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diff --git a/old/62680-0.txt b/old/62680-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index f8f42e3..0000000 --- a/old/62680-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,2196 +0,0 @@ -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SUPERSTITION OF DIVORCE -*** - - - - - THE SUPERSTITION OF DIVORCE - - BY THE SAME AUTHOR - - - IRISH IMPRESSIONS - HERETICS - ORTHODOXY - THE CRIMES OF ENGLAND - A SHORT HISTORY OF ENGLAND - ALL THINGS CONSIDERED - GEORGE BERNARD SHAW - MAN ALIVE - THE FLYING INN - THE BALL AND THE CROSS - THE INNOCENCE OF FATHER BROWN - THE WISDOM OF FATHER BROWN - THE NAPOLEON OF NOTTING HILL - - - POEMS - - THE BALLAD OF THE WHITE HORSE - - - - - THE SUPERSTITION - OF DIVORCE - - BY - - G. K. CHESTERTON - - AUTHOR OF - “HERETICS,” “ORTHODOXY,” “IRISH IMPRESSIONS,” ETC. - - - NEW YORK - JOHN LANE COMPANY - MCMXX - - - - - Copyright, 1920, - BY JOHN LANE COMPANY - - - Press of - J. J. Little & Ives Company - New York, U. S. A. - - - - -_Introductory Note_ - - -The earlier part of this book appeared in the form of five articles -which came out in the “New Witness” at the crisis of the recent -controversy in the Press on the subject of divorce. Crude and sketchy as -they confessedly were, they had a certain rude plan of their own, which -I find it very difficult to recast even in order to expand. I have -therefore decided to reprint the original articles as they stood, save -for a few introductory words; and then, at the risk of repetition, to -add a few further chapters, explaining more fully any conceptions that -may seem to have been too crudely assumed or dismissed. I have set forth -the original matter as it appeared, under a general heading, without -dividing it into chapters. - - G. K. C. - - - - -CONTENTS - - - PAGE - -THE SUPERSTITION OF DIVORCE 11 - -THE STORY OF THE FAMILY 61 - -THE STORY OF THE VOW 83 - -THE TRAGEDIES OF MARRIAGE 105 - -THE VISTA OF DIVORCE 127 - -CONCLUSION 147 - - - - -THE SUPERSTITION OF DIVORCE - - - - -_I.--The Superstition of Divorce_ - - -It is futile to talk of reform without reference to form. To take a -case from my own taste and fancy, there is nothing I feel to be so -beautiful and wonderful as a window. All casements are magic casements, -whether they open on the foam or the front-garden; they lie close to -the ultimate mystery and paradox of limitation and liberty. But if I -followed my instinct towards an infinite number of windows, it would -end in having no walls. It would also (it may be added incidentally) -end in having no windows either; for a window makes a picture by making -a picture-frame. But there is a simpler way of stating my more simple -and fatal error. It is that I have wanted a window, without considering -whether I wanted a house. Now many appeals are being made to us to-day -on behalf of that light and liberty that might well be symbolised by -windows; especially as so many of them concern the enlightenment and -liberation of the house, in the sense of the home. Many quite -disinterested people urge many quite reasonable considerations in the -case of divorce, as a type of domestic liberation; but in the -journalistic and general discussion of the matter there is far too much -of the mind that works backwards and at random, in the manner of all -windows and no walls. Such people say they want divorce, without asking -themselves whether they want marriage. Even in order to be divorced it -has generally been found necessary to go through the preliminary -formality of being married; and unless the nature of this initial act -be considered, we might as well be discussing haircutting for the bald -or spectacles for the blind. To be divorced is to be in the literal -sense unmarried; and there is no sense in a thing being undone when we -do not know if it is done. - -There is perhaps no worse advice, nine times out of ten, than the advice -to do the work that’s nearest. It is especially bad when it means, as -it generally does, removing the obstacle that’s nearest. It means that -men are not to behave like men but like mice; who nibble at the thing -that’s nearest. The man, like the mouse, undermines what he cannot -understand. Because he himself bumps into a thing, he calls it the -nearest obstacle; though the obstacle may happen to be the pillar that -holds up the whole roof over his head. He industriously removes the -obstacle; and in return the obstacle removes him, and much more valuable -things than he. This opportunism is perhaps the most unpractical thing -in this highly unpractical world. People talk vaguely against -destructive criticism; but what is the matter with this criticism is not -that it destroys, but that it does not criticise. It is destruction -without design. It is taking a complex machine to pieces bit by bit, in -any order, without even knowing what the machine is for. And if a man -deals with a deadly dynamic machine on the principle of touching the -knob that’s nearest, he will find out the defects of that cheery -philosophy. Now leaving many sincere and serious critics of modern -marriage on one side for the moment, great masses of modern men and -women, who write and talk about marriage, are thus nibbling blindly at -it like an army of mice. When the reformers propose, for instance, that -divorce should be obtainable after an absence of three years (the -absence actually taken for granted in the first military arrangements of -the late European War) their readers and supporters could seldom give -any sort of logical reason for the period being three years, and not -three months or three minutes. They are like people who should say “Give -me three feet of dog”; and not care where the cut came. Such persons -fail to see a dog as an organic entity; in other words, they cannot make -head or tail of it. And the chief thing to say about such reformers of -marriage is that they cannot make head or tail of it. They do not know -what it is, or what it is meant to be, or what its supporters suppose it -to be; they never look at it, even when they are inside it. They do the -work that’s nearest; which is poking holes in the bottom of a boat under -the impression that they are digging in a garden. This question of what -a thing is, and whether it is a garden or a boat, appears to them -abstract and academic. They have no notion of how large is the idea they -attack; or how relatively small appear the holes that they pick in it. - -Thus, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, an intelligent man in other matters, says -that there is only a “theological” opposition to divorce, and that it is -entirely founded on “certain texts” in the Bible about marriages. This -is exactly as if he said that a belief in the brotherhood of men was -only founded on certain texts in the Bible, about all men being the -children of Adam and Eve. Millions of peasants and plain people all over -the world assume marriage to be static, without having ever clapped eyes -on any text. Numbers of more modern people, especially after the recent -experiments in America, think divorce is a social disease, without -having ever bothered about any text. It may be maintained that even in -these, or in any one, the idea of marriage is ultimately mystical; and -the same may be maintained about the idea of brotherhood. It is obvious -that a husband and wife are not visibly one flesh, in the sense of -being one quadruped. It is equally obvious that Paderewski and Jack -Johnson are not twins, and probably have not played together at their -mother’s knee. There is indeed a very important admission, or addition, -to be realised here. What is true is this: that if the nonsense of -Nietzsche or some such sophist submerged current culture, so that it was -the fashion to deny the duties of fraternity; then indeed it might be -found that the group which still affirmed fraternity was the original -group in whose sacred books was the text about Adam and Eve. Suppose -some Prussian professor has opportunely discovered that Germans and -lesser men are respectively descended from two such very different -monkeys that they are in no sense brothers, but barely cousins (German) -any number of times removed. And suppose he proceeds to remove them even -further with a hatchet; suppose he bases on this a repetition of the -conduct of Cain, saying not so much “Am I my brother’s keeper?” as “Is -he really my brother?” And suppose this higher philosophy of the -hatchet becomes prevalent in colleges and cultivated circles, as even -more foolish philosophies have done. Then I agree it probably will be -the Christian, the man who preserves the text about Cain, who will -continue to assert that he is still the professor’s brother; that he is -still the professor’s keeper. He may possibly add that, in his opinion, -the professor seems to require a keeper. - -And that is doubtless the situation in the controversies about divorce -and marriage to-day. It is the Christian church which continues to hold -strongly, when the world for some reason has weakened on it, what many -others hold at other times. But even then it is barely picking up the -shreds and scraps of the subject to talk about a reliance on texts. The -vital point in the comparison is this: that human brotherhood means a -whole view of life, held in the light of life, and defended, rightly or -wrongly, by constant appeals to every aspect of life. The religion that -holds it most strongly will hold it when nobody else holds it; that is -quite true, and that some of us may be so perverse as to think a point -in favour of the religion. But anybody who holds it at all will hold it -as a philosophy, not hung on one text but on a hundred truths. -Fraternity may be a sentimental metaphor; I may be suffering a delusion -when I hail a Montenegrin peasant as my long lost brother. As a fact, I -have my own suspicions about which of us it is that has got lost. But my -delusion is not a deduction from one text, or from twenty; it is the -expression of a relation that to me at least seems a reality. And what I -should say about the idea of a brother, I should say about the idea of a -wife. - -It is supposed to be very unbusinesslike to begin at the beginning. It -is called “abstract and academic principles with which we English, etc., -etc.” It is still in some strange way considered unpractical to open up -inquiries about anything by asking what it is. I happen to have, -however, a fairly complete contempt for that sort of practicality; for I -know that it is not even practical. My ideal business man would not be -one who planked down fifty pounds and said “Here is hard cash; I am a -plain man; it is quite indifferent to me whether I am paying a debt, or -giving alms to a beggar, or buying a wild bull or a bathing machine.” -Despite the infectious heartiness of his tone, I should still, in -considering the hard cash, say (like a cabman) “What’s this?” I should -continue to insist, priggishly, that it was a highly practical point -what the money _was_; what it was supposed to stand for, to aim at or to -declare; what was the nature of the transaction; or, in short, what the -devil the man supposed he was doing. I shall therefore begin by asking, -in an equally mystical manner, what in the name of God and the angels a -man getting married supposes he is doing. I shall begin by asking what -marriage is; and the mere question will probably reveal that the act -itself, good or bad, wise or foolish, is of a certain kind; that it is -not an inquiry or an experiment or an accident; it may probably dawn on -us that it is a promise. It can be more fully defined by saying it is a -vow. - -Many will immediately answer that it is a rash vow. I am content for the -moment to reply that all vows are rash vows. I am not now defending but -defining vows; I am pointing out that this is a discussion about vows; -first, of whether there ought to be vows; and second, of what vows ought -to be. Ought a man to break a promise? Ought a man to make a promise? -These are philosophic questions; but the philosophic peculiarity of -divorce and re-marriage, as compared with free love and no marriage, is -that a man breaks and makes a promise at the same moment. It is a highly -German philosophy; and recalls the way in which the enemy wishes to -celebrate his successful destruction of all treaties by signing some -more. If I were breaking a promise, I would do it without promises. But -I am very far from minimising the momentous and disputable nature of the -vow itself. I shall try to show, in a further article, that this rash -and romantic operation is the only furnace from which can come the plain -hardware of humanity, the cast-iron resistance of citizenship or the -cold steel of common sense; but I am not denying that the furnace is a -fire. The vow is a violent and unique thing; though there have been many -besides the marriage vow; vows of chivalry, vows of poverty, vows of -celibacy, pagan as well as Christian. But modern fashion has rather -fallen out of the habit; and men miss the type for the lack of the -parallels. The shortest way of putting the problem is to ask whether -being free includes being free to bind oneself. For the vow is a tryst -with oneself. - -I may be misunderstood if I say, for brevity, that marriage is an affair -of honour. The sceptic will be delighted to assent, by saying it is a -fight. And so it is, if only with oneself; but the point here is that it -necessarily has the touch of the heroic, in which virtue can be -translated by _virtus_. Now about fighting, in its nature, there is an -implied infinity, or at least a potential infinity. I mean that loyalty -in war is loyalty in defeat or even disgrace; it is due to the flag -precisely at the moment when the flag nearly falls. We do already apply -this to the flag of the nation; and the question is whether it is wise -or unwise to apply it to the flag of the family. Of course, it is -tenable that we should apply it to neither; that misgovernment in the -nation or misery in the citizen would make the desertion of the flag an -act of reason and not treason. I will only say here that, if this were -really the limit of national loyalty, some of us would have deserted our -nation long ago. - - - - -_II.--The Superstition of Divorce_ - - -To the two or three articles appearing here on this subject I have given -the title of the Superstition of Divorce; and the title is not taken at -random. While free love seems to me a heresy, divorce does really seem -to me a superstition. It is not only more of a superstition than free -love, but much more of a superstition than strict sacramental marriage; -and this point can hardly be made too plain. It is the partisans of -divorce, not the defenders of marriage, who attach a stiff and senseless -sanctity to a mere ceremony, apart from the meaning of the ceremony. It -is our opponents, and not we, who hope to be saved by the letter of -ritual, instead of the spirit of reality. It is they who hold that vow -or violation, loyalty or disloyalty, can all be disposed of by a -mysterious and magic rite, performed first in a law-court and then in a -church or a registry office. There is little difference between the two -parts of the ritual; except that the law court is much more ritualistic. -But the plainest parallels will show anybody that all this is sheer -barbarous credulity. It may or may not be superstition for a man to -believe he must kiss the Bible to show he is telling the truth. It is -certainly the most grovelling superstition for him to believe that, if -he kisses the Bible, anything he says will come true. It would surely be -the blackest and most benighted Bible-worship to suggest that the mere -kiss on the mere book alters the moral quality of perjury. Yet this is -precisely what is implied in saying that formal re-marriage alters the -moral quality of conjugal infidelity. It may have been a mark of the -Dark Ages that Harold should swear on a relic, though he were afterwards -foresworn. But surely those ages would have been at their darkest, if he -had been content to be sworn on a relic and forsworn on another relic. -Yet this is the new altar these reformers would erect for us, out of the -mouldy and meaningless relics of their dead law and their dying -religion. - -Now we, at any rate, are talking about an idea, a thing of the intellect -and the soul; which we feel to be unalterable by legal antics. We are -talking about the idea of loyalty; perhaps a fantastic, perhaps only an -unfashionable idea, but one we can explain and defend as an idea. Now I -have already pointed out that most sane men do admit our ideal in such a -case as patriotism or public spirit; the necessity of saving the state -to which we belong. The patriot may revile but must not renounce his -country; he must curse it to cure it, but not to wither it up. The old -pagan citizens felt thus about the city; and modern nationalists feel -thus about the nation. But even mere modern internationalists feel it -about something; if it is only the nation of mankind. Even the -humanitarian does not become a misanthrope and live in a monkey-house. -Even a disappointed Collectivist or Communist does not retire into the -exclusive society of beavers, because beavers are all communists of the -most class-conscious solidarity. He admits the necessity of clinging to -his fellow creatures, and begging them to abandon the use of the -possessive pronoun; heart-breaking as his efforts must seem to him after -a time. Even a Pacifist does not prefer rats to men, on the ground that -the rat community is so pure from the taint of Jingoism as always to -leave the sinking ship. In short, everybody recognises that there is -_some_ ship, large and small, which he ought not to leave, even when he -thinks it is sinking. - -We may take it then that there are institutions to which we are attached -finally; just as there are others to which we are attached temporarily. -We go from shop to shop trying to get what we want; but we do not go -from nation to nation doing this; unless we belong to a certain group -now heading very straight for Pogroms. In the first case it is the -threat that we shall withdraw our custom; in the second it is the threat -that we shall never withdraw ourselves; that we shall be part of the -institution to the last. The time when the shop loses its customers is -the time when the city needs its citizens; but it needs them as critics -who will always remain to criticise. I need not now emphasise the deadly -need of this double energy of internal reform and external defence; the -whole towering tragedy which has eclipsed our earth in our time is but -one terrific illustration of it. The hammer-strokes are coming thick and -fast now;[A] and filling the world with infernal thunders; and there is -still the iron sound of something unbreakable deeper and louder than all -the things that break. We may curse the kings, we may distrust the -captains, we may murmur at the very existence of the armies; but we know -that in the darkest days that may come to us, no man will desert the -flag. - -Now when we pass from loyalty to the nation to loyalty to the family, -there can be no doubt about the first and plainest difference. The -difference is that the family is a thing far more free. The vow is a -voluntary loyalty; and the marriage vow is marked among ordinary oaths -of allegiance by the fact that the allegiance is also a choice. The man -is not only a citizen of the city, but also the founder and builder of -the city. He is not only a soldier serving the colours, but he has -himself artistically selected and combined the colours, like the colours -of an individual dress. If it be admissible to ask him to be true to the -commonwealth that has made him, it is at least not more illiberal to ask -him to be true to the commonwealth he has himself made. If civic -fidelity be, as it is, a necessity, it is also in a special sense a -constraint. The old joke against patriotism, the Gilbertian irony, -congratulated the Englishman on his fine and fastidious taste in being -born in England. It made a plausible point in saying “For he might have -been a Russian”; though indeed we have lived to see some persons who -seemed to think they could be Russians when the fancy took them. If -commonsense considers even such involuntary loyalty natural, we can -hardly wonder if it thinks voluntary loyalty still more natural. And the -small state founded on the sexes is at once the most voluntary and the -most natural of all self-governing states. It is not true of Mr. Brown -that he might have been a Russian; but it may be true of Mrs. Brown -that she might have been a Robinson. - -Now it is not at all hard to see why this small community, so specially -free touching its cause, should yet be specially bound touching its -effects. It is not hard to see why the vow made most freely is the vow -kept most firmly. There are attached to it, by the nature of things, -consequences so tremendous that no contract can offer any comparison. -There is no contract, unless it be that said to be signed in blood, that -can call spirits from the vasty deep; or bring cherubs (or goblins) to -inhabit a small modern villa. There is no stroke of the pen which -creates real bodies and souls, or makes the characters in a novel come -to life. The institution that puzzles intellectuals so much can be -explained by the mere material fact (perceptible even to intellectuals) -that children are, generally speaking, younger than their parents. “Till -death do us part” is not an irrational formula, for those will almost -certainly die before they see more than half of the amazing (or -alarming) thing they have done. - -Such is, in a curt and crude outline, this obvious thing for those to -whom it is not obvious. Now I know there are thinking men among those -who would tamper with it; and I shall expect some of these to reply to -my questions. But for the moment I only ask this question: whether the -parliamentary and journalistic divorce movement shows even a shadowy -trace of these fundamental truths, regarded as tests. Does it even -discuss the nature of a vow, the limits and objects of loyalty, the -survival of the family as a small and free state? The writers are -content to say that Mr. Brown is uncomfortable with Mrs. Brown, and the -last emancipation, for separated couples, seems only to mean that he is -still uncomfortable without Mrs. Brown. These are not days in which -being uncomfortable is felt as the final test of public action. For the -rest, the reformers show statistically that families are in fact so -scattered in our industrial anarchy, that they may as well abandon hope -of finding their way home again. I am acquainted with that argument for -making bad worse and I see it everywhere leading to slavery. Because -London Bridge is broken down, we must assume that bridges are not meant -to bridge. Because London commercialism and capitalism have copied hell, -we are to continue to copy them. Anyhow, some will retain the conviction -that the ancient bridge built between the two towers of sex is the -worthiest of the great works of the earth. - -It is exceedingly characteristic of the dreary decades before the War -that the forms of freedom in which they seemed to specialise were -suicide and divorce. I am not at the moment pronouncing on the moral -problem of either; I am merely noting, as signs of those times, those -two true or false counsels of despair; the end of life and the end of -love. Other forms of freedom were being increasingly curtailed. Freedom -indeed was the one thing that progressives and conservatives alike -contemned. Socialists were largely concerned to prevent strikes, by -State arbitration; that is, by adding another rich man to give the -casting vote between rich and poor. Even in claiming what they called -the right to work they tacitly surrendered the right to leave off -working. Tories were preaching conscription, not so much to defend the -independence of England as to destroy the independence of Englishmen. -Liberals, of course, were chiefly interested in eliminating liberty, -especially touching beer and betting. It was wicked to fight, and unsafe -even to argue; for citing any certain and contemporary fact might land -one in a libel action. As all these doors were successfully shut in our -faces along the chilly and cheerless corridor of progress (with its -glazed tiles) the doors of death and divorce alone stood open, or rather -opened wider and wider. I do not expect the exponents of divorce to -admit any similarity in the two things; yet the passing parallel is not -irrelevant. It may enable them to realise the limits within which our -moral instincts can, even for the sake of argument, treat this desperate -remedy as a normal object of desire. Divorce is for us at best a -failure, of which we are more concerned to find and cure the cause than -to complete the effects; and we regard a system that produces many -divorces as we do a system that drives men to drown and shoot -themselves. For instance, it is perhaps the commonest complaint against -the existing law that the poor cannot afford to avail themselves of it. -It is an argument to which normally I should listen with special -sympathy. But while I should condemn the law being a luxury, my first -thought will naturally be that divorce and death are only luxuries in a -rather rare sense. I should not primarily condole with the poor man on -the high price of prussic acid; or on the fact that all precipices of -suitable suicidal height were the private property of the landlords. -There are other high prices and high precipices I should attack first. I -should admit in the abstract that what is sauce for the goose is sauce -for the gander; that what is good for the rich is good for the poor; but -my first and strongest impression would be that prussic acid sauce is -not good for anybody. I fear I should, on the impulse of the moment, -pull a poor clerk or artisan back by the coat-tails, if he were jumping -over Shakespeare’s Cliff, even if Dover sands were strewn with the -remains of the dukes and bankers who had already taken the plunge. - -But in one respect, I will heartily concede, the cult of divorce has -differed from the mere cult of death. The cult of death is dead. Those I -knew in my youth as young pessimists are now aged optimists. And, what -is more to the point at present, even when it was living it was limited; -it was a thing of one clique in one class. We know the rule in the old -comedy, that when the heroine went mad in white satin, the confidante -went mad in white muslin. But when, in some tragedy of the artistic -temperament, the painter committed suicide in velvet, it was never -implied that the plumber must commit suicide in corduroy. It was never -held that Hedda Gabler’s housemaid must die in torments on the carpet -(trying as her term of service may have been); or that Mrs. Tanqueray’s -butler must play the Roman fool and die on his own carving knife. That -particular form of playing the fool, Roman or otherwise, was an -oligarchic privilege in the decadent epoch; and even as such has largely -passed with that epoch. Pessimism, which was never popular, is no -longer even fashionable. A far different fate has awaited the other -fashion; the other somewhat dismal form of freedom. If divorce is a -disease, it is no longer to be a fashionable disease like appendicitis; -it is to be made an epidemic like small-pox. As we have already seen, -papers and public men to-day make a vast parade of the necessity of -setting the poor man free to get a divorce. Now why are they so mortally -anxious that he should be free to get a divorce, and not in the least -anxious that he should be free to get anything else? Why are the same -people happy, nay almost hilarious, when he gets a divorce, who are -horrified when he gets a drink? What becomes of his money, what becomes -of his children, where he works, when he ceases to work, are less and -less under his personal control. Labour Exchanges, Insurance Cards, -Welfare Work, and a hundred forms of police inspection and supervision, -have combined for good or evil to fix him more and more strictly to a -certain place in society. He is less and less allowed to go to look for -a new job; why is he allowed to go to look for a new wife? He is more -and more compelled to recognise a Moslem code about liquor; why is it -made so easy for him to escape from his old Christian code about sex? -What is the meaning of this mysterious immunity, this special permit for -adultery; and why is running away with his neighbour’s wife to be the -only exhilaration still left open to him? Why must he love as he -pleases; when he may not even live as he pleases? - -The answer is, I regret to say, that this social campaign, in most -though by no means all of its most prominent campaigners, relies in this -matter on a very smug and pestilent piece of cant. There are some -advocates of democratic divorce who are really advocates of general -democratic freedom; but they are the exceptions; I might say, with all -respect, that they are the dupes. The omnipresence of the thing in the -press and in political society is due to a motive precisely opposite to -the motive professed. The modern rulers, who are simply the rich men, -are really quite consistent in their attitude to the poor man. It is -the same spirit which takes away his children under the pretence of -order, which takes away his wife under the pretence of liberty. That -which wishes, in the words of the comic song, to break up the happy -home, is primarily anxious not to break up the much more unhappy -factory. Capitalism, of course, is at war with the family, for the same -reason which has led to its being at war with the Trade Union. This -indeed is the only sense in which it is true that capitalism is -connected with individualism. Capitalism believes in collectivism for -itself and individualism for its enemies. It desires its victims to be -individuals, or (in other words) to be atoms. For the word atom, in its -clearest meaning (which is none too clear) might be translated as -“individual.” If there be any bond, if there be any brotherhood, if -there be any class loyalty or domestic discipline, by which the poor can -help the poor, these emancipators will certainly strive to loosen that -bond or lift that discipline in the most liberal fashion. If there be -such a brotherhood, these individualists will redistribute it in the -form of individuals; or in other words smash it to atoms. - -The masters of modern plutocracy know what they are about. They are -making no mistake; they can be cleared of the slander of inconsistency. -A very profound and precise instinct has led them to single out the -human household as the chief obstacle to their inhuman progress. Without -the family we are helpless before the State, which in our modern case is -the Servile State. To use a military metaphor, the family is the only -formation in which the charge of the rich can be repulsed. It is a force -that forms twos as soldiers form fours; and, in every peasant country, -has stood in the square house or the square plot of land as infantry -have stood in squares against cavalry. How this force operates thus, and -why, I will try to explain in the last of these articles. But it is when -it is most nearly ridden down by the horsemen of pride and privilege, as -in Poland or Ireland, when the battle grows most desperate and the hope -most dark, that men begin to understand why that wild oath in its -beginnings was flung beyond the bounds of the world; and what would seem -as passing as a vision is made permanent as a vow. - - - - -_III.--The Superstition of Divorce_ - - -There has long been a curiously consistent attempt to conceal the fact -that France is a Christian country. There have been Frenchmen in the -plot, no doubt, and no doubt there have been Frenchmen--though I have -myself only found Englishmen--in the derivative attempt to conceal the -fact that Balzac was a Christian writer. I began to read Balzac long -after I had read the admirers of Balzac; and they had never given me a -hint of this truth. I had read that his books were bound in yellow and -“quite impudently French”; though I may have been cloudy about why being -French should be impudent in a Frenchman. I had read the truer -description of “the grimy wizard of the _Comedie Humaine_,” and have -lived to learn the truth of it; Balzac certainly is a genius of the type -of that artist he himself describes, who could draw a broomstick so -that one knew it had swept the room after a murder. The furniture of -Balzac is more alive than the figures of many dramas. For this I was -prepared; but not for a certain spiritual assumption which I recognised -at once as a historical phenomenon. The morality of a great writer is -not the morality he teaches, but the morality he takes for granted. The -Catholic type of Christian ethics runs through Balzac’s books, exactly -as the Puritan type of Christian ethics runs through Bunyan’s books. -What his professed opinions were I do not know, any more than I know -Shakespeare’s; but I know that both those great creators of a -multitudinous world made it, as compared with other and later writers, -on the same fundamental moral plan as the universe of Dante. There can -be no doubt about it for any one who can apply as a test the truth I -have mentioned; that the fundamental things in a man are not the things -he explains, but rather the things he forgets to explain. But here and -there Balzac does explain; and with that intellectual concentration Mr. -George Moore has acutely observed in that novelist when he is a -theorist. And the other day I found in one of Balzac’s novels this -passage; which, whether or no it would precisely hit Mr. George Moore’s -mood at this moment, strikes me as a perfect prophecy of this epoch, and -might also be a motto for this book: “With the solidarity of the family -society has lost that elemental force which Montesquieu defined and -called ‘honour.’ Society has isolated its members the better to govern -them, and has divided in order to weaken.” - -Throughout our youth and the years before the War, the current criticism -followed Ibsen in describing the domestic system as a doll’s house and -the domestic woman as a doll. Mr. Bernard Shaw varied the metaphor by -saying that mere custom kept the woman in the home as it keeps the -parrot in the cage; and the plays and tales of the period made vivid -sketches of a woman who also resembled a parrot in other particulars, -rich in raiment, shrill in accent and addicted to saying over and over -again what she had been taught to say. Mr. Granville Barker, the -spiritual child of Mr. Bernard Shaw, commented in his clever play of -“The Voysey Inheritance” on tyranny, hypocrisy and boredom, as the -constituent elements of a “happy English home.” Leaving the truth of -this aside for the moment, it will be well to insist that the -conventionality thus criticised would be even more characteristic of a -happy French home. It is not the Englishman’s house, but the Frenchman’s -house that is his castle. It might be further added, touching the -essential ethical view of the sexes at least, that the Irishman’s house -is his castle; though it has been for some centuries a besieged castle. -Anyhow, those conventions which were remarked as making domesticity -dull, narrow and unnaturally meek and submissive, are particularly -powerful among the Irish and the French. From this it will surely be -easy, for any lucid and logical thinker, to deduce the fact that the -French are dull and narrow, and that the Irish are unnaturally meek and -submissive. Mr. Bernard Shaw, being an Irishman who lives among -Englishmen, may be conveniently taken as the type of the difference; -and it will no doubt be found that the political friends of Mr. Shaw, -among Englishmen, will be of a wilder revolutionary type than those whom -he would have found among Irishmen. We are in a position to compare the -meekness of the Fenians with the fury of the Fabians. This deadening -monogamic ideal may even, in a larger sense, define and distinguish all -the flat subserviency of Clare from all the flaming revolt of Clapham. -Nor need we now look far to understand why revolutions have been unknown -in the history of France; or why they happen so persistently in the -vaguer politics of England. This rigidity and respectability must surely -be the explanation of all that incapacity for any civil experiment or -explosion, which has always marked that sleepy hamlet of very private -houses, which we call the city of Paris. But the same things are true -not only of Parisians but of peasants; they are even true of other -peasants in the great Alliance. Students of Serbian traditions tell us -that the peasant literature lays a special and singular curse on the -violation of marriage; and this may well explain the prim and sheepish -pacifism complained of in that people. - -In plain words, there is clearly something wrong in the calculation by -which it was proved that a housewife must be as much a servant as a -housemaid; or which exhibited the domesticated man as being as gentle as -the primrose or as conservative as the Primrose League. It is precisely -those who have been conservative about the family who have been -revolutionary about the state. Those who are blamed for the bigotry or -_bourgeois_ smugness of their marriage conventions are actually those -blamed for the restlessness and violence of their political reforms. Nor -is there seriously any difficulty in discovering the cause of this. It -is simply that in such a society the government, in dealing with the -family, deals with something almost as permanent and self-renewing as -itself. There can be a continuous family policy, like a continuous -foreign policy. In peasant countries the family fights, it may almost be -said that the farm fights. I do not mean merely that it riots in evil -and exceptional times; though this is not unimportant. It was a savage -but a sane feature when, in the Irish evictions, the women poured hot -water from the windows; it was part of a final falling back on private -tools as public weapons. That sort of thing is not only war to the -knife, but almost war to the fork and spoon. It was in this grim sense -perhaps that Parnell, in that mysterious pun, said that Kettle was a -household word in Ireland (it certainly ought to be after its subsequent -glories), and in a more general sense it is certain that meddling with -the housewife will ultimately mean getting into hot water. But it is not -of such crises of bodily struggle that I speak, but of a steady and -peaceful pressure from below of a thousand families upon the framework -of government. For this a certain spirit of defence and enclosure is -essential; and even feudalism was right in feeling that any such affair -of honour must be a family affair. It was a true artistic instinct that -pictured the pedigree on a coat that protects the body. The free peasant -has arms if he has not armorial bearings. He has not an escutcheon; but -he has a shield. Nor do I see why, in a freer and happier society than -the present, or even the past, it should not be a blazoned shield. For -that is true of pedigree which is true of property; the wrong is not in -its being imposed on men, but rather in its being denied to them. Too -much capitalism does not mean too many capitalists, but too few -capitalists; and so aristocracy sins, not in planting a family tree, but -in not planting a family forest. - -Anyhow, it is found in practice that the domestic citizen can stand a -siege, even by the State; because he has those who will stand by him -through thick and thin--especially thin. Now those who hold that the -State can be made fit to own all and administer all, can consistently -disregard this argument; but it may be said with all respect that the -world is more and more disregarding them. If we could find a perfect -machine, and a perfect man to work it, it might be a good argument for -State Socialism, though an equally good argument for personal despotism. -But most of us, I fancy, are now agreed that something of that social -pressure from below which we call freedom is vital to the health of the -State; and this it is which cannot be fully exercised by individuals, -but only by groups and traditions. Such groups have been many; there -have been monasteries; there may be guilds; but there is only one type -among them which all human beings have a spontaneous and omnipresent -inspiration to build for themselves; and this type is the family. - -I had intended this article to be the last of those outlining the -elements of this debate; but I shall have to add a short concluding -section on the way in which all this is missed in the practical (or -rather unpractical) proposals about divorce. Here I will only say that -they suffer from the modern and morbid weaknesses of always sacrificing -the normal to the abnormal. As a fact the “tyranny, hypocrisy and -boredom” complained of are not domesticity, but the decay of -domesticity. The case of that particular complaint, in Mr. Granville -Barker’s play, is itself a proof. The whole point of “The Voysey -Inheritance” was that there was no Voysey inheritance. The only -heritage of that family was a highly dishonourable debt. Naturally their -family affections had decayed when their whole ideal of property and -probity had decayed; and there was little love as well as little honour -among thieves. It has yet to be proved that they would have been as much -bored if they had had a positive and not a negative heritage; and had -worked a farm instead of a fraud. And the experience of mankind points -the other way. - - - - -_IV.--The Superstition of Divorce_ - - -I have touched before now on a famous or infamous Royalist who suggested -that the people should eat grass; an unfortunate remark perhaps for a -Royalist to make; since the regimen is only recorded of a Royal -Personage. But there was certainly a simplicity in the solution worthy -of a sultan or even a savage chief; and it is this touch of autocratic -innocence on which I have mainly insisted touching the social reforms of -our day, and especially the social reform known as divorce. I am -primarily more concerned with the arbitrary method than with the -anarchic result. Very much as the old tyrant would turn any number of -men out to grass, so the new tyrant would turn any number of women into -grass-widows. Anyhow, to vary the legendary symbolism, it never seems to -occur to the king in this fairy tale that the gold crown on his head is -a less, and not a more, sacred and settled ornament than the gold ring -on the woman’s finger. This change is being achieved by the summary and -even secret government which we now suffer; and this would be the first -point against it, even if it were really an emancipation; and it is only -in form an emancipation. I will not anticipate the details of its -defence, which can be offered by others, but I will here conclude for -the present by roughly suggesting the practical defences of divorce, as -generally given just at present, under four heads. And I will only ask -the reader to note that they all have one thing in common; the fact that -each argument is also used for all that social reform which plain men -are already calling slavery. - -First, it is very typical of the latest practical proposals that they -are concerned with the case of those who are already separated, and the -steps they must take to be divorced. There is a spirit penetrating all -our society to-day by which the exception is allowed to alter the rule; -the exile to deflect patriotism, the orphan to depose parenthood, and -even the widow or, in this case as we have seen the grass-widow, to -destroy the position of the wife. There is a sort of symbol of this -tendency in that mysterious and unfortunate nomadic nation which has -been allowed to alter so many things, from a crusade in Russia to a -cottage in South Bucks. We have been told to treat the wandering Jew as -a pilgrim, while we still treat the wandering Christian as a vagabond. -And yet the latter is at least trying to get home, like Ulysses; whereas -the former is, if anything, rather fleeing from home, like Cain. He who -is detached, disgruntled, nondescript, intermediate, is everywhere made -the excuse for altering what is common, corporate, traditional and -popular. And the alteration is always for the worse. The mermaid never -becomes more womanly, but only more fishy. The centaur never becomes -more manly, but only more horsy. The Jew cannot really internationalise -Christendom; he can only denationalise Christendom. The proletarian does -not find it easy to become a small proprietor; he is finding it far -easier to become a slave. So the unfortunate man, who cannot tolerate -the woman he has chosen from all the women in the world, is not -encouraged to return to her and tolerate her, but encouraged to choose -another woman whom he may in due course refuse to tolerate. And in all -these cases the argument is the same; that the man in the intermediate -state is unhappy. Probably he is unhappy, since he is abnormal; but the -point is that he is permitted to loosen the universal bond which has -kept millions of others normal. Because he has himself got into a hole, -he is allowed to burrow in it like a rabbit and undermine a whole -countryside. - -Next we have, as we always have touching such crude experiments, an -argument from the example of other countries, and especially of new -countries. Thus the Eugenists tell me solemnly that there have been very -successful Eugenic experiments in America. And they rigidly retain their -solemnity (while refusing with many rebukes to believe in mine) when I -tell them that one of the Eugenic experiments in America is a chemical -experiment; which consists of changing a black man into the allotropic -form of white ashes. It is really an exceedingly Eugenic experiment; -since its chief object is to discourage an inter-racial mixture of blood -which is not desired. But I do not like this American experiment, -however American; and I trust and believe that it is not typically -American at all. It represents, I conceive, only one element in the -complexity of the great democracy; and goes along with other evil -elements; so that I am not at all surprised that the same strange social -sections, which permit a human being to be burned alive, also permit the -exalted science of Eugenics. It is the same in the milder matter of -liquor laws; and we are told that certain rather crude colonials have -established prohibition laws, which they try to evade; just as we are -told they have established divorce laws, which they are now trying to -repeal. For in this case of divorce, at least, the argument from distant -precedents has recoiled crushingly upon itself. There is already an -agitation for less divorce in America, even while there is an agitation -for more divorce in England. - -Again, when an argument is based on a need of population, it will be -well if those supporting it realise where it may carry them. It is -exceedingly doubtful whether population is one of the advantages of -divorce; but there is no doubt that it is one of the advantages of -polygamy. It is already used in Germany as an argument for polygamy. But -the very word will teach us to look even beyond Germany for something -yet more remote and repulsive. Mere population, along with a sort of -polygamous anarchy, will not appear even as a practical ideal to any one -who considers, for instance, how consistently Europe has held the -headship of the human race, in face of the chaotic myriads of Asia. If -population were the chief test of progress and efficiency, China would -long ago have proved itself the most progressive and efficient state. De -Quincey summed up the whole of that enormous situation in a sentence -which is perhaps more impressive and even appalling than all the -perspectives of orient architecture and vistas of opium vision in the -midst of which it comes. “Man is a weed in those regions.” Many -Europeans, fearing for the garden of the world, have fancied that in -some future fatality those weeds may spring up and choke it. But no -Europeans have really wished that the flowers should become like the -weeds. Even if it were true, therefore, that the loosening of the tie -necessarily increased the population; even if this were not -contradicted, as it is, by the facts of many countries, we should have -strong historical grounds for not accepting the deduction. We should -still be suspicious of the paradox that we may encourage large families -by abolishing the family. - -Lastly, I believe it is part of the defence of the new proposal that -even its defenders have found its principle a little too crude. I hear -they have added provisions which modify the principle; and which seem to -be in substance, first, that a man shall be made responsible for a money -payment to the wife he deserts, and second, that the matter shall once -again be submitted in some fashion to some magistrate. For my purpose -here, it is enough to note that there is something of the unmistakable -savour of the sociology we resist, in these two touching acts of faith, -in a cheque-book and in a lawyer. Most of the fashionable reformers of -marriage would be faintly shocked at any suggestion that a poor old -charwoman might possibly refuse such money, or that a good kind -magistrate might not have the right to give such advice. For the -reformers of marriage are very respectable people, with some honourable -exceptions; and nothing could fit more smoothly into the rather greasy -groove of their respectability than the suggestion that treason is best -treated with the damages, gentlemen, heavy damages, of Mr. Serjeant -Buzfuz; or that tragedy is best treated by the spiritual arbitrament of -Mr. Nupkins. - -One word should be added to this hasty sketch of the elements of the -case. I have deliberately left out the loftiest aspect and argument, -that which sees marriage as a divine institution; and that for the -logical reason that those who believe in this would not believe in -divorce; and I am arguing with those who do believe in divorce. I do -not ask them to assume the worth of my creed or any creed; and I could -wish they did not so often ask me to assume the worth of their -worthless, poisonous plutocratic modern society. But if it could be -shown, as I think it can, that a long historical view and a patient -political experience can at last accumulate solid scientific evidence of -the vital need of such a vow, then I can conceive no more tremendous -tribute than this, to any faith, which made a flaming affirmation from -the darkest beginnings, of what the latest enlightenment can only slowly -discover in the end. - - - - -THE STORY OF THE FAMILY - - - - -_V.--The Story of the Family_ - - -The most ancient of human institutions has an authority that may seem as -wild as anarchy. Alone among all such institutions it begins with a -spontaneous attraction; and may be said strictly and not sentimentally -to be founded on love instead of fear. The attempt to compare it with -coercive institutions complicating later history has led to infinite -illogicality in later times. It is as unique as it is universal. There -is nothing in any other social relations in any way parallel to the -mutual attraction of the sexes. By missing this simple point, the modern -world has fallen into a hundred follies. The idea of a general revolt of -women against men has been proclaimed with flags and processions, like a -revolt of vassals against their lords, of niggers against -nigger-drivers, of Poles against Prussians or Irishmen against -Englishmen; for all the world as if we really believed in the fabulous -nation of the Amazons. The equally philosophical idea of a general -revolt of men against women has been put into a romance by Sir Walter -Besant, and into a sociological book by Mr. Belfort Bax. But at the -first touch of this truth of an aboriginal attraction, all such -comparisons collapse and are seen to be comic. A Prussian does not feel -from the first that he can only be happy if he spends his days and -nights with a Pole. An Englishman does not think his house empty and -cheerless unless it happens to contain an Irishman. A white man does not -in his romantic youth dream of the perfect beauty of a black man. A -railway magnate seldom writes poems about the personal fascination of a -railway porter. All the other revolts against all the other relations -are reasonable and even inevitable, because those relations are -originally only founded upon force or self-interest. Force can abolish -what force can establish; self-interest can terminate a contract when -self-interest has dictated the contract. But the love of man and woman -is not an institution that can be abolished, or a contract that can be -terminated. It is something older than all institutions or contracts, -and something that is certain to outlast them all. All the other revolts -are real, because there remains a possibility that the things may be -destroyed, or at least divided. You can abolish capitalists; but you -cannot abolish males. Prussians can go out of Poland or negroes can be -repatriated to Africa; but a man and a woman must remain together in one -way or another; and must learn to put up with each other somehow. - -These are very simple truths; that is why nobody nowadays seems to take -any particular notice of them; and the truth that follows next is -equally obvious. There is no dispute about the purpose of Nature in -creating such an attraction. It would be more intelligent to call it the -purpose of God; for Nature can have no purpose unless God is behind it. -To talk of the purpose of Nature is to make a vain attempt to avoid -being anthropomorphic, merely by being feminist. It is believing in a -goddess because you are too sceptical to believe in a god. But this is -a controversy which can be kept apart from the question, if we content -ourselves with saying that the vital value ultimately found in this -attraction is, of course, the renewal of the race itself. The child is -an explanation of the father and mother; and the fact that it is a human -child is the explanation of the ancient human ties connecting the father -and mother. The more human, that is the less bestial, is the child, the -more lawful and lasting are the ties. So far from any progress in -culture or the sciences tending to loosen the bond, any such progress -must logically tend to tighten it. The more things there are for the -child to learn, the longer he must remain at the natural school for -learning them; and the longer his teachers must at least postpone the -dissolution of their partnership. This elementary truth is hidden to-day -in vast masses of vicarious, indirect and artificial work, with the -fundamental fallacy of which I shall deal in a moment. Here I speak of -the primary position of the human group, as it has stood through -unthinkable ages of waxing and waning civilisations; often unable to -delegate any of its work, always unable to delegate all of it. In this, -I repeat, it will always be necessary for the two teachers to remain -together, in proportion as they have anything to teach. One of the -shapeless sea-beasts, that merely detaches itself from its offspring and -floats away, could float away to a submarine divorce court, or an -advanced club founded on free-love for fishes. The sea-beast might do -this, precisely because the sea-beast’s offspring need do nothing; -because it has not got to learn the polka or the multiplication table. -All these are truisms but they are also truths, and truths that will -return; for the present tangle of semi-official substitutes is not only -a stop-gap, but one that is not big enough to stop the gap. If people -cannot mind their own business, it cannot possibly be more economical to -pay them to mind each other’s business; and still less to mind each -other’s babies. It is simply throwing away a natural force and then -paying for an artificial force; as if a man were to water a plant with a -hose while holding up an umbrella to protect it from the rain. The -whole really rests on a plutocratic illusion of an infinite supply of -servants. When we offer any other system as a “career for women,” we are -really proposing that an infinite number of them should become servants, -of a plutocratic or bureaucratic sort. Ultimately, we are arguing that a -woman should not be a mother to her own baby, but a nursemaid to -somebody else’s baby. But it will not work, even on paper. We cannot all -live by taking in each other’s washing, especially in the form of -pinafores. In the last resort, the only people who either can or will -give individual care, to each of the individual children, are their -individual parents. The expression as applied to those dealing with -changing crowds of children is a graceful and legitimate flourish of -speech. - -This triangle of truisms, of father, mother and child, cannot be -destroyed; it can only destroy those civilisations which disregard it. -Most modern reformers are merely bottomless sceptics, and have no basis -on which to rebuild; and it is well that such reformers should realise -that there is something they cannot reform. You can put down the mighty -from their seat; you can turn the world upside down, and there is much -to be said for the view that it may then be the right way up. But you -cannot create a world in which the baby carries the mother. You cannot -create a world in which the mother has not authority over the baby. You -can waste your time in trying; by giving votes to babies or proclaiming -a republic of infants in arms. You can say, as an educationist said the -other day, that small children should “criticise, question authority and -suspend their judgment.” I do not know why he did not go on to say that -they should earn their own living, pay income tax to the state, and die -in battle for the fatherland; for the proposal evidently is that -children shall have no childhood. But you can, if you find entertainment -in such games, organise “representative government” among little boys -and girls, and tell them to take their legal and constitutional -responsibilities as seriously as possible. In short, you can be crazy; -but you cannot be consistent. You cannot really carry your own -principle back to the aboriginal group, and really apply it to the -mother and the baby. You will not act on you own theory in the simplest -and most practical of all possible cases. You are not quite so mad as -that. - -This nucleus of natural authority has always existed in the midst of -more artificial authorities. It has always been regarded as something in -the literal sense individual; that is, as an absolute that could not -really be divided. A baby was not even a baby apart from its mother; it -was something else, most probably a corpse. It was always recognised as -standing in a peculiar relation to government; simply because it was one -of the few things that had not been made by government; and could to -some extent come into existence without the support of government. -Indeed the case for it is too strong to be stated. For the case for it -is that there is nothing like it; and we can only find faint parallels -to it in those more elaborate and painful powers and institutions that -are its inferiors. Thus the only way of conveying it is to compare it to -a nation; although, compared to it, national divisions are as modern -and formal as national anthems. Thus I may often use the metaphor of a -city; though in its presence a citizen is as recent as a city clerk. It -is enough to note here that everybody does know by intuition and admit -by implication that a family is a solid fact, having a character and -colour like a nation. The truth can be tested by the most modern and -most daily experiences. A man does say “That is the sort of thing the -Browns will like”; however tangled and interminable a psychological -novel he might compose on the shades of difference between Mr. and Mrs. -Brown. A woman does say “I don’t like Jemima seeing so much of the -Robinsons”; and she does not always, in the scurry of her social or -domestic duties, pause to distinguish the optimistic materialism of Mrs. -Robinson from the more acid cynicism which tinges the hedonism of Mr. -Robinson. There is a colour of the household inside, as conspicuous as -the colour of the house outside. That colour is a blend, and if any tint -in it predominate it is generally that preferred by Mrs. Robinson. But, -like all composite colours, it is a separate color, as separate as green -is from blue and yellow. Every marriage is a sort of wild balance; and -in every case the compromise is as unique as an eccentricity. -Philanthropists walking in the slums often see the compromise in the -street, and mistake it for a fight. When they interfere, they are -thoroughly thumped by both parties; and serve them right, for not -respecting the very institution that brought them into the world. - -The first thing to see is that this enormous normality is like a -mountain; and one that is capable of being a volcano. Every abnormality -that is now opposed to it is like a molehill; and the earnest -sociological organisers of it are exceedingly like moles. But the -mountain is a volcano in another sense also; as suggested in that -tradition of the southern fields fertilised by larva. It has a creative -as well as a destructive side; and it only remains, in this part of the -analysis, to note the political effect of this extra-political -institution, and the political ideals of which it has been the -champion; and perhaps the only permanent champion. - -The ideal for which it stands in the state is liberty. It stands for -liberty for the very simple reason with which this rough analysis -started. It is the only one of these institutions that is at once -necessary and voluntary. It is the only check on the state that is bound -to renew itself as eternally as the state, and more naturally than the -state. Every sane man recognises that unlimited liberty is anarchy, or -rather is nonentity. The civic idea of liberty is to give the citizen a -province of liberty; a limitation within which a citizen is a king. This -the only way in which truth can ever find refuge from public -persecution, and the good man survive the bad government. But the good -man by himself is no match for the city. There must be balanced against -it another ideal institution, and in that sense an immortal institution. -So long as the state is the only ideal institution, the state will call -on the citizen to sacrifice himself, and therefore will not have the -smallest scruple in sacrificing the citizen. The state consists of -coercion; and must always be justified from its own point of view in -extending the bounds of coercion; as, for instance, in the case of -conscription. The only thing that can be set up to check or challenge -this authority is a voluntary law and a voluntary loyalty. That loyalty -is the protection of liberty, in the only sphere where liberty can fully -dwell. It is a principle of the constitution that the King never dies. -It is the whole principle of the family that the citizen never dies. -There must be a heraldry and heredity of freedom; a tradition of -resistance to tyranny. A man must be not only free, but free-born. - -Indeed, there is something in the family that might loosely be called -anarchist; and more correctly called amateur. As there seems something -almost vague about its voluntary origin, so there seems something vague -about its voluntary organisation. The most vital function it performs, -perhaps the most vital function that anything can perform, is that of -education; but its type of early education is far too essential to be -mistaken for instruction. In a thousand things it works rather by rule -of thumb than rule of theory. To take a commonplace and even comic -example, I doubt if any text-book or code of rules has ever contained -any directions about standing a child in a corner. Doubtless when the -modern process is complete, and the coercive principle of the state has -entirely extinguished the voluntary element of the family, there will be -some exact regulation or restriction about the matter. Possibly it will -say that the corner must be an angle of at least ninety-five degrees. -Possibly it will say that the converging line of any ordinary corner -tends to make a child squint. In fact I am certain that if I said -casually, at a sufficient number of tea-tables, that corners made -children squint, it would rapidly become a universally received dogma of -popular science. For the modern world will accept no dogmas upon any -authority; but it will accept any dogmas upon no authority. Say that a -thing is so, according to the Pope or the Bible, and it will be -dismissed as a superstition without examination. But preface your remark -merely with “they say” or “don’t you know that?” or try (and fail) to -remember the name of some professor mentioned in some newspaper; and the -keen rationalism of the modern mind will accept every word you say. This -parenthesis is not so irrelevant as it may appear, for it will be well -to remember that when a rigid officialism breaks in upon the voluntary -compromises of the home, that officialism itself will be only rigid in -its action and will be exceedingly limp in its thought. Intellectually -it will be at least as vague as the amateur arrangements of the home, -and the only difference is that the domestic arrangements are in the -only real sense practical; that is, they are founded on experiences that -have been suffered. The others are what is now generally called -scientific; that is, they are founded on experiments that have not yet -been made. As a matter of fact, instead of invading the family with the -blundering bureaucracy that mismanages the public services, it would be -far more philosophical to work the reform the other way round. It would -be really quite as reasonable to alter the laws of the nation so as to -resemble the laws of the nursery. The punishments would be far less -horrible, far more humorous, and far more really calculated to make men -feel they had made fools of themselves. It would be a pleasant change if -a judge, instead of putting on the black cap, had to put on the dunce’s -cap; or if we could stand a financier in his own corner. - -Of course this opinion is rare, and reactionary--whatever that may mean. -Modern education is founded on the principle that a parent is more -likely to be cruel than anybody else. It passes over the obvious fact -that he is _less_ likely to be cruel than anybody else. Anybody may -happen to be cruel; but the first chances of cruelty come with the whole -colourless and indifferent crowd of total strangers and mechanical -mercenaries, whom it is now the custom to call in as infallible agents -of improvement; policemen, doctors, detectives, inspectors, instructors, -and so on. They are automatically given arbitrary power because there -are here and there such things as criminal parents; as if there were no -such things as criminal doctors or criminal school-masters. A mother is -not always judicious about her child’s diet; so it is given into the -control of Dr. Crippen. A father is thought not to teach his sons the -purest morality; so they are put under the tutorship of Eugene Aram. -These celebrated criminals are no more rare in their respective -professions than the cruel parents are in the profession of parenthood. -But indeed the case is far stronger than this; and there is no need to -rely on the case of such criminals at all. The ordinary weaknesses of -human nature will explain all the weaknesses of bureaucracy and business -government all over the world. The official need only be an ordinary man -to be more indifferent to other people’s children than to his own; and -even to sacrifice other people’s family prosperity to his own. He may be -bored; he may be bribed; he may be brutal, for any one of the thousand -reasons that ever made a man a brute. All this elementary common sense -is entirely left out of account in our educational and social systems of -today. It is assumed that the hireling will _not_ flee, and that solely -because he is a hireling. It is denied that the shepherd will lay down -his life for the sheep; or for that matter, even that the she-wolf will -fight for the cubs. We are to believe that mothers are inhuman; but not -that officials are human. There are unnatural parents, but there are no -natural passions; at least, there are none where the fury of King Lear -dared to find them--in the beadle. Such is the latest light on the -education of the young; and the same principle that is applied to the -child is applied to the husband and wife. Just as it assumes that a -child will certainly be loved by anybody except his mother, so it -assumes that a man can be happy with anybody except the one woman he has -himself chosen for his wife. - -Thus the coercive spirit of the state prevails over the free promise of -the family, in the shape of formal officialism. But this is not the most -coercive of the coercive elements in the modern commonwealth. An even -more rigid and ruthless external power is that of industrial employment -and unemployment. An even more ferocious enemy of the family is the -factory. Between these modern mechanical things the ancient natural -institution is not being reformed or modified or even cut down; it is -being torn in pieces. It is not only being torn in pieces in the sense -of a true metaphor, like a living thing caught in a hideous clockwork of -manufacture. It is being literally torn in pieces, in that the husband -may go to one factory, the wife to another, and the child to a third. -Each will become the servant of a separate financial group, which is -more and more gaining the political power of a feudal group. But whereas -feudalism received the loyalty of families, the lords of the new servile -state will receive only the loyalty of individuals; that is, of lonely -men and even of lost children. - -It is sometimes said that Socialism attacks the family; which is founded -on little beyond the accident that some Socialists believe in free-love. -I have been a Socialist, and I am no longer a Socialist, and at no time -did I believe in free-love. It is true, I think in a large and -unconscious sense, that State Socialism encourages the general coercive -claim I have been considering. But if it be true that Socialism attacks -the family in theory, it is far more certain that Capitalism attacks it -in practice. It is a paradox, but a plain fact, that men never notice a -thing as long as it exists in practice. Men who will note a heresy will -ignore an abuse. Let any one who doubts the paradox imagine the -newspapers formally printing along with the Honours’ List a price list, -for peerages and knighthoods; though everybody knows they are bought and -sold. So the factory is destroying the family in fact; and need depend -on no poor mad theorist who dreams of destroying it in fancy. And what -is destroying it is nothing so plausible as free-love; but something -rather to be described as an enforced fear. It is economic punishment -more terrible than legal punishment, which may yet land us in slavery as -the only safety. - -From its first days in the forest this human group had to fight against -wild monsters; and so it is now fighting against these wild machines. It -only managed to survive then, and it will only manage to survive now, by -a strong internal sanctity; a tacit oath or dedication deeper than that -of the city or the tribe. But though this silent promise was always -present, it took at a certain turning point of our history a special -form which I shall try to sketch in the next chapter. That turning point -was the creation of Christendom by the religion which created it. -Nothing will destroy the sacred triangle; and even the Christian faith, -the most amazing revolution that ever took place in the mind, served -only in a sense to turn that triangle upside down. It held up a mystical -mirror in which the order of the three things was reversed; and added a -holy family of child, mother and father to the human family of father, -mother and child. - - - - -THE STORY OF THE VOW - - - - -_VI.--The Story of the Vow_ - - -Charles Lamb, with his fine fantastic instinct for combinations that are -also contrasts, has noted somewhere a contrast between St. Valentine and -valentines. There seems a comic incongruity in such lively and frivolous -flirtations still depending on the date and title of an ascetic and -celibate bishop of the Dark Ages. The paradox lends itself to his -treatment, and there is a truth in his view of it. Perhaps it may seem -even more of a paradox to say there is no paradox. In such cases -unification appears more provocative than division; and it may seem idly -contradictory to deny the contradiction. And yet in truth there is no -contradiction. In the deepest sense there is a very real similarity, -which puts St. Valentine and his valentines on one side, and most of the -modern world on the other. I should hesitate to ask even a German -professor to collect, collate and study carefully all the valentines in -the world, with the object of tracing a philosophical principle running -through them. But if he did, I have no doubt about the philosophic -principle he would find. However trivial, however imbecile, however -vulgar or vapid or stereotyped the imagery of such things might be, it -would always involve one idea, the same idea that makes lovers -laboriously chip their initials on a tree or a rock, in a sort of -monogram of monogamy. It may be a cockney trick to tie one’s love on a -tree; though Orlando did it, and would now doubtless be arrested by the -police for breaking the bye-laws of the Forest of Arden. I am not here -concerned especially to commend the habit of cutting one’s own name and -private address in large letters on the front of the Parthenon, across -the face of the Sphinx, or in any other nook or corner where it may -chance to arrest the sentimental interest of posterity. But like many -other popular things, of the sort that can generally be found in -Shakespeare, there is a meaning in it that would probably be missed by -a less popular poet, like Shelley. There is a very permanent truth in -the fact that two free persons deliberately tie themselves to a log of -wood. And it is the idea of tying oneself to something that runs through -all this old amorous allegory like a pattern of fetters. There is always -the notion of hearts chained together, or skewered together, or in some -manner secured; there is a security that can only be called captivity. -That it frequently fails to secure itself has nothing to do with the -present point. The point is that every philosophy of sex must fail, -which does not account for its ambition of fixity, as well as for its -experience of failure. There is nothing to make Orlando commit himself -on the sworn evidence of the nearest tree. He is not bound to be bound; -he is under constraint, but nobody constrains him to be under -constraint. In short, Orlando took a vow to marry precisely as Valentine -took a vow not to marry. Nor could any ascetic, without being a heretic, -have asserted in the wildest reactions of asceticism, that the vow of -Orlando was not lawful as well as the vow of Valentine. But it is a -notable fact that even when it was not lawful, it was still a vow. -Through all that mediæval culture, which has left us the legend of -romance, there ran this pattern of a chain, which was felt as binding -even where it ought not to bind. The lawless loves of mediæval legends -all have their own law, and especially their own loyalty, as in the -tales of Tristram or Lancelot. In this sense we might say that mediæval -profligacy was more fixed than modern marriage. I am not here discussing -either modern or mediæval ethics, in the matter of what they did say or -ought to say of such things. I am only noting as a historical fact the -insistence of the mediæval imagination, even at its wildest, upon one -particular idea. That idea is the idea of the vow. It might be the vow -which St. Valentine took; it might be a lesser vow which he regarded as -lawful; it might be a wild vow which he regarded as quite lawless. But -the whole society which made such festivals and bequeathed to us such -traditions was full of the idea of vows; and we must recognise this -notion, even if we think it nonsensical, as the note of the whole -civilisation. And Valentine and the valentine both express it for us; -even more if we feel them both as exaggerated, or even as exaggerating -opposites. Those extremes meet; and they meet in the same place. Their -trysting place is by the tree on which the lover hung his love-letters. -And even if the lover hung himself on the tree, instead of his literary -compositions, even that act had about it also an indefinable flavour of -finality. - -It is often said by the critics of Christian origins that certain ritual -feasts, processions or dances are really of pagan origin. They might as -well say that our legs are of pagan origin. Nobody ever disputed that -humanity was human before it was Christian; and no Church manufactured -the legs with which men walked or danced, either in a pilgrimage or a -ballet. What can really be maintained, so as to carry not a little -conviction, is this: that where such a Church has existed it has -_preserved_ not only the processions but the dances; not only the -cathedral but the carnival. One of the chief claims of Christian -civilisation is to have preserved things of pagan origin. In short, in -the old religious countries men _continue_ to dance; while in the new -scientific cities they are often content to drudge. - -But when this saner view of history is realised, there does remain -something more mystical and difficult to define. Even heathen things are -Christian when they have been preserved by Christianity. Chivalry is -something recognisably different even from the _virtus_ of Virgil. -Charity is something exceedingly different from the plain city of Homer. -Even our patriotism is something more subtle than the undivided lover of -the city; and the change is felt in the most permanent things, such as -the love of landscape or the love of woman. To define the -differentiation in all these things will always be hopelessly difficult. -But I would here suggest one element in the change which is perhaps too -much neglected; which at any rate ought not to be neglected; the nature -of a vow. I might express it by saying that pagan antiquity was the age -of status; that Christian mediævalism was the age of vows; and that -sceptical modernity has been the age of contracts; or rather has tried -to be, and has failed. - -The outstanding example of status was slavery. Needless to say slavery -does not mean tyranny; indeed it need only be regarded relatively to -other things to be regarded as charity. The idea of slavery is that -large numbers of men are meant and made to do the heavy work of the -world, and that others, while taking the margin of profits, must -nevertheless support them while they do it. The point is not whether the -work is excessive or moderate, or whether the condition is comfortable -or uncomfortable. The point is that his work is chosen for the man, his -status fixed for the man; and this status is forced on him by law. As -Mr. Balfour said about Socialism, that is slavery and nothing else is -slavery. The slave might well be, and often was, far more comfortable -than the average free labourer; and certainly far more lazy than the -average peasant. He was a slave because he had not reached his position -by choice, or promise, or bargain, but merely by status. - -It is admitted that when Christianity had been for some time at work in -the world, this ancient servile status began in some mysterious manner -to disappear. I suggest here that one of the forms which the new spirit -took was the importance of the vow. Feudalism, for instance, differed -from slavery chiefly because feudalism was a vow. The vassal put his -hands in those of his lord, and vowed to be his man; but there was an -accent on the noun substantive as well as on the possessive pronoun. By -swearing to be his man, he proved he was not his chattel. Nobody exacts -a promise from a pickaxe, or expects a poker to swear everlasting -friendship with the tongs. Nobody takes the word of a spade; and nobody -ever took the word of a slave. It marks at least a special stage of -transition that the form of freedom was essential to the fact of -service, or even of servitude. In this way it is not a coincidence that -the word homage actually means manhood. And if there was vow instead of -status even in the static parts of Feudalism, it is needless to say -that there was a wilder luxuriance of vows in the more adventurous part -of it. The whole of what we call chivalry was one great vow. Vows of -chivalry varied infinitely from the most solid to the most fantastic; -from a vow to give all the spoils of conquest to the poor to a vow to -refrain from shaving until the first glimpse of Jerusalem. As I have -remarked, this rule of loyalty, even in the unruly exceptions which -proved the rule, ran through all the romances and songs of the -troubadours; and there were always vows even when they were very far -from being marriage vows. The idea is as much present in what they -called the Gay Science, of love, as in what they called the Divine -Science, of theology. The modern reader will smile at the mention of -these things as sciences; and will turn to the study of sociology, -ethnology and psycho-analysis; for if these are sciences (about which I -would not divulge a doubt) at least nobody would insult them by calling -them either gay or divine. - -I mean here to emphasise the presence, and not even to settle the -proportion, of this new notion in the middle ages. But the critic will -be quite wrong if he thinks it enough to answer that all these things -affected only a cultured class, not corresponding to the servile class -of antiquity. When we come to workmen and small tradesmen, we find the -same vague yet vivid presence of the spirit that can only be called the -vow. In this sense there was a chivalry of trades as well as a chivalry -of orders of knighthood; just as there was a heraldry of shop-signs as -well as a heraldry of shields. Only it happens that in the enlightenment -and liberation of the sixteenth century, the heraldry of the rich was -preserved, and the heraldry of the poor destroyed. And there is a -sinister symbolism in the fact that almost the only emblem still hung -above a shop is that of the three balls of Lombardy. Of all those -democratic glories nothing can now glitter in the sun; except the sign -of the golden usury that has devoured them all. The point here, however, -is that the trade or craft had not only something like the crest, but -something like the vow of knighthood. There was in the position of the -guildsman the same basic notion that belonged to knights and even to -monks. It was the notion of the free choice of a fixed estate. We can -realise the moral atmosphere if we compare the system of the Christian -guilds, not only with the status of the Greek and Roman slaves, but with -such a scheme as that of the Indian castes. The oriental caste has some -of the qualities of the occidental guild; especially the valuable -quality of tradition and the accumulation of culture. Men might be proud -of their castes, as they were proud of their guilds. But they had never -chosen their castes, as they have chosen their guilds. They had never, -within historic memory, even collectively created their castes, as they -collectively created their guilds. Like the slave system, the caste -system was older than history. The heathens of modern Asia, as much as -the heathens of ancient Europe, lived by the very spirit of status. -Status in a trade has been accepted like status in a tribe; and that in -a tribe of beasts and birds rather than men. The fisherman continued to -be a fisherman as the fish continued to be a fish; and the hunter would -no more turn into a cook than his dog would try its luck as a cat. -Certainly his dog would not be found prostrated before the mysterious -altar of Pasht, barking or whining a wild, lonely, and individual vow -that he at all costs would become a cat. Yet that was the vital revolt -and innovation of vows, as compared with castes or slavery; as when a -man vowed to be a monk, or the son of a cobbler saluted the shrine of -St. Joseph, the patron saint of carpenters. When he had entered the -guild of the carpenters he did indeed find himself responsible for a -very real loyalty and discipline; but the whole social atmosphere -surrounding his entrance was full of the sense of a separate and -personal decision. There is one place where we can still find this -sentiment; the sentiment of something at once free and final. We can -feel it, if the service is properly understood, before and after the -marriage vows at any ordinary wedding in any ordinary church. - -Such, in very vague outline, has been the historical nature of vows; and -the unique part they played in that mediæval civilisation out of which -modern civilisation rose--or fell. We can now consider, a little less -cloudily than it is generally considered nowadays, whether we really -think vows are good things; whether they ought to be broken; and (as -would naturally follow) whether they ought to be made. But we can never -judge it fairly till we face, as I have tried to suggest, this main fact -of history; that the personal pledge, feudal or civic or monastic, was -the way in which the world did escape from the system of slavery in the -past. For the modern break-down of mere contract leaves it still -doubtful if there be any other way of escaping it in the future. - -The idea, or at any rate the ideal, of the thing called a vow is fairly -obvious. It is to combine the fixity that goes with finality with the -self-respect that only goes with freedom. The man is a slave who is his -own master, and a king who is his own ancestor. For all kinds of social -purposes he has the calculable orbit of the man in the caste or the -servile state; but in the story of his own soul he is still pursuing, -at great peril, his own adventure. As seen by his neighbours, he is as -safe as if immured in a fortress; but as seen by himself he may be for -ever careering through the sky or crashing towards the earth in a -flying-ship. What is socially humdrum is produced by what is -individually heroic; and a city is made not merely of citizens but -knight-errants. It is needless to point out the part played by the -monastery in civilising Europe in its most barbaric interregnum; and -even those who still denounce the monasteries will be found denouncing -them for these two extreme and apparently opposite eccentricities. They -are blamed for the rigid character of their collective routine; and also -for the fantastic character of their individual fanaticism. For the -purposes of this part of the argument, it would not matter if the -marriage vow produced the most austere discomforts of the monastic vow. -The point for the present is that it was sustained by a sense of free -will; and the feeling that its evils were not accepted but chosen. The -same spirit ran through all the guilds and popular arts and spontaneous -social systems of the whole civilisation. It had all the discipline of -an army; but it was an army of volunteers. - -The civilisation of vows was broken up when Henry the Eighth broke his -own vow of marriage. Or rather, it was broken up by a new cynicism in -the ruling powers of Europe, of which that was the almost accidental -expression in England. The monasteries, that had been built by vows, -were destroyed. The guilds, that had been regiments of volunteers, were -dispersed. The sacramental nature of marriage was denied; and many of -the greatest intellects of the new movement, like Milton, already -indulged in a very modern idealisation of divorce. The progress of this -sort of emancipation advanced step by step with the progress of that -aristocratic ascendancy which has made the history of modern England; -with all its sympathy with personal liberty, and all its utter lack of -sympathy with popular life. Marriage not only became less of a sacrament -but less of a sanctity. It threatened to become not only a contract, but -a contract that could not be kept. For this one question has retained a -strange symbolic supremacy amid all the similar questions, which seems -to perpetuate the coincidence of the origin. It began with divorce for a -king; and it is now ending in divorces for a whole kingdom. - -The modern era that followed can be called the era of contract; but it -can still more truly be called the era of leonine contract. The nobles -of the new time first robbed the people, and then offered to bargain -with them. It would not be an exaggeration to say that they first robbed -the people, and then offered to cheat them. For their rents were -competitive rents, their economics competitive economics, their ethics -competitive ethics; they applied not only legality but pettifogging. No -more was heard of the customary rents of the mediæval estates; just as -no more was heard of the standard wages of the mediæval guilds. The -object of the whole process was to isolate the individual poor man in -his dealings with the individual rich man; and then offer to buy and -sell with him, though it must necessarily be himself that was bought -and sold. In the matter of labour, that is, though a man was supposed -to be in the position of a seller, he was more and more really in the -possession of a slave. Unless the tendency be reversed, he will probably -become admittedly a slave. That is to say, the word slave will never be -used; for it is always easy to find an inoffensive word; but he will be -admittedly a man legally bound to certain social service, in return for -economic security. In other words, the modern experiment of mere -contract has broken down. Trusts as well as Trades’ Unions express the -fact that it has broken down. Social reform, Socialism, Guild Socialism, -Syndicalism, even organised philanthropy, are so many ways of saying -that it has broken down. The substitute for it may be the old one of -status; but it must be something having some of the stability of status. -So far history has found only one way of combining that sort of -stability with any sort of liberty. In this sense there is a meaning in -the much misused phrase about the army of industry. But the army must be -stiffened either by the discipline of conscripts or by the vows of -volunteers. - -If we may extend the doubtful metaphor of an army of industry to cover -the yet weaker phrase about captains of industry, there is no doubt -about what those captains at present command. They work for a -centralised discipline in every department. They erect a vast apparatus -of supervision and inspection; they support all the modern restrictions -touching drink and hygiene. They may be called the friends of temperance -or even of happiness; but even their friends would not call them the -friends of freedom. There is only one form of freedom which they -tolerate; and that is the sort of sexual freedom which is covered by the -legal fiction of divorce. If we ask why this liberty is alone left, when -so many liberties are lost, we shall find the answer in the summary of -this chapter. They are trying to break the vow of the knight as they -broke the vow of the monk. They recognise the vow as the vital -antithesis to servile status; the alternative and therefore the -antagonist. Marriage makes a small state within the state, which -resists all such regimentation. That bond breaks all other bonds; that -law is found stronger than all later and lesser laws. They desire the -democracy to be sexually fluid, because the making of small nuclei is -like the making of small nations. Like small nations, they are a -nuisance to the mind of imperial scope. In short, what they fear, in the -most literal sense, is home rule. - -Men can always be blind to a thing so long as it is big enough. It is so -difficult to see the world in which we live, that I know that many will -see all I have said here of slavery as a nonsensical nightmare. But if -my association of divorce with slavery seems only a far-fetched and -theoretical paradox, I should have no difficulty in replacing it by a -concrete and familiar picture. Let them merely remember the time when -they read “Uncle Tom’s Cabin,” and ask themselves whether the oldest and -simplest of the charges against slavery has not always been the breaking -up of families. - - - - -THE TRAGEDIES OF MARRIAGE - - - - -_VII.--The Tragedies of Marriage_ - - -There is one view very common among the liberal-minded which is -exceedingly fatiguing to the clear-headed. It is symbolised in the sort -of man who says, “These ruthless bigots will refuse to bury me in -consecrated ground, because I have always refused to be baptised.” A -clear-headed person can easily conceive his point of view, in so far as -he happens to think that baptism does not matter. But the clear-headed -will be completely puzzled when they ask themselves why, if he thinks -that baptism does not matter, he should think that burial does matter. -If it is in no way imprudent for a man to keep himself from a -consecrated font, how can it be inhuman for other people to keep him -from a consecrated field? It is surely much nearer to mere superstition -to attach importance to what is done to a dead body than to a live -baby. I can understand a man thinking both superstitious, or both -sacred; but I cannot see why he should grumble that other people do not -give him as sanctities what he regards as superstitions. He is merely -complaining of being treated as what he declares himself to be. It is as -if a man were to say, “My persecutors still refuse to make me king, out -of mere malice because I am a strict republican.” Or it is as if he -said, “These heartless brutes are so prejudiced against a teetotaler, -that they won’t even give him a glass of brandy.” - -The fashion of divorce would not be a modern fashion if it were not full -of this touching fallacy. A great deal of it might be summed up as a -most illogical and fanatical appetite for getting married in churches. -It is as if a man should practice polygamy out of sheer greed for -wedding cake. Or it is as if he provided his household with new shoes, -entirely by having them thrown after the wedding carriage when he went -off with a new wife. There are other ways of procuring cake or -purchasing shoes; and there are other ways of setting up a human -establishment. What is unreasonable is the request which the modern man -really makes of the religious institutions of his fathers. The modern -man wants to buy one shoe without the other; to obtain one half of a -supernatural revelation without the other. The modern man wants to eat -his wedding cake and have it, too. - -I am not basing this book on the religious argument, and therefore I -will not pause to inquire why the old Catholic institutions of -Christianity seem to be especially made the objects of these -unreasonable complaints. As a matter of fact nobody does propose that -some ferocious Anti-Semite like M. Drumont should be buried as a Jew -with all the rites of the Synagogue. But the broad-minded were furious -because Tolstoi, who had denounced Russian orthodoxy quite as -ferociously, was not buried as orthodox, with all the rites of the -Russian Church. Nobody does insist that a man who wishes to have fifty -wives when Mahomet allowed him five, must have his fifty with the full -approval of Mahomet’s religion. But the broad-minded are extremely -bitter because a Christian who wishes to have several wives when his -own promise bound him to one, is not allowed to violate his vow at the -same altar at which he made it. Nobody does insist on Baptists totally -immersing people who totally deny the advantages of being totally -immersed. Nobody ever did expect Mormons to receive the open mockers of -the Book of Mormon, nor Christian Scientists to let their churches be -used for exposing Mrs. Eddy as an old fraud. It is only of the forms of -Christianity making the Catholic claim that such inconsistent claims are -made. And even the inconsistency is, I fancy, a tribute to the -acceptance of the Catholic idea in a catholic fashion. It may be that -men have an obscure sense that nobody need belong to the Mormon religion -and every one does ultimately belong to the Church; and though he may -have made a few dozen Mormon marriages in a wandering and entertaining -life, he will really have nowhere to go to if he does not somehow find -his way back to the churchyard. But all this concerns the general -theological question and not the matter involved here, which is merely -historical and social. The point here is that it is at least -superficially inconsistent to ask institutions for a formal approval, -which they can only give by an inconsistency. - -I have put first the question of what is marriage. And we are now in a -position to ask more clearly what is divorce. It is not merely the -negation or neglect of marriage; for any one can always neglect -marriage. It is not the dissolution of the legal obligation of marriage, -or even the legal obligation of monogamy; for the simple reason that no -such obligation exists. Any man in modern London may have a hundred -wives if he does not call them wives; or rather, if he does not go -through certain more or less mystical ceremonies in order to assert that -they are wives. He might create a certain social coolness round his -household, a certain fading of his general popularity. But that is not -created by law, and could not be prevented by law. As the late Lord -Salisbury very sensibly observed about boycotting in Ireland, “How can -you make a law to prevent people going out of the room when somebody -they don’t like comes into it?” We cannot be forcibly introduced to a -polygamist by a policeman. It would not be an assertion of social -liberty, but a denial of social liberty, if we found ourselves -practically obliged to associate with all the profligates in society. -But divorce is not in this sense mere anarchy. On the contrary divorce -is in this sense respectability; and even a rigid excess of -respectability. Divorce in this sense might indeed be not unfairly -called snobbery. The definition of divorce, which concerns us here, is -that it is the attempt to give respectability, and not liberty. It is -the attempt to give a certain social status, and not a legal status. It -is indeed supposed that this can be done by the alteration of certain -legal forms; and this will be more or less true according to the extent -to which law as such overawed public opinion, or was valued as a true -expression of public opinion. If a man divorced in the large-minded -fashion of Henry the Eighth pleaded his legal title among the peasantry -of Ireland, for instance, I think he would find a difference still -existing between respectability and religion. But the peculiar point -here is that many are claiming the sanction of religion as well as of -respectability. They would attach to their very natural and sometimes -very pardonable experiments a certain atmosphere, and even glamour, -which has undoubtedly belonged to the status of marriage in historic -Christendom. But before they make this attempt, it would be well to ask -why such a dignity ever appeared or in what it consisted. And I fancy we -shall find ourselves confronted with the very simple truth, that the -dignity arose wholly and entirely out of the fidelity; and that the -glamour merely came from the vow. People were regarded as having a -certain dignity because they were dedicated in a certain way; as bound -to certain duties and, if it be preferred, to certain discomforts. It -may be irrational to endure these discomforts; it may even be irrational -to respect them. But it is certainly much more irrational to respect -them, and then artificially transfer the same respect to the absence of -them. It is as if we were to expect uniforms to be saluted when armies -were disbanded; and ask people to cheer a soldier’s coat when it did -not contain a soldier. If you think you can abolish war, abolish it; but -do not suppose that when there are no wars to be waged, there will still -be warriors to be worshipped. If it was a good thing that the -monasteries were dissolved, let us say so and dismiss them. But the -nobles who dissolved the monasteries did not shave their heads, and ask -to be regarded as saints solely on account of that ceremony. The nobles -did not dress up as abbots and ask to be credited with a potential -talent for working miracles, because of the austerity of their vows of -poverty and chastity. They got inside the houses, but not the hoods, and -still less the haloes. They at least knew that it is not the habit that -makes the monk. They were not so superstitious as those moderns, who -think it is the veil that makes the bride. - -What is respected, in short, is fidelity to the ancient flag of the -family, and a readiness to fight for what I have noted as its unique -type of freedom. I say readiness to fight, for fortunately the fight -itself is the exception rather than the rule. The soldier is not -respected because he is doomed to death, but because he is ready for -death; and even ready for defeat. The married man or woman is not doomed -to evil, sickness or poverty; but is respected for taking a certain step -for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness or in health. -But there is one result of this line of argument which should correct a -danger in some arguments on the same side. - -It is very essential that a stricture on divorce, which is in fact -simply a defence of marriage, should be independent of sentimentalism, -especially in the form called optimism. A man justifying a fight for -national independence or civic freedom is neither sentimental nor -optimistic. He explains the sacrifice, but he does not explain it away. -He does not say that bayonet wounds are pin-pricks, or mere scratches of -the thorns on the rose of pleasure. He does not say that the whole -display of firearms is a festive display of fireworks. On the contrary, -when he praises it most, he praises it as pain rather than pleasure. He -increases the praise with the pain; it is his whole boast that -militarism, and even modern science, can produce no instrument of -torture to tame the soul of man. It is idle, in speaking of war, to pit -the realistic against the romantic, in the sense of the heroic; for all -possible realism can only increase the heroism; and therefore, in the -highest sense, increase the romance. Now I do not compare marriage with -war, but I do compare marriage with law or liberty or patriotism or -popular government, or any of the human ideals which have often to be -defended by war. Even the wildest of those ideals, which seem to escape -from all the discipline of peace, do not escape from the discipline of -war. The Bolshevists may have aimed at pure peace and liberty; but they -have been compelled, for their own purpose, first to raise armies and -then to rule armies. In a word, however beautiful you may think your own -visions of beatitude, men must suffer to be beautiful, and even suffer a -considerable interval of being ugly. And I have no notion of denying -that mankind suffers much from the maintenance of the standard of -marriage; as it suffers much from the necessity of criminal law or the -recurrence of crusades and revolutions. The only question here is -whether marriage is indeed, as I maintain, an ideal and an institution -making for popular freedom; I do not need to be told that anything -making for popular freedom has to be paid for in vigilance and pain, and -a whole army of martyrs. - -Hence I am far indeed from denying the hard cases which exist here, as -in all matters involving the idea of honour. For indeed I could not deny -them without denying the whole parallel of militant morality on which my -argument rests. But this being first understood, it will be well to -discuss in a little more detail what are described as the tragedies of -marriage. And the first thing to note about the most tragic of them is -that they are not tragedies of marriage at all. They are tragedies of -sex; and might easily occur in a highly modern romance in which marriage -was not mentioned at all. It is generally summarised by saying that the -tragic element is the absence of love. But it is often forgotten that -another tragic element is often the presence of love. The doctors of -divorce, with an air of the frank and friendly realism of men of the -world, are always recommending and rejoicing in a sensible separation by -mutual consent. But if we are really to dismiss our dreams of dignity -and honour, if we are really to fall back on the frank realism of our -experience as men of the world, then the very first thing that our -experience will tell us is that it very seldom is a separation by mutual -consent; that is, that the consent very seldom is sincerely and -spontaneously mutual. By far the commonest problem in such cases is that -in which one party wishes to end the partnership and the other does not. -And of that emotional situation you can make nothing but a tragedy, -whichever way you turn it. With or without marriage, with or without -divorce, with or without any arrangements that anybody can suggest or -imagine, it remains a tragedy. The only difference is that by the -doctrine of marriage it remains both a noble and a fruitful tragedy; -like that of a man who falls fighting for his country, or dies -testifying to the truth. But the truth is that the innovators have as -much sham optimism about divorce as any romanticist can have had about -marriage. They regard their story, when it ends in the divorce court, -through as rosy a mist of sentimentalism as anybody ever regarded a -story ending with wedding bells. Such a reformer is quite sure that when -once the prince and princess are divorced by the fairy godmother, they -will live happily ever after. I enjoy romance, but I like it to be -rooted in reality; and any one with a touch of reality knows that nine -couples out of ten, when they are divorced, are left in an exceedingly -different state. It will be safe to say in most cases that one partner -will fail to find happiness in an infatuation, and the other will from -the first accept a tragedy. In the realm of reality and not of romance, -it is commonly a case of breaking hearts as well as breaking promises; -and even dishonour is not always a remedy for remorse. - -The next limitation to be laid down in the matter affects certain -practical forms of discomfort, on a level rather lower than love or -hatred. The cases most commonly quoted concern what is called “drink” -and what is called “cruelty.” They are always talked about as matters -of fact; though in practice they are very decidedly matters of opinion. -It is not a flippancy, but a fact, that the misfortune of the woman who -has married a drunkard may have to be balanced against the misfortune of -the man who has married a teetotaler. For the very definition of -drunkenness may depend on the dogma of teetotalism. Drunkenness, it has -been very truly observed,[B] “may mean anything from _delirium tremens_ -to having a stronger head than the official appointed to conduct the -examination.” Mr. Bernard Shaw once professed, apparently seriously, -that any man drinking wine or beer at all was incapacitated from -managing a motorcar; and still more, therefore, one would suppose, from -managing a wife. The scales are weighted here, of course, with all those -false weights of snobbishness which are the curse of justice in this -country. The working class is forced to conduct almost in public a -normal and varying festive habit, which the upper class can afford to -conduct in private; and a certain section of the middle class, that -which happens to concern itself most with local politics and social -reforms, really has or affects a standard quite abnormal and even alien. -They might go any lengths of injustice in dealing with the working man -or working woman accused of too hearty a taste in beer. To mention but -one matter out of a thousand, the middle class reformers are obviously -quite ignorant of the hours at which working people begin to work. -Because they themselves, at eleven o’clock in the morning, have only -recently finished breakfast and the full moral digestion of the _Daily -Mail_, they think a charwoman drinking beer at that hour is one of those -arising early in the morning to follow after strong drink. Most of them -really do not know that she has already done more than half a heavy -day’s work, and is partaking of a very reasonable luncheon. The whole -problem of proletarian drink is entangled in a network of these -misunderstandings; and there is no doubt whatever that, when judged by -these generalisations, the poor will be taken in a net of injustices. -And this truth is as certain in the case of what is called cruelty as -of what is called drink. Nine times out of ten the judgment on a navvy -for hitting a woman is about as just as a judgment on him for not taking -off his hat to a lady. It is a class test; it may be a class -superiority; but it is not an act of equal justice between the classes. -It leaves out a thousand things; the provocation, the atmosphere, the -harassing restrictions of space, the nagging which Dickens described as -the terrors of “temper in a cart,” the absence of certain taboos of -social training, the tradition of greater roughness even in the gestures -of affection. To make all marriage or divorce, in the case of such a -man, turn upon a blow is like blasting the whole life of a gentleman -because he has slammed the door. Often a poor man cannot slam the door; -partly because the model villa might fall down; but more because he has -nowhere to go to; the smoking-room, the billiard-room and the peacock -music-room not being yet attached to his premises. - -I say this in passing, to point out that while I do not dream of -suggesting that there are only happy marriages, there will quite -certainly, as things work nowadays, be a very large number of unhappy -and unjust divorces. They will be cases in which the innocent partner -will receive the real punishment of the guilty partner, through being in -fact and feeling the faithful partner. For instance, it is insisted that -a married person must at least find release from the society of a -lunatic; but it is also true that the scientific reformers, with their -fuss about “the feeble-minded,” are continually giving larger and looser -definitions of lunacy. The process might begin by releasing somebody -from a homicidal maniac, and end by dealing in the same way with a -rather dull conversationalist. But in fact nobody does deny that a -person should be allowed some sort of release from a homicidal maniac. -The most extreme school of orthodoxy only maintains that anybody who has -had that experience should be content with that release. In other words, -it says he should be content with that experience of matrimony, and not -seek another. It was put very wittily, I think, by a Roman Catholic -friend of mine, who said he approved of release so long as it was not -spelt with a hyphen. - -To put it roughly, we are prepared in some cases to listen to the man -who complains of having a wife. But we are not prepared to listen, at -such length, to the same man when he comes back and complains that he -has not got a wife. Now in practice at this moment the great mass of the -complaints are precisely of this kind. The reformers insist particularly -on the pathos of a man’s position when he has obtained a separation -without a divorce. Their most tragic figure is that of the man who is -already free of all those ills he had, and is only asking to be allowed -to fly to others that he knows not of. I should be the last to deny -that, in certain emotional circumstances, his tragedy may be very tragic -indeed. But his tragedy is of the emotional kind which can never be -entirely eliminated; and which he has himself, in all probability, -inflicted on the partner he has left. We may call it the price of -maintaining an ideal or the price of making a mistake; but anyhow it is -the point of our whole distinction in the matter; it is here that we -draw the line, and I have nowhere denied that it is a line of battle. -The battle joins on the debatable ground, not of the man’s doubtful past -but of his still more doubtful future. In a word, the divorce -controversy is not really a controversy about divorce. It is a -controversy about re-marriage; or rather about whether it is marriage at -all. - -And with that we can only return to the point of honour which I have -compared here to a point of patriotism; since it is both the smallest -and the greatest kind of patriotism. Men have died in torments during -the last five years for points of patriotism far more dubious and -fugitive. Men like the Poles or the Serbians, through long periods of -their history, may be said rather to have lived in torments. I will -never admit that the vital need of the freedom of the family, as I have -tried to sketch it here, is not a cause as valuable as the freedom of -any frontier. But I do willingly admit that the cause would be a dark -and terrible one, if it really asked these men to suffer torments. As I -have stated it, on its most extreme terms, it only asks them to suffer -abnegations. And those negative sufferings I do think they may -honourably be called upon to bear, for the glory of their own oath and -the great things by which the nations live. In relation to their own -nation most normal men will feel that this distinction between release -and “re-lease” is neither fanciful nor harsh, but very rational and -human. A patriot may be an exile in another country; but he will not be -a patriot of another country. He will be as cheerful as he can in an -abnormal position; he may or may not sing his country’s songs in a -strange land; but he will not sing the strange songs as his own. And -such may fairly be also the attitude of the citizen who has gone into -exile from the oldest of earthly cities. - - - - -THE VISTA OF DIVORCE - - - - -_VIII.--The Vista of Divorce_ - - -The case for divorce combines all the advantages of having it both ways; -and of drawing the same deduction from right or left, and from black or -white. Whichever way the programme works in practice, it can still be -justified in theory. If there are few examples of divorce, it shows how -little divorce need be dreaded; if there are many, it shows how much it -is required. The rarity of divorce is an argument in favour of divorce; -and the multiplicity of divorce is an argument against marriage. Now, in -truth, if we were confined to considering this alternative in a -speculative manner, if there were no concrete facts but only abstract -probabilities, we should have no difficulty in arguing our case. The -abstract liberty allowed by the reformers is as near as possible to -anarchy, and gives no logical or legal guarantee worth discussing. The -advantages of their reform do not accrue to the innocent party, but to -the guilty party; especially if he be sufficiently guilty. A man has -only to commit the crime of desertion to obtain the reward of divorce. -And if they are entitled to take as typical the most horrible -hypothetical cases of the abuse of the marriage laws, surely we are -entitled to take equally extreme possibilities in the abuse of their own -divorce laws. If they, when looking about for a husband, so often hit -upon a homicidal maniac, surely we may politely introduce them to the -far more human figure of the gentleman who marries as many women as he -likes and gets rid of them as often as he pleases. But in fact there is -no necessity for us to argue thus in the abstract; for the amiable -gentleman in question undoubtedly exists in the concrete. Of course, he -is no new figure; he is a very recurrent type of rascal; his name has -been Lothario or Don Juan; and he has often been represented as a rather -romantic rascal. The point of divorce reform, it cannot be too often -repeated, is that the rascal should not only be regarded as romantic, -but regarded as respectable. He is not to sow his wild oats and settle -down; he is merely to settle down to sowing his wild oats. They are to -be regarded as tame and inoffensive oats; almost, if one may say so, as -Quaker oats. But there is no need, as I say, to speculate about whether -the looser view of divorce might prevail; for it is already prevailing. -The newspapers are full of an astonishing hilarity about the rapidity -with which hundreds or thousands of human families are being broken up -by the lawyers; and about the undisguised haste of the “hustling judges” -who carry on the work. It is a form of hilarity which would seem to -recall the gaiety of a grave-digger in a city swept by a pestilence. But -a few details occasionally flash by in the happy dance; from time to -time the court is moved by a momentary curiosity about the causes of the -general violation of oaths and promises; as if there might, here and -there, be a hint of some sort of reason for ruining the fundamental -institution of society. And nobody who notes those details, or -considers those faint hints of reason, can doubt for a moment that -masses of these men and women are now simply using divorce in the spirit -of free-love. They are very seldom the sort of people who have once -fallen tragically into the wrong place, and have now found their way -triumphantly to the right place. They are almost always people who are -obviously wandering from one place to another, and will probably leave -their last shelter exactly as they have left their first. But it seems -to amuse them to make again, if possible in a church, a promise they -have already broken in practice and almost avowedly disbelieve in -principle. - -In face of this headlong fashion, it is really reasonable to ask the -divorce reformers what is their attitude towards the old monogamous -ethic of our civilisation; and whether they wish to retain it in -general, or to retain it at all. Unfortunately even the sincerest and -most lucid of them use language which leaves the matter a little -doubtful. Mr. E. S. P. Haynes is one of the most brilliant and most -fair-minded controversialists on that side; and he has said, for -instance, that he agrees with me in supporting the ideal of indissoluble -or, at least, of undissolved marriage. Mr. Haynes is one of the few -friends of divorce who are also real friends of democracy; and I am sure -that in practice this stands for a real sympathy with the home, -especially the poor home. Unfortunately, on the theoretic side, the word -“ideal” is far from being an exact term, and is open to two almost -opposite interpretations. For many would say that marriage is an ideal -as some would say that monasticism is an ideal, in the sense of a -counsel of perfection. Now certainly we might preserve a conjugal ideal -in this way. A man might be reverently pointed out in the street as a -sort of saint, merely because he was married. A man might wear a medal -for monogamy; or have letters after his name similar to V.C. or D.D.; -let us say L.W. for “Lives With His Wife,” or “N.D.Y.” for “Not Divorced -Yet.” We might, on entering some strange city, be struck by a stately -column erected to the memory of a wife who never ran away with a -soldier, or the shrine and image of a historical character, who had -resisted the example of the man in the “New Witness” ballade in bolting -with the children’s nurse. Such high artistic hagiology would be quite -consistent with Mr. Haynes’ divorce reform; with re-marriage after three -years, or three hours. It would also be quite consistent with Mr. -Haynes’ phrase about preserving an ideal of marriage. What it would not -be consistent with is the perfectly plain, solid, secular and social -usefulness which I have here attributed to marriage. It does not create -or preserve a natural institution, normal to the whole community, to -balance the more artificial and even more arbitrary institution of the -state; which is less natural even if it is equally necessary. It does -not defend a voluntary association, but leaves the only claim on life, -death and loyalty with a more coercive institution. It does not stand, -in the sense I have tried to explain, for the principle of liberty. In -short, it does not do any of the things which Mr. Haynes himself would -especially desire to see done. For humanity to be thus spontaneously -organised from below, it is necessary that the organisation should be -almost as universal as the official organisation from above. The tyrant -must find not one family but many families defying his power; he must -find mankind not a dust of atoms, but fixed in solid blocks of fidelity. -And those human groups must support not only themselves but each other. -In this sense what some call individualism is as corporate as communism. -It is a thing of volunteers; but volunteers must be soldiers. It is a -defence of private persons; but we might say that the private persons -must be private soldiers. The family must be recognised as well as real; -above all, the family must be recognised by the families. To expect -individuals to suffer successfully for a home apart from the home, that -is for something which is an incident but not an institution, is really -a confusion between two ideas; it is a verbal sophistry almost in the -nature of a pun. Similarly, for instance, we cannot prove the moral -force of a peasantry by pointing to one peasant; we might almost as well -reveal the military force of infantry by pointing to one infant. - -I take it, however, that the advocates of divorce do not mean that -marriage is to remain ideal only in the sense of being almost -impossible. They do not mean that a faithful husband is only to be -admired as a fanatic. The reasonable men among them do really mean that -a divorced person shall be tolerated as something unusually unfortunate, -not merely that a married person shall be admired as something unusually -blessed and inspired. But whatever they desire, it is as well that they -should realise exactly what they do; and in this case I should like to -hear their criticisms in the matter of what they see. They must surely -see that in England at present, as in many parts of America in the past, -the new liberty is being taken in the spirit of licence as if the -exception were to be the rule, or, rather, perhaps the absence of rule. -This will especially be made manifest if we consider that the effect of -the process is accumulative like a snowball, and returns on itself like -a snowball. The obvious effect of frivolous divorce will be frivolous -marriage. If people can be separated for no reason they will feel it -all the easier to be united for no reason. A man might quite clearly -foresee that a sensual infatuation would be fleeting, and console -himself with the knowledge that the connection could be equally -fleeting. There seems no particular reason why he should not elaborately -calculate that he could stand a particular lady’s temper for ten months; -or reckon that he would have enjoyed and exhausted her repertoire of -drawing-room songs in two years. The old joke about choosing the wife to -fit the furniture or the fashions might quite logically return, not as -an old joke but as a new solemnity; indeed, it will be found that a new -religion is generally the return of an old joke. A man might quite -consistently see a woman as suited to the period of the hobble skirt, -and as less suited to the threatened recurrence of the crinoline. These -fancies are fantastic enough, but they are not a shade more fantastic -than the facts of many a divorce controversy as urged in the divorce -courts. And this is to leave out altogether the most fantastic fact of -all: the winking at widespread and conspicuous collusion. Collusion has -become not so much an illegal evasion as a legal fiction, and even a -legal institution, as it is admirably satirised in Mr. Somerset -Maugham’s brilliant play of “Home and Beauty.” The fact was very frankly -brought before the public, by a man who was eminently calculated to -disarm satire by sincerity. Colonel Wedgewood is a man who can never be -too much honoured, by all who have any hope of popular liberties still -finding champions in the midst of parliamentary corruption. He is one of -the very few men alive who have shown both military and political -courage; the courage of the camp and the courage of the forum. And -doubtless he showed a third type of social courage, in avowing the -absurd expedient which so many others are content merely to accept and -employ. It is admittedly a frantic and farcical thing that a good man -should find or think it necessary to pretend to commit a sin. Some of -the divorce moralists seem to deduce from this that he ought really to -commit the sin. They may possibly be aware, however, that there are some -who do not agree with them. - -For this latter fact is the next step in the speculative progress of the -new morality. The divorce advocates must be well aware that modern -civilisation still contains strong elements, not the least intelligent -and certainly not the least vigorous, which will not accept the new -respectability as a substitute for the old religious vow. The Roman -Catholic Church, the Anglo-Catholic school, the conservative -peasantries, and a large section of the popular life everywhere, will -regard the riot of divorce and re-marriage as they would any other riot -of irresponsibility. The consequence would appear to be that two -different standards will appear in ordinary morality, and even in -ordinary society. Instead of the old social distinction between those -who are married and those who are unmarried, there will be a distinction -between those who are married and those who are really married. Society -might even become divided into two societies; which is perilously -approximate to Disraeli’s famous exaggeration about England divided into -two nations. But whether England be actually so divided or not, this -note of the two nations is the real note of warning in the matter. It -is in this connection, perhaps, that we have to consider most gravely -and doubtfully the future of our own country. - -Anarchy cannot last, but anarchic communities cannot last either. Mere -lawlessness cannot live, but it can destroy life. The nations of the -earth always return to sanity and solidarity; but the nations which -return to it first are the nations which survive. We in England cannot -afford to allow our social institutions to go to pieces, as if this -ancient and noble country were an ephemeral colony. We cannot afford it -comparatively, even if we could afford it positively. We are surrounded -by vigorous nations mainly rooted in the peasant or permanent ideals; -notably in the case of France and Ireland. I know that the detested and -detestably undemocratic parliamentary clique, which corrupts France as -it does England, was persuaded or bribed by a Jew named Naquet to pass a -crude and recent divorce law, which was full of the hatred of -Christianity. But only a very superficial critic of France can be -unaware that French parliamentarism is superficial. The French nation -as a whole, the most rigidly respectable nation in the world, will -certainly go on living by the old standards of domesticity. When -Frenchmen are not Christians they are heathens; the heathens who -worshipped the household gods. It might seem strange to say, for -instance, that an atheist like M. Clemenceau has for his chief ideal a -thing called piety. But to understand this it is only necessary to know -a little Latin--and a little French. - -A short time ago, as I am well aware, it would have sounded very strange -to represent the old religious and peasant communities either as a model -or a menace. It was counted a queer thing to say, in the days when my -friends and I first said it; in the days of my youth when the republic -of France and the religion of Ireland were regarded as alike ridiculous -and decadent. But many things have happened since then; and it will not -now be so easy to persuade even newspaper readers that Foch is a fool, -either because he is a Frenchman or because he is a Catholic. The older -tradition, even in the most unfashionable forms, has found champions in -the most unexpected quarters. Only the other day Dr. Saleeby, a -distinguished scientific critic who had made himself the special -advocate of all the instruction and organisation that is called social -science, startled his friends and foes alike by saying that the peasant -families in the West of Ireland were far more satisfactory and -successful than those brooded over by all the benevolent sociology of -Bradford. He gave his testimony from an entirely rationalistic and even -materialistic point of view; indeed, he carried rationalism so far as to -give the preference to Roscommon because the women are still mammals. To -a mind of the more traditional type it might seem sufficient to say they -are still mothers. To a memory that lingers over the legends and lyrical -movements of mankind, it might seem no great improvement to imagine a -song that ran “My mammal bids me bind my hair,” or “I’m to be Queen of -the May, mammal, I’m to be Queen of the May.” But indeed the truth to -which he testified is all the more arresting, because for him it was -materialistic and not mystical. The brute biological advantage, as well -as other advantages, was with those for whom that truth was a truth; and -it was all the more instinctive and automatic where that truth was a -tradition. The sort of place where mothers are still something more than -mammals is the only sort of place where they still are mammals. There -the people are still healthy animals; healthy enough to hit you if you -call them animals. I also have, on this merely controversial occasion, -used throughout the rationalistic and not the religious appeal. But it -is not unreasonable to note that the materialistic advantages are really -found among those who most repudiate materialism. This one stray -testimony is but a type of a thousand things of the same kind, which -will convince any one with the sense of social atmospheres that the day -of the peasantries is not passing, but rather arriving. It is the more -complex types of society that are now entangled in their own -complexities. Those who tell us, with a monotonous metaphor, that we -cannot put the clock back, seem to be curiously unconscious of the fact -that their own clock has stopped. And there is nothing so hopeless as -clockwork when it stops. A machine cannot mend itself; it requires a man -to mend it; and the future lies with those who can make living laws for -men and not merely dead laws for machinery. Those living laws are not to -be found in the scatter-brained scepticism which is busy in the great -cities, dissolving what it cannot analyse. The primary laws of man are -to be found in the permanent life of man; in those things that have been -common to it in every time and land, though in the highest civilisation -they have reached an enrichment like that of the divine romance of Cana -in Galilee. We know that many critics of such a story say that its -elements are not permanent; but indeed it is the critics who are not -permanent. A hundred mad dogs of heresy have worried man from the -beginning; but it was always the dog that died. We know there is a -school of prigs who disapprove of the wine; and there may now be a -school of prigs who disapprove of the wedding. For in such a case as the -story of Cana, it may be remarked that the pedants are prejudiced -against the earthly elements as much as, or more than, the heavenly -elements. It is not the supernatural that disgusts them, so much as the -natural. And those of us who have seen all the normal rules and -relations of humanity uprooted by random speculators, as if they were -abnormal abuses and almost accidents, will understand why men have -sought for something divine if they wished to preserve anything human. -They will know why common sense, cast out from some academy of fads and -fashions conducted on the lines of a luxurious madhouse, has age after -age sought refuge in the high sanity of a sacrament. - - - - -CONCLUSION - - - - -_IX.--Conclusion_ - - -This is a pamphlet and not a book; and the writer of a pamphlet not only -deals with passing things, but generally with things which he hopes will -pass. In that sense it is the object of a pamphlet to be out of date as -soon as possible. It can only survive when it does not succeed. The -successful pamphlets are necessarily dull; and though I have no great -hopes of this being successful, I dare say it is dull enough for all -that. It is designed merely to note certain fugitive proposals of the -moment, and compare them with certain recurrent necessities of the race; -but especially the necessity for some spontaneous social formation freer -than that of the state. If it were more in the nature of a work of -literature, with anything like an ambition of endurance, I might go -deeper into the matter, and give some suggestions about the philosophy -or religion of marriage, and the philosophy or religion of all these -rather random departures from it. Some day perhaps I may try to write -something about the spiritual or psychological quarrel between faith and -fads. Here I will only say, in conclusion, that I believe the universal -fallacy here is a fallacy of being universal. There is a sense in which -it is really a human if heroic possibility to love everybody; and the -young student will not find it a bad preliminary exercise to love -somebody. But the fallacy I mean is that of a man who is not even -content to love everybody, but really wishes to be everybody. He wishes -to walk down a hundred roads at once; to sleep in a hundred houses at -once; to live a hundred lives at once. To do something like this in the -imagination is one of the occasional visions of art and poetry; to -attempt it in the art of life is not only anarchy but inaction. Even in -the arts it can only be the first hint and not the final fulfillment; a -man cannot work at once in bronze and marble, or play the organ and the -violin at the same time. The universal vision of being such a Briareus -is a nightmare of nonsense even in the merely imaginative world; and -ends in mere nihilism in the social world. If a man had a hundred -houses, there would still be more houses than he had days in which to -dream of them; if a man had a hundred wives, there would still be more -women than he could ever know. He would be an insane sultan jealous of -the whole human race, and even of the dead and the unborn. I believe -that behind the art and philosophy of our time there is a considerable -element of this bottomless ambition and this unnatural hunger; and since -in these last words I am touching only lightly on things that would need -much larger treatment, I will admit that the rending of the ancient roof -of man is probably only a part of such an endless and empty expansion. I -asked in the last chapter what those most wildly engaged in the mere -dance of divorce, as fantastic as the dance of death, really expected -for themselves or for their children. And in the deepest sense I think -this is the answer; that they expect the impossible, that is the -universal. They are not crying for the moon, which is a definite and -therefore a defensible desire. They are crying for the world; and when -they had it, they would want another one. In the last resort they would -like to try every situation, not in fancy but in fact; but they cannot -refuse any and therefore cannot resolve on any. In so far as this is the -modern mood, it is a thing so deadly as to be already dead. What is -vitally needed everywhere, in art as much as in ethics, in poetry as -much as in politics, is choice; a creative power in the will as well as -in the mind. Without that self-limitation of somebody, nothing living -will ever see the light. - - -FOOTNOTES: - -[A] Written at the time of the last great German assaults. - -[B] The late Cecil Chesterton, in the “New Witness.” - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SUPERSTITION OF DIVORCE ***
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