and +enemies without.</p> + +<p>But you have not excluded the canker of human differences. Your +kindred souls discover that, though they think alike on the one point +which drew you together, they differ strongly on others. There are +other opinions, religious and political, than those which come within +the purview of your little organization. You surprise some of your +friends in the act of discussing your denseness in matters of which +they have a firm and clear grasp. You begin to wonder how it is +possible for +<!-- Page 119 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_119" id="Page_119">119</a></span> +people who have such a perfect vision of certain necessary lines of +reform to manifest such unmitigated stupidity in regard to others. If +you are wise, you resign yourself to the inevitable divergence of +mind; if they are wise, they agree to pardon your shortcomings.</p> + +<p>Fanatics flower in a society like poppies in a wheat-field. They +have lost sight of everything but the urgency of the cause. They are +intolerant because they have no knowledge of human nature and no +self-criticism wherewith to check the wild ideas that sprout beneath +their immense self-confidence. They turn withering scorn on committees +and officials who refuse to give effect to their suggestions to burn +the House of Commons, or stop the traffic of London, or commit +combined suicide in Hyde Park as a protest against the continuance of +the iniquity which they denounce. They would do things in a different +manner. They intend to show the world and politicians that their views +cannot be ignored with impunity. For you and your lukewarm followers +they have nothing but contempt—the contempt which is earned by +the coward. The fanatic is troublesome, but comparatively easy to deal +with. There is another product of +<!-- Page 120 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_120" id="Page_120">120</a></span> +organized reform on which you cannot so easily shut the door. It is +the ideologue who rides the scheme to death. It is the doctrinaire +who must form systems within systems and policies within policies. It +is not enough that you have set out to suppress something or to +encourage something. You must follow his particular way. He is in +terror of compromise and sees profligacy in sweet reasonableness. He +knows the tragic failure of other movements with vacillating +policies. This one must be saved at all costs. 'Twere better to smash +the whole movement than proceed along undesirable lines. He would +scorn victory that came through avenues not recognized by him. +Certain words and phrases have completely captivated his imagination. +With them he fences heroically and causes a sufficiency of clatter and +noise. He is in deadly earnest and will brook no rivals. Parties +within parties are formed, and the energies which should be directed +towards fighting opponents are absorbed in combat within the +society.</p> + +<p>There is another element of disaster which now and then gains +ascendancy in the community of reformers. It is the professional +agitator, the parasite who will speak for or +<!-- Page 121 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_121" id="Page_121">121</a></span> +against a principle according to the economic advantage which one side +or the other may offer. You may hold that such a man is not altogether +undesirable, provided he can “organize” and persuade +people that the society is worthy of support. You may think that he +is no more blameworthy than the lawyer who pleads your views so +eloquently and who handles the jury with such consummate skill, though +his sole incentive is your fee and not your case. If you act on such a +belief and allow your professional agitator to manage your society, +you will certainly one day find your ideals turned to ashes and your +organization for moral action turned into money-making machinery.</p> + +<p>Whilst life teaches you that societies are frail human institutions +and that conferences and congresses do not bring about the millennium, +you are saved from despair if you keep ever fresh your sense of +humour.</p> + +<p>There are problems in the life of the reformer which the mountains +never fail to put before me. I have so often come to them from the +heat and turmoil of controversy. I have come like a soldier from +battle, covered with mud and slightly wounded, yet exultant in the +<!-- Page 122 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_122" id="Page_122">122</a></span> +spirit of the fray. The mountains speak to me, and lo! another self +appears. They speak to me of beauty, of peace, of the infinite mystery +of life; they give me broad effects of light and shade, and obliterate +the small pictures which pursue me on the plains. Yesterday, in the +stillness of Alpine midwinter, the moon shone clear and full on the +glacier. I sat gazing at the outlines of the peaks trembling in the +pale light of a perfect evening. The noisy mountain torrents were held +captive in prisons of ice, but here and there the sound of an +irrepressible rivulet threading its underground way through stones and +earth brought to my ears a song of spring. I love the trees, the sky, +the snow—all my senses respond to the call of the solitude of +Nature. I felt free and happy; I sank into the state of bliss in which +the soul is conscious of no desire. Surely this is better than the +strife and the sordid cares of the camp; surely one may walk apart and +enjoy the fruits of tranquillity? Our consciousness can admit but an +infinitesimal part of that which is: let us then fill it to the brim +with the joy of beauty, with the harmony of being at rest. Then I +remembered the things which lay beyond my peaks and my +<!-- Page 123 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_123" id="Page_123">123</a></span> +moonlight: a vision of prisons and shambles, of battlefields and +slums, passed before my eyes. How can one forget! How can one enjoy +peace and beauty! Duty bids us to descend, love bids us to share the +suffering.</p> + +<p>And yet are there not two ways of seeking perfection, two paths +clearly defined and well trodden throughout the ages—reform of +self and reform of others? What may at first sight appear as æsthetic +or mystic egoism is perhaps the better way. The hermit who forsakes +the world and renounces the social ties and burdens which most men +count of value is bent on the purification of his own +soul. Monasticism—with all its faults—recognized the +essential need of self-examination and self-discipline. It bade us +cleanse our souls, conquer our own temptations, by a rigid system of +religious exercise. Our modern reformer is not always conscious of any +need for self-reform. He lustily attacks the misdoings of others and +remains happily ignorant of the Socratic rule, <i>Know +thyself</i>. “Every unordered spirit is its own +punishment,” says St. Augustine, and the disorder is not removed +by assaulting the faults of others. We have, first and last, to be +captains +<!-- Page 124 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_124" id="Page_124">124</a></span> +of our own souls. There is an element of absurdity in the thought that +the aim and purpose of human life is for each soul to hunt for the +sins and imperfections in others. The enjoinment of self-criticism and +self-culture seems a simpler and less circumstantial rule of +life. Asceticism, abnegation, prayer, remoteness from the passions +that rend the worldly, bring peace and content. But they limit +experience and give a false simplicity to the problems of life. Early +Christian monasticism held that as this world is the domain of the +devil, the only safety lies in flight from it. Such a view precludes +the possibility of social reform on a general and lasting basis. It +has a radical consistency and a scientific precision which are only +disturbed by the course of actual events. Supposing all humanity could +be withdrawn, every precious brand snatched from the burning and the +whole made into a vast monastery? The devil would be sure to slip in +and cause a disturbance.</p> + +<p>The social reformer assumes that the world is worthy of his care, +and that we are here to make it as habitable as we can. He lives in +the midst of sinful humanity and accepts the inheritance of earthly +conventions. He +<!-- Page 125 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_125" id="Page_125">125</a></span> +may choose to live in the slums whilst his spirit clamours for a +hermitage amongst the blue hills. His ways may be crotchety and his +temper irritable—what does it matter so long as he is carrying +out his appointed task in the cosmic order?</p> + +<p>To the true nature-lover there is no renunciation in forsaking the +things prized by most men. His virtue may be vice concealed; he +gathers bliss where others find boredom. Give me a tree, a perfect +tree, and you may keep your palaces. Give me the green fields with a +hundred thousand flowers, and you may keep your streets and your piles +of gold. Give me the wild wind and the breath of the torrent, and I +have no wish to hear your hymns. There is a brazen self-sufficiency +about the nature-lover which baffles and offends the mind of the +crowd. The most amazing thing about him is that he turns hardship and +deprivation into pleasure. Take away his house and he shelters in a +cave. Deprive him of your company and he laughs to himself. Take away +his possessions and he tells you he is rich because he wants so +little, whilst you are poor, for you have surrounded yourself with a +hundred unnecessary wants. Like Antæus, the +<!-- Page 126 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_126" id="Page_126">126</a></span> +mythical giant, he derives his strength and his power to overcome +enemies from contact with the earth. He discovers a mode of being, +behind and beyond ordinary existence. He says to the busy crowds of +industry and commerce, to the men and women who wear out their lives +in the joyless chase of success: “You will die before you know +satisfaction and rest. Come and be human, come and grow in the +sunshine and the rain.” He finds that two-thirds of the reforms +for which men labour would not be needed if the artificialities of +society were abandoned. He is, of course, unpractical and +self-centred. Listen to Thoreau, the arch-enemy of the social +treadmill, and to his scorn of reformers:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Who is that intemperate and brutal man whom +we would redeem? If anything ail a man so that he does not perform his +functions, if he have a pain in his bowels even—for that is the +seat of sympathy—he forthwith sets about reforming—the +world. Being a microcosm himself, he discovers—and it is a true +discovery, and he is the man to make it—that the world has been +eating green apples; to his eyes, in fact, the globe itself is a great +green apple, which there is danger awful to think of that the children +of men will nibble before it is ripe; and straightway his drastic +philanthropy seeks out the Esquimaux and the Patagonian, and embraces +the populous +<!-- Page 127 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_127" id="Page_127">127</a></span> +Indian and Chinese villages; and thus by a few years of philanthropic +activity, the powers in the meanwhile using him for their own ends, no +doubt, he cures himself of his dyspepsia, the globe acquires a faint +blush on one or both of its cheeks, as if it were beginning to be +ripe, and life loses its crudity and is once more sweet and wholesome +to live.</p></div> + +<p>And whilst thus branding those who set out to reform others, he +shows his adherence to the great order of self-reformers by the +following conclusion:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>I never dreamed of any enormity greater than +I have committed. I never knew, and never shall know, a worse man than +myself.</p></div> + +<p>Thoreau cultivates simplicity with an intense regard for the effect +on himself. He is—in spite of his seclusion—above all a +prophet amongst men. He made great discoveries in the realm of the +mind—the mind attending closely to Nature, but he is too much +the naturalist and the land-surveyor to lose himself in the raptures +of nature love. He is a stranger to the ethereal touch with which +Fiona Macleod opens the magic door of that which is felt but not seen +in earth and sky. He misses the mystic hour when ghosts of the green +<!-- Page 128 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_128" id="Page_128">128</a></span> +life are about. That hour has been seized by Algernon Blackwood, who +makes us feel the fascination, the vague dread of the elemental +powers. There is a dream-wood in which the souls of all things +intermingle, and once imprisoned there, the nature-lover may not +escape until he has paid toll to the pixies.</p> + +<p>There is, after all, nothing incompatible in the life of +self-enrichment and the life of self-expenditure. They are +interdependent, and rule the ancient order of gnosis and +praxis. Whether we go to nature or religion or science for +replenishment, we must be filled. And the ironic power which presides +over our feasts compels the most inveterate egoist amongst us to share +his treasures. Mind is for ever craving to give to mind. If we want +nothing better than to boast of our superiority, the boasting imparts +a lesson to others and is therefore a gift. But the reforming spirit +spares few who think. It is generally believed that the purely +literary mind scorns the idea of reforming: that art is above moral +purpose. I have yet to discover the purely literary mind. Homer and +Shakespeare, Goethe and Dante are clearly not of it. Shakespeare, so +say the wiseacres, is the strictly impartial dramatist. +<!-- Page 129 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_129" id="Page_129">129</a></span> +He depicts the good and the bad, the great and the small, with +complete detachment. Naturally, the art is the detachment and the +lesson is in the perfect representation. The literary man may +indignantly repudiate the idea of “preaching.” “To +go preach to the first passer by,” wrote Montaigne, “to +become tutor to the ignorance of the first I meet, is a thing I +abhor.” He may have abhorred the idea, but through his essays he +made himself tutor to innocence and the model of subjective +moralizing.</p> + +<p>However widely we roam the Republic of Letters, we meet no citizen +without a badge of consecrated service. Pretenders, perhaps, usurpers +of the titles of others, men to whom literature is nothing but +merchandise. These may be totally free from the impulse. Tolstoy, +Ibsen, Hauptmann, Hugo are reformers of the first order, whose words +are charged with revolt. The transcendentalism of Emerson, the +naturalism of Zola, the cynicism of La Rochefoucauld are all +convergent streams in the torrent of reforming words which make the +soul fertile.</p> + +<p>No; the tame and vapid acquiescents are not to be found in +literature. Sometimes +<!-- Page 130 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_130" id="Page_130">130</a></span> +they furnish material for literature. Their principal use in life is +to kindle the souls of reformers with the resentment of which great +deeds are born.</p> + + +<div> +<!-- Page 131 --> + <a name="NATIONALITY" id="NATIONALITY"></a> +<span class='pagenum'> + <a name="Page_131" id="Page_131">131</a> +</span> +</div> + + +<h2>NATIONALITY</h2> + +<p>I can remember no time in my life when I was not addicted to the +study of humanity. The marvels of faces, types, and characteristics +were, I feel sure, with me in my cradle. At the age of ten I had +evolved a kind of astrological chart of my own, according to which all +human beings, including uncles and aunts, grandmothers and children, +could be placed in twelve categories. There were the long-nosed, +thin-lipped, sandy-haired, over-principled people, who always knew +right from wrong and who grudged me an extra chocolate because it was +not the hour to have one. There were the snub-nosed, full-lipped, +dark-eyed people, whose manners were jolly and who positively +encouraged illicit consumption of fruit in the thin-lipped aunt's +garden. There were the shortsighted, solemn people with bulging +foreheads and studious habits who saw print and nothing else. They +bored me and belonged to my eleventh category. As far as I can see +now, my categories were a +<!-- Page 132 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_132" id="Page_132">132</a></span> +florid elaboration of the four temperaments of Hippocrates, though I +have no idea of the cause of my childish absorption in the subject. It +was certainly altogether spontaneous and not encouraged, for I have a +vivid recollection of how an eager and eloquent description of my +categories (profusely illustrated by mimicry) brought me a sharp +reprimand and a very nasty tonic. The tonic was taken under +compulsion, but the cure is still unaccomplished.</p> + +<p>And now for many years I have sat at my chalet window and seen the +world go by. The path from the village below to the peaks and pastures +above runs past my nest. On it, in the summer months, there was a +straggling procession of tourists and climbers, peasants and +townsfolk. They were of all nationalities, and their loud voices +proclaimed the immutability of the curse of Babel. I used to be +annoyed at the close proximity of the path, until, one day, I +discovered its marvellous opportunities for anthropological +research. Then I settled down, content to limit my wooing of the +solitude to the early morning and the late evening, or the time when +the wild autumnal gales brush the mountains clear of trippers and +paint the surrounding foliage +<!-- Page 133 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_133" id="Page_133">133</a></span> +in glorious tints of red and gold. For I assure you the proper study +of man is man, and the proper study of woman is both man and +woman.</p> + +<p>Here comes the Parisian youth with his charming young mamma of +forty. His face is pale and <i>distingué</i>, and the black down on +his upper lip has been trained with infinite care. Though his grey +mountain suit is fashioned for great feats of daring, it has the +rounded waist and martial shoulder-lines with which the Parisian +tailor pacifies his conscience when he supplies English fashions. His +stockings look ferocious. His dark eyes sparkle with inquisitiveness +behind the pince-nez. He is vivacity incarnate, he is urbanity on a +holiday. Mamma takes his arm and they trip past me. She is pretty, and +would be plump if the art of the <i>corsetière</i> had not abolished +plumpness. Her hat conveys a greeting from the Rue Lafayette, her +little high-heeled boots show faultless ankles and the latest way of +lacing up superfluous fat above them. A hole and two uneven stones +maliciously intercept the progress of that little foot. Mamma +stumbles, and is promptly and chivalrously replaced in an upright +position by the son. “Mon Dieu!” she cries; “what a +path!” and through my open window +<!-- Page 134 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_134" id="Page_134">134</a></span> +there floats the odour of <i>poudre-de-riz</i> disturbed by nervous +excitement. Papa follows. He is fat. No one can deny it, and I do not +think he would like any one to try. Honesty is writ large on his +rotund countenance. Now he is hot and somewhat weary with the +climb. He carries his hat under his arm and large pearls of moisture +shine on the puckered forehead. His hair is thick and closely cropped, +and strives upward with the even aspiration of a doormat. His cheeks +are a little sallow and pendulous. He smiles under his thin moustache, +the contented smile of an honest, hardworking, successful man. I know +him well; I seem to have met him in a hundred editions in the offices +of municipalities and prefectures, behind the counters of banks and +shops. He is generally amiable, but he can lose his temper, and when +he loses it, it is worth your while to help him to find it.</p> + +<p>Here comes the Heidelberg professor, accompanied by two fair +daughters. He is tall, of commanding presence, and walks with +patriarchal gravity under a green umbrella. A large pocket, +embroidered and ingeniously designed with numerous compartments, is +strapped to his waist. He strokes his long, +<!-- Page 135 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_135" id="Page_135">135</a></span> +well-trimmed beard as he admonishes the girls to pay serious attention +to the natural beauty of the scenery. He rummages the pocket for his +field-glasses. “This, dear children, is Mont Blanc. I do not say +that our Schwarzwald is not just as lovely in its way. This mountain +was first climbed by Paccard and Balmat. It stretches from the Col de +Balme to the Col du Bonhomme and the Col de la Seigne. [A book is now +extracted from the fourth division of the pocket.] There are the +following passes: the Col d'Argentière, the Col....” His +eye-glasses slip downwards on his nose. The girls are not +listening. Gretchen is entirely absorbed in the fascinating appearance +of an Italian who has just passed, and who by unmistakable signs +conveyed to her that she is adorable. His flashing eyes, his jet-black +hair, his lithe figure, his pointed toes, the nimble way in which he +managed to press her hand behind the very back of her father, have +stirred her imagination. Hedvig is shocked. The elder daughter is +permeated with respect for her father's professorial dignity. Every +gesture betrays the capable housekeeper. She seems to be made of +squares—good, proper, solid squares. She +<!-- Page 136 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_136" id="Page_136">136</a></span> +tells the smiling Gretchen, whose cheeks suggest strawberries and +cream, that she must never encourage dark Italians by looking at +them. She should look at the ground when such men pass. She should be +more attentive to father. The sound of their footsteps dies, and the +green umbrella is but a dream. Hedvig has filled my window with +visions of a well-ordered German home, of sausages and +<i>Sauerkraut</i>, of beer and pickled fruit, of embroideries and +coffee-parties.</p> + +<p>Here comes a hatless representative of young Russia. His clothes +are shabby and neglected; he walks with a shuffling, tired +movement. But his face is startling. It seems to light up the path +with some kind of spiritual fervour. His hair is long and golden, his +beard suggests an aureole of virtue, his large blue eyes are +penetrating but mild. A confused series of faces flash through my +mind—Abraham, Tolstoy, Jesus Christ? Yes, it may seem +sacrilegious, but the man is like Jesus Christ. I see now that the +likeness is studied, cultivated, impressive. This is one of the +<i>intelligentsia</i> who has lingered for a while in Geneva or +Lausanne <i>en route</i> for the haunts of spiritual revolution. A din +of dear familiar voices now fills the path and +<!-- Page 137 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_137" id="Page_137">137</a></span> +seems to shake the tops of the pines. “I guess you won't try +that again. I did Munich in one day, Dresden in one and a half, Berlin +in two, and Europe in twenty.” Three women and a man stop +opposite the chalet. The ladies are charmingly dressed in summer +frocks of white and pink and blue, and carry nothing heavier than a +parasol. The man is laden with cloaks, rugs, and bags. They peer into +my window and try to catch a glimpse of the interior. I hastily draw +the curtains and leave one peep-hole for myself. “Quaint houses +these Swiss live in,” says one. “It isn't a bad +shanty,” says the man. “Let's have a glass of milk,” +says another.</p> + +<p>“Dew lait,” they shout through the window. I callously +observe them through my peep-hole. The man is of a fine American type, +sinewy, resolute, hawk-eyed. The mountain sunshine provides me with +Röntgen rays, and I see Wall Street inside his brow. “Dew +lait,” they yell. As there is no answer, they hammer at the +door. The door is adamant. They leave reluctantly. “I think I +saw the face of one of those Swiss idiots through the curtains,” +says the lady in pink; “of course he would not understand what +we said.”</p> + +<div> +<!-- Page 138 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_138" id="Page_138">138</a></span> +</div> + +<p>There is a delightful readiness to jump to conclusions on the part +of visitors. Sometimes they are the reverse of flattering, but they +are always a source of delighted interest to me. I remember one day, +years ago, when I had gone to draw water at the source, which emerges +as a thousand diamonds from the rock and then descends into the hollow +trunk of a tree and becomes tame and inclined to domesticity. The cows +had come for a drink at the same hour, and we had just exchanged a few +polite remarks when I found myself observed by an English clergyman. +Yes, unmistakably English. His face was prim and clean-shaven, his +collar straight and stiff, upon his lips there played a sweet and +devout smile. He lifted up the tail of his coat ceremoniously and, +selecting a clean stone, seated himself upon it. He radiated +condescending kindness.</p> + +<p>“Lor a bun,” said he. I asked the cows to excuse me for +a moment and turned to him. “Lor a bun,” he repeated, this +time with a query. I stared uncomprehendingly. The sweet smile became +sweeter. “Lor a bun, ma pettit fille, eh?” At last I +understood. “Oh, yes, the water is excellent here,” +<!-- Page 139 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_139" id="Page_139">139</a></span> +I replied, “and freezingly cold if you put your fingers in +it.” He departed in unceremonious haste.</p> + +<p>For some years I have watched the procession of nations on my path. +French, German, English, Russian, Austrian, American, +Italian—they all brought me a picture of their tribal +characteristics, trivial, thumbnail sketches, but nevertheless true to +life. It may be urged that holiday-makers do not constitute reliable +material for the observation of national peculiarities. I am not so +sure. A man on a holiday generally takes his goodwill with him, and +endeavours, at least, to restrain his temper and his prejudices. He +may fail in the attempt, and be a peevish thing at play, but the +attempt will show him at his best. From the hotels below, where the +crowds of cosmopolis stayed <i>en pension</i> at reasonable and +unreasonable terms, the sound of music and songs visited me in the +evening. The nations were waltzing. International peace reigned under +the auspices of the Swiss hotel keeper. Forgotten were the ancient +feuds of dynasty and religion. Common humanity was uppermost.</p> + +<p>And now the nations are at war. The concourse +<!-- Page 140 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_140" id="Page_140">140</a></span> +of friendly strangers who used to meet in the hotels is sharply +divided into hostile groups. Travel is suspended or severely +restricted. The Frenchman who a short time ago raised his glass in +friendly salute to the German at the opposite table, who had guided +him across the moraine, is now convulsed at the thought that he could +ever forget the essentially brutal and inhuman character of all +Germans. The German wishes he had dropped the Frenchman into the +crevasse. There would then, he argues, have been one less of these +treacherous, mean people, whose love of military conquest is only +checked by impotence. He remembers Napoleon and the fact that any +insignificant-looking chip of the Latin block may one day threaten the +heart of Germany. The easy and good-humoured internationalism of +tourist-life is at an end.</p> + +<p>I do not know to what extent modern facilities for inexpensive +travel have helped to establish friendship and understanding between +the nations. But I do know that a person who claims to be educated, +and who has never travelled abroad, is insufferably boresome. I prefer +the society of a mole. The mole does not lecture me on the +incalculable advantages +<!-- Page 141 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_141" id="Page_141">141</a></span> +of remaining in one's dark passages. I do not shut my eyes to the fact +that some people go abroad and come home with their stupidity +unmodified by experience. But they have been made uncomfortable, and +that is something. A series of pricks of discomfort might dislodge the +obstacles to mental circulation. A Swiss hotel may serve to check the +contempt which the Philistines of all nations (there is a truly +international bond between them) feel at the thought of a foreigner, +though the shock of finding oneself amongst such peculiarities of +clothes, or frisure, or table-manners may be almost +unbearable. “Can you tell me,” said a charming but +agitated old lady from Bath one day, “of a hotel where there are +no foreigners?” “I am afraid I cannot,” I +answered. “The hotel you have in mind would be full of +foreigners in Switzerland, and you would but add to their +number.”</p> + +<p>Even the most cosmopolitan habitués of Nice, or Monte Carlo, or +Homburg feel the mildly stimulating effect of being in the presence of +foreigners. You are interested or disgusted, you are attracted or +repelled; your curiosity is aroused; you guess, you weave romances, +you make conscious use of the rich material +<!-- Page 142 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_142" id="Page_142">142</a></span> +for comparison which lies before you. In Europe, apparently, the +nations meet but do not merge. America achieves the miracle. I +remember one evening in New York. I had addressed a meeting of good +Americans and was coming home in the train. I was tired and +unobservant and kept my eyes closed. Suddenly a loud remark in Danish +attracted my attention. I looked up at the row of humanity in the long +carriage. Sitting opposite me, standing at my side, hanging by the +straps, were the nations of the world. The racial types were there: +Slavonic, Latin, Teutonic; the skull dolichocephalic and the skull +brachycephalic rested side by side without any attempt at mutual +evacuation. I could distinguish the faces of Frenchmen, Jews, +Englishmen, Japanese, Germans, Poles, negroes, Italians. They did not +study one another. They were journeying home from the day's work. A +strange homogeneity brooded over the company. America had put her +super-stamp on their brows. They were citizens of an all-human +country.</p> + +<p>What, then, is this mysterious power which seems to master the Old +World, whilst it is mastered by the New World? Nationality is +<!-- Page 143 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_143" id="Page_143">143</a></span> +clearly a mundane thing. It is not generally suggested that heaven is +mapped out into national frontiers; the Christian religion and other +faiths are bent on roping in all the nations. The missionaries who are +sent out to Africa and China go with the conviction that there is room +in heaven for the black and the yellow sinner. True, the black and the +yellow man will first have to shed their somewhat irregular appearance +and come forth white and radiant, but the belief in the possibility of +such a feat is proof positive that we regard the nationality of a man +as a transient business. Nationality is local, spirituality +universal. Nationality is a form, a mould, a means; spirituality is +the essence, the force, the object. The problems of nationality are +wrapped up in the problems of personality. A personality is an amalgam +of likes and dislikes, of habit and prejudice, the product of +circumstances and a will. There is such a thing as multiple +personality, and there is also multiple nationality. But the simple +measure of nationality is severely natural and elemental. It is +rooted in the need of understanding and being understood. It begins +with love of self (we do love ourselves, in spite of all assurances to +the contrary), +<!-- Page 144 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_144" id="Page_144">144</a></span> +family, and tribe. In a world of diversity and uncertainty it envelops +us with a comforting assurance that there are creatures who feel and +think as we do. It endows us with a group-soul, without which we, like +ants and bees, cannot face life. The sense of nationality is but an +enlarged sense of personality.</p> + +<p>It is a realization of unity which comprises many lesser units. Our +household, our village, our country, our constituency, are all +independent unities which we deliberately (though not always +successfully) press into the service of the greater unity. The lesser +unities always run the danger of being superseded by the greater +unities. The conditions of soil and climate in a hamlet produce a crop +of personalities similar in content and range, a type which we may +distinguish by the shape of the nose or the trend of the remarks. Ten +neighbouring little hamlets may have their little ways of distinction +which separate one from the other, and yet one day—to their +dismay—discover that they have greater generalities in +common. Once the discovery is made, prudence and common sense demand +co-operation. The great nations are built up on the discovery. Italy, +Germany, and Great Britain +<!-- Page 145 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_145" id="Page_145">145</a></span> +have taken it to heart after endless trials of the smaller +unities. America had one severe trial, and then settled down to +circumvent and undo the curse of Babel. The sense of separateness, +once so precious to Florence, Genoa, and Pisa, could not resist the +larger conception of Italy.</p> + +<p>There is no reason, historical or logical, why this expansion of +the consciousness of unity should not proceed until there is nothing +further to include. The recognition of an all-human brotherhood is +followed by the realization of an all-animal brotherhood in which the +essential likeness of all that breathes and feels is +paramount. Personally, I have never found the slightest difficulty in +accepting our near relationship to the apes. On the contrary, every +monkey I meet—and I have specially cultivated their +acquaintance—reminds me sharply of the simian origin of our +dearest traditions.</p> + +<p>The consciousness of unity and the consequent sense of separateness +from some other body or bodies are subject to constant change and +surprisingly erratic in their application. A bare hint to the +Welshman, the Scotsman, the Breton, the Provençal, or the Bavarian +<!-- Page 146 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_146" id="Page_146">146</a></span> +that his national idiosyncrasies do not exist, and you will speedily +see a demonstration of them. And yet, a moment ago, they felt entirely +British or French or German. Swedes, Danes, and Norwegians have each a +keen sense of national separateness (and superiority), but let the +tongue of slander touch their common nature, and Scandinavia rises in +indignant unity. I have attended many International Congresses, and +have observed how easily the party is on the verge of grave national +crises. Each alliance musters a good-humoured tolerance of the +deficiencies of others. But let an opponent of the whole scheme, for +which they have assembled, attack the principle which is sacred to +all, and there is an immediate truce and concerted action against the +intruder. Russian and German troops have found it necessary to suspend +their fighting in order to defend themselves against the attacks of +wolves. The hungry pack of wolves, waiting by the trenches at night, +presented a force which called for united opposition, and the European +war had to wait whilst the men of the opposite armies joined in +killing them. When the slaughter of wolves was happily over, the human +battle was resumed. +<!-- Page 147 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_147" id="Page_147">147</a></span> +Supposing, instead of wolves, an airship of super-terrestrial +proportions had brought an army of ten-armed, four-headed, and +six-legged creatures, bent on dealing out death to the occupants of +the trenches, what would have happened? Supposing the inhabitants of a +more cruel and vicious planet than ours (cosmological specialists +assure us such exist) developed powers of warfare before which the +exploits of Hannibal or Attila paled into insignificance, and learnt +the art of destroying life not only in their own world but in others +as well? They might come armed with new atmospheric weapons, trailing +clouds of suffocating fumes to which resistance with guns and bombs +would be utterly ineffectual. The horror of the unknown danger would +paralyse the war, batteries would be deserted and the trenches would +quickly be internationalized. The sense of our common humanity, +outraged at the sight and the smell of the monsters, would assert +itself. Generals and statesmen of the belligerent peoples—if any +were left to direct the defensive—would hold subterranean +meetings, and, forgetting the cause for which they sent men to die +nobly but a few days ago, would discuss how they could +<!-- Page 148 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_148" id="Page_148">148</a></span> +save the united remnants of humanity by strategy and simulation.</p> + +<p>The sense of unity is, after all, dependent on innumerable +conditions and circumstances over which we have little control. There +is the unity of tradition and education, of Eton and Harrow, of Oxford +and Cambridge. It moulds opinion and imposes certain restrictions of +conduct and prejudices in outlook. Rivalry is an indispensable and +normal adjunct of such unity. Races and the honour and glory of one's +school and team can stir the group-soul to incredible heights of +enthusiasm and effort. There is the instinctive unity of +seafarers. Who has not, when crossing the ocean, felt that he was part +of a small world independent and isolated from others, but bound +together by special ties of adventure? An encounter with an iceberg +will bring the common responsibilities and dangers to the notice of +the most inveterate individualist, but even while the ship moves +uneventfully forward, he, perforce, shares the feeling of +oneness. There is the humorous unity which will seize the opposing +parties in a court of law and make them join in laughter at some +feeble judicial joke just to experience the relief +<!-- Page 149 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_149" id="Page_149">149</a></span> +of forgetting that they are there to be contentious.</p> + +<p>The advocates of the theory that nations and nationalities are +eternally distinct and separate can see no analogy of unity in the +simple examples of everyday life. They tell us conclusively that +England is England and France is France, and our humble retort that we +know as much and something besides is silenced by the further +information that each nation has a soul that will tolerate no +interference from other souls. They forget, our apostles of the creed +of separateness, that the States of to-day are built up on a vast +mixture of races and nationalities. They forget, also, that +nationality is not a fixed and immovable quantity. Like personality, +it is alive and changing, susceptible to influence and experience, +liable to psychic contagion from the thoughts and emotions of +others. There is no pure nationality. Hybrids are regarded as inferior +creatures, as biological outlaws. The truth is, we are all +hybrids. Our bluest blood has all the shades of common colour in it +when examined ethnically. Great Britain—and +Ireland—contains a mixture of Romans, Angles, Jutes, Saxons, +Danes, Normans, and +<!-- Page 150 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_150" id="Page_150">150</a></span> +Celts. To-day, Scotch, Welsh, and Irish are mixtures within +mixtures. And what is the British Empire? A conglomeration of races +and languages, a pan-national product of conquest and colonization, in +which the forces of racial modification are always at work +obliterating old divisions and creating new claims to national +recognition.</p> + +<p>The Russian Empire, sown by Vikings, Slavs, and Mongols, has a rich +racial flora, including Germans, Poles, Jews, Lithuanians, Letts, +Roumanians, Afghans, Tartars, Finns, and scores of others. The Great +Russians, the White Russians, and the Little Russians may each claim +to have sprung from the purest Russian stock, but no one has as yet +been able to settle satisfactorily the meaning of that claim. The +Russians have successively been proved to be of Mongol, Slav, +Teutonic, Aryan, Tartar, Celto-Slav, and Slav-Norman origin. Italy, +believed to be the home of pure Latin blood, has sheltered and mingled +a great number of races, such as Egyptians, Greeks, Spaniards, Slavs, +Germans, Jews, and Normans. The Republics of Central and South America +are to a large extent peopled by half-breeds. Here the commingling is +flagrant and offensive +<!-- Page 151 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_151" id="Page_151">151</a></span> +to the partisan of the superiority of the white race. Spain in Mexico +and Portugal in Brazil have produced a wild-garden crop which is the +despair of the custodian of racial law and order. The search for +national purity brings many unexpected discoveries and destroys +various theories. It reveals the fact that America has no monopoly of +racial amalgamation.</p> + +<p>France and Germany appear to us as opposites and +irreconcilables. Yet, if you pursue Germany to the hour of her birth +you will find that her mother was France. Examine France +physiologically and you will find that her muscles and arteries have a +German consistency. A thorough investigation of the origins of Germany +may prove that she is more Gaulish than Gaul. The Germanic invasions +of France are matters of elementary history. Originally a mixture of +Ligurians, Celts, Phœnicians, Greeks, and Romans, she is only +Latin in part. Cæsar conquered Gaul, but the Roman mixture has not +obliterated previous or subsequent additions. The Latin blood of +France was thoroughly diluted by Visigoths, Burgundians, Franks, +Vandals, Normans, and other peoples of Germanic stamp. When Gaul was +<!-- Page 152 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_152" id="Page_152">152</a></span> +partitioned into the Burgundian kingdom, Austrasia, and Neustria, +there were already present the selective processes which, centuries +later, shaped the French and the German souls. Neustria clung to Roman +culture, whilst Austrasia nurtured the seeds of the specific +<i>Kultur</i> which attained its full bloom in the twentieth +century. Through rivalry and war the two types persisted. Charlemagne +crushed the rebellious Saxon spirit and conquered Bavaria. He unified +the divergent tendencies, but only for a time. In 843 his empire was +partitioned. France grew out of the western portion, Germany out of +the eastern. Lotharingia or Lorraine was established as a middle +kingdom. Did kind Fates design it as a guarantee of peace and +stability?</p> + +<p>The Germans are apt to claim for themselves a pure and Valhallic +origin, an exceptionally unmixed descent of the highest +attributes. The primogenial origin may be hidden in obscurity, but the +German people have absorbed Gauls, Serbs, Poles, Wends, and a medley +of Slav and Celtic races which confound all claims to racial +purity. Slavs settled in Teutonic countries and Teutons settled in +Slavonic countries. The German colonists who invaded +<!-- Page 153 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_153" id="Page_153">153</a></span> +Russia at the invitation of Catherine II were imported to strengthen +Russia, just as the Great Elector helped thousands of Huguenots +fleeing from France to settle in Brandenburg, and gave them the rights +of citizenship for the sake of the vitality which they would impart to +his depopulated country.</p> + +<p>The belief in the unalloyed purity of races and the consequent +battles for national exclusiveness seem to be founded on one of those +gigantic illusions which hold humanity captive for centuries. Here, as +elsewhere, knowledge will spell freedom. When we realize that here and +now nations are in course of transformation, that the divisions of the +past are not the divisions of to-day, and that we, despite +conservatism and resistance, are made to serve as ingredients in some +great mixture of to-morrow, momentous questions arise. Are nations +made by war and conquest? Are peoples amalgamated by oppressive +legislation? Do political alliances between States create +international unities?</p> + +<p>Such alliances have not in the past caused any organic union. The +nations have met like partners at a ball and danced to the tune of the +dynastic or religious quarrel which +<!-- Page 154 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_154" id="Page_154">154</a></span> +happened to be paramount at the time. The grouping of nations in +alliances has simply been a means of more effective prosecution of +military campaigns, a temporary convenience to be discarded when no +longer needed. If the example of the past is to be followed, then +Great Britain, France, Russia, Italy, and America, though holding +hands now, will separate when the war is over, and may find it +necessary to use the same hands for chastizing each other. Alliances +have been political games and devices, useful or useless according to +the shrewdness of their instigators, but of no value in promoting love +between nations. Old-time enemies become friends, and old-time friends +become enemies at the command of the political drill-sergeant. England +was the hereditary enemy of France. Prussia was the ally of +England. In the war of the Austrian succession, France in alliance +with Prussia fought England and Austria. During the Seven Years War +Prussia, allied to England, fought Austria allied to France. England, +allied to France and Turkey, fought Russia in the Crimea. Turn the +kaleidoscope of history and you see the English driven out of +Normandy, Napoleon defiling Moscow, the Russians attacking +<!-- Page 155 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_155" id="Page_155">155</a></span> +Montmartre. Any schoolboy, can trace the changing partners in the +grand alliances of the past, or refuse to commit them to memory on +account of the bewildering fluctuations in international +friendship.</p> + +<p>A fiery common hate, though acting as a powerful cement for a time, +is no guarantee of durability. Napoleon and the French were hated by +the nations, as Wilhelm and the Germans are hated to-day. Rapacious +designs for hegemony have always brought about a corresponding amount +of defensive unity on the part of those whose independence was +threatened. Whether it is Spain or France or Germany that dreams of +world-supremacy, the result is international combination. Richelieu +and Bismarck rouse the same resentment. A great hatred cannot by +itself create a lasting unity, for hatred is apt to grow out of bonds, +and, having settled its legitimate prey outside the circle, generally +ends by turning on its neighbours within it.</p> + +<p>Who can deny that nations have been made by conquest? Heroic +self-defence, anger, bitter opposition to the violation of liberty, +are of little avail if the psychological factors are favourable to +amalgamation. A few decades, +<!-- Page 156 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_156" id="Page_156">156</a></span> +a few centuries, and there is fusion between oppressor and +oppressed. Hence the loyalty of conquered nations to their foreign +masters, at times, when rivals vainly hope for trouble. Hence the +indisputable fact that many a nation which but a short time ago fought +valiantly for liberty now manifests not only passive resignation, but +positive contentment. If, on the other hand, the psychological factors +do not favour amalgamation, the legacy of resentment and opposition is +handed on from generation to generation and the injury is never +forgiven. Cases of contented acceptance are quoted as evidence of the +ultimate blessings of war by the adherents of the theory that +efficient military measures constitute right. To me they are rather +evidence of the strength and endurance of the pacifying forces in +human life, and of the sovereignty of the greater unities which draw +nations together. If, in spite of the injuries and devastations of +war, it is possible for men to forgive and to labour for the same +social ends, that is surely proof that the peoples erect no barrier to +brotherhood. The truth is, war sometimes achieves that which pacific +settlement and free intercourse always achieve.</p> + +<div> +<!-- Page 157 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_157" id="Page_157">157</a></span> +</div> + +<p>History has a cavalier way of recording the benefits of +conquest. The feelings of the great conquered receive scant +consideration. It is enough that after the passage of some centuries +we contemplate the matter and declare the conquest to have been +beneficial. Was not France invigorated by the wild Northmen who +overran her territories and settled wherever they found settlement +advantageous? The Normans, originally pirates and plunderers, +intermingled with the gentler inhabitants of France. When they turned +their eyes to England they were already guardians of civilization. And +we blandly record the Norman conquest of England as an unqualified +benefit, as an impetus to social amenity, art, learning, architecture, +and religion. Protests are useless. The earth abounds in instances of +the spread of knowledge, inventions, culture, through war and +subjugation. The “rude” peoples who cried out at the +outrage, and who fain would have kept their rudeness, receive no +sympathy from posterity.</p> + +<p>This, I repeat, is no argument for the perpetuation of the old ways +of aggression. We have reached a new consciousness and a new +responsibility. We see better ways of spreading +<!-- Page 158 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_158" id="Page_158">158</a></span> +the fruits of civilization. In the past ambition and brute force, +hatred and suspicion, fear and deceit, have had full play. In spite of +barbaric warfare and Machiavellian politics the human desire for unity +and co-operation has not been uprooted.</p> + +<p>The principle of nationality is emerging from the tortuous +confusion of the ages. We see that it follows no arbitrary rules of +state or empire. It is a law unto itself: the law of mental +attraction and community. The centres of passionate +nationhood—Poland, Finland, Ireland—withstand all attempts +at suppression. You cannot break a strong will to national +independence by sledge-hammer blows. In all the wars of the past +nations have been treated with contemptuous indifference to the wishes +of the people. They were there to be seized and used, invaded and +evacuated at a price, to be bought and sold for some empirical or +commercial consideration. In the treaties of peace, princes and +statesmen tossed countries and populations to each other as if they +had been balls in a game of chance.</p> + +<p>A new conception of human dignity and of the inviolability of +natural rights now demands a revaluation of all the motives and +objects +<!-- Page 159 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_159" id="Page_159">159</a></span> +for which governments send subjects to battle. Democracy is finding +her international unity. A great many wars of the past are recognized +as having been, not only unnecessary, but positively foolish. The +force of an idea is threatening to dispel the force of arms. The idea +which rises dominant out of the European war is the conviction that +nations have a right to choose their own allegiance or independence; +that there must be freedom instead of compulsion; that real +nationality is a psychological state, a tribute of sympathy, a +voluntary service to which the mind is drawn by affection. To some who +lightly praised the idea, treating it as an admirable prop to war, the +consequences and application will bring dismay. For here you have the +pivot of a social revolution such as the world has never yet seen. It +cannot only remain a question of Belgium, or Serbia, or +Alsace-Lorraine. It will inevitably be retrospective and +prospective. It cannot be limited to the possessions of Germany or +Austria or Turkey. It will not pass over India, South Africa, and +Egypt. All empires have been extended by conquest of unwilling +nationalities. Bitter wars have been fought in Europe for colonial +<!-- Page 160 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_160" id="Page_160">160</a></span> +supremacy in other continents. The unwilling tribes of Africa, Asia, +and America who have been suppressed or exterminated to make room for +the expanding nations of Europe knew little of the liberty of choice +which has now become the beacon of militant morality. The +principle—if triumphant—will be destructive of empire +based on military force. It will be destructive of war, for war is +national compulsion in its most logical and uncompromising form. If +there is nothing and nobody to conquer, if you may not use armies to +widen your national frontiers, or to procure valuable land for +economical exploitation, the incentive to war will be removed. The +principle will be constructive of a commonwealth of nations, and +empires which have achieved a spiritual unity will survive the change +of form.</p> + +<p>Nationality may be merely instinctive. It is characterized by the +my-country-right-or-wrong attitude, and knows not the difference +between Beelzebub and Michael. It is primitive and +unreasoning. Nationality may be compulsory—a sore grievance and +a bitter reproach to existence. It may be a matter of choice, free and +deliberate, a source of joy +<!-- Page 161 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_161" id="Page_161">161</a></span> +and social energy. Such nationality—whether inborn or +acquired—is the best and safest asset which a State can +possess. It is generally supposed that the naturalized subject must be +disloyal in a case of conflict between his country of adoption and his +country of birth. Such a view assumes that all sense of nationality is +of the primitive and unreasoning kind. It precludes all the +psychological factors of attraction, education, friendship, adoption, +amalgamation. It is ignorant of the fact that some of the bitterest +enemies of Germany are Germans, who have left Germany because they +could stand her no longer. These men have a much keener knowledge of +her weak spots than the visitors who give romantic accounts in +newspapers of her internal state. The whole process of naturalization +may be rendered unnecessary and undesirable by future developments in +international co-operation. As things are, it is a formal and legal +confirmation of an allegiance which must exist before the certificate +of citizenship is sought. Once given, the certificate should be +honoured and the oath respected. To treat it as a scrap of paper is +unworthy of a State which upholds constitutional rights. There +<!-- Page 162 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_162" id="Page_162">162</a></span> +are doubtless scoundrels amongst naturalized people. It would be +strange if there were not. But to proclaim that a naturalized subject +cannot love the country of his choice as much as the country of his +birth is as rational as the statement that a man cannot love his wife +as much as he loves his mother. Now I have touched on a delicate +point. He may love his wife, but he must repudiate his mother, curse +her, abuse her, disown her. In time of war some do, and some do not. I +am not sure that the deepest loyalty is accompanied by the loudest +curses.</p> + +<p>There is a class of people—I have met them in every +country—who are devotees of the simple creed that you should +stay at home and not interfere in the affairs of others. Travel you +may, with a Baedeker or a Cook's guide, and stay you may in hotels +provided for the purpose, but you must do it in a proper way and at +proper times, and preserve a strict regard for your national +prerogatives. But you should not go and live in countries which are +not your own. To such people there is something almost indecent in the +thought that any one should deliberately wish to shed his own +nationality and clothe himself in +<!-- Page 163 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_163" id="Page_163">163</a></span> +another. They form the unintelligent background against which the wild +and lurid nationalists of every tribe disport themselves in frenzied +movements of hate and antagonism. An irate old colonel (very gouty) +said to me the other day: “A man who forgets his duties to his +own country and settles in another is a damnable cur. So much for +these dirty foreigners who overrun England.”</p> + +<p>I ventured to remind him that the English have settled in a good +many places: in America, in Australia, in spots fair and foul, +friendly and unfriendly; that they have brought afternoon tea and +sport and Anglican services to the pleasure resorts of Europe and the +deserts of Africa. Meeting with no response, I embarked on a short +account of the past travels and achievements of the Dutch, the +Spaniards, and the French in the art of settlement in foreign lands. I +ended up by prophesying that the aeroplane of the future will +transport us swiftly from continent to continent and make mincemeat of +the last remnants of our national exclusiveness. He was not in the +least perturbed. “That is all rubbish,” he said; +“people ought to stick to their own country.”</p> + +<div> +<!-- Page 164 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_164" id="Page_164">164</a></span> +</div> + +<p>I am afraid neither he nor anybody else can check the wanderings of +individuals and peoples which have gone on ever since man discovered +that he has two legs with which he can move about. And naturalization, +after all, is an easy way of acquiring new and possibly useful +citizens. The subjects come willingly, whilst the millions who are +made subjects by war and subjugation are sometimes exceedingly +troublesome. After all, the aim of all the great kingdoms has been to +increase and strengthen the population, and differences of nationality +have been treated as but trifling obstacles in the way. If the +principle of free nationality which is now stirring the world and +inspiring a war of liberation is to triumph, then the liberty won must +include the individuals who prefer a chosen to a compulsory political +allegiance.</p> + +<p>Sometimes the forces of attraction and repulsion create strong ties +of sympathy or lead to acts of repudiation which cross frontiers +irrespectively of the indications on the barometer of foreign +politics. A man may find his spiritual home in the most unexpected +place. He may irresistibly be drawn by the currents of philosophy and +art to a foreign country. +<!-- Page 165 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_165" id="Page_165">165</a></span> +The customs in his own may drive him to bitter denunciation. No one +has said harder things of Germany than Nietzsche. Schopenhauer wished +it to be known that he despised the German nation on account of its +infinite stupidity, and that he blushed to belong to it. Heine fled +from Germany in intellectual despair. “If I were a +German,” he wrote, “and I am no German....” His +heart was captured by the French. Goethe and Frederick the Great were +both profoundly influenced by the French spirit. Voltaire was most +useful at the Prussian Court, for he corrected the voluminous literary +and political output which his Prussian majesty penned—in +French. But there was something more than mere utility in the tie +between the philosopher and the monarch. Frederick was not only trying +to handle heavy German artillery with light French esprit; his mind +craved for the spices of Gallic wit, his thought was ever striving to +clothe itself in the form of France. Another “great” +German, Catherine II of Russia, also moved within the orbit of the +French philosophers.</p> + +<p>Admiration of Germany and German ways has found the strongest +expression in foreigners, +<!-- Page 166 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_166" id="Page_166">166</a></span> +and the megalomania from which her sons suffer to-day may be traced to +such outbursts of adulation. Carlyle, the most representative of +pro-German men of letters in the Victorian era, wrote in 1870:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Alone of nations, Prussia seems still to +understand something of the art of governing, and of fighting enemies +to said art. Germany from of old, has been the peaceablest, most +pious, and in the end most valiant and terriblest of nations. Germany +ought to be the President of Europe, and will again, it seems, be +tried with that office for another five centuries or so.... This is +her <i>first</i> lesson poor France is getting. It is probable she +will require many such.</p></div> + +<p>This is blasphemy indeed at the present time. Charles Kingsley was +no less emphatic in his admiration of Germany. Writing on the +Franco-Prussian War to Professor Max Müller, he said:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Accept my loving congratulations, my dear +Max, to you and your people. The day which dear Bunsen used to pray, +with tears in his eyes, might not come till the German people were +ready, has come, and the German people are ready. Verily God is just +and rules too; whatever the Press may think to the contrary. My only +fear is lest the Germans should think of Paris, which cannot concern +them, and turn +<!-- Page 167 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_167" id="Page_167">167</a></span> +their eyes away from that which does concern them, the retaking of +Alsace (which is their own), and leaving the Frenchman no foot of the +Rhine-bank. To make the Rhine a word not to be mentioned by the French +henceforth ought to be the one object of wise Germans, and that +alone.... I am full of delight and hope for Germany.</p></div> + +<p>And to Sir Charles Bunbury:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>I confess to you that were I a German I +should feel it my duty to my country to send my last son, my last +shilling, and after all my own self, to the war, to get that done +which must be done, done so that it will never need doing again. I +trust that I should be able to put vengeance out of my heart, to +forget all that Germany has suffered for two hundred years past from +that vain, greedy, restless nation, all even which she suffered, women +as well as men, in the late French war.</p></div> + +<p>The attraction of Germany is not only paramount in literature, in +Walter Scott and Mill and Matthew Arnold; the superiority of German +blood and constitution was an article of faith of the Victorians. The +sins of Prussia were forgiven with amazing alacrity. The base attacks +on Austria and Denmark evoked no moral indignation. German influence +on English life was not only welcomed; historians went so far as to +proclaim the identity of +<!-- Page 168 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_168" id="Page_168">168</a></span> +England and Germany. Thus Freeman, in a lecture in 1872, stated that +“what is Teutonic in us is not merely one element among others, +but that it is the very life and essence of our national +being....” Houston Chamberlain, in his reverent unravelling of +the greatness of the Germanic peoples, is merely carrying on the +tradition of the Victorian age. In the application of theories he is a +disciple of Gobineau, a Frenchman, who after a profound study of the +inequality of the human race became convinced of the superiority and +high destiny of Germany. Gobineau and Chamberlain have told the +Germans that they are mighty and unconquerable, and the Germans have +listened with undisguised pleasure.</p> + +<p>Gobineau may be set aside as a professor of a fixed idea. There are +other Frenchmen who have paid glowing tribute to Germany. Taine +excelled in praise of her intellectual vigour and productivity. Victor +Hugo expressed his love and admiration for her people, and confessed +to an almost filial feeling for the noble and holy fatherland of +thinkers. If he had not been French he would have liked to have been +German. Ernest Renan studied Germany, and found her like a +temple—so +<!-- Page 169 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_169" id="Page_169">169</a></span> +pure, so moral, so touching in her beauty. This reminds us of the many +who during the present war, though ostensibly enemies of Germany, +spend half their time in proclaiming her perfection and the necessity +for immediate imitation of all her ways. Madame de Staël and Michelet +expressed high regard for German character and institutions. There are +degrees and qualities of attraction and absorption, varying from the +amorous surrender with which Lafcadio Hearn took on Japanese form to +the bootlicking flattery which Sven Hedin heaps on the Germans. (It is +quite futile to seek for an explanation of Hedin's conduct in his +Jewish-Prussian descent. He would lackey anywhere. Strindberg dealt +faithfully with Hedin's pretensions. Strindberg, alas! is dead, but +his exposure of Hedin has been strangely justified.)</p> + +<p>Heine is an example of the curious and insistent fascination with +which the mind may be drawn to one nationality whilst it is repelled +by another. His judgment on England is painful in the extreme:</p> + +<p>“It is eight years since I went to London,” he writes +in the Memoirs, “to make the acquaintance of the language and +the people. The +<!-- Page 170 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_170" id="Page_170">170</a></span> +devil take the people and their language! They take a dozen words of +one syllable into their mouth, chew them, gnaw them, spit them out +again, and they call that talking. Fortunately they are by nature +rather silent, and although they look at us with gaping mouths, yet +they spare us long conversations.”</p> + +<p>Can anything be more sweeping? Can anything be more untrue? +“Fortunately they are by nature rather +silent”—imagine the reversed verdict had Heine attended a +general election campaign! The unattractiveness of England is softened +by the women. “If I can leave England alive, it will not be the +fault of the women; they do their best.” This is praise indeed, +when placed side by side with his dismissal of the women of +Hamburg. They are plump, we are told, “but the little god Cupid +is to blame, who often sets the sharpest of love's darts to his bow, +but from naughtiness or clumsiness shoots too low, and hits the women +of Hamburg not in the heart but in the stomach.”</p> + +<p>France was as delightful as England was doleful:</p> + +<p>“My poor sensitive soul,” he cries, “that often +recoiled in shyness from German coarseness, +<!-- Page 171 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_171" id="Page_171">171</a></span> +opened out to the flattering sounds of French urbanity. God gave us +our tongues so that we might say pleasant things to our +fellow-men.... Sorrows are strangely softened. In the air of Paris +wounds are healed quicker than anywhere else; there is something so +noble, so gentle, so sweet in the air as in the people +themselves.”</p> + +<p>I suppose the only analogy to such superlative contentment is +provided by the phenomenon known as falling in love. Happily we do not +all choose the same object of affection. England has a curious way of +inspiring either great and lasting love or irritation and positive +dislike. There seems to be little or no indifference. I believe love +predominates.</p> + +<p>From exiled kings to humble refugees, from peripatetic philosophers +to indolent aborigines, the testimony of her charm can be gathered. I +speak as a victim. I love England with a fervour born of admiration +(without admiration no one ever falls in love). I love her ways and +her mind, I love her chilly dampness and her hot, glowing fires +(attempts to analyse and classify love are always silly). In her +thinkers and workers, in her schemes and efforts for social +improvement, in her +<!-- Page 172 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_172" id="Page_172">172</a></span> +freedom of thought and speech I found my mental <i>milieu</i>.</p> + +<p>To me England is inexpressibly dear, not because a whole conspiracy +of influences—educational, conventional, patriotic—were at +work persuading me that she is worthy of affection. I myself +discovered her lovableness. Your Chauvinist is always a mere +repeater. He is but a member of the Bandar-Log, shouting greatness of +which he knows nothing. True love does not need the trumpets of +Jingoism. I have no room for lies about England: the truth is +sufficient for me. Though I love England, I have affection to spare +for other countries. I feel at home in France, in Sweden, in America, +in Switzerland. Your Chauvinist will excuse the former affections on +account of “blood.” Swedish-French by ties of ancestry, +such a sense of familiarity is natural when set against my +preternatural love of England.</p> + +<p>Chauvinism flourishes exceedingly on the soil of national +conceit. That conceit is prodigious and universal. The Germans are +past-masters in the art of self-glorification, and their pan-German +literature is certainly not only bold but ingenious in this respect. +<!-- Page 173 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_173" id="Page_173">173</a></span> +Is any one great outside Germany? Very well, let us trace his German +origin. It may be remote, it may be hidden by centuries of illusory +nationality, but it must be there. France has her apostles of +superiority. Their style is more flexible, their pretensions less +clumsy, but they neglect no opportunity of seducing us into a belief +that France, and France only, is mistress of the human mind. Russia +has her fervid declaimers of holy excellence and the superior quality +of the Slav character. It does not matter whether the country is great +or small, whether it be Montenegro or Cambodia, it always contains +souls who feel constrained to give the world a demonstration of their +overflowing superiority. Pan-Germanism, pan-Slavism, pan-Magyarism, +pan-Anglosaxism, pan-Americanism grow out of such conceit, +systematized by professors and sanctified by bishops.</p> + +<p>The conceit of nationality often fosters great deeds, and generally +finds expression that is more aggressive than intelligent. It takes +hold of the most unlikely subjects. It is a potent destroyer of +balanced judgment, and will pitilessly make the most solemn men +ridiculous. The outbursts of Emerson when +<!-- Page 174 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_174" id="Page_174">174</a></span> +under its influence are truly amazing. “If a temperate wise man +should look over our American society,” he said in a lecture, +“I think the first danger which would excite his alarm would be +the European influences on this country.... See the secondariness and +aping of foreign and English life that runs through this country, in +building, in dress, in eating, in books.”</p> + +<p>This rejection savours of the contempt with which some young men +turn their backs on the fathers who fashioned them. “Let the +passion for America,” he cried, “cast out the passion for +Europe. Here let there be what the earth waits for—exalted +manhood.” He gives a picture of the finished man, the gentleman +who will be born in America. He defines the superiority of such a man +to the Englishman:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Freer swing his arms; farther pierce his +eyes, more forward and forthright his whole build and rig than the +Englishman's, who, we see, is much imprisoned in his +backbone.</p></div> + +<p>It is difficult to surmise the exact meaning of being imprisoned in +one's backbone. The possession of plenty of backbone is generally held +to be a decided advantage. Emerson +<!-- Page 175 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_175" id="Page_175">175</a></span> +may have had special and transcendental prejudices against strongly +fashioned vertebræ.</p> + +<p>The freaks of nationalism are as remarkable as the freaks of +internationalism. There is a constant interplay between the two, and +the ascendancy of the one or the other often seems strangely +capricious. Nationalism is weak where it should be strong, and rigid +where common sense would make it fluid. The painful position of most +royal families in time of war is an example of the readiness with +which nations submit to foreign rulership and influence. Thrones, one +would think, should represent the purely national spirit in its more +intimate and sacred aspect. Yet the abundance of crowned rulers, past +and present, attached by solemn selection or marriage, who are not by +blood and tradition of the people, shows the fallacy of this +supposition. Napoleon was an Italian who learnt French with some +difficulty, and who was at first hostile to the French and somewhat +contemptuous of their ways. Maréchal Bernadotte—French to his +finger-tips—became King of Sweden. Pierre Loti, interviewing the +charming and beloved Queen of the Belgians during the present war, +remembers that the martyred lady before him +<!-- Page 176 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_176" id="Page_176">176</a></span> +is a Bavarian princess. The delicate and painful subject is +mentioned. “It is at an end,” says the Queen; +“between <i>them</i> and me has fallen a curtain of iron which +will never again be lifted.”</p> + +<p>Prominent statesmen, who, one would also think, should be bone of +the bone of the nations for which they speak, have often been of alien +birth or of mixed racial composition. Bismarck was of Slav origin; +Beaconsfield was a Jew. The most picturesque example of such +irregularities of the national consciousness is perhaps the presence +of General Smuts in the War Cabinet. Once the alert and brave enemy in +arms against this country, he is now its trusted guide, philosopher, +and friend.</p> + +<p>Writers whom posterity classes as typical representatives of the +national genius have often been of mixed racial strain, as were +Tennyson, Browning, Ibsen, Kant, Victor Hugo, Dumas, Longfellow, and +Whitman. The “bastards” of internationalism, so offensive +to some nationalist fire-eaters, are not produced by the simple and +natural processes by which races are mixed. They are self-created, +their minds are set on gathering the varied fruit of all the +nations. Genealogically they may be +<!-- Page 177 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_177" id="Page_177">177</a></span> +as uninteresting as the snail in the cabbage-patch, spiritually they +are provocative and arresting. Romain Rolland and George Brandes +challenge and outrage the champions of nationalism by the very texture +of their minds. Joseph Conrad, a Pole, stands side by side with Thomas +Hardy in his mastership of contemporary English fiction. Conrad in +his consummate interpretation of sea-life is, if anything, more +English than Hardy.</p> + +<p>The future of internationalism is possibly fraught with greater +wonders than has been the past. The path will certainly not be laid +out with the smoothness which some enthusiasts imagine. The idea and +the hope are old as the hills. Cicero proclaimed a universal society +of the human race. Seneca declared the world to be his +country. Epictetus and Marcus Aurelius declared themselves citizens of +the world. St. Paul explained that there is neither Jew nor +Greek. John Wesley looked upon the world as his parish. “The +world is my country, mankind are my brothers,” said Thomas +Paine. “The whole world being only one city,” said +Goldsmith, “I do not care in which of the streets I happen to +reside.”</p> + +<p>Such complete impartiality is a little too +<!-- Page 178 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_178" id="Page_178">178</a></span> +detached for the make-up of present humanity. It may suit an +etherialized and mobile race of the future. We are dependent on +conditions of space and surroundings, we are the creatures of +association and love. The master-problem in internationalism is the +elimination of the forces of prejudice and ignorance that foster +hostility, and the preservation of the precious characteristics which +are the riches of the Soul of the World.</p> + + +<div> +<!-- Page 179 --> +<a name="RELIGION_IN_TRANSITION" id="RELIGION_IN_TRANSITION"></a> +<span class='pagenum'> + <a name="Page_179" id="Page_179">179</a> +</span> +</div> + +<h2>RELIGION IN TRANSITION</h2> + +<p>The general destructiveness of war is patent to everybody. The +destruction of life, of property, of trade, strikes the most +superficial observer as inevitable consequences of a state of war. At +the outbreak of hostilities most of us foresaw that the uprooting +would not stop short at the sacrifices of livelihood and occupation +which were demanded by military necessities. We expected a sweeping +revision of our habits, our prejudices, our conventions. We have got +infinitely more than we expected. Not only have we made acquaintance +with the State—the State as a relentless master of human fate +and service; not only have we learnt that +individualism—philosophic or commercial—is borne like a +bubble on the waters of national tribulation and counts for nothing in +the mass of collective effort demanded from us. Industry, commerce, +art, learning, science, energy, enthusiasm, every gift and power +within the range of human capacity, is +<!-- Page 180 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_180" id="Page_180">180</a></span> +requisitioned for the efficient pursuit of war. Liberty of action, of +speech, ancient rights which were won by centuries of struggle, are +taken away because we are more useful and less troublesome without +them. We are made parts of the machinery of State, and we have to be +drilled and welded into the proper shape.</p> + +<p>The changes imposed on us from without are thorough and have been +surprisingly many, but the changes taking place within our own souls +are deeper and likely to surprise us more in the end. Everything has +been found untenable. Theories and systems are shaken by the great +upheaval. Civilization has become a question instead of a +postulate. All human thought is undergoing a process of retrospection, +drawn by a desire to find a new and stable beginning. Take down +Spencer and Comte or Lecky and Kidd from your bookshelf and try to +settle down to a contented contemplation of the sociological tenets of +the past. You will fail, for you will feel that this is a new world +with burning problems and compelling facts which cannot be covered by +the old systems. Take down the old books of religious +comfort—Thomas à Kempis, or Bunyan, or St. Augustine, and you +feel their remoteness from the new +<!-- Page 181 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_181" id="Page_181">181</a></span> +agonies of soul. But it is not only the old books of piety which fail +to satisfy the hunger of to-day; the mass of devotional writings, +especially produced to meet the needs of the war, are painfully +inadequate. Rightly or wrongly, there is a sense of the inadequacy of +the thought of the past to meet the need of the present. It invades +every recess of the mind, it interposes itself in science as well as +in religion; it leaves us no peace.</p> + +<p>There can be no doubt about it: we are blighted by the great +destructiveness. All attempts to keep the war from our thoughts are +destined to fail. Without being struck in an air-raid or torpedoed on +the high seas, there is a sufficiency of destructive force in the +daily events and in our accommodation to live on for them or in spite +of them.</p> + +<p>Hence the universal demand for reconstruction. It is a blessed +word: we cling to it, we live by it. So many buildings have tumbled +about our ears, so many foundations were nothing but running sand; a +whole galaxy of truths turned out to be lies. Now we must prepare that +which is solid and indestructible. Perhaps some great and wise spirit +brooding over our world, learned with the experience of +<!-- Page 182 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_182" id="Page_182">182</a></span> +æons, of human attempts and mistakes, smiles at the deadly earnestness +of the intention to reconstruct. I do not care. We have reached a pass +when all life and all hope are centred in this faith: the faith that +we can make anew and good and beautiful the distorted web of human +existence.</p> + +<p>The war has not taught us what civilization is. But it has taught +us what it is not. We know now that it is not mechanical ingenuity or +clever inventions or commercialism carried to its utmost perfection. +Civilization is not railways or telephones or vast cities or material +prosperity. A satisfactory definition of civilization is well-nigh +impossible. The past has born a bewildering number of different types, +and it is a matter of personal taste where we place the line of +demarcation between barbarism and culture. Our Christian civilization +is passing through catastrophic changes, and it is again a matter of +opinion whether it is in its death-throes or in the pangs of a new +birth. But we feel vaguely, yet insistently, that civilization is a +state of the soul; it is the gentle life towards which we aspire. It +is based on the gradual substitution of moral and spiritual forces for +<!-- Page 183 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_183" id="Page_183">183</a></span> +simple brute force. What is the exact relation of religion to +civilization? The answer has been as variable as the purpose of the +questioners. To some religion is civilization, to others it is merely +a temporary weakness of the human mind, to which it will always be +prone from fear of the unknown and the wish to live for +ever. Comparative studies of the great religions of the world, their +past and present forms, do not support the view that civilization is +identical with religion. Religions have on many occasions ranged +themselves on the side of brute force to the suppression of gentleness +and sympathetic tolerance. It is really all a question of the meaning +which we attach to the word “religion.” Do we mean the +Church, set forms of worship and ceremonial, or do we mean the human +craving for spiritual truth with the consequent strife to reach +certainty, and, in certainty, peace of soul? There is a gulf between +the two conceptions of religion.</p> + +<p>Religion is questioned as never heretofore. The great +destructiveness is passing over the old beliefs. In the clamour for +reconstruction we must clearly distinguish between the wider religious +life and mere denominationalism.</p> + +<p>The vast host of rationalists are busy proclaiming +<!-- Page 184 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_184" id="Page_184">184</a></span> +the downfall of religion. The war serves them as material for +demonstration. The failure of Christianity to avert bloodshed, and the +horrors under which Christendom is now submerged, are naturally used +as a proof that the ethic of Christianity is lamentably feeble. The +difference between theoretical Christianity and the social practices +which the Church condones is held to be damning evidence of hypocrisy +and falsehood. The quarrels between sects and divisions, the petty +subjects which rouse the ire of the orthodox mind, the persistent +quibbling over insignificant details of faith and service, have +strained rationalistic patience to the breaking-point. The Church has +been found fiddling whilst Rome burns.</p> + +<p>Our little rationalists are right, perfectly right, when they point +to the shortcomings of the Churches. But they confuse the form with +the substance, the frailties of human nature with the irrepressible +desire to find God. They have their small idols and their conventional +forms of worship, which, if put to the great social test, would prove +as ineffective in building the City of Light as the churchgoing of the +past. Their prime deity is Science. We are on the point of developing +intelligence, they tell us; +<!-- Page 185 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_185" id="Page_185">185</a></span> +we at last see through the silly theories about God and the Universe, +which deluded the childish and the ignorant of past ages. Assisted by +the sound of guns and the sight of general misery, we must at last +realize that there is no God to interfere in the troubles of man, and +that Churches and creeds are hopeless failures. Science, we are +assured, will take the place of religion.</p> + +<p>I am a patient and sympathetic student of the propagandist +literature of rationalism. I have the greatest admiration for the +moral and social idealism which is advocated. I agree that the +atheological moral idea is superior to the mere performance of +religious ceremonial. But I cannot admire the reasoning or the +intelligence of those who use a smattering of science as evidence of +the decay of religion. There is something almost comical in the +solemnity with which they contrast the commonplaces of scientific +observation with the vast mysteries of religion, to the detriment of +the latter. “These marvellous researches of the human +eye,” writes Sir Harry Johnston in a collection of articles +entitled <i>A Generation of Religious Progress</i>, presumably +intended to portray our rationalistic progress, “so far, +<!-- Page 186 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_186" id="Page_186">186</a></span> +though they have sounded the depths of the Universe, have found no +God.” He is speaking of astronomical investigation, and he has +just emphasized the reliability of our five senses.</p> + +<p>One wonders whether he is simply echoing the well-known phrase of +Laplace, or whether he seriously believes that the non-existence of +God is proved by the inability of the human eye to see Him! Nothing +could be more unscientific—one hates using that hackneyed +expression, but there is no other—than this confidence in the +reliability of the senses. It reminds one of the young man who said he +could not believe in God because he had not seen Him. He could only +believe in things which he could see. “Do you believe you have a +brain?” some one asked. The young man did. “And have you +seen it?” was the next question.</p> + +<p>I shall be told that though the young man could +not—fortunately—see his own brain, others might by opening +his skull, and that no dissection of brains or examination of stars +has ever shown us God. This is exactly the point where our easygoing +rationalist misses the mark. Brains and stars do show God to those who +<!-- Page 187 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_187" id="Page_187">187</a></span> +have developed the faculties wherewith to perceive Him.</p> + +<p>The senses are, after all, very fallible and very variable. A +little opium, a little alcohol, a blow on the head, or some great +emotion will modify their judgment to an incredible degree. Sir Harry +Johnston may not be very representative as an exponent of scientific +conclusions about the existence of God, but he is interesting and +typical of much of the rough-and-ready opposition to formulated +religion. I quote the upshot of his admiration for the feats of the +human eye:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Religion, as the conception of a heavenly +being, or heavenly beings, hovering about the earth and concerning +themselves greatly with the affairs of man, has been abolished for all +thoughtful and educated people by the discoveries of science. Perhaps, +however, I should not say “abolished” as being too final; +I should prefer to say that such theories have been put entirely in +the background as unimportant Compared with the awful problems which +affect the welfare and progress of humanity on this planet.</p></div> + +<p>The honesty of the conviction is not marred by the fact that it is +entirely mistaken. “God is infinitely more remote now (in 1916) +from the thoughts of the educated few than he was prior to +1859,” writes Sir Harry. This statement +<!-- Page 188 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_188" id="Page_188">188</a></span> +is not true. Speculation about God, the meaning of life, the social +import of Christianity, was never more rife amongst educated +people. Here I must check myself: what does “educated” +mean? To be able to read and write, and say “Hear, hear” +at public meetings? To have a pretty idea of the positions of Huxley +and Haeckel by which to confound the poor old Bible? If by education +we mean the exposition of some special branch of the physical +sciences, the statement may be true. If we mean men and women with a +general knowledge of life and letters, with a social consciousness and +humanitarian sympathies, it is ridiculously wide of the truth. There +is everywhere a hunger for a satisfying explanation of life. There are +restlessness and impatience with dogma and creed, there is a growing +indifference to the old sectarian exclusiveness, but there is above +all a new interest in God. We need not go to Mr. Bernard Shaw or +Mr. Wells for testimony to this interest. They reflect the religious +renaissance which is the essence of the reconstruction for which men +crave. The symptoms are accessible to the observation of all. Neither +priestly intolerance nor rationalistic prejudice can suppress +them.</p> + +<div> +<!-- Page 189 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_189" id="Page_189">189</a></span> +</div> + +<p>In <i>The Bankruptcy of Religion</i>, Mr. Joseph McCabe develops +the case against religion with the skill of a trained +controversialist. Like the converted sinner in the ranks of the +Salvation Army, Mr. McCabe carries special weight to the lines of +rationalists and ethicists. For he was once a priest and lived in a +monastery, and he left the priesthood and the monastery convinced of +the worthlessness of both. He is, therefore, <i>persona gratissima</i> +at the High Court of Reason. “The era of religious influence +closes in bankruptcy,” he informs us. He has no patience with +attempts at religious reconstruction; he asks us to shake ourselves +free of the vanishing dream of heaven and to leave the barren tracts +of religion. He exhorts us to abandon the “last illusions of the +childhood of the race”:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Linger no longer in the +“reconstruction” of fables which once beguiled the Arabs +of the desert and the Syrian slaves of Corinth, but set your hearts +and minds to the making of a new earth! Sweep these ancient legends +out of your schools and colleges, your army and navy, your code of +law, your legislative houses, and substitute for them a spirit of +progress, efficiency, boldness, and candour!</p></div> + +<p>Fine words, brave words, honest words, but hollow +within. Mr. McCabe is no psychologist. +<!-- Page 190 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_190" id="Page_190">190</a></span> +The fables and legends of old times may be abandoned, the desire for +the realities round which fable and legend grow remains and cannot be +extirpated by a rationalistic operation. Supernaturalism—in the +widest sense—is ineradicable. Religion will not be suspended by +the discovery that it is possible to formulate excellent theories of +social equity without the assistance of priests. The hunger of the +human heart for knowledge of God persists though all the old religious +systems may prove illusions.</p> + +<p>Our little rationalists imagine that they are hitting the +foundations of religion when they successfully assail the crumbling +walls of dogmas. Religious life escapes their fire. Faith and hope +rise above disillusionment. Love knows instinctively that it is not +made of dust. Through the darkness and the wilderness it calls to +God, and lo! God responds with light and guidance which outlast +earthquakes and massacres. Reject every creed that has been offered as +an explanation of the mysteries of life, forsake all the humiliating, +joy-killing penances for sin, and God will reveal Himself in the +beauty of Nature. He will speak through the impulses of creative art, +through music and poetry and painting. He will +<!-- Page 191 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_191" id="Page_191">191</a></span> +attract our thought through philosophy and our emotion through the +impetus to improve the social order. And science—the greater +science, which rejects dogmatism and lies of self-sufficiency as it +rejects the crudities of the Creed—takes us by circuitous paths +to new temples for the worship of God.</p> + +<p>The tenet that science and religion are incompatible and +antagonistic, so dear to the hearts of the scientists in the middle of +the nineteenth century, and still repeated with mechanical certainty +in every secularist mission-hall, is likely to undergo a complete +revision in the near future. The antagonism between dogmatic religion +and materialistic science will never be removed. But the signs are +apparent everywhere that religion is shedding its adherence to outer +forms and entering into the freedom of the living spirit, whilst +science is turning to problems which used to lie within the domain of +unexplored religion. Religion will become scientific and science will +become religious. The principles laid down by Darwin and Huxley have +lost their power of stifling religious aspiration; the startling +pronouncements in defiant materialism of Büchner and Haeckel now +startle none but the ignorant. The +<!-- Page 192 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_192" id="Page_192">192</a></span> +anxiety to exclude scientific facts disappears with the realization +that all truth, all knowledge, all reason, are subservient to the +search for God. The struggle between the wish to believe and the +temptation to think caused real distress of mind to many thinkers of +the nineteenth century. The choice seemed to lie between atheism and +blind submission to authority. “Let us humbly take anything the +Bible says without trying to understand it, and not torment ourselves +with arguments,” said Charles Kingsley. “One word of +Scripture is more than a hundred words of man's explaining.” The +modern mind does not dread the meeting of science and religion. It +does not labour to reconcile them. It is conscious of their ultimate +identity and their present insufficiency. Hence a new tolerance which +is mistaken for indifference by the zealots on both sides. Hence the +absence of actuality in the fierce denunciations of Bradlaugh and +Holyoake and Ingersoll. They did valiant battle against religious +formalism of the past; they were champions of reason and science at a +time when religionists fought to exclude both.</p> + +<p>It is not science which is undermining the future of institutional +religion. There is a new +<!-- Page 193 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_193" id="Page_193">193</a></span> +enemy, more subtle and more powerful. It is the growing consciousness +of an intolerable inconsistency between religious theory and +practice. The war thus becomes a stumbling-block to faithfulness to +conventional Christianity, and the glee of the rationalist is +pardonable. I again quote Mr. McCabe:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>What did the clergy do to prevent the +conflict? In which country did they denounce the preparations for the +conflict, or the incentives of the conflict? What have they done since +it began to confine the conflict within civilized limits? Have they +had, or used, a particle of moral influence throughout the whole +bloody business? And, if not, is it not time we found other guardians +and promoters of high conduct?</p></div> + +<p>Apart from the fact that the Pope and some lesser religious leaders +have denounced and deplored the conflict, and that a comprehensive +answer to Mr. McCabe's question would somewhat modify the implied +moral impotence of the clergy, we might ask the same questions of the +leaders of secularist morality. What have they done to prevent the +conflict? Why have their intellectual giants failed to impress upon +mankind the folly of war? They have had freedom of speech and action, +they have +<!-- Page 194 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_194" id="Page_194">194</a></span> +wielded incisive criticism and strength of invective. They have had +many decades in which to put into practice the theory of the greatest +happiness of the greatest number. But the problem of the persistence +of war has somehow escaped atheists and rationalists, just as it has +eluded theologians and revivalists.</p> + +<p>We may admit that the clergy are more blameworthy than the orators +of rationalism. If the teachings of Jesus Christ are to be applied to +the art of war, then the art of war is doomed to extinction. If the +Church be an international society, based on mutual love and peace, +then the perpetration of war on members of the Church is clearly +wrong. If the ideals of the Christian life be charity, gentleness, +forgiveness, non-resistance to evil, then all war is a violation of +the faith. The question is not unimportant. It is not a subject which +you can toy with, or put aside as having no immediate bearing on life +and duty. If the literal application of the teaching of Christ to +social and political life be impossible, then the rationalists are +right when they urge us to drop a religion which we profess on Sunday +and repudiate on Monday. If the fault lies not in the teaching itself +but in the feebleness of the Church, then the Church +<!-- Page 195 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_195" id="Page_195">195</a></span> +must clearly be counted a failure. If the cause of the discrepancy is +to be found merely in the slowness and obstinacy of the human soul in +following the path of righteousness, the practical realization of the +Christian ideal will be but a question of time and effort.</p> + +<p>The attitude of Christianity towards war may at best be described +as a chapter of inconsistencies. “Can it be lawful to handle the +sword,” asked Tertullian, “when the Lord Himself has +declared that he who uses the sword shall perish by it?” By +disarming Peter, he stated, the Lord “disarmed every soldier +from that time forward.” To Origen, Christians were children of +peace who, for the sake of Jesus, shunned the temptations of war, and +whose only weapon was prayer. The difficulty of reconciling the +profession of Christianity with the practice of war constantly +exercised the minds of the early Christians. St. Basil advocated a +compromise in the form of temporary exclusion from the sacrament after +military service. St. Augustine came to the conclusion that the +qualities of a good Christian and a good warrior were not +incompatible. Gradually the dilemma ceased to trouble the minds of +Christians as the needs of the State and citizenship of this +<!-- Page 196 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_196" id="Page_196">196</a></span> +world were recognized. After some centuries the Church not only +approved of war, but herself became one of the most powerful +instigators to military conquest. The Crusades and the ceaseless wars +of religious intolerance became “holy” as the spiritual +objection to bloodshed receded before the triumphant demands of +primitive passions.</p> + +<p>Now, as heretofore, we have episcopal reminders of the blessings of +war. “May it not be,” wrote the Bishop of London soon +after the outbreak of the war in 1914, “that this cup of +hardship which we drink together will turn out to be the very draught +which we need? Has there not crept a softness over the nation, a +passion for amusement, a love of luxury among the rich, and of mere +physical comfort among the middle class?”</p> + +<p>He leaves the questions unanswered, and incidentally omits to dwell +on the shortcomings of the poor in the direction of softness and +luxury. He continues:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>Not such was the nation which made the +Empire, which crushed the Armada, which braved hardships of old, and +drove English hearts of oak seaward round the world. We believe the +old spirit is here just the same, but it needed a purifying, cleansing +<!-- Page 197 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_197" id="Page_197">197</a></span> +draught to bring it back to its old strength and purity again, and for +that second reason the cup which our Father has given us, shall we not +drink it?</p></div> + +<p>Much has been said in justification of this view of war from the +biological point of view. Prussian militarists are experts in the +exposition of similar theories. But from the Christian point of view +the complacency with which the world-tragedy is put down as a +“purifying, cleansing draught” is somewhat +disconcerting. Dean Inge, writing in the <i>Quest</i> in the autumn of +1914, shows himself to be a disciple of the same school:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>We see the fruits of secularism or +materialism in social disintegration, in the voluntary sterility and +timorous acquisitiveness of the prosperous, and in the recklessness +and bitterness of the lower strata. A godless civilization is a +disease of which nations die by inches. I hope that this visitation +has come just in time to save us. Experience is a good school, but its +fees are terribly high!</p></div> + +<p>Were we, then, really so bad that “this visitation” was +needed to save us from voluntary sterility (by imposing compulsory?) +and the other delinquencies enumerated by the Dean? The nature of the +punishment hardly fits the crime. Moreover, such a conception of war +as +<!-- Page 198 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_198" id="Page_198">198</a></span> a +wholesome corrective is practically indistinguishable from the +panegyrics of the extreme militarists whom we are out utterly to +destroy. “God will see to it,” wrote Treitschke, +“that war always recurs as a drastic medicine for the human +race.” “War,” wrote General von Bernhardi, “is +a biological necessity of the first importance, a regulative element +in the life of mankind which cannot be dispensed with, since without +it an unhealthy development will follow which excludes every +advancement of the race, and, therefore, all real civilization.” +“A perpetual peace,” said Field-Marshal von Moltke, +“is a dream, and not even a beautiful dream. War is one of the +elements of order in the world established by God. The noblest virtues +of men are developed therein. Without war the world would degenerate +and disappear in a morass of materialism.” Many perplexed souls +have turned to the Church for guidance during this time of destruction +and sorrow, and the directions given have often increased the +perplexity. The Bishop of Carlisle expressed the opinion that if we +were really Christians the war would not have happened. Archdeacon +Wilberforce and Father Bernard Vaughan stated that killing Germans was +doing service +<!-- Page 199 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_199" id="Page_199">199</a></span> +to God. Many who have suffered at the hands of the Germans will be +inclined to agree, but the trouble from the point of view of the +Christian ethic is not removed by such a simple solution. We cannot +but suspect that German prelates have been found who have seen in the +killing of women and children by air-raids on London a service to the +German God. Dr. Forsyth, in <i>The Christian Ethic of War</i>, tells +us that “war is not essentially killing, and killing is here no +murder. And no recusancy to bear arms can here justify itself on the +plea that Christianity forbids all bloodshed or even violence.” +He reminds us that Christ used a scourge of small cords, and that he +called the Pharisees “you vipers,” and Herod “you +fox.” “If the Christian man live in society,” he +tells us, “it is quite impossible for him to live upon the +<i>precepts</i> of the Sermon on the Mount. But also it is not +possible at a half-developed stage to live in actual relations of life +and duty on its <i>principle</i> except as an <i>ideal</i>.” The +Roman form of internationalism he regards “as not only useless +to humanity (which the present attitude of the Pope to the war shows) +but as mischievous to it.”</p> + +<p>It is strange that whilst the war has caused +<!-- Page 200 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_200" id="Page_200">200</a></span> +a number of ordained representatives of the Christian Church to +declare that practical Christianity is an impossibility and the Sermon +on the Mount a beautiful but ineffective ideal, it has brought +agnostics and heathen to a conviction that socialized Christianity is +the sovereign remedy for the national and international disease. They +have reached the conclusion that the ethic of the Sermon on the Mount +is the revolutionary leaven for which the world is waiting. In his +preface on <i>The Prospects of Christianity</i>, Mr. Bernard Shaw +tells us that he is “as sceptical and scientific and modern a +thinker as you will find anywhere.” This assurance is intended +to help us to regain breath after the preceding pronouncement:</p> + +<div class="blockquote"><p>I am no more a Christian than Pilate was, or +you, gentle reader; and yet, like Pilate, I greatly prefer Jesus to +Annas and Caiaphas; and I am ready to admit that after contemplating +the world and human nature for nearly sixty years, I see no way out of +the world's misery but the way which would have been found by Christ's +will if He had undertaken the work of a modern practical +statesman.</p></div> + +<p>This is one of the outstanding mental phenomena of the war: +sceptics and thinkers have +<!-- Page 201 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_201" id="Page_201">201</a></span> +begun to examine Christianity as a practical way of social +salvation. There is a tendency to re-examine the gospel, not with +intent to lay stress on historical weakness or points of similarity +with other religions, but with the poignant interest which men lost in +the desert display towards possible sources of water. It may appear as +a coldly intellectual interest in some who are wont to deal with the +tragedies of life as mildly amusing scenes in a drama of endless +fatuity. But the coldness is a little assumed. There are others who do +not attempt to disguise that their whole emotional life is stirred to +passionate protest and inquiry, who, though Christians by profession +and duly appointed ministers of God, call for a recommendation of +Christianity and the establishment of a social order based on the +principles of life laid down by Jesus Christ. In <i>The Outlook for +Religion</i>, Dr. W. E. Orchard condemns the way of war as the +complete antithesis of the way of the Cross. “How can people be +so blind?” he cries. “Has all the ethical awakening of the +past century been of so little depth that this bloody slaughter, this +hellish torture, this treacherous game of war can still secure ethical +approval?” +<!-- Page 202 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_202" id="Page_202">202</a></span></p> + +<p>Perhaps the great majority of the clergy deserve the indictment of +rationalists. Mr. McCabe can prove his case by citing the exceptions. +After all, the accusation is neither new nor original. Voltaire set +the tune. “Miserable physicians of souls,” he exclaimed, +“you declaim for five quarters of an hour against the mere +pricks of a pin, and say no word on the curse which tears us into a +thousand pieces.”</p> + +<p>Voltaire's powers of satire were roused by the spectacle of the +different factions of Christians praying to the same God to bless +their arms. The element of comicality in this aspect of war is greatly +outweighed by that of pathos. Those who earnestly pray to God to lead +them to victory must at any rate be firmly convinced that their cause +is one of which God can approve. No believer would dare to invoke the +blessing of God upon a cause which his conscience tells him is a mean +and sordid enterprise. Voltaire's quarrel was really with the faith in +war as a means of determining the intentions of the Divine +Will. Success in war has been held, and is held, by Christians to be a +sign of the favour of the Almighty. Bacon expounded this view to the +satisfaction of coming generations when he referred to wars as +“the highest trials of +<!-- Page 203 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_203" id="Page_203">203</a></span> +right” when princes and States “shall put themselves on +the justice of God for the deciding of their controversies, by such +success as it shall please Him to give on either side.” The +Germans have nauseated the world by their incessant proclamations that +they are the favoured and chosen of God. The good old German God has +vied with Jehovah of the Israelites in stimulating and sustaining the +will to war.</p> + +<p>Those atheists to whom all war is an abomination and entirely +irreconcilable with the highest human attributes have found complete +unanimity in their repudiation of the idea of a presiding God of +Battles in the dissenting objections to war expressed by Quakers, +Christadelphians, Plymouth Brethren, and other sects of Christianity. +There can be no doubt that the faith in war, and in the Divine +guidance of war, is receding. The new conception of God, for which +humanity is struggling, will be one entirely different from the +jealous and cruel Master of Bloodshed to whom man has paid homage in +the dark ages of the past. The truth is that the spiritual objection +to war, the realization of its antisocial and inhuman qualities, is +becoming a religious purpose which unites +<!-- Page 204 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_204" id="Page_204">204</a></span> +Christians and non-Christians, atheists and agnostics, and which +carries with it at once a mordant condemnation of the interpretations +of the past, and an irrepressible demand for a future free from the +old menace and the old mistakes. All sane men and women want to +abolish war. General Smuts believes that a passion for peace has been +born which will prove stronger than all the passion for war which has +overwhelmed us in the past. President Wilson seeks a peace identical +with the freedom of life in which every people will be left free to +determine its own polity and its own way of development, +“unhindered, unthreatened, unafraid, the little along with the +great and powerful.” Statesmen see the ultimate hope for a free +humanity in a change of heart. Mr. Asquith outlines the slow and +gradual process by which a real European partnership, based on the +recognition of equal right and established and enforced by a common +will, will be substituted for force, for the clash of competing +ambition, for groupings and alliances, and a precarious +equipoise. Mr. Lloyd George insists that there must be “no next +time.” Viscount Grey warns us that if the world cannot organize +against war, if war must go on, +<!-- Page 205 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_205" id="Page_205">205</a></span> +“then nations can protect themselves henceforth only by using +whatever destructive agencies they can invent, till the resources and +inventions of science end by destroying the humanity they were meant +to serve.” Leagues of nations are proposed, organization for +peace on a scale commensurate with the past organization for war is +recognized as the principal task of international co-operation.</p> + +<p>This new revolt against war is inseparable from the religious +revival of the time. The word “revival” conjures up +memories of less strenuous times, when men were concerned with smaller +problems, and uninspired by the bitter experience of the +present—Spurgeon thundering in his Tabernacle, Salvation Army +meetings, small gatherings in wayside villages, at which howling +sinners were converted and revivalists counted their game by the +dozen. The present revival is something for which the past provides no +analogy. It is not concerned so much with individual salvation as with +the salvation of the race and the world. The petty sins and +shortcomings which brought men to the confessional and to the stool of +repentance lose importance when compared with the awful omissions +which we now recognize as the cause of the calamities +<!-- Page 206 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_206" id="Page_206">206</a></span> +which have befallen us. It is not only the existence of war that is +rousing the conscience. War is seen to be but a symptom, a horrible +outbreak of malignant forces, which we have nurtured and harboured in +times of peace. These forces permeate the very structure of society. A +new and fierce light beats on our slums, our industrialism, on the old +divisions of class and quality, on the standards of comfort and +success. Poverty, sickness, and child mortality—the whole +hideous war of Mammon through which millions of our fellow-creatures +are condemned to the perpetual service of Want—can no longer +conveniently be left outside the operations of our religious +consciousness.</p> + +<p>One thing is certain: we can no longer be satisfied with a religion +which pays lip-service to God, and offers propitiating incense to His +wrath, whilst it ignores the misery and the suffering of those who +have no reason to offer thanksgiving. Religious profession and +religious action will have to be unified. The sense of social +responsibility is slowly but surely taking the place of the anxiety to +assure one's own salvation. Some churches are empty, dead; they have +no message for the people, no vision wherewith to inspire the young. +<!-- Page 207 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_207" id="Page_207">207</a></span> +They might with advantage close, and their clergy be employed upon +some useful national service. Ritual and incantations are doubtless +useful aids to religious worship and the necessary quietude of mind, +but they are losing their hold over souls to whom religious life has +become a matter of social service. These are of the order spoken of by +Ernest Crosby:</p> + +<div class="blockwide"> +<div class="poem"> +<div class="stanza"> +<span class="i0">None could tell me where my soul might be.</span> +<span class="i0">I searched for God, but God eluded me.</span> +<span class="i0">I sought my brother out—and found all three.</span> +</div> +</div> +</div> + +<p>The number of “unbelievers” is growing. There are +certain doctrines which we cannot believe because they violate our +reason, or our sense of justice and fair play. Centuries ago it may +have been possible to believe them: that is no concern of ours. To +each age its own mind and its own enlightenment. What is more +disquieting to the rulers of orthodoxy is that we do not care, that we +cannot believe in certain doctrines. Doctrines are at a discount just +now. The Church may quarrel over Kikuyu, or the Apostolic Succession, +or the Virgin Birth, or marvel at the new possibility of a canon of +the Church of England preaching a sermon in the City Temple. We feel +that +<!-- Page 208 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_208" id="Page_208">208</a></span> +it is infinitely more important that a few experiments in practical +Christianity should be imposed on the world. Religion in the past has +been conceived as essentially a matter of suppressing the intellect, +submitting to oppression and injustice, learning to bear patiently the +inflictions of Providence. Religion in the future will demand all the +attention which our feeble intellect can offer it, and the conscious +and willing co-operation of mankind in the realization of God's plans +for a regenerated world.</p> + +<p>Whilst the Churches addicted to ritualism and literalism decline, +the Brotherhood movement gains in force and influence. Men meet to +give united expression to their religious impulses. They meet for +prayer and worship, but never without immediate bearing on some great +social question or object. Opinions are freely expressed. Heterodoxy +in details of faith is rampant, and is no obstacle to Christian +fellowship. To the Sunday afternoon and evening gatherings of the +Brotherhood flock the many to whom the Bible is still a source of +spiritual food, and who demand a plain and practical interpretation of +its teachings. An impromptu prayer, in which the keynote is the loving +fatherhood of God, and its bearing on the brotherhood +<!-- Page 209 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_209" id="Page_209">209</a></span> +of man, precedes a homely address or sermon, closely packed with +allusions to social and political questions. Or the address is +entirely secular; a downright unbeliever has been invited to give the +audience the benefit of his knowledge or experience, in connection +with some great movement for the betterment of the world. There is a +disinclination to criticize anybody's religious views, provided he +shows by his acts and life that he is part of the new Ministry of +Humanity. Here we have the pivot of the change which is overtaking the +forms of religious expression.</p> + +<p>Men are no longer content to regard this world as a hopeless place +of squalor and sin, as intrinsically and incurably wicked, as an abode +which cannot be mended and which must, therefore, be despised and +forsaken in spirit, even before the time when it has to be forsaken in +body. The possible flawlessness of an other-worldly state no longer +compensates for the glaring faults of this. This is no sign of the +weakening of the spiritual hold on reality. It is a sign of the +spiritualization of the values of life. It is a sign that we begin to +understand that we <i>are</i> spirits here, now, and everywhere, that +we see that time in this world and the +<!-- Page 210 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_210" id="Page_210">210</a></span> +way we employ it have a profound bearing on eternity. There is no +reason, in the name of God or man, why we should be content to let +this world remain a place of torment and foolishness, if we have +reached a point when we can see the better way. There is a certain +type of religious mind which dreads the idea of social reconstruction, +on the assumption that we shall not long for heaven if conditions here +below are made less hellish.</p> + +<p>There is also a type of churchman whose finer sensibilities are +sorely tried by the secular occupations of nonconformity in +general. If once or twice in their lives they should stray amongst +Congregationalists, Baptists, or Methodists, they come away disgusted +at the brutal directness with which social evils are exposed in the +light of the word of the Lord. They complain of the general lack of +finesse and Latin; the licence of the pulpit has usurped the reverence +of the altar. It is perfectly true that statements are sometimes made +in nonconformist pulpits which are bald and offensive to the ear of +scholarly accomplishment. But the complaint of secularization is +singularly inept. Nothing could be more secular in the way of +complacent acceptance of the worldly +<!-- Page 211 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_211" id="Page_211">211</a></span> +reasons for leaving awkward questions alone than the attitude of this +type of critic.</p> + +<p>The future life of Christianity is safely vested in the <i>free</i> +Churches. The freedom will be progressive, and may possibly embrace a +vista of unfettered interpretation and application of Christian +knowledge which will be as remote from the dogmatism of to-day as is +our present attitude from the intolerance which kindled the +Inquisition and made possible the night of St. Bartholomew. Religious +intolerance has already lost three-fourths of its hold on +faith. Catholic will now slaughter Catholic without the stimulus to +hostility afforded by heretical opinions. Protestants are not +restrained from injuring each other by the common bond of detestation +of the adherents to papacy. The decline of intolerance is a direct +consequence of the externalization of the religious life. Rationalists +constantly mistake this process for the degeneration of religion. They +fail to see the simple fact that men can afford to dispense with the +paraphernalia of elaborate and artificial aids to the worship of God +when they feel His presence within their own souls and unmistakably +hear His call to action.</p> + +<p>Some will see in the decay of intolerance an +<!-- Page 212 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_212" id="Page_212">212</a></span> +indication of the general evaporation of Christian articles of faith, +and the possible loss of identity in some new form of religion. There +is no danger. No religion can live in opposition to the evolution of +the human spirit. It must be sufficiently deep to meet the most +exacting need of individual religious experience, and it must be +sufficiently broad and elastic to correspond to the ever-changing +phenomena of social evolution. Christianity has this depth and this +breadth. Two parallel lines of its development are clearly discernible +at the present time. One is the transubstantiation of faith in social +service; the other is a demand for individualized experience of +spiritual realities. It is becoming more and more difficult to believe +a thing simply because you are told you ought to believe it, or +because your father and grandfather believed it. Authority in matters +religious is being superseded by exploration. He who feels with +Swinburne that</p> + +<div class="blockquote center">Save his own soul he has no star,</div> + +<p style="text-indent: 0em">and he for whom space is peopled with +living souls mounting the ladder to the throne of God, share the +desire to experience the truth. Mysticism is passing through strange +phases +<!-- Page 213 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_213" id="Page_213">213</a></span> +of resurrection. Its modern garb is made up of all the hues of the +past, and, in addition, contains some up-to-date threads of severely +utilitarian composition. The number of those who claim direct +experience of spiritual verity as against mere hearsay is greater than +ever. The discovery of the soul is attracting students of every +description. The powers of suggestion, and the creative possibilities +of the subconscious mind, have opened up new fields of religious +experiment and adventure. The art of controlling the mind, so as to +make it immune against the depredations<!--Typo: depradations--> of +evil thought, or fear, or worry, is pursued by crowds of amateur +psychologists who delight in the happy results. They are learning to +live in tune with the infinite or cultivating optimism with complete +success. To the objection that they live in an artificial paradise +they reply that thought is the essence of things, and that they are +but carrying into practice the oft-repeated belief that we <i>are</i> +such stuff as dreams are made of.</p> + +<p>“Religion,” says Professor William James in <i>The +Varieties of Religious Experience</i>, “in short, is a +monumental chapter in the history of human egoism. The Gods believed +in—whether by +<!-- Page 214 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_214" id="Page_214">214</a></span> +crude savages or by men disciplined intellectually—agree with +each other in recognizing a personal call.” How could it be +otherwise? The solitariness of each human soul is the first fact in +religious consciousness. Altruism and communion with other souls are +perforce attained through concern with the state of the ego. The +spiritual egoism which demands pure thought, peace wherein to gather +impressions of goodness, beauty, and truth, time for the analysis of +psychic law, direct knowledge which is proof against the disease of +doubt, is, after all, the most valuable contribution which the +individual can make to society. The people who are now greatly +concerned with the exact temperature of their own minds are, at any +rate, to be congratulated on having made the discovery, which is +centuries overdue, that hygiene of the soul is more important than +hygiene of the body.</p> + +<p>Placid contentment with the religious systems of the past is +greatly disturbed by this assertiveness. There is a demand for a new +message, couched in terms suited to the mental level of the twentieth +century. A message delivered two thousand years ago to a small +pastoral people, altogether innocent of the complicated +<!-- Page 215 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_215" id="Page_215">215</a></span> +economic, and industrial conditions of our times, must necessarily +appear incomplete to minds which can only reproduce the simplicity by +an effort of the imagination. Jesus, they maintain, was a Jew who +spoke to Jews, and who had to deal with simple fishermen and +agriculturists, with Eastern merchants and narrow-minded scribes. He +never met great financiers to whose chariots of gold whole populations +are chained, or great masters of industry who profitably run a +thousand mills where human flesh and bone are ground in the production +of wealth. He knew naught, they feel, of the history of philosophy, or +the psychology of religion, or the researches of physiology and +chemistry. His language, coming to us as it does through the medium of +interpreters of a bygone age, and through the simple symbols of less +sophisticated minds, has poetic beauty, but lacks our modern +comprehensiveness.</p> + +<p>There is a feeling that it is unreasonable to believe that God +spoke once or twice, thousands of years ago, and that He cannot or +will not speak now. Revelation cannot have been final; it must surely +be progressive, gradual, fitted to the needs and the receptivity of +souls. The written word is not the only word. The living +<!-- Page 216 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_216" id="Page_216">216</a></span> +word must be spoken now, and will be spoken with greater effectiveness +in the future. Hence the expectation that a new world-teacher will +appear, that a master will be born who will gather up the truth and +the inspiration of the creeds of the past and present them, together +with a new message, suited to the hunger of to-day. Theosophists have +lately made the idea of the coming of such a teacher the central hope +of social regeneration.</p> + +<p>They assume that when the teacher comes all the world will listen +and obey. It seems to me that teacher after teacher has uttered the +truth—Hermes, Zoroaster, Buddha, Confucius, Orpheus, +Jesus—and that the trouble is not lack of teachers but lack of +disciples. In the teachings of Jesus Christ, the world has a model +wherewith to mould the old order of hate and selfishness into a new +rule of love and brotherhood. The model has never been used; no +serious and far-reaching attempt has as yet been made to give +Christianity a politico-social trial. Why should a new world-teacher +be more successful? What guarantee is there that his voice would not +be drowned in the general clamour of the truth-mongers of the +marketplace? And the tendency of the modern religious +<!-- Page 217 --> +<span class='pagenum'><a name="Page_217" id="Page_217">217</a></span> +consciousness is to seek reality personally, to develop the latent +faculties by which experience can be won, and to delve fearlessly into +the hidden depth of the soul in search of truth.</p> + +<p>The great religions of the past have given the bread of life to +countless souls. They have all provided ways and means for our ethical +evolution. Religious eclecticism is natural to the cultured mind, +which can no longer be held back by any threats of +excommunication. The essence of religion, and the way of salvation, +have been found along widely divergent paths and under many names. One +thing is certain amidst innumerable uncertainties: the secret of +finding God can only be unravelled when we find our own souls.</p> + +<div class="vskip"></div> + +<div class="center" style="font-size: 80%; margin-bottom: 2em"> +<i>Printed in Great Britain by</i><br /><br /> +UNWIN BROTHERS, LIMITED, WOKING AND LONDON. +</div> + +<hr /> + +<!--ADVERTISEMENTS--> +<div class="adverts"> + +<div class="advert"> +<h2>Problems of the Peace</h2> + +<div class="author">By WILLIAM HARBUTT DAWSON<br /></div> + +<div class="comment"> +Author of “The Evolution of Modern Germany” +</div> + +<div class="right"> +<span class="flush"><i>Demy 8vo.</i></span> +<i>7s. 6d. net.</i> +</div> + +<p>The author discusses in fourteen chapters, among other questions, +the Territorial Adjustments which seem necessary to the permanent +peace of Europe, the problem of German Autocracy and Militarism, and +the proposals of Retaliation; and makes, in the spirit of an optimist +tempered by experience, practical suggestions for the future +organization of peace. 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