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PAGE NOTES OF THE WEEK . . . 185 FOREIGNAFFAIRS. By S. Verdad . . 188 THE NAME AND THESUBSTANCE.By S. G. H. . 189 A GUILDSMAN’S INTERPRETATIONOF HISTORY. By Arthur J. Penty. VI.-Mediaevalism and Science . . 190 ECONOMICS AND THE STAGE. By Adrian Allinson 192 READERS ANDWRITERS. By R. H. C. THREEVIGNETTES, By Millar Dunning . . . l ‘93 194
PAGE TOWARDS NATIONAL GUILDS. By National Guildsmen . . THE IDOLATRY WORDS (Continued.) OF — By Dr. Oscar Levy . . VIEWS AND REVIEWS : Religion and Science. By A. E. R. . . REVIEWS : The War and Elizabeth. Cities and Sea-Coasts and Islands. Impossible Peter. The Flaming Sword of France . . PASTICHE. By Horace B. Samuel, Triboulet, C. S. D. . . 195 196 198
199 200
NOTES
OF
THE
WEEK
MR. THOMAS continues to warn the Labour movement against the use of industrial or economic power. Speaking at Clerkenwell last Friday he said “ he did not believe in merely using industrial power for the purpose of trying to amend what the trade unionists could have altered at the ballot-box ” . . . they had had and had missed their opportunity for a revolution a month ago, and they ought now to be content until the opportunity should recur. Mr. Thomas is an able man and one of the few intellectually honest men in the leading ranks of Labour. He is capable, that is to say, of both seeing reason and of making open submission when he is convinced. Is it too much to ask that he should reconsider this present view of his, and, if he should find it mistaken, correct it publicly? For it would, indeed, be unfortunate if during the period of difficulty into which we are now entering, a man like Mr. Thomas, upon whom so much depends, were to be on the wrong side of the argument and, therefore, of the action that is likely to be taken. The situation ought to be all the more clear to Mr. Thomas from the fact that as the Secretary of the National Union of Railwaymen he has already been responsible for the effective exercise of the industrial power of Labour. To what, we ask, was due the concession of the eight hours day to the 800,000 workers on the railway? It was clearly not to the political power of the workingclasses, nor was it in consequence of political discussions in Parliament, for no debate that we remember even took place on the subject.’ The concession, in short, was extorted or enforced or procured or won or whatever it may be called by the industrial power of a practically blackleg-proof Union exercising itself by the admittedly legitimate means of threatening to withhold its labour. Political reasons, we do not deny, were favourable to the same end; but had they been ten times more favourable they would not have prevailed, we fear, against the economic resistance of the railway companies but for the fact that they were reinforced by the economic power of Mr. Thomas’ labour monopoly: Here, then, is a case to Mr. Thomas’ hand and taken from his own recent experience. If by the exercise of industrial power his Union has won a concession over the head of Parliament, he must either
repudiate the action of his Union or admit that the industrial weapon is legitimate and proper. in the latter event he cannot reasonably refuse to other Unions the exercise of the power by means of which his own Union has secured a victory. * * * If the employing classes were as content as Mr. Thomas would have the working-classes be with the exercise, win or lose, of political power, something might be said for taking his advice. But the evidence is conclusive that in addition to employing their overwhelming political power the Capitalist classes habitually employ their economic power, and not only in the sphere of industry bat in the sphere of politics. Sir Leo Chiozza Money has drawn attention to the latest instance of it, the public notice of which has just appeared in the form of an announcement of the sale to private shipowners of the steamers under Government construction. No debate in Parliament has taken place on the policy involved in the de-nationalisation of these ships any more than on the similar policy involved in the sale of the national factories; nor has any proper publicity been given to the details of the terms of purchase. The operations, in fact, have been carried out over the head of Parliament exactly as was the concession to Mr. Thomas’ Union of the eight hours day. To the exercise of what kind of power, then, was it due, if not to the economic power of the Capitalist unions? The latter, indeed, unlike Mr. Thomas, have been at no pains to disavow their methods and sanctions in the matter. With presumptuous frankness, Lord Inchcape has informed the world that not only have he and ‘his colleagues desired all along that the ships under national construction should eventually be transferred to private ownership, but he has published the terms of the threat by means of which he has succeeded in his object. Had the Government not consented, he has said, to the proposed transfer, the private shipowners would have gone on strike. He and his colleagues would have dispersed their lines, sold them to the highest bidder, irrespective of nationality, and retired from business to live on the proceeds. What is this but the exercise of industrial power? And how does it differ from the industrial power which Mr. Thomas would . deny to Labour? We make no point for the present of the difference in social value between the objects of Capital and Labour respectively; nor of the world of
difference between the policy of de-nationalisation involved in the one and the policy of nationalisation involved in the other. For the moment the question of value is irrelevant. What we are concerned to point out is that the employment of industrial power, with or without the sanction of political power, is common to both Capital and Labour, and cannot be fairly denied to one unless simultaneously it is denied to the other. * * * Mr. Smillie has not been long in office as President of the Miners’ Federation of Great Britain before taking industrial action; and at the Conference held last week at Southport a comprehensive resolution was unanimously passed, on the motion, be it noted, of Mr. Adamson, the official leader of the Parliamentary Labour Party, in favour of a 30 per cent. increase in the present rate of miners’ wages, the reduction of the working-day from eight to six hours, and the nationalisation of the mines. For each passenger in this omnibus resolution a plausible if not altogether a convincing explanation was offered ; and it would be as well for the public to realise it. As regards the increase in wages, the reasoning is unanswerable. Everybody knows that, in spite of the cessation of hostilities, the cost of living continues to rise; and it is only to be expected, therefore, that the miners, like everybody else, should demand that their purchasing-power should rise with it. If, by reason of the inflation of the currency or other circumstances, the real value of money-wages is declining, their nominal value must be raised to keep place with the decline. Otherwise, it is naturally inevitable that the standard of living of the wage-earning classes must fall. The demand of the miners is thus not in any real sense a demand for an absolute increase of wages, but a demand that their purchasing-power should not suffer depreciation. The 30 per cent. nominal increase is little if any more than the maintenance of the former balance between nominal and real values. In regard to the second clause of the resolution, the declared object of the proposed reduction of hours is the provision of means for the absorption of the returning minors. In other words, it is designed to enable the nation to keep its pledge to the soldiers to find employment for them on their return from fighting. With that object it is clear that the nation and public opinion can have no possible quarrel, except upon the ground that a better means can be discovered to the same end. But what is that better means, or what sign is there that it will be found? No doubt it seems absurd, in the present shortage of coal-production, that the men engaged in it should be reducing their hours of labour, not for the sake of increased production, but simply as a means of providing employment for as many men as possible. But absurd as it seems, and as it is, there is no apparent alternative under the Capitalist system. The public may live by mal; but the wage-earner lives by the sale of his labour; and if there is no demand for his labour, he must starve, be the quantity of coal produced what it may. The reduction of the hours of labour is thus an attempt to provide work; and its value in production is comparatively negligible by the side of this demand. Finally, the demand for nationalisation is likewise a product of circumstances, being, as it is, a demand merely that the community, and not the Trade Union, shall henceforwardbe responsible for the maintenance of the unemployed in the mining industry. We could dispute with Mr. Smillie the propriety of his Contention that it is the community rather than the industry itself that should maintain a reserve of labour; but we cannot dispute his claim that, as between the Trade Union and the community, it is the latter that should provide for the unemployed. Too long have the Trade Unions been burdened with the weight of their unemployed; and the time has ROW come when either the industry or
the State should shoulder the burden. Nationalisation is the means of placing the responsibility on the community. It allows the industry (that is. the Capitalists) to escape once more. But that is the affair of the State. * * * It is not in the mining industry alone that the demand is being made for increased wages and reduced hours of labour. The movement is general, and already includes, in addition to the miners, the textile-workers, the railwaymen, general labourers, the furnishing trades, the transport workers, bakers, and shop-assistants. Other industries will join in before very long, if they are not in already. With one aspect of the problem the public, we repeat, can have no possible quarrel; for in so far as the promise of victory over Germany included the betterment of social conditions at home, the demand of Labour is merely for the fulfilment of the national pledge. The working-classes, it will not be denied, have contributed their share to the victory; and they are fully entitled, if the national pledge is not to be a scrap of paper, to share in the rewards. On another aspect, however, the public is in a different situation. It does not need much knowledge of economics to understand that a successful demand for an increase of wages or for a reduction of the hours of labour, however just and expedient in itself, must have the effect, under the existing system, of raising the cast of living. It is calculated. for instance, that the concession of the miners’ demands alone would raise the selling-price of coal four shillings a ton, with proportionate consequences upon the price of all the thousand and one commodities into which the cost of coal enters as a factor. Both from a public and from the men’s own point of view, therefore, the demand for higher wages would seem to he the beginning of a vicious circle to which there is no end. The higher the wages the higher the prices, the higher the prices the higher the wages, and so on; the dog simply chases its own tail. To this process in logic there need, perhaps, be no conclusion; but, in fact, an end will come one day, the nature of which must give rise to apprehension. ‘The most careful observers, indeed, are already apprehensive of it. “The country,” said the “Times” on Saturday, “is moving towards an impossible position in economic conditions and social relations, and if the movement goes beyond a certain point, there will be no way out but by a violent collision.” We may add our testimony to the same effect. The present movement cannot continue much longer. Something will give way; a collision must come. *** Mr. Thomas is of the same opinion. It was, indeed, to Mr. Thomas’ speech at Clerkenwell that the “Times“ referred in the article from which we have just quoted. Mr. Thomas was “apprehensive” of the issue of the general movement now taking place, and went so far as to specify the object of his alarm, namely —revolution. And it was to avoid this that he deprecated again the use of Labour’s industrial power. But what is to be done? What does Mr. Thomas think should be done? We have given our reasons for concludingthat the exercise of industrial power is not only legitimate, but, in the circumstances, as fair as it is inevitable. Mr. Thomas, as we have pointed out, is himself a consenting party to its use by his own ‘Union. Would he have the other Unions refrain from employing the same means; and after having raised the cost of living by increasing railway rates, deny to the rest of the working-classes the use of their industrial power in counter-balance? There is no way out from the circle by that means, we are sure: and the evidence is conclusive an the point. Mr. Thomas, notwithstanding, the demand for a genera3 rise in wages, sanctioned by industrial action, will continue to be made, even
though the end a “violent collision” is likely to be in the consequence. For many people, indeed, both in the Capitalist and in the Labour world, the question is no longer whether the collision can be avoided, but how soon and in what form it will come; and upon this point, too, Mr. Thomas had an observation to make which does more credit to his candour than to his discretion. Labour, he said, “had no clear, concerted, united idea as to what ought to be done, or how we were going to do it.” But why is this the case, since plainly the problem is the primary problem of Labour at this moment? But that it is the case, nobody who knows the mentality of our Labour leaders can or will deny for one moment. The situation is, therefore, as follows. In reaction against definite economic conditions, Labour has embarked upon a course, the end of which in a violent “collision’ ’ is absolutely inevitable. Yet, clearly foreseeing that this mast be the end of it. Labour is unable to think beyond it, or, in the alternative, resist the movement upon which Labour and to society are being borne to a common’ catastrophe. * * * If Mr. Thomas and the moderate men of the party have no clear, concerted or united idea of what is in be done, the case is otherwise with the extreme Left of the Labour movement. In the current issue of the “Call,” an editorial bids the workers to be “ready for the moment.” The Social Revolution, which began in Russia and has now reached Germany, will also, we are told, overtake ourselves ; and it behoves the “workers,” therefore, to be ready here as in those countries to seize the moment when it arrives. The plan is simple; it is, in fact, identical with the plan invented by Lenin and copied by Liebknecht. It is to proclaim the rule of the working-classes and to substitute for the dictatorship of Capital the dictatorship of the proletariat. “We must agitate and educate the masses so that they become imbued with the idea that the power of the State may be captured by the proletarian Soviets.” We should have thought that if reasoning against the folly of attempting to obtain by political power what can only be obtained by industrial power has proved unavailing, at least the example of Russia and Germany would have impressed on the writers of the “Call” the futility of “capturing” power before planning means of retaining the power when “captured.” ” Almost anybody who is prepared to stick at nothing can “capture” power during the troubled period of a revolution; but it requires something more than violence to hold it and to exercise it. In the case of Russia, it is true that political power has been “captured”by the proletariat under the dictatorship of Lenin and Trotsky; but apart from the fact that the personal dictatorship of these men is founded on a necessary military dictatorship, and is, in any case, not the dictatorship of the proletarian class, both Lenin and Trotsky must surely discover that they can take a horse to water but they cannot make him drink. Industry declines to follow politics ; economic power declines to follow political power; and we shall be much mistaken if, in the end, Russia does not resume after the revolution the course of development where it was violently broken off. The case of Germany, we may say, is even more illuminating, though as yet it is still unfinished, It can have, however, but one end—the restoration of that system of industry which unmistakably works, be it Capitalist, Socialist or Communist. In the absence of any previous industrial plans for a new order ofindustry-and riot plans merely, but working models—industry in Germany, under any political régime whatever, will either relapse into its pre-war Capitalist form, or perish entirely. The same can be said with even more certainty of the consequences of such an attempt to “capture’’ power as the “Call” invites the working-classes to make, The capture may perhaps made — be though this is doubtful; but what is not in the least doubtful is that the “power” will prove
to be only the shadow of the substance. It will be a power that will not work. * * * Between Mr. Thomas’ failure to suggest anything and the “ Call’s ” suggestion of a disastrous and useless “ revolution,” there does not seem to be any constructive idea in the field before us. In other words, save for the voice of a few people at whom the “Times” consistently sneers, the nation is approaching the whirlpool with only the official silence of Labour on one side and the frenzied cries of the “ Call ” on the other. That the capitalist classes have their plans we do not doubt; and that the Government is a party to them we should not he surprised to hear. In fact, drawing a bow at a venture, we should not be altogether astonished discover that if the secret discussions that have to recently taken place under the cover of the proposed “ League of Nations ” have turned mainly upon the maintenance of international peace, they have turned, in part at least, on the maintenance of the capitalist system in this among other countries. Be. that as it may, however, the plans of the Capitalist party are not only kept dark, but they must presume, as a matter of course, the very “ collision ” which it is in the interest of the community to avoid. For the issue of the “ violent collision,” if it be, as calculated, favourable to Capitalism will infallibly be to establish Capitalism, after. its “ lesson ” to Labour, more firmly than ever. We shall be making a mistake, in fact, if we assume that Capital as a party is afraid of the threatened collision or apprehends defeat from it. The community may suffer; indeed, it must. Labour, too, will suffer; but if, in the end, Labour is defeated, the price, it is thought, will not be too high. The communitywill be relieved for an indefinite period of its Labour troubles ; Labour will be dispirited ; and Capitalism triumph over us. But in this calculation it will is obvious that the two parties who will suffer, both in the process and from the effects of a Capitalist victory, are the community and Labour; far Capitalism, whatever may be thought of it by its sycophants among the public, is the enemy equally of the consumer and the producer. It means well by nobody but by itself, for that is its nature. The fruits of Capitalism,, while they are for Labour an increasing impoverishment, are for the general public an increasing subordination. We have begun to see them already. As wages decline €or Labour, the quality of life declines for the community at large ; and the impoverishment economically of Labour is followed closely by the spiritual impoverishmentthe nation as a whole. of * * * In these circumstances we must risk provoking the “ Times ” and other kept organs of Capitalism to sneer at our insistence upon “ abolishing the wagesystem” and establishing in its place a national system of industry. For there are only two ways out of the vicious circle in which we are now dancing to cur death —a triumph for Capitalism over both Labour and the community, or a triumph for National Guilds. We are not so foolish as to imagine that National Guilds as a phrase alone will exorcise the evil that is upon us; or that National Guilds could be set up in a night even if the attempt were to be made. The phrase, like the phrase increased production, indicates direction chiefly ; and implies, like the latter, the adoption of sequential steps towards its realisation. It is probably too soon at this moment to call for a Conference of the chief parties to industry to consider whither the present “movement ” is leading. On the other hand, in a few months the decisive moment for acting with reflection may have gone. Between now and then, however, steps should be taken by men of goodwill to bring about that “ clear, concerted, and united idea ” which alone will enable us to avoid or, it may be, to turn to common advantage the “ violent collision ” towards which we are unmistakably drifting.
Foreign
Affairs,
By S. Verdad. ONE need not sympathise, of course, with capitalist governments, but it is necessary to understand them; and I would draw attention particularly to President Wilson’s speech at Turin, an extract from which was published in this journal last week. “ A country is owned and dominated by the capital that is invested in it. . . . In proportion as foreign capital comes in among you and takes its hold, in that proportion does foreign influence come in and take its hold. . . . The processes of capital are, in a certain sense, the processesof conquest.” I make no apology for repeating this passage from President Wilson’s speech, nor any the more because it is almost verbally identical with many passages ,that might be quoted from THE NEW AGE, nay, from this very page. For to my mind, as to President Wilson’s, the sense of it is “fundamental it is the very A of the alphabet of foreign ”; policy. On this account it should be inscribed as a standing axiom at the head of every discussion of foreign relations. Foreign relations and foreign investments are one and the same thing ; and the processes of political diplomacy are only the reflection of the processes of international financial diplomacy. Let us try to get this into our minds and never lose sight of it. Let us try all foreign affairs by this test. For it is, indeed—and there is President Wilson’s authority for it—the “ fundamental idea ” of international relations. * * * Pushing the matter one degree further, we may ask how it comes about that foreign capital makes its appearance in any country. Certainly it is not there for its health, nor is it there for the simple trade of exchange. The simple exchange of commodities between one country and another does not necessitate in either country the existence of the capital of the other. Provided a nation can finance its own production, it is obviously in a position to trade on its own capital. The investment of foreign capital in any given country arises, therefore, only when the given nation is (a) unable, or (b) unwilling to develop its own production by means of its own capital ; that is to say, when, being exploitable, it either declines to exploit itself or, for any reason, is unable to exploit itself. In either event the probability that another nation will import capital into it for the purpose of exploitation is high to the degree of certainty. It is no matter whether the given nation is indisposed from theory, from historic conditions, from political circumstances or from national inability to exploit itself. All these obstacles will tend infallibly to be brushed aside by the incoming foreign capital. For where the carcase is, there will the vultures gather; and where there is treasure there will capital be also. * * * I have before me as I write an economic map of Russia prepared by “ Leslie’s Weekly ” and published some months ago in that journal. It shows the distribution of the material resources or raw materials of Russia in such a way as to suggest what is, in fact, the case that Russia is, economically speaking, the greatest remaining storehouse of economic treasure in all the world. The mouth of Capital must water at the prospect dangled before it. What a territory to loot! Oil, cereals, timber, coal, wool, fish, and every kind of metal in Arabian Nights abundance-no country, not even Africa, is so rich in resources. Now we are at the end or, rather, we are coming to an end, of the mare easily accessible resources of all the rest of the world. Doubtless by intensive exploitation the other areas of the world that have so far been scratched can be made to yield a further harvest for Capital—but
none of them so easily as Russia, whose first harvest is still to be reaped. ,Putting ourselves into that sympatheticrelation with capitalism which is temporarily necessary as a condition of understanding capitalism, we have now to ask whether it is probable, whether even it is permissible to capitalist morality, that Russia should be left unexploited, if by itself, then by foreign capital. You will find it difficult to answer the question in the affirmative; and the more rather than the less so, if you are a good internationalist. For, from the international point of view, what right has Russia to occupy without using it a territory of such vast resources and of such potential benefit to mankind? *** The question is plainly linked up with the most difficult problem now before the Peace Conference, namely, the future government of Russia. It is a mistake, I believe, to conclude that the Allies—least of all, America and England-have any theoretical objection to the political character of the present Russian “government.” Mr. Lloyd George has more than hinted, As he, for his part, is willing to “ recognise ” the Soviet form of Russian government provided only that it promises to be stable. Everything, however, turns upon the question of its stability; and as to this, as I said last week, nobody at present is able to form an authoritative idea. We have our guesses, or, if you like, our judgments; and I have not concealed my own opinion that the Bolshevist government cannot retain its present power. On the other hand, to assume that there is necessarily in the minds of the Allies any other objection than its probable instability to the Bolshevist government is to credit the Allies with other motives than those commonly attributed to them. It is also to forget the first axiom of foreign politics which President Wilson has laid down. No, the primary question before the Peace Conference is not the abstract value à la Aristotle of Lenin’s theory of government, but the practical questions: Will it last? Can it guarantee order? Can it undertake the exploitation of Russia’s economic resources? Failing that, can it afford security to the foreign capital that otherwise will attempt to exploit them? *** I was fortunate enough to anticipate President Wilson last week and to recommend in my notes on Bolshevism the very course he has now announced that the Allies will take-that roughly, of “ feeding the brute.” We may be sure, however, that the policy so begun will not cease at that point. If Bolshevism is to be killed by kindness, the problem of the re-construction of Russia on a non-Bolshevist basis will still remain. And, from my point of view, in which I hope again to anticipate President Wilson, the proper procedure is to exchange food for promises of constitutional re-construction. What do I mean by that? It is necessary, the first place, to form an idea of the kind of in government that is likely to he stable in Russia; and, in the second place, to require its establishment contemporaneously and conditionally with the Allied provision of economic facilities. The policy, in other words’, is the active of the passive economic boycott; it is what may be called conditional economic boycott. Nor are the difficulties, I should say. really insuperable; for certain guarantees being admitted, there is little doubt that the stable form of government in Russia (as in all industrialising countries) is the representative; and that, again with these guarantees admitted, Lenin and Trotsky would not at this stage be altogether opposed to it. What is, therefore, to prevent an arrangement such as this: in return for food and other economic necessities, Lenin and Trotsky undertake, the interests of Russia (and of the world) to in put themselves at the disposal of a freely elected Constituent Assembly which shall hereafter become the
authoritative governmentof Russia under the auspices of the Allies. Theguarantees to be provided are that such a Constituent Assembly shall not undo all the work of the Russian Revolution, particularly as regards the land. That guarantee for the Bolshevists and their supporters being provided, I see no insuperable obstacleto an ’‘ arrangement ” with Lenin and Trotsky whereby they transfer to a representative government the power they, in my judgement, cannot themselves hold in any event much longer. For the purpose of entering into such an arrangement a provisionalrecognition of the Bolshevists would be commendable. It would be a parley, no doubt; but, such parleys are sometimes necessary.
The
Name
and
the
Substance.
In the January issue of the “ Guildsman,” Mr. Cole recommends the members of the National Guilds League to change their title to Guild Socialist League. He thinks the word “ National ” leads to confusion because it is capable of three or more meanings. We would retain the word “ Guild,” because it is our differentia and would insert Socialist to indicate our genus. National Guilds were obviously meant to distinguish the modern industrial organisation from the Mediaeval or local guilds. If, therefore, Guild goes into the title, it is essential to insert “ National ” also. The fundamental question, however, is whether Socialism is the Cole genus of the National Guild movement: Mr. answers in the affirmative; I shall give some reasons for answering in the negative. The basis of the National Guild.; is wage abolition, in the sense that labour shall no longer be valued as a commodity. The implications of the rejection of the commodity valuation lead us at a bound to the control of industry by the organisation that has secured the labour monopoly. That means industrial democracy or it means nothing. How far can this be deemed to be a form of Socialism? That depends, of course, upon the extent of the boundaries of the Socialist doctrine. Mr. Cole would probably argue that, generically considered, Socialism covers all industrial activities such as these; and that, therefore, the National Guild idea is of the Socialist genus. The temptation to stretch any principle to cover any particular activity is always with us. To yield to it is to invite casuistry and intellectual confusion. This is particularly the case with Socialism, whose scope and tendencies are in perpetual flux. Sir William Harcourtremarked many years ago that “ We are all Socialists now,” a loose form of thinking, which the Socialists of the period energetically repudiated. Recently we have witnessed a considerable accession to the Socialist ranks by men hitherto1 claiming to be Liberals. They do not pretend to have changed their views; they merely assume that Socialism and their particular brand of Liberalism are not distinguishable, belong, in fact, to the same genus. A Socialist tabernacle that gives sanctuary to Liberal malcontents is not precisely the National Guildsman’s spiritual home. But if Socialism is to embrace Liberalism, on one side, and industrial democracy, on the other, does it not become so shadowy in outline as to render it useless for titular description? We are on safer ground, I think, if we consider the
Socialist movement as it is, whether at home or abroad. The practical question is : What have National Guildsmen and Socialists in common? I notice that Mr. J. R. MacDonald laments the result of the election because it will encourage ‘‘ direct action.” This gentleman, I think, has a considerable vogue amongst sentimental Socialists : is, in fact, regarded by many as a Socialist exponent : has written some small books on the subject.Mr. J. H. Thomas, a Labour leader of weight, follows suit. The strike? Nonsense ! We must accept the Parliamentary decision. In other words, we are back to 1890 ; political power acquired through the ballot-box is the panacea for industrial ills Is this Socialism the genus to which National Guilds are affiliated?More to the point, can Mr. Cole tell us of any existing Socialist body that accepts the National Guildsman’s analysis of the wage-system? Or will he contend that the movement for workshop control springs from Socialist propaganda? Or is there any evidence that Socialism has ever renounced State control of industry? Mr. Cole is, or was, a member of the I.L.P., although what he was doing in that galley, I never could make out. It is generally—and wrongly—supposed to be the aggressive Socialist element in British politics. Can he give us any assurance that the I.L.P. has ever relaxed its firm belief in political power as the precursor of economic power? The employers engage in “direct action,” every hour of the working day and every day of the working week. Messrs. MacDonald and Thomas are terrified lest Labour should retort in kind. No, no; let Labour rest on the bosom of the mighty mother of Parliaments. Yet a little more sleep, a little more slumber, a few more tons of faith, and then, hey presto ! the Revolution ! I suggest to Mr. Cole that the genus of National Guilds is not Socialism but Democracy. We shall all agree that, since Socialism is also of the democratic genus, National Guildsmen must have relations with it. We most of us have cousins descended from the same grandfather. If we avoid property disputes, we may live on friendly and even intimate terms with them. Rut that is no reason why we should adopt their name. Our own is good enough. Socialism is one of the National Guildsmen’s cousins ; but so also is Syndicalism. I have not yet seen any proposal to start a Syndicalist Socialist League. For my part, I admit that I owe as great an intellectual debt to Syndicalism as I do to Socialism. Having accepted much from the syndicalists, I cannot honestly repudiate it. If I accept Socialism as the parent stem, I do in fact repudiate my debt to all that body of doctrine which, despite Socialism, bitter opposition to Socialism, has proclaimed In Labour’s economic independence of the State. The National Guildsman has much in common with the Syndicalist, much that is immensely valuable ; but he has also much in common with the Socialist, particularly the vesting of all industrial assets in the State. That is really Collectivism, the foundation of Socialism and a connecting link between Socialists and National Guildsmen. The parent. or if you will the genus, is Democracy. I have noticed recently a tendency to treat Democracy and Socialism as synonymous. Mr. Coie’s proposal is a case in point But the democratic principle may be applied in a definitely anti-Socialist sense. Taking Socialism as it is accepted to-day, there can be no reasonable doubt that workshop control, whilst definitely democratic, is definitely anti-Socialist. In so far as Socialism accepts industrial democracy it becomes in itself more democratic; but that does not make Democracy more Socialistic, If, therefore, the title of the National GuiIds League is to be changed so that its genus shall be disclosed, the word “ Democratic” must be inserted and not ‘‘ Socialist.’’ For my part, I think the present title sufficiently indicates the nature and purpose of its work. S. G. H.
A
By Arthur J. Penty. VI. MEDIAEVALISM AND SCIENCE. EVERYBODY nowadays is willing to grant that the Middle Ages were great in architecture, though I would remind admirers of Gothic that this appreciation is quite a recent thing. The right to admire Gothic had to be fought for. Less than a hundred years ago Sir Walter Scott thought it necessary to apologise to his readers for his love of it. Now we are beginning to realise that the Mediaevalists knew something about economics and social organisation. But it is not generally known that the basis of science was laid in the Middle Ages, while its method remains Mediaeval to this day, for science was unaffected in its method by Renaissance influences. What is still more interesting is that the scientific impulse did not come from the scholars but from the Franciscans — the men who despised learning and preached the gospel of poverty. In treating the history of Mediaevalism it is usual to ascribe the changes which separate the Middle Ages from the so-called Dark Ages to the influence of the Saracens with whose higher civilisation Western Europeanswere brought into contact through the Crusades, and, as a plain statement of fact, this is perfectly true. But the deduction it is usual to make from this fact; namely, that the lower state of Western European civilisation was due to the prejudices of the Mediaeval mind under the influence of Christianity against science is most demonstrably false. The difference between the two levels of civilisation is to be accounted for by the simple fact that whereas the Saracens established their Empire over communities already civilised in which the traditions of Roman civilisation survived, the Mediaeval Church had the much more difficult task of rebuilding Western civilisation from its very foundations after it had been entirely destroyed by the barbarians. Naturally, this, in its early stages, was a much slower process. Bearing in mind these circumstances, there is nothing remarkable in the fact that the Saracens knew of Aristotle at a time when the Western Europeans did not. But that the Mediaevalists accepted Aristotle and the sciences from the Saracens is surely evidence of an open-mindedness which did not disdain to learn from an heterodox enemy, rather than an incurable prejudice. How unsubstantial is this charge against Mediaevalism becomes apparent when the question is asked : Whence did the Saracens get their knowledge of Aristotle and the sciences? They could not have got it direct from the Greeks, for Mahomet lived in the Seventh century, and as Christianity had established itself at least three centuries before around the Mediterranean basin, I submit that they must have got it from these Christian communities. In support of this theory, I would point out that after the sixth century when Byzantine architecture reached its zenith the current architectural revival sets off from Constantinople eastward. It travels along Asia Minor, down through Palestine and westward, along the North of Africa. This cycle of architecture clearly indicates a cultural revival, and it is probable that Aristotle and the sciences travelled the same route. So that when we get to the bottom of it, we find that the scientific knowledge of the Saracens was really the knowledge of the Christian communities of the Eastern Church whom they conquered. Though it is not possible to fix the exact date, Aristotle’sphilosophy and the sciences were probably introducedinto Western Europe towards the end of the twelfth century. Doubtless, all the monastic orders would become familiar with them about the same time. But it is interesting tu observe that the Franciscan
Guildsman’s Interpretation of History.
Order was the only one which turned the newly acquired scientific knowledge to any practical account. “They took up the study of physics and chemistry; not, however, as heretofore, by the path of theoretical speculation, but by the co-operation of experiment-an advance in method they were the first to establish, and by which Roger Bacon arrived at the most remarkable results in almost every branch of physical science.”* Now, it is important to recognise that it was no accidentthat this new development came through the Franciscans. Immediately it was due to the fact that the care of the sick which was enjoined upon them tended to direct their minds towards the study of medicine and natural history. But there was a deeper reason. The Franciscans had a strong practical bent of mind. Learning being forbidden them they naturally acquired the invaluable habit of observing facts for themselves — habit which book-learning a is very apt to destroy. For men who begin life with too much hook-knowledge are very apt to look at things from the special angle provided by the books they have read and to neglect the lessons which the observation of things can teach. It was thus the Franciscans’ renunciation of learning stood them in good stead; it proved to be the means by which a new impulse was given to the acquisition of knowledge while demonstrating, moreover, that the central idea of Christianity that the world can only be conquered by those who are prepared first to renounce it, holds good, not only in the moral, but the intellectual and scientific universe. Would that this truth were understood to-day. While it should be acknowledged that modern science has its beginnings in the Middle Ages, it is equally important to recognise that the new impulse which the Franciscans gave was essentially a Mediaeval one, and that science remains Mediaeval in its method to this day. For when the Franciscans overthrew the method of theoretical speculation in favour of co-operation by experiment they merely gave application in the realm of science to the method of work which in the Middle Ages obtained in the Arts, for, as we saw in the last chapter, Gothic Art was the creation of experimental handicraft, and, as we shall see in the next, it was the abandonment of this method owing to Renaissance influences that led finally to the disappearance of Art from the world. . . . But science never threw over this Mediaeval experimental craft basis once it had got hold of it, which is the secret of its continued success -a fact which justifies us in affirming that science is Mediaeval in method to this day. But while science remains Mediaeval in its method it is no longer Medieval in spirit. And it is because of this that it has become such a peril to the modern world. In the Middle Ages science was essentially a secondary form of activity. Religion was the great thing—the focal centre of life and. its activities. Architecture came next; for it was looked upon as the greatest of the Arts. Science was content with a subordinate place in the hierarchy as accessory to life and its higher forms of activity. This is as it should be, for experience plainly proves that science is a good servant but a bad master, and it is to the position of a servant that it should be relegated. That science did not remain content to continue in this subordinate position was immediately due to the fact that ‘early in the sixteenth century it came into collision with the orthodox faith. The demand of medical men to dissect the human body brought science into conflict with the Church which regarded it as an heretical experiment that would interfere with the resurrectionof the body. While exception might be taken to such experiments on the grounds of Christian sentimentas showing a lack of respect for the dead, the Christian faith at that time must have degenerated into a mere formula of literalism for objection to be taken * “ Pictures of Old England.” By Dr. Reinhold Pauli.
on the grounds of doctrine. For the doctrine of the resurrection of the body in its origin had no reference to the actual physical resurrection of the bodies of the departed, but was formulated as an article of faith to controvert the Manichean heresy which sought to identify ideas of good and evil with spirit and matter—the idea that the body was a thing of no account. Since, in a future life man would exist only as a disembodied spirit, the body was only to be regarded as a prison from which man had to escape. This idea, the effect of which was to bring practical activity in this world into disrepute, the Church fought with the doctrine of the resurrection of the body which affirmed “that in any final consummation the bodily life of man must find a place no less than the spiritual.”* In other words, it was a recognition of the value of the senses which Christianity did not deny but sought to bring under discipline and control. But after the lapse of centuries this original meaning was forgotten and the doctrine of the resurrection of the body came to be interpreted literally. So long as nobody demanded the right to dissect the body this did not matter much, for though it was a superstition it was entirely harmless, but when men appeared who demanded this right in the name of science and the Church resisted, reason rebelled, and Christianity appeared in the unfavourable guise of an enemy of thought, though if the men of that age bad known, it was nut Christianity they were in rebellion against, but the degeneration of its creed. A similar misunderstanding arose over the Copernican discovery which was a terrible shock to orthodox faith. For though Christianity is not a theory of the universe, but a theory of conduct supported by Divine sanction, and though the Catholic Church based its authority upon Christian tradition and riot upon the Bible, it, nevertheless, suffered in the public esteem by its association with the popular notion that the earth was flat and the biblical story that Joshua commanded the sun to stand still upon Gibeon. For neither of these could be squared with the newly discovered theory of the planetary system. And the Church foolishly put itself in the wrong by condemning such knowledge as heretical, though in extenuation it should be said that the exponents of these new ideas were equally unjust to the truths of Christianity . In fighting these battles the scientists tended to become heretical. And here it is to be observed that heresy is not necessarily a belief in something false, but an exaggeration of one aspect of truth insisted upon to the damage or denial of other and equally important truths. It is this tendency of scientists to exaggerate the importance of the material side of things whilst ignoring as imponderable the spiritual and moral side of life which is their peculiar form of heresy. It results in a loss of mental balance, a failure to see life as a whole, in its true proportions. It makes the scientist an untrustworthy guide in the practical affairs of life. The publication of Lord Bacon’s “ Advancement of Learning” and the “Novum Organum” served only to increase the tendency of the scientific mind towards monomania--a tendency which appears to he the inevitable accompaniment of an exclusivepre-occupation with the study of phenomena. The inductive method is the method of reasoning familiar to all who concern themselves with the practicalarts, and is invaluable for the attainment of certain immediate and definite ends. But the attempt of Bacon to give it universal validity—for, as Macaulay said, it is ridiculous to suppose he invented it — must after the experience of over three centuries of work upon such lines be judged a failure, for science is as far from the truth of things as ever. “After a glorious burst of perhaps fifty years amid great acclamation and * “ Essays in Orthodoxy.” (Macmillan & Co.) By Oliver Chase Quick.
good hopes that the crafty old universe was going to be caught in her careful net, science finds herself in almost every direction in the most hopeless quandaries ; and whether the rib story be true or not, has, at any rate, provided no very satisfactory substitute for it.”* Now, the reason for this failure is obvious. There is no such thing as a purely materialist explanation of the universe. Final causation is not to he found in the material world, and scientists in excluding the spiritual side of things from their calculations as imponderable, exclude the consideration of those things which might offer an explanation. For unity is to be found at the centre of life; it is not to be deduced merely from a study of phenomena on the circumference. But even if science were to follow the lead given by Sir Oliver Lodge and carried its investigations beyond the material into therealm of psychic phenomena, it could never penetrate the final mystery of life. The moral principles to which religions give sanction are finally cornmandments and incapable of rationalist explanation, though experience of their working may be able to give rationalist justification. They are not to be deduced from the study of phenomena, but rest finally on the affirmation of the supernatural. While it must be admitted that reasoning, based exclusively upon phenomena, has failed to penetrate the mystery of the universe, the invasion of other departments of inquiry by the inductive method of reasoning, such as that of sociology, has been followed by results equally disastrous. It has produced endless confusion. It is possible to deduce secondary truth from primary truth, but not the reverse which science attempts. I sometimes think that the Devil made his début in the modern world as the friend of learning which he had the insight to see might be used for the purpose of banishing wisdom by the simple and apparently innocentdevice of multiplying knowledge. At any rate, whether the Devil planned or no, such has been its practical effect. For the multiplication of knowledge has certainly introduced confusion into the popular mind. Thus it has come about that the scientific method of inquiry has had the effect of burying primary truth under an avalanche of secondary halftruths. It has exalted knowledge above wisdom, mechanism above Art, science above religion, man above God. In thus reversing the natural order of the moral and intellectual universe, it has led to a general state of mental bewilderment such as was never before witnessed. The ambition of the scientist to comprehend all knowledge has been followed by the unfortunate discovery that knowledge—the things to be known -is bigger than his head, and he gets some inkling of the meaning of the proverb, “A fool’s eyes are on the ends of the earth.” Considerations of this kind lead me to the conclusion that civilisation has reached a turning point not only in its political and economic history, but in its very methods and ideas, and that the next development must be away from the universal towards a reassertion of the principle of unity which was the central principle of Mediaeval thought. In the new synthesis which will appear, science will not attempt to lead mankind, but will be content with a secondary and subordinate position. Science has terribly misled the world. But it is possible that all its work has not been in vain. For it has explored the, universe for us, and, as a result of its labours, it may be that when the new order does arrive, it will rest on much surer foundations than ever did the civilisations of the past. With tile knowledge of evil which science let loose upon the world we know where the pitfalls lie. But we shall never be able to conquer this mass of knowledge which science has given us until we have first the courage to renounce it. * “ Civilisation : Its Cause and Cure.’’ Carpenter. By Edward
Economics
and
the
Stage.
VARIOUS as are the ways and means employed by the younger school of stage reformers, idealists and aesthetic revolutionaries to achieve their reforms, ideals and revolutions in British stage-craft, too little thought appears to have been given by them to the politico-economic side of the problem. In this era of gigantic commercial and industrial activities, the stage, like every other expression of contemporary life, has become commercialised, and it is necessary for us to realise more fully the significance of this fact. The Art of a people has ever been the direct expression of that people’s economic mental and spiritual life — nay, one might say not merely the expression but the life itself; and just in so far as the mass of the Anglo-Saxon people of to-day is a prey to economic pressure, so is its manifestation in Art. Most noticeable is this oppression in the Theatre, one of the most vital arid plastic media of Art. Should we ask ourselves the question “On what does the deplorable condition of our English stage depend ? ” half a hundred answers would immediately come into our minds — “Because the taste and culture of our theatrical managers is low — Because the taste of the public is low — Because dramatists are secondrate, actors, scene designers and producers inferior —and because — well, once started, me could enumerate a multitude more of such “Becauses” ; but rarely do we consider the “Economic Because” which dominates the life of the masses who compose the bulk of our theatre audiences. If we delve a little below the surface we shall find that the economic factor is at the root of and governs all the “Becauses” abovementioned. Let us realise the fact that out of a total population of some forty-five millions odd, about thirty millions are industrial and commercial wage-slaves. Slaves, moreover, who dwell in a servitude as vile as, if not more vile than, anything the older system produced. Then is it small wonder that the Art-life of the people as expressed in our modern stage is wretchedly debased ? The successful and would- be successful theatrical manager produces work which shall by appealing to the greatest number furnish the greatest returns. Now the greatest number to-day consists, as I ha\-e already pointed out, of humans dispossessed of their vital heritage. humans robbed of an opportunity to develop their innate mental and spiritual faculties through years and generations of soul-killing wageslavery. This mass, depraved and enslaved though it be, nevertheless documents its craving for self-expression through Art. This is evident by its patronage of the melodrama, music-hall, cinema, football field and public-house. These apparently gross pastimes are the manifestation of a latent spirituality. If properly fostered by juster economic conditions and educational opportunities, this latent sense would express itself by creating inter alia a demand for and a supply of a national theatre Art worthy of the name. Our stage societies, experimental and little repertory theatres are doing good pioneer work here and there. This is largely assisted by a certain modicum of economic freedom to which their component members contribute; but let them remember that their appeal is still to the little and select audience and one moreover already predisposed to accept their efforts. It is obviousthat the larger masses are beyond their influence and even hostile to it. Let us suppose it possible to offer the mass of playgoers such productions as our ardent stage-reformers visualize We should find our audiences, who passim are by no means the static conglomerations we might be led to imagine, refusing to patronise the theatres. Possibly we might find them organising performances more suitable to their primitive and debases taste. Any attempt to coerce plebeian
audiences to patronize the type of performance our reformers might think fit for them would flavour of that element inworld-culture — Prussianism — which we pride ourselves upon having destroyed. ’The landed aristocracy and vested interests of this country have through the House of Lords frequently quashed attempts made in the Commons at Educational Reforms. The realised the menace that a more mentally and spiritually enlightened democracy would be to their own economic predominance; and have thus been a big factor in fixing the level of that democracy’s aesthetic life. We who are admittedly the worst educated people in Western Europe possess the most undeveloped and degraded theatre, as witness a comparison of the weekly playbills of London with those of Paris, Petrograd, Vienna, Moscow, Christiania Berlin. Critics of the above statement will or say that the Continental stage is very considerably State-aided, and it can, therefore, afford to indulge in aesthetic experiments which might otherwise prove economically unsound. This criticism is legitimate — as Tar as it Goes — but should we seek to go further we should be constrained to ask: “ Why is our own stage not State-aided? ” The answer I deduce from my former observation would be: “ It is considered inadvisable to assist in the uplifting and education of the masses via the medium of the stage because the vested interests and economic predominance of our commercialised governing class would suffer by such a procedure. ” Although State-aid appears to produce beneficial results in fostering a higher and more significant form of theatre Art, it is to my thinking not the ideal solution of the problem. It is rather a superficial and eclectic form of development induced from without and playing no integral role in a nation’s life. Now a study of the world’s Art manifestation in past eras shows us that a truly rational aesthetic creation comes from within the sods of the sum total of individuals, and is a direct expression of mass idealism. We find that the early and greatest epoch of Greek drama was the emanation of a great national ethical and intellectual consciousness; a form of expression in which the audience collaborated with the actors to create what might almost be considered a religious ceremony. This condition obtained at a time when Greece was peopled by a race of relatively free men; a period which pre-dated the epoch of decadence resultant upon the uneven distribution of amassed wealth. The same spirit will be found to be prevalent in the performance and acceptance of the mediaeval mystery plays by a relatively free bourgoisie and assisted by a Church not yet corrupted with the desire for temporal and economic power. It is a similar freedom of economic and social intercourse that must exist in the life of the modern Anglo-Saxon democracy before we can hope for any renaissance of a vital stage Art. The efforts of men like Barker. Shaw, Galsworthy arid Craig, and of women like Miss Horniman and Margaret Morris are almost of necessity doomed to failure and will remain so till the shackles, economic and social, which hinder the development of our democracy, broken asunder. are Britain, to-day the forcing ground of commercialism arid landlordism par excellence, must at last awaken to the fact that though she succeeded in the seventeenth century in producing a Shakespeare and the Restoration dramatists she cannot hope to recreate a vital and national theatre Art in the twentieth century unless the mass of her sons are freed of the stifling incubus of modern economic conditions ; then, and not till then, will she be able to rejoice in the possession of a theatre Art worthy of the heritage that Shakespeare has bequeathed her. ADRIANP. ALLINSON.
Readers
and
Writers.
I HAVE not been on holiday—far from it; but on my return—from wherever it was — find awaiting me the I ,pleasant duty of thanking my reader; for their continued response to my ever memorable appeal of, was it three months ago. Since that date, the number of direct subscribers to THE NEW AGE has nearly doubled ; and in spite of the increase in price from sixpence to sevenpence the indirect subscribers have not fallen off in number. We are out of the wood of the war, at any rate, and can afford to whistle; but the whistling may not be long, for ahead of us I can see a wood as dense, and, perhaps, as long, and, perchance, not as easily penetrable as the wood from which we have just emerged. If I were Mr. G. K. Chesterton I should remark at this point that the curious fact about the wood we are approaching is that we cannot see it for the trees; and then I should turn a few somersaults with a word in each hand and land in a fine paradox as unintelligible to myself as to anybody else. But I am not Mr. G. K. Chesterton; and, in consequence, I shall merely say that the wood we shall shortly be entering is composed of trees in the form of new journals, with all of which THE NEW AGE must take its chance of survival. In other words, we are in for a, period of enormously increased production of daily, weekly, monthly and quarterly magazines. * * * No journal announced our arrival, though every On journal, I imagine, would proclaim our departure. the contrary, however, I prefer to herald the rising stars and to be silent when they disappear. Two already have swum into my ken and their names shall be here recorded. The “Art Gazette,” of which there appears to be no single editor, is due to make its appearance as a threepenny weekly on February the first. It will contain no politics, but it will aim at providing a “bright, fair, independent and thorough” survey of the four arts of Drama (Mr. J. T. Grein), Music (Mr. L. Dunton Green), Art (Mr. Frank Rutter), and Books (Mr. F. G. Bettany). . Let us be frank : the names are not very impressive. Nor can I imagine whence the raw material for comment is to be drawn. For there is, you know, a serious shortage of art. However,in the absence of art there is always something to be said, I suppose; and I have no doubt that the above-mentioned writers will try to say it. They have all been trying to say something a good many years. * * * The other journal is a reincarnation, if I am not mistaken. “Art and Letters : an illustrated Quarterly,’’ is a name that seems familiar, In its new avatar its joint literary editors are Mr. Osbert Sitwell and Mr. Herbert Read (the latter of whom, I fancy, is not unknown to fame in our Pastiche). The art-editor is Mr. Frank Rutter, who thus doubles, if not trebles, his part. The preliminary announcement of ‘‘ Art and Letters” is the most original I have ever read; and 1 must really congratulate its authors on providing their readers with a distinct sensation. Five thousand annual subscribers at half a guinea are, it appears, the minimum number of readers necessary to the proper maintenance of “Art ‘and Letters” ; and if they are not obtained--mark this and shudder !-if they are not obtained — among forty odd million of people, a if, beggarly five thousand subscribers are not obtained— then there is only “one logical thing” for the directors to do. Guess what it is! No, why guess at the one and only logical alternative to five thousand subscribers at half a guinea? Logic is logic ; and the only logical thing to do is not one of a number to be guessed at; it must be self-evident. You know, therefore, what it is. Of course, you do. Nevertheless, I shall take the liberty of being superfluous and tell you. The one logical thing to be done by the directors in the event of
the absence of at least five thousand annual subscribers at half a guinea is ‘‘to form an inclusive union of the intelligentsia and advocate with our irresistible power racial suicide.” That, I need not repeat, is precisely what you had thought of as the one logical alternative to the miraculous subscription of the Five Thousand. Or, if it had escaped your ratiocination, you will now see how inevitably the logic of the situation required it. * * * The situation is, fortunately, not so desperate in the opinion of the directors of “Art and Letters” that we are bound to put on mourning for the race at once. “We are confident,” they assure us, “that such a tragic employment of our energies will be unnecessary.” In other words, I gather that “we” are certain that the five thousand subscribers at half a guinea will duly appear to save the race from extinction by suicide. To speculate, however, for a little moment on the alternative—is it quite certain that if the directors are resisted by forty odd million people in their endeavour to obtain five thousand readers, their power either to make an inclusive union of the intelligentsia, or to advocate racial suicide, will prove to be “irresistible” ? We know, of course, how easy it is to unite the intelligentsia, and what a simple matter it is to persuade the race to commit suicide; but I think myself that the task of procuring five thousand subscribers to “ Art and Letters ” ought to be still easier. I hope and trust, in fact, that the directors will find it so; and here is my handsome advertisement to assist them. * * * The Librarian of the Aberdeen Public Library has kindly sent me a copy of his Annual Report for 1918. It is a funereal document, and one that constrains me to wish that the directors of “Art and Letters” may not, after all, be spared their tragical task. Aberdeen is the county-town of the enlightened province of Scotland; and it numbers many tens of thousands of electors. Its public library is well stocked, up to date, and most efficiently organised; and it is, of course, free. Very well. During 1918 a quarter of a million hooks were issued to borrowers for home-reading ; and of the quarter of a million, 140,000 were either fiction or magazines. Fiction and more fiction, in short, occupied minds of the premier intellectual town of the the premier intellectual nation to the extent of more than half of the total number of its book-borrowers and book-readers. “Art and Letters,” it will be observed, is a magazine, and may, therefore, be read, if only for its pictures, in Aberdeen. But what chance has a book, a real book, in the deluge of fiction and worse fiction? And this, remember, is Aberdeen. Of any English town the record is bound to be worse. If I remember rightly, the record of Plymouth, which was mentioned here some aeons ago, is immeasurably worse. Depths below depths, with not five thousand souls in all the land, I should say, to maintain the ancient character the country as the first in the world. Let the of intelligentsia unite ! With their irresistible power let them advocate racial suicide or anything else. The return of the Aberdeen Public Library shows that even this attempt will be read as fiction. *** It is absurd, after this, to announce the publication in book-form of two works that have already appeared in these pages. It is to invite the tragical propaganda of racial suicide. Worse, it is to run the risk of ruining two friendly publishers. However, it is not we who have threatened the world with extinction if our books are not read. Without being in the least degree “confident” that a tragical employment of our energies may not be necessary, we have no intention of anticipating it. The world moves ; and the circulation of THE NEW AGE has risen in my absence. What reason is there to fear that the books now announced will not one day be read-perhaps in Aberdeen first. Mr. Richmond Haigh’s “Ethiopian Song” appeared in THE
NEW AGE many years ago. It is now being published in a revised form by Messrs. Allen and Unwin. The other is a collection of the poems by Miss Ruth Pitter which have appeared, and are still appearing, here. They will be published under the title of "First Poems" by Messrs. Cecil Palmer and Hayward. R. H. C.
Three
By Millar
Vignettes.
Dunning. 1. SCENES.
MORNING
MORNING breaks through a haze of clambering mists and routs from nook and cranny the last lurking remnants of reluctant night. Throughout the night mists have rolled from field to field caressing the slumbering earth, and now, except where they fall to the river, only the higher trees and the spire of an old church stand clearly above. In the nearer fields the trees are dimly veiled. Cattle and horses walk between, or standing, seem like spectres reminiscent of the now departed darkness. Along the winding course of the stream the mists are low, half sunk in its tranquil depths, or rise in fanciful wraiths that cling to its limpid face, or, like disconsolate spirits, hang among the reeds, loath to bid farewell to a too beautiful world. And thus we have won a truly stimulating experience, unlocking the way to our latent being and enabling it to grow and harmonise with the beauty and serenity which has stirred it to life. We become possessed of the freedom and the expanse of the soul, and are already in sight of that scintillating horizon which releases our thoughts from the bondage of commonplace inheritance. Life falls within the sphere of our comprehension arid the ways of men are not impossible to understand. Sorrow is not without joy, nor living without reward. In a state of supremacy we fearlessly beckon the future, and whatever it may contain. We see horizon beyond horizon, and where the eye fails, mind, imagination and soul soar with it to the uppermost regions of vision. Life and light permeate a boundless universe until we are conscious of only the most heaven-barn limitations. And so, too, in the material sphere. Our being extends to, and absorbs the life without and beyond it. It reaches into vast continents and across great oceans. We feel and see and grow intimate with their existence ; with the vibrating heat of the Egyptian desert; the storm among the mountains of India, and the snows on the outer limits of Siberia. East and West, North and South, nothing is too great or too distant. And through it all we feel the inner nature that surges and palpitates to the song of life—to the surgent music of the fates who so recklessly give and so ruthlessly take away. But the grass in the valley is glistening still, and where it is untrodden, the finest of dew screens it in a sheet of silver just flickering with a thought of blue from the dome above. And thus we have the beginning and the end, the why and the therefore of static vision—the thing complete in itself sufficient. and THE II. SINNER.
The air is tense with brooding storm. The face of the sky is sullen-blue and ashy-white, threatening soon to break, and once more to soak the bones of the ancient dead. It is a long, irregular piece of ground surrounded by a massive wall, black with age. Outside, there are large overhanging trees. Inside, there is a great disorder of tombs and headstones. Everythingvery still. is No noise comes from the
surrounding city, and the last vagabond seems to hate fled in fear of the approaching storm. It is evening and the gloomy clouds herald a dark night. There is a creaking of rusty hinges from the east gate and a man enters. He glances round as though having anticipatedthe scene before him. He then walks to the corner of a low tomb, and careless of its death-woven memories seats himself. He looks at the black heavy wall that bounds this sink of death and at the white crumbling symbols that proclaim its dead . . . , the one as the gloom-burdened flesh that binds his spirit— the other as the hard whitening thing that remains to him for soul. He would end it all here. He would cast his life out among the shallow buried bones and lose himself for ever in this forest of stone. . . But he knows that to die thus, is no longer possible; that such chance is past and that now his one hope is to see death itself — see the cruel steel of her face and pierce to the lurid vaults of her heart. And would she reveal herself elsewhere more readily than here? Was not this the time-old abode of death? where even the things of life had fallen in part to her bondage, the rank and rotting weed and the mossencompassed earth? Could he get nearer—to see her face and read her heart? Would not the groping shadows answer-the darkness, the drooping trees and withering stones? III. THE EARTH SPIRITS. A PROLOGUE AND AN EPILOGUE. To be duly warned you who would listen must know that we are spirits of the Earth—the products of woods and heathen places-beings estranged and given to unnatural pursuits—the worshippers of strange gods. Thus have we spent our days searching the face of the night—searching for the inmost soul of light and darkness, or when days and nights were soulless, living with the lowly things whose only life was night and day, day and night in everlasting recurrence. Or, again, when these were absent? seeking those but a little higher, peering into their eyes-the light in their eyes and their unfathomable depths. Thus from the darkness of night, from the shadow of trees, from the infinite obscurity of a myriad simple things we have won our light. As for men, we have looked on them with a cold, impartial eye, as beings who expected nothing from us, and to whom nothing was due. We have looked on them as but a name on the scroll of creation-as of bipeds among the winged creatures of the air or the finned creatures of the sea. There are flocks of birds; there are shoals of fish; and there are hordes of men. Thus if you will have us sing, and singing, tell our tale, it shall be from bloodless lips, even such as we have described. Their songs being ended the Earth Spirits lament their having been drawn by the hope of the applause of men. We have rendered all our song, and in great simplicity have looked for payments due. We have laboured, and despite ourselves have hoped for reward. But now that we have done, the day grows dark. The sky is filled with devouring eyes, and a myriad murrain sights foretell our unseemly fate. We turn, we curse. We look to the Earth to bury us where we stand; to loosen the torn spirit within and in death to give us freedom and life, and all the fervid craving of our will. We look to the Earth, but hapless, look in vain, for in having looked to men we have broken faith; have sinned against those quieter, simpler things. And having sinned, what should we do but wander; to waste our substance, fibre by fibre, till all is spent. What should we do but walk, and in our walking race with the wind, moan with the storm, and be dashed with it on the mountains. What else should we do?
Towards
National
Guilds.
WITH the blackleg-proof unions at a greater distance thanthey were before the war, yet with the Guild idea undisturbed in its soundness as in its inspiration, we mustconsider in some detail the question of what line of conduct should be pursued in order to reconcile immediateactivity with the earliest possible realisation. There must, of course, be no relaxation of effort in the propagation of the Guild idea. The education of the unions, preferably from within, in the principle that changes can only be accepted or allowed to become permanent when their tendency is social, and the human, ethical, economic, and national justification of the Guild must proceed with all the enthusiasm of which its exponents are capable. Shorter hours and broader education are desirable conditions to obtain on the way. With the field of invention still wide, and subject to indefinite extension, the better the education, civic and technical, of all workers, the more easy will it be to accommodate the personnel of industry to the needs of the nation. Leisure is a road, if not necessarily a means, to knowledge, and an educated people is a further surety for the success of the Guilds. The primary task is, without doubt, the formation of the blackleg-proof unions. Even with the power of the strike weakened, no union should allow its “ right to strike” to be questioned. A strike is often itself the only available means of recruiting the unorganised. Dues not the history of Trade Unionism show in haw many cases the strike has preceded, in fact, the formation of the union? The justice of a war brings forth volunteers who would never have dreamed of joining the Army when they believed, however wrongly, that a state of peace existed. Many workers outside the ‘union join during or immediately after a dispute, and become good members. Witness, for Instance, the experiences of the National Union of Railwaymen. Only those objects should be worked for and struck for, however,which, when achieved, will have increased the power of Labour relatively to that of Capital. A strike by an Industrial Union for a portion, preferably limiting the remainder rather than demanding a proportion of profits, must be admitted, unless, in the meantime, the State unites with Labour for Guildisation. As that marriage is likely to be postponed indefinitely, the best remaining line of attack is the direct, which not merely strengthens Labour relatively, but which weakens Capital relatively. All gains should be received by the Union acting as a Corporation, and responsibility demanded and accepted concurrently with other gains, the goal being always the Guild. In no case should any portion of profits handed over be regarded by the Union as profit or bonus. It should invariably be employed to strengthen the union as a corporation, and a score of purposes will readily suggest themselves. The abolition, not the sharing, of Profit is the aim. Just as an industry or service within Capitalism is nationalised when it performs essential functions, and when the danger arises of its potential monopolists exploiting not merely their own field of labour hut the remainder of Production, Capital and Labour alike, so an industry is not fitted for Guildisation until its Union is industrial, containing all the essential labour, including directive, and, until its intelligence, discipline, and capacity for the acceptance of full responsibility have been corporately developed. The Capitalist has relied for. his justification upon his hold of the reins of industry. He can say that, however badly, industry has “worked” under his direction. The King’s industry has been carried on. Until Labour is ready to discharge:his function better than he can discharge it, the Capitalist is not economically superfluous.
The election of Trade Union officials, itself subject to quasi-political abuse by manipulation, will need to be regulated by better principles of choice than have prevailed hitherto, if the Unions are to be rendered fit It is to be regretted that too often for Guildisation. the promotion of a Trade Unionist from the “rank-and-file” to the “salariat” of the Union produces a subtle psychological change, of which so many members are yet unaware, and of which so many of the remainder are but inarticulately aware. In his former capacity, the official regarded the funds of the Union as the commissariatof an army, to be consumed, if need be, in the achievement of victory; as an official, to be conserved and augmented as the source of his livelihood. They should, of course, be consumed, conserved, and augmented; but their purpose is victory ! In order to avoid this evil of the vested interests of the paid official, it may be necessary for Unions generally to earmark a portion of their funds for separate investment, as a guarantee of the maintenance in their service, of the disinterested intelligence of the officials, and for their subsequent economic security. The earmarked portionwould naturally revert to the original funds on the severance of the official’s connection with the Union. The source of corruption is the union of control and dependency in the same person. A class of Trade Union officials, prone to regard the attainment of a paid office as the first step on the ladder of a political career, whose highest is no lower than the Cabinet, or, perhaps, even the Premiership, is a source of danger. Its members achieve eminence within the wages-system. Their abhorrence of it is liable to be confined to the platform, and a policy of amelioration the only outcome of their practical conduct elsewhere. Even after the best has been said of the exploits of the Labour and Socialist Parties, it must be clearly recognised that their achievement of Governmental authority cannot abolish the wages-system. The essential preliminary is the readiness and capability of the Unions to assume control and accept responsibility. State Socialism or Capitalism, the stronghold of retreat intended by Capitalists for themselves, must not intervene between regulated Capitalism and the Guilds. And the degradation of an art to a profession is a symptom of the evils to be removed. The remedy is to raise the professions towards the arts. ’The amalgamation of the various Unions within an industry, or, at the least, their federation and ability at short notice to amalgamate, presents difficulties in regard both to the officials and to the “rank-and-file.” Without imputing to them ulterior motives, the officials naturally see the position from the point of view of their own interests, and put side by side their actual and their probable degree of eminence, and their judgment is influenced to a greater extent than they are able to perceive, much less admit. The emancipation of the minds of the men destined to lead is essential to the emancipation of those who will follow. The members also, even the intelligent of them, compare the financial situations of the Unions proposing to amalgamate, those more intelligent still, the degree of advancement of the ideas and mentality of the separate groups, and each group is usually inclined to hand itself the IaureIs. The power of the really more advanced ideas, after amalgamation, has not been either sufficiently discussed or fully appreciated. In these cases, the individual outlook, relative to the fellowunions, must be replaced by a national outlook, relative to the realisation of the Guilds. This is no time for rivalry between Unions as Unions ; a healthy competition will have begun between them when, the importance of social acts being appreciated, a race is run between two or more Industrial Unions for the privilege of going down in history as the first to become a Guild. NATIONAL GUILDSMEN.
The
Idolatry
of Words.
By Dr. Oscar Levy. (Translated, by kind permission of the Editor, from “ La Revue Politique Internationale,” by Paul V. Cohn.) CHRISTIANITY WITHCARE. — English and Americans : The give a ready welcome to anything that is labelled “Christian,” though it may be the most impious thing imaginable. Thus it was that Bernard Shaw hailed Houston Stewart Chamberlain’s ‘‘Foundations of the Nineteenth Century,” recognising in it “the Bible of Protestantism” ; his artless admiration was shared on the other side of the Atlantic by Theodore Roosevelt, who literally fell on his knees before “ all the knowledge and acumen” displayed therein. . . . The more harmless the inscription, the more carefully we ought to examine the contents. It will be remembered how President Krüger had “Piano” written on the big boxes which contained the Krupp guns intended for the use of hisBoers —“ pianos ” which a little later, regaled the English with the same music that is played to them to-day by Chamberlain’s “Christianity." A LITTLE MORE ACCURACY,IF YOU PLEASE. —“At any rate, let us save our faith from the universal shipwreck,” is the plaintive refrain sung by many a torturedhuman heart. But, I ask, how are we going to set about it? “Let us save him, save him, save him,” sings the chorus at the Opera, as if anxious to fly to the rescue of the hapless tenor; yet, without budging an inch, it calmly lets him drown. A TARDYCONFESSION. —Pastor Georg Löber makes a frank and unreserved avowal in his book, “Christianity theWar.” “We heave a genuine sigh of and relief when, in pondering the problem of Christianity and the war, we enter the glittering precincts of the Old Testament, all bedizened with implements of war.” The English Society for the Conversion of the Jews calculates that it gains adherents at an average of £800 a head, and even then it has to cook its figures from time to time, by converting the same person over and over again, in order to keep up the enthusiasm of its pious contributors. And now we see a Christian minister discovering that the Old Testament is, after all, more in touch with the realities of life than the New, and that the Nazarenes are really the people who ought to seek re-admission to the “glittering precincts” of the faith they have forsaken. An Englishman has said, in defence of this war: “War exposes shams.” REQUIESCAT PACE. —Good doctors do their best to IN cure disease; bad doctors make a deal of pother about the symptoms, and overlook the roots of the trouble. Apart from doctors, good and bad, there is another type of healer : the philanthropists. These no longer pay any attention to the disease itself, but devote themselves with all the more energy to cultivating the symptoms. Pacifism, for instance, was a symptom of European decadence. An American , Mr. Carnegie, encouraged these symptoms by making liberal grants to pacifist associations. The germs of the disease spread, of course, more rapidly than ever, and one fine day the fever broke out. . . . From that very day the “Carnegie Endowment for International Peace” refused to give any further help to these associations, and the funds are now diverted to “the vigorous prosecution of the war until a decisive victory is won,” for “in this way alone can a lasting peace, based upon justice, be established.” . . . After rose-water comes the surgeon’sknife, blind and brutal, but an accurate diagnosis is still to seek. Every age has the physicians it deserves; ours will owe its ruin to Messrs. Carnegie and Co. R.I.P. THE PHILOSOPHER TURNED ARMY CONTRACTOR. —From the moment war was declared, the philosophies of Bergson and Eucken were placed at the disposal of their
respective countries-and that, too, by their very founders; who, accordingly, cannot complain, like so many other philosophers, that their ideas have been “misinterpreted. ” In this instance, the nations, too, cannot complain that their philosophers hold themselves “aloof from the world,” for they seem to know their world through and through! No doubt “philosophy,” in plain English, means “love of wisdom,” not “love of country”—but is not love of country to-day the supreme wisdom? 1517-1789-1917. — In what kind of intellectual atmosphere did the leaders of the Terrorist regime in France really live—that régime which bears so striking a resemblance to the world-wide catastrophe of to-day ? . . . Those visionaries, St. Just and Robespierre, looked to the ideal of “justice on earth,” which seemed to them well within their grasp; they fancied that only a few heads barred the way. What mattered these few heads that reared themselves up as a challenge between them and their ideal, in comparison with the priceless, heavenly boon that shone so near? . . . So they regarded it as their bounden duty to cut off these heads, and the voice of their conscience approved, in all sincerity, this drastic course of action. As soon as these first victims were offered up, the promised land, the land of their passionate desire, would surely come within range of vision ! Unfortunately, they realised before long that they had not drawn a single inch nearer their goal. ... At once they swept from their path all those whom they held responsible for their failure. . . . A few drops of blood more or less, what do they count, if only they are shed upon the altar of liberty, justice and equality —above all of equality, which was only waiting for its final victim in order to make its triumphal entry? . . . Thus came the descent, ever more rapid, the giddy, reckless plunge into the abyss. Facilis descensus Averni. If we add to the ideals, still current to-day, of “Justice,” ‘‘Liberty” and “Equality, ” Such phrases of later growth as “Kultur,” “the happiness of the many,’’ “securities for peace,” “League of Nations,” “last war in the annals .of humanity”; if we substitute for the few pints of blood that flowed of old on the Place de la Concorde the rivers of blood that the world-war has cost us; if we compare the idealism of a few individuals who valiantly sacrificed themselves with the self-denial of whole nations who to-day are giving up their property and their lives—we cannot but be forcibly struck by the similarity between the present world-war and the Revolution of 1789, the close parallel between the exuberant rhetoric of to-day and the hollow verbiage of the past. . . . . The present war is merely a new phase of the French Revolution, which itself was only a sequel to the German Reformation. The Münzers and the Kniperdollings, the St. Justs and the Robespierres, find their replicas in the Lenins and Trotskys. . . . Germanism stands for the old régime, which, through its feebleness; has lost its right, to exist; all that is now wanted is the Napoleons, the tyrants, the new masters, who will work order out of chaos and make both Germans and democrats play second fiddle, as they deserve. They will come soon day, that is certain! WE CANNOTHAVE IT BOTH WAYS. —We must choose between two alternatives : either sacrificing politics to morality (like Tolstoi) or morality to politics (like Machiavelli). There is no middle course. Not but what some have tried to find one: I refer to those muddle-headed creatures known as German philosophers. “Force has no validity save as the outward form and husk of a moral and spiritual kernel” : “the policy of force is subject to moral rules and limitations which are imposed upon it from without as well as from within” —such arc the fundamental ideas of Kant and Fichte, ideas which, owing tu their specious character, are still accepted by every German and every
disseminator of German bacilli (and who is without a German bacillus?). “Chocolate is a delicious drink and tea is just as nice,” said on one occasion the wife of a rich vulgarian, “please bring me a cup of tea and chocolate mixed, half and half.” GERMAN, ALL TOO GERMAN.— “If we Germans aspire to rank as a world-Power, that is very far from meaning that we wish to overpower other States and trample them under our feet. intellectual culture is too widespread among the Germans for such phrases and such chimeras to influence the aims of a whole people. Doubtless our political and cultural mission is forced upon us by the conditions of our existence, but it is guided by our consciousness that in pursuing it we are doing service to the idea of humanity, contributing to the physical, moral and intellectual advancement of the human race. For this purpose we need elbow-room and security."Thus wrote the Socialist Wolfgang Heine in the ‘‘Frankfort Gazette’’ of November 7, 1915. Long ago, an illustrious namesake of this Heine wrote (in the Preface to his ‘‘Confessions”) “Characteristically enough, our German : rogues are never entirely without some shreds of sentimentality.. They are no cold-blooded and calculating scoundrels. They have a soul, they sympathise most deeply with the fate of those whom they despoil.” . . . It is just the same to-day : this Heine the Little— as Heine the Great so justly observed of his type—has nothing of the blackguard about him; moreover, he does not steal, he only wants “elbow-room and security”; and then, too, he merely needs this elbowroom and this security so that he can work for “the moral and intellectual advancement” of those whom he has robbed. His discreditable acts towards his victims are all committed not from brutality or from a spirit of aggression—he has too much “culture” for that ! —but with the best intentions in the world and a conscience perfectly at ease : is he not, after all, “ doing service to the idea of humanity”? In short, he is a rascal with “feeling,” a moralising bandit, a Machiavelli from charity ! . . How attractive, by way of contrast, is the aspect of the real Machiavelli ! The latter did not wrap himself and others in the cloak of religious and humanitarian falsehood : with clear eyes and a hearty stomach he ran straight for the goal. VIRTUE AT THE MASKED BALL. —Aquestion that has at all times been most hotly debated by the Germans is the following : “Should we, in politics, have recourse to moral or to immoral methods?” Bernhardi declares for moral methods. “When one has no intention of respecting a treaty or an alliance, one should not conclude it,’’ he says in “Our Future,” and he hereby gives all the world to understand that if Germany brought upon herself the reproach of immorality at The Hague conference on disarmament, it was just because she would not swerve from a moral attitude! It would, indeed, have been more politic to accept the proposals for disarmament, in other words, to put her enemies to sleep instead of putting them on their guard. Treitschke, on the other hand, plumps for immoral methods, though solely in the interests of “the moral State.” He is thus diametrically opposed to Machiavelli, who preaches “force devoid of any mora! end.” Fichte, as well, in an essay on Machiavelli, takes him to task because “he has so little understanding of ethics, ” and declares roundly that “the highest concepts of human life and the State, those that emanate from reason, “are to him a sealed hook.” Yet this German, in spite of himself, has a sneaking- affection for the Italian. This compromise makes Fichte the founder of German mentality, which tries to reconcile artlessness with cunning, Christianity with immorality. AI! this wavering and all these discussions prove, at any rate, that the Germans would have done better if they had stuck to
morality. They remind one of certain ladies of unquestionable virtue who, in order to “ see a bit of life,” go for once in a way to a Covent Garden ball. Following the example of their frail sisters, they squeeze their partners’ hands under the table ; but the poor things are all the time blushing behind their masks. They are so restrained, so virtuous, so embarrassed, that their cavaliers are all the time on the point of saying : “ Good Heavens, madam, what are you doing here? Such a respectable lady as you are ! ” HEGEL’S LEGACY.— Germans, nay all non-German All Europeans, can claim Hegel as their original. Treitschke and Bismarck are his legitimate heirs, the German Socialists his illegitimate descendants ; Engels was near the mark when he defined the German Labour movement as “ the heir of classical German philosophy from Kant to Hegel.” Hence the antagonism between Bismarck and the Socialists is more apparent. than real, for between Hegelians of the Right and Hegelians of the Left there is a strong bond whose reality has been once more confirmed by the present war. As a matter of fact, all of them still believe in the State as the “ embodiment of the moral idea.” The only difference is that the latter sought to propagate this moral idea from below, while Bismarck imposed it from above. This socio-moral State became a model for all Europe, and Bakounin turned out to be a true prophet: “ Marx’s Socialism and Bismarck’s diplomacy are working hand in hand towards the Pangermanisation of Europe. ” A Hegelian of the Left who no longer believes in the State, neither in its ‘‘ God-given character ” nor in its “ moral nature,” a “ candid friend ” yet a consummate exponent of Hegelianism, is the anarchist Max Stirner (Caspar Schmidt), author of “ The Ego and His Own. ” In point of fact, his theories found more favour outside Germany than in the very workshop where European systems of thought are manufactured. The German, after all, has little bent for anarchy. He differs from the Russian and Italian in that he seldom likes to act on his own initiative. He lacks civic courage whether for good or for evil. Even when he is meditating some piece of rascality, he prefers to do it collectively. The war has proved that he maintains his gregarious instincts, his need of marching shoulder to shoulder, even in crime. THE SMALL PROFITS OF GERMAN PHILOSOPHY.— Before the war, Germany had the whole world under her heel, not so much even in matters of commerce as in matters of intellect. Everyone now admits this, except perhaps the fervid patriots of the Entente. Lord Haldane, a devotee of Hegel, described Germany as his “ spiritual home. ” Woodrow Wilson, an enthusiastic adherent of Kant; has written big tomes LIoyd George, although inspired by German thinkers. he has never acquired the slightest tincture of German philosophy, has at least studied Germany’s social legislation, in order to transplant it in English soil. . . All have tasted the fruit of the tree named German idealism, and though to-day they cannot help making bitter, a wry face over its kernel, so unsuspectedly they will never he able to deny that there was a time when they munched the fruit with absolute confidence. German philosophy, on the other hand, might well seek to justify the sorry plight to which its idealism has reduced the world by arguing like a certain dealer “ Yes,” in bric-à-brac who had sold a copper pot. he said, “ I bought the pot cheap, I had it re-coppered in my own way, and sold it as new. . . . The people who bought it of me boiled some fish in it, and the whole family fell ill. . . . But the doctor made somethingout of it. so did the chemist, so did the undertaker,so did the gravedigger—in fact, everyone made a bit out of it. . . . And all thanks to me ! ” Yes, all thanks to the German philosopher ! (To be continued.)
Views
RELIGION
and
AND
Reviews.
SCIENCE.
MY last article demonstrated at least one proposition, that religion, as exemplified by the Catholic Church, not only has nothing to offer to modern thought, but has declared itself to be in deadly enmity to it. The very religion that its priests are sworn to teach is not the religion of Christ, but ‘‘the absolute unchanging truth . . . as it was preached by the Apostles from the beginning.” To ask : Which Apostle?” would be to raise one of those very questions that attack the fundamentals faith, as the Catholics put it, and to admit of the right of scientific inquiry to determine a question of authority. But there is no need for me to flog a dead horse; if we do discuss religion and science, we can do it without reference to the Catholic Church, which represents neither, although it has persecuted both. One word only about the Catholic Church; everyone must admit the infallibility of its judgment. It is infallibly wrong ; it has honoured with excommunication every man who ever discovered anything worth knowing, and the Index Expurgatorius is a catalogue of the world’s greatest works. Mr. Leo Ward asks us to believe that modern thought, i.e., science, has broken down because the Catholics say that it was impaled on the dilemma of pessimism and optimism. “What is an optimist? An optimist is a man who does not care what happens, so long as it does not happen to him. What is a pessimist? A pessimist is a man who has lived for a long time with an optimist.” This is the philosophy, not of the schools, but of the music-halls; I heard it at the Palace some years ago, and it is really quite as sound as the more academic speculations concerning the world-purpose. “The monist must decide,’’ says Mr. Leo Ward, “whether the world-punpose is towards good or not.” He must do nothing of the sort; it is not his world, any more than it is the Pope’s. All that he must decide is whether the word “ good ” has any relevance to the world-purpose. ‘‘Good” is a relative, not an absolute, term. We came nearest to absolute “world-purpose,” I suppose, in the physical forces that operate on all ponderable bodies alike, in the force of gravity, for example, which compels bodies to attract each other proportionately to their mass and inversely as the square of the distance. I am aware, I may say, that I describe the force of gravity anthropomorphically when I say that it “compels.” But what is the ‘‘good’’ It keeps us on the ground, of the force of gravity? and it keeps the stars at respectful distances from each If we go a step further, and ask what Mr. other. Ward would call a “religious” question : “Why should we be kept on the ground, and the stars at respectful distances from each other?’’ religion can only answer that it is a great mystery—which we confessed by asking the question. Religion, no more than science; is capable of answering that question : “Why ?” ; like science, it can only show us a mystery. The truth is that religion and science correspond to two states of mind, or, more correctly, to a state of feeling and a state of mind. Both alike say : “O Lord, how wonderful are Thy works ?” but the scientific man says : “Show me Thy way ! How do You do these marvellous things?” The religious man wants only to adore, he does not want to see the wheels go round :
“I do not ask to see,” as Newman put it; “Blessed are they who have not Seen, and yet have believed,” as Christ is reported to have said—but He was a Modernist, because He submitted to the test demanded. There is nothing new in the conception of the difference between religion and science; it is an old speculation that “the cherubim know most, the seraphim love most.” Well, I want to be a cherub, not only for the immunity that Coleridge declared that the cherubim enjoyed from the attentions of his schoolmaster, but because I want to know most. I have no objection to anyone who wants to love most; but I do insist that he must keep on his proper side of the throne. The two states may be complementary to the glory of God, but they are contradictory to each other in an individual; the more he adores, the less he inquires—and if he sees anything, like the man of whom St. Paul wrote, or hears anything, they are “unspeakable words, which it is not lawful for a man to utter.” To the religious man, everything is ineffable, unspeakable, beyond compare,beyond expression; he is everlastingly in an ecstasy, while his fellows remain in ignorance. But a mystery is not more mysterious because it is not explained, nor less mysterious because it is explained. The whole value of the explanation is that it makes it possible for everyone else to be aware of the mystery, and to cease to be troubled by vain fears concerning it. So long as people only adored the sun, they were terrified by its eclipse; but when they began to ask : “How?” and observed its motion, and invented means of measuring it, they not only banished the fear of an eclipse, hut laid the foundations of a science that has made the world as easily measurable as a back-garden, and by facilitating travel, has made the dream of a universal brotherhood a possibility. The universe is the same for all of us; science and religion are simply two attitudes that we adopt towards it, or, if you like, two different re-actions that it causes in us. I do not deny religious knowledge; there is “an intelligence of the heart” as well as of the head; but that knowledge is inexpressible, is incommunicable experience. It corresponds to what is called unconscious cerebration in psychology ; and, to come down to practice, conscious cerebration is of the greater practicalvalue. As Ribot said : “One may by instinct, that is, through unconscious cerebration, solve a problem, but it is very possible, that some other day, at another moment, one will fail in regard to an analogous problem. If, on the contrary, the solution of any problem is attained through conscious reasoning, a failure will scarcely occur in a second instance; because every step in advance marks a gained position, and from that moment we no longer grope our way blindly. This, however, does not in the least diminish the part played by unconscious work in all human discoveries. ” When we reflect that Christ’s whole method was devoted to making men conscious of their possibilities, and thereby responsible for themselves, that it was Christ who said : “Ye shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free” : I see no reason to be ashamed of the scientific method of looking for truth, even for the truth of religion, at the end instead of at the beginning of its researches. It may well be that the truth finally discovered will he the truth originally revealed; but it will be truth become conscious, raised from what Theosophists call the “astral” to the “mental” world. It will be the Word of God returning to Himself after having performed its miracle of vitalising the universe from the earth to the heaven; if it issued as a fiat, it will return as an affirmation that the spirit informs ail things. A. E. R.
Reviews.
TheWar and Elizabeth, By Mrs. Humphry Ward. (Collins. 6s. net.) Mrs. Humphry Ward expends an infinity of effort to make her Elizabeth incredible. Her Elizabeth, it would seem, has understood Olive Schreiner literally, and taken labour for her province. As an economist all alone, she is marvellous; few of us could, in war-time, have paid the cost of a mother’s illness and the fees of a trained nurse, and, at the same time, maintained ourselves not merely incomfort but in elegance on a salary of £250 a year, But that was a trifle to Elizabeth, who took a “First Class in Mods,” and was the best Greek secretary the old Squire had ever had. Scholarship usually demands the entire energies of a man (it did in the case of the Squire); but a woman includes it in her daily round. Elizabeth had been in the house only six weeks when she responded to the appeal of Sir Arthur Yapp and Mr. Kennedy Jones, and organised the household consumption of comestibles in accordance with the dicta of those gentlemen. Nobody, except the Squire, was allowed bread with meals, and the Squire usually left his bread on his plate. By this economy, Elizabeth within a month had qualified for the position of housekeeper, in addition, of course, to her work as classical secretary. Shortly alter, the Squire handed over to her the sole charge of his estate of twelve thousand acres; and in ‘a few months she had paid all his debts, had brought his land under cultivation, had thinned his woods, had piled up a balance at the bank, and, incidentally, had done the State some service. She became a farm bailiff and a forester, a member of the War Agricultural Committee, and a recruiter of female labour for the land, all in the time that she could spare from her duties as classical secretary and housekeepcr. But even these activities did not exhaust her capacity; she maintained a considerable correspondence on personal affairs, was a fluent conversationalist, and indulged in much introspection. In addition, she retained not only her beauty but her charm; her affections were not impoverished but rather nourished by her abundant activities, and as one of the characters says at the end, “she seems to he just asking you to creep under her wings and be mothered.’’ Of course, the third time, she accepts the Squire’s proposal, and undertakes to make a man of him as well as a scholar; in another sense than Hotspur’s, he tells his intended wife that he wants work, the “Greek ending o with the little passing-bell that signifies some faith’s about to die” no longer contenting him. That Elizabeth’s last word should be : “They shall prosper that love thee” : is inevitable; even the higher education of women has its romance of business, or business of romance, and Elizabeth has as much right to live as any other of Mrs. Ward’s heroines. Unfortunately, like them, she does not exercise the right. Cities and Sea-Coasts and Islands. By Arthur Symons. (Collins. 7s. 6d. net.) The attempt to realise the spirit of place is a task for a poet. It requires an extraordinary sensibility to impressions, a discriminating mind which will leave no trace of its action, and a vocabulary as varied in significance colour and plastic in expression as the and symbolism of Nature. The traveller who takes himself whereverhe goes has never travelled, he has only been transported in body, not rapt away in spirit; and it is a curious fact that Mr. Symons’ most vivid realisation of the spirit of a place relates to Chapel Street, Edgware Road, on a Saturday night. He writes statedly of Spanish painters and poets, attempts a little word-painting Spanish towns, confesses the horror of and the sickening attraction that a bull-fight inspired in and exercised on him—but he is still Mr. Arthur Symons, dandified and deliberative, aiming at the exact
word and missing the complete mood, afraid, it would seem, of giving strong emotions their full and free expression. He had a monitor with him who was not a native Spaniard, an English culture which made him judge more than he appreciated, and prevented him from participation in and free expression of the spirit of the place. He was a tourist in Spain, not an interpreterof it; with an eye for its differences from the English standard, and his perception of the differences between Spanish women had the slight air of surprise that betrays the foreigner. The Spanish sketches will probably have the greatest interest for the English reader, because the matter of them is most-strange; but the London sketches are the best work. ’The Edgware Road made Mr. Symons feel, it offended him; and he reproduces its damp atmosphere laden with the feel of mud and the smell of fried fish, its squalid air and hopeless humanity, with a slightly indignant skill. But it is still a judgment more than a creation or a realisation ; people could not exist if they really were as they appear to Mr. Symons’ disdainful eyes, and it is not the spirit of Chapel Street, but Chapel Street as seen and felt by a resident of the Temple, that Mr. Symons realises. His Irish sketches, and those of rural scenes in this country, are his worst; he has no sympathy with bucolic life, he is a poet, if not of the pavement, at least of the library, and he looks at life only through his study windows, and he has the tendency of all academic people to put a frame around his visions. “As in a picture,” he sees and writes of the country. Impossible Peter. By Fay Myddleton. (Collins. 6s. net.) Miss Fay Myddleton is quite right; Peter is “impossible,” is Betty, so is the story, and also the manner so of its telling. The attempt to write a novel in the form of letters always betrays the fact that the author is incapable of dramatic projection, is not concerned with the creation of character but is merely masquerading in various disguises —and when a woman cries : “Me ! Me ! Look at me !” we know what to expect. We get it here without stint. Peter was supposed to be dying, and Betty, a complete stranger, married him to prevent the estates passing to another branch of the family. Of course, Peter recovered; and the rest of the book is devoted to telling how his wife compelled him to see her, and to fall in love with her for her own sake. The story is told with the usual accompaniment of gush and gurgle that is supposed to reveal the charm of women; and “Golly, I’se so wilful” seems to be Betty’s motto. For contrast with this nonsense, Miss Myddleton plumps into the bathos of a story of disappointed love, with a little white dog as its memorial. Flaming Sword of France. By Henry Malherbe. Translated from the French by Lucy Menzies. (Dent. 6s.’ net.) This translation of “ La Flamme au Poing ” presents a vivid picture of some of the aspects of the war with a frankness that is French only in its photographic skill. The incidents are carefully chosen to reveal the invincible spirit of the French soldier, his stoicism, his sensibility; he seems in these sketches to be doing his duty in a dream, while he lives in a reverie of “ Remembrance, Love, and Death. ” These “twilightstates;” permit the author to preserve his sensibility unimpaired, indeed, to purge it of material connotations; he quivers at the thought of music, of love, of the refinements of civilisation, but he writes of slaughter as one whose soul is numbed, as, perhaps, it is. For we really feel acutely only once; history may repeat itself, but tragedy never, and we have no more power to feel a world-combat, with its thousands of casualties a day, than we have to feel the death of one person. So far as the author’s “realism” is an attempt to make us “feel the war,” it is a failure, a mere adding of ciphers to the numeral we have already posited. The
Pastiche.
STATUETTE OF AN EGYPTIAN PRINCESS (Belonging to no particular Dynasty). In the armchair in which she had been languidly borne, the armchair in which she had passed the greater part of her languid life, the armchair in which, in due course, she would no doubt languidly die, she sat with hands folded upon her immobile knees, mournfully gazing out upon the Nile. Previously she had been accustomed to experience a creeping, torpid joy in finding mirrored in the imperturbability of the river the facile march of her own phlegmatic egoism. But to-day the pathetic fallacy had broken down. For in spite of the sumptuous spaciousness of the patriarchal palace in which she dwelt, surrounded by all the loving care of three generations of ancestors, she was feeling the cruel pinch of war. But it was not by solicitude €or her native Egypt that she was distressed. For her native Egypt was booming brilliantly. And were not the industrious peasants of her country paying off their mortgages to the banks with a speed and regularity which produced even in the most cold-blooded of financiers an almost sexual thrill? Nor yet was it the gastronomic problem which was responsible for her spiritual malaise. Certain privations might loom leanly in the distance. The curtailment of the seven courses at dinner to six, the diminution to twenty of the twenty-five varieties of dainties at her mother’s justly celebrated afternoon teas; yet even on this drastic rationing there would remain a sufficient epicurean minimum to keep her sleek soul and her sleek body comfortably together. But perhaps it was all because she was intellectually and artistically starved ? Quite an unfounded suggestion. The annual operatic company from Italy might no doubt be. absent. But was not the Vampire with the Purple Fangs to be seen evening after evening at the Cairo Cinema flashing her exotic dentures in spasm after spasm of feuilletonist ecstasy ? Nor again had there been any cessation of Cairene social life. It is true that Cairo no longer seethed with American millionaires and those Anglo-Saxon ladies who had used to find in the East a temperature analogous to their own. But men ther were by the score. Shepheard’s and the Continental were thick with the military, and brigadiers fought duels with subalterns for the privilege of a booked-up dance with her three weeks ahead. And yet, I repeat, the agony of the war tortured her cruelly. Yet she was not worrying over her married sister who possessed a mansion in the most central part of bombarded London and a bungalow in extraterritorial Brighton. No apprehension, either, for her brother in the French Army, healthily wounded, and now filling an important post at Paris in the Ministry of Munitions ; nor yet for her first cousin, a captain of the Intelligence ; nor even for her second cousin, a paymaster in the Greek Army, exposed though he might be, poor dear fellow, to all the morbid malaria of miasmic Macedonia; anxiety, either, for the unknown destinies of no those unknown relatives in atavistic Poland; or even for that sinister and disowned branch of the family tucked somewhere safely away amid the mystic wilds of Syria. Let us then try a new hypothesis. Was she concerned about the new and critical possibilities of the Jewish nation, to which during the last few months the Zionist reclame had almost forcibly reminded her that she, too, in fact belonged? Inter alia, of course. An additional and slightly piquant ingredient in the international salad of her promiscuous nationality. A new note in that chorus where the national anthems of Great Britain, Egypt, France, and Italy, reinforced nowadays by the plaintive and attenuated wail of the Zionist Hati blared forth simultaneously in massed bands, the neutralised multiplicity of their polyphonic patriotism ? But again the answer is in the negative. A daughter of Zion obviously: a Zionist daughter of Zion, never. But yet the tragic inconvenience of the grim war oppressed her. Sickly waves of nostalgia drowned her
panting soul. All she was deprived of by the war fluttered in quick hysterical vision before her imagination. The quick, gay trip on the Austrian Lloyd to Brindisi. The visit to dear Aunt Isola in Rome. The journey along the Riviera to Nice. The frocks, boulevards, theatres, races, and scandals of vernal Paris. The month in London under the auspices of her married sister and her cousins (the daughters of Lord Verist), with their variegated set of artists, literary men, attaches, many of the minor lights of the flashy Anglo-Saxon aristocracy, with scarcely a single Jew amid the whole collection. Oh, it was cruel, monstrous, ineffable of the Huns so to sink ships in the open sea, to break up the rules of war, the whole fabric of modern civilisation, and all the annual machinery of our social life! What blackguards, what dirt, what canaille ! Those submarines. It was really too embêtant. Oh, that she were a man that she might revenge herself on the monsters, if only in the humble capacity of a paymaster in the Greek Army ! This, then, is the reason why she sat in the armchair in which she had been languidly borne, the armchair in which she had passed the greater part of her languid life, the armchair in which she would, no doubt, in due course languidly die, gazing out upon the imperturbable Nile with her sleek jewelled hands lazily folded over the Parisian gown that draped her immobile knees. Cairo. HORACE B. SAMUEL. TO MY SUBCONSCIOUS SELF. What, alter ego, do you mean To toss across the threshold of my open consciousness All the rags and tatters of a world unseen. I do not complain of the scraps of Lesbian dreams And vague ideas of murder and the wishes Of impracticable lust, That flounder exhausted in the embryonic dust Of the psyche like expiring fishes From subterranean streams. No, no, I can sweep quite away All the fragments and the oddments of a classic yesterday, But it causes me to rage To see the rubbish that you throw From the lumber-rooms of minds that I know : The dead cats and dogs of the spirit of an age, The ideals and aspirations and the yearnings Of the artists and thinkers who’ve expressed All the worst, all the best Of our rulers in the suffocating lull before the war. Alter ego, have some pity and do not cast up any more, For I’m weary to death of trying to clean up the mess. If there be no better Beauty Let us kiss the feet of honest ugliness; If there be no truer Truth, no saner Faith and Duty, No nobler and more honourable Peace, Let us toss a coin for values or restore The faked divinities of yore : The slave-built glory that was Greece, Or the bloody-fingered Rome or her child the Scarlet Whore. TRIBOULET. SONNET. To X. O, like sweet, scented dew upon my brow Thy kisses fall in sequence none too slow; Each with a honeyed lingering, as though Thou wouldst distil ambrosia from each vow ; Or in its fragrance rival blossomed bough, Or rose, or eglantine, unculled in spring. O pale adversity, where is thy sting? O fate, thy turmoils can’t assail me now. For like some fond enchantress in the night, Who bringeth sleep unto the waking eye, Thy love enfolds me in a vice more tight Than sorrow’s grip exerts; and gives the lie To death ; and desolation’s wintry blight, Which, foiled, in impotency passes by. C. S. D.
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