to lead decent lives under decent environment. They deserve a
better education than they get, and, above all, better guides in
their early school days, guides who shall furnish the sensitive
period of the first stages of youth with first principles of
conduct; taught that they are citizens of no mean country, hence
that a grave responsibility is theirs, not only to themselves
but to their neighbours. Taught that _thou_ as well as _I_ is an
essential pronoun; that civilisation is based upon _Fraternity_, not
_Equality_, because there is no such thing and never can be. That
one’s neighbour is a bit of oneself is a moral truth beyond question.
It is a truth that is in the very foundation of society. It is the
root of the tree of all progress, it is as the water that feeds
it, and as the sun which ripens its fruit. Duty to God is implied
in duty to the neighbour. God made the neighbour, the _thou_ as
well as the _I_ is His design; the two are really inseparable. This
principle, driven home in the earliest years, will form a guide for
life, because the mental impressions then received are never wholly
eradicated. “I must take care of myself to take care of you” is a
truism. But “I must prop you in failure, stand by you in trouble,
and joy in your joy” is surely a higher form of ethics! This simple
principle of life is the summing up of Christian teaching, and not
only of that, but of the writings of such great pagan philosophers as
Marcus Aurelius and Epictetus, to name only two of many. To be _able_
to read is one thing, what is read is another. Bad books are more
detrimental than no books, as _bad_ education is worse than _none_.
To know one book well is better than to have superficially read a
hundred. There are essential and not essential as well as _positively
destructive_ books; plenty, indeed, of the last named, and they grow
like weeds! Only two or three of the best books should be set before
children. “Robinson Crusoe,” “The Pilgrim’s Progress,” and carefully
selected portions of the Bible would not be a bad selection. Teachers
must not be hacks or machines, but wise and sympathetic guides.
History is a complicated study, and one which the busy worker,
agricultural or craftsman, has not time to master. But the chief
events, those which have moulded social life and profoundly led
progress, can be tabulated and learned by heart. The young should be
taught that presently they will be called to make history, and that
in its making absolute _honesty_ is the first condition of success.
The agricultural labourer is helping to feed his country, the
craftsman is making desirable and durable goods for his own as well
as foreign markets, and they must be the best he can turn out to his
honour!
§ 23
Ancestors of the craftsman of to-day erected and adorned the
monuments we now prize; it is the business of the modern craftsman
to make such as will be reverenced and esteemed by-and-bye. Ancient
craftsmen loved their work, that we can see at a glance. Are the
modern craftsmen taught or encouraged to do so by their leaders? No!
They are taught to grab high wages for bad work as good for trade,
a lamentable fallacy which could only have been framed by ignorant
men, and unprincipled to boot. As the duty to a neighbour should be
instilled, as it were, with mother’s milk, so to do good and only
good work should be the mainspring of a boy-craftsman guidance.
The habit of doing good work must be acquired in youth! It must be
begun early and continued as a habit to the end of it. Duty to our
neighbour and duty to our employers are synonymous. Pride in turning
out good and shame in turning out bad. Do Labour leaders teach that?
No! They advocate the reverse. They would have it that while labour
is essential it is derogatory to freedom, to insist on good work
for good pay is _tyranny_, but to demand high wages for bad work is
_justice_. They teach “As little effort as possible to attain the
highest level of wages.” Is this wise? No, it is the height of folly.
The true answer to those false leaders is to tell the workmen that
all work is honourable when _well done_, dishonourable when _ill
done_. When primary education is conducted upon the simple lines
above indicated we shall be on the road to supply the best possible
education to the greater number. It is worse than useless to cram
young minds with facts before the first principle of selection
has been instilled. Much, indeed most, of England’s foundation of
greatness was laid when the majority could neither read nor write. It
was _character_, not education in _facts_, that made England great.
Honesty, not grasping, was the watchword which guided the deeds of
our great ancestors. Soil must be prepared before it is ready to
receive fruitful seed. We do not plant lilies on dustheaps or corn
on the ashes of factories’ furnaces. Honourable dealing with the
neighbour, honourable _quid pro quo_ are, as it were, the bricks of
which a nation is built, and without them as primaries no nation has
been or will bequeath a noble heritage. What are we making for the
future? To what end is the intelligence of craftsmanship directed
with all the facilities at their hands? To get _enormous wages_
with the least possible effort. These are hard words, but they are
true. The welfare of the neighbour is not in the calculation, and
_honesty of work has taken a back seat_. That is what is the matter
with England! It is a malady which affects the commercial attitude of
to-day from bottom to top. Under so depressing a social atmosphere is
it a matter for wonder that we are creating so little that will be a
joy or stimulus to aftercomers? Work in which joy has not taken part
will never provide pleasure to the doer or receiver. A creator who
slaves as a drudge, is unwilling and discontented, is a neuter; he
will neither derive nor breed pleasure.
§ 24
The war compelled Labour; without it it would have been lost. But are
there signs that Labour will work for Peace? What ideal has it? What
stimulus is being provided for Labour and by Labour to make England
rich in intellect, purer in heart, more fertile of ideas, less
materialistic and more spiritual?
§ 25
The spirit giveth life! Matter is like an eggshell. We have gone
round in a circle in the later pages, and come back to the point of
starting. The soul of a country is what matters; it and it alone
can control the matter of it! We have seen a great country break
down under the curse of materialism. Explosives, foul gas, and every
instrument of destruction have been the gods of the Germans, and they
have ruined them. Germany sold her soul to the Devil to attain her
lust, the conquest of the world. She failed because she killed the
spirit of God in her, setting in His place monsters of iron, steel
and poison. If matter divorced from spirit can win, Germany would
have won. Is England going to imitate Germany, the country that is
fallen from a high estate to an abject condition of failure? Or
are we to be influenced by Russian disorder and anarchy? Both are
bad, and neither should influence us except to avoid the grievous
errors which have led to such disaster. Anarchy, as every plague, is
catching. It seems to promise to uneducated and undisciplined minds a
panacea. It may offer that, but it grants only additional miseries.
Over and over again it has been tried and has invariably failed!
So let us not repeat a blunder, but shape a new course upon
ground which has never revealed pitfalls, which is not subject to
earthquakes, that is on rock, not sand, that is productive, not
sterile, fruitful, not destructive. Let us see that the Great Spirit
which inspired England is with us still, but in a wider measure than
heretofore--the spirit that gave her Chaucer, Spenser, Shakespeare,
Milton, Shelley, Blake, Keats, Wordsworth, Tennyson, Browning and
Morris in poetry; in science, Harvey, Bacon, Locke, the Herschells,
Faraday, Darwin, Huxley and Lister, to mention only a few great names
in occult and humane science. The spirit which inspired our great
artists--Reynolds, Wren, Chambers, Blake, Gainsborough, Turner,
Constable, Wilson, Alfred Stephens, Rossetti, Hunt, Millais, Leighton
and Watts. For music we cannot claim so many, but in folk song
England has been rich, perhaps richer than any other country, while
her stately Church music has been quietly developing from Purcell to
Sam Wesley, the last of the severe Church composers. Of novelists,
Richardson, Fielding, Goldsmith, Thackeray, Dickens, the five kings
of that art; while in the second order Meredith, G. Eliot and
Charlotte Brontë are eminent. Let us emulate the builders, craftsmen
and decorators who made our cathedrals, which we now see denuded of
much of their wealth of beauty by wrong-headed Puritans and religious
faddists who have worked so much mischief to the country in too many
directions.
But, we shall be asked, “Is it possible to work our several faculties
simultaneously in opposite directions: those which are seeking
utility, facilities for still more rapid translation from place to
place, for a restless life which leaves few moments for thought,
but which do not conduce to wealth inasmuch as money can give it,
but which must, if they are further developed, stultify other
faculties which, to reach their highest point of excellence, demand
concentration, leisure and peace?” Yes, it is possible; it has been
done, but it cannot be done if the point is overstrained, which is to
say, if wealth, as applied to money, means that money only matters,
if to get rich is the ideal towards which the whole nation strains.
Money is only a means to an end. Like labour, it is mischievous when
wrongly applied, and it is so wasted upon implements of destruction,
gambling and coarse pleasures which poison or atrophy the higher
senses and nobler ambitions. It is wasted also when spent upon idle
officials, unnecessary committees, the fetish of politicians when
they have got themselves into a muddle. Before spending money surely
the first question should be: “Is the object of _lasting_ or purely
ephemeral importance? Will it return an interest commensurate to
the expenditure _pro bono publico_, _i.e._, a national more than
individual interest?” Thousands upon thousands of public money were
wasted in war time to support political or party schemes for which
we pay dearly now. Money is being wasted upon extravagant wages
in all directions and at this moment when the nation is deeply in
debt. Taxes and rates are at a fabulous premium, raised to pay for
experiments, mistakes and reckless extravagance, and have to be met
by increased taxation which is impoverishing enterprise of every
description, so much so that no surplus is left to meet demands that
are necessary for the intellectual progress of the country. Does any
one suppose that the Labour leaders are doing their mischief unpaid?
They are living (on the contrary) on the fat of the land. Their
salaries are large and are taken from their followers, who claim to
be in such straits. These mischievous agents of Anarchy are better
off _quâ_ money than thousands of their betters, than men whose
education has been expensive and who are the intellectual bulwarks of
Britain.
§ 26
Scholars, every form of research in the arts, science, literature
and education are suffering from want of means to do justice to
their studies and to keep up the level of intellectual attainment
to a point of excellence necessary to the welfare and progress of
England. The so-called idle rich (a term of obloquy justifiable to a
small section) came out well during the war; they sacrificed their
wealth and energies for the public good. How could the huge sums
of money have been collected and dispensed without capital? It was
capital which came to the rescue in those dark hours. Had capital
been less, how could the huge wages have been paid to war workers?
Increase of wages necessitates larger not smaller capital. Breaking
up capital and distributing it in sections, giving it to a class
which has had no experience of its value and uses, would be to commit
social suicide! Upon the whole, Labour behaved well in the war. It
was not unnatural that the rise in prices of the necessities of life
(leaving out luxuries which can easily be dispensed with) raised
discontent sometimes, but by no means justifiable. That certain
foodstuffs became expensive was inevitable. The war, unprepared for
by short-sighted politicians, took the majority by surprise, although
a more thoughtful minority had seen it approaching for years. The
stores of food were small. Insistence upon the prominent pre-eminence
of the Juggernaut of Industrialism had caused agriculture to fall
away, or so to decrease as to form a secondary (whereas it should
be the first) consideration of an island that should be (as far as
possible) self-supporting, save for such luxuries which our climate
is unable to produce. But that the prices of food necessary to
life--meat, bread, and milk--went up to excess has been the fault of
grasping, selfish, unpatriotic tradesmen, who, seeing the opportunity
of their neighbours’ distress, the moment to put money in their
purses, did so, utterly regardless of the suffering such action must
entail. Not all, but the majority of tradesmen, behaved ill while
their country was on the road to starvation, so ill as to command
a decision that, as a class, tradesmen, unchecked, are not fit for
prominent posts in the Government, national or municipal. They proved
that they are egoistic and selfish, a character suspected, and not
without reason, but perhaps never brought so prominently into the
light before.
It would be tedious did we give a list (it would be a long one) of
necessary foodstuffs refused to applicants excepting at a price they
could ill afford or could not afford to pay at all. It was a system
of blackmailing wholly discreditable to a class which, having power,
exercised it with a cold-blooded arbitrariness that was, to say the
least, unmanly; the worst, cowardly and criminal. To hit a man when
he is down and unable to protect himself is the act of a coward; to
cause, for selfish reasons, suffering to the neighbour is criminal.
We cannot refrain from the hope that the dark side of tradesmen’s
morality, so distinctly pronounced during the late war, will result
in an abstention in granting them powers, national or municipal,
which will offer them chances for extended _jobbery_ in the future.
That, having become aware of their disposition, tradesmen will never
again be allowed a free hand in any form of Government. That to them
is largely due the rise in wages which is straining the capital of
England is unquestionable, therefore they belong to a class which
needs careful watching in the future. If, instead of striking at the
whole nation, trades unions had struck against the prices demanded
by tradesmen, they would have had right on their side in that they
struck against an initial cause. It has been said just now that
money is well spent when dedicated to causes that are permanent, not
ephemeral. Wealth is a necessity for a nation, and wealth without
capital is out of the question.
§ 27
Athens at her great time was rich; Egypt, when the city of Memphis
covered four times the area of London, was rich. Rome was rich, first
by her agriculture; she began to decline when she ceased to grow
corn, getting it from her colonies. Byzantium was full of gold when
she enriched herself still more by the buildings she erected that
live among the most treasured possessions of to-day. When Venice was
producing her great architects and painters, her consummate builders
and craftsmen, her merchants were rich, proud, too, of making their
city as we now see it and know it, one of the most beautiful in the
world. Florence and Genoa were rich when they took a high place in
the arts and intellectual culture of all kinds. France was rich when
she built her unsurpassed cathedrals; so was England at her prime
when she gave us much more than has survived destruction of the
beauty her artists and craftsmen created. Surely wealth was then used
as a permanent means for a permanent supply of honour to which we bow
now in the beauty that remains of the noble labours of great peoples.
The men who acquired the means to do so spent money for national
honour with the ambition to make their city or cities as attractive
and beautiful as possible. They employed the greatest creators of
their generation to leave their mark not only on the present but the
future. The labours of the great spirits of the past are a heritage
than which nothing can be greater or more valuable. Bad men as many
of the Roman Pontiffs were, they used the wealth (not always honestly
attained) with distinction, whether for the exaltation of the Church
or not does not matter to us; they made Rome as we see it now
(deducting the abominations of industrialism which deface the grand
old city).
What do we go to Italy for? Not to hear discourses of politicians or
to listen to Socialists talking about what they do not understand,
or to see tramways blocking up narrow and picturesque streets. We
have enough of those restless, fugitive obstacles here. We go to
study the immortal works of art of all the centuries from Romulus
to the 16th century of our era; a pretty wide field of interest and
instruction, so richly provided is that highly endowed country. What
do we go to Egypt for? Surely not to see the havoc Western ambitions
in commercialism is causing, with very doubtful results upon the
prosperity of the fellah; nor only to bask in her glorious sunshine,
her pure air, not yet poisoned by the atmosphere of industrialism in
promotion there and quite out of keeping with the distinction of that
great country and the transcendent interests of its history; but to
study, admire and learn from her remote past, that had so much to do
with the formation of intellectual energy which gave birth to so
much that is no less valuable now than it was in the past.
To us, overtaken by an artificial life, by a destructive force
called Utilitarian, indiscriminating and reckless, the past has
much to teach. It is all very well to sweep away traditions which
the labours of our forefathers provided, under specious excuses,
under plausible arguments; but what we destroy is irrevocable, and
cannot be replaced. The mad course pursued by Industrialism has had
disastrous effects; it has absorbed land that was under cultivation,
it has broken up priceless records of the past by destruction of
noble buildings, it has turned thousands of acres of valuable land
into deserts, filled the air with poisonous fumes, darkened the face
of the sun; it has sown squalor where once was order, and, above
all, it has hardened our people, who have been on the verge of soul
starvation; it has been turning them into machines. Industrialism
has not forwarded Liberty, it has retarded it. Its tendency has
been to make all men alike, to, as it were, take moulds of their
minds, and sell the casts to the highest bidder. It has encouraged
avarice on the one hand and extravagance on the other. Industrialism
carried to excess is an incentive to war. It bears no relation to the
Arts of Peace. It is a tyrant; wherever it goes it leaves a track
of destruction as an invading army does. It has created a spirit
of unrest, hence it is the enemy of research, of the arts, and of
those faculties of a nation which make them intellectually great.
By providing machinery it has crippled craftsmanship. While, in a
narrow sense, it has provided _occupation_ (and that word is used
advisedly), industrialism has damped the spirit of creative labour.
By turning out thousands of articles exactly alike its handmade
machinery has almost swept the board of creative instincts, of good
and discriminating taste, thereby leaving in its tracks little indeed
of æsthetic value and rarely, perhaps, any work of craftsmanship
in whatever trade that will be an honour to our generation in
the judgment of the future. What the craftsman makes with his
finely trained hand, inspired by a creative instinct which is his
distinction, the machine can only _copy badly_. The man who made it
had a soul which he used in his production which fulfilled it, gave
it shape, made it interesting always, even if the workmanship were
rough and ready; it reflected its producer, and so a work of art is
produced and not the product of a dead machine.
To sum up (and they are hard words that are used) Industrialism is
the enemy of the soul of a nation _en masse_; in particular of man,
by killing his individuality, his productive genius, his observation,
his loyalty to himself, his ambition for fame as a craftsman, the
civilised progress of his country and last, not least, his liberty.
To succeed (and who does not wish it success?) democracy depends upon
the Demos. An unenlightened, self-indulgent, ignorant, uninspired,
misdirected Demos must ruin the chances of a successful Democracy!
§ 28
What is “of the people” must come “from the people.” If the people
represent the roots of a nation they must be pruned, nourished, and
kept clear of poisonous weeds; if not, their product will be sterile.
If a fruit tree bears ill the fault is to be found in the roots and
in the soil that surrounds them. The embryo of its fruit is in the
roots of a tree. Labour is numerically superior, and rightly, because
no country can exist without it. It is imperative, therefore, that
if Labour is finally to rule it must prepare itself to do so, not by
making itself a nuisance and a danger by striking work, by shirking
effort, by giving the _minimum_ of its energy to do its share of
work for the community, but by strenuously following the old maxim:
“Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might.” To take
part in the rule of the community is a more complicated affair than
to rule a household; it follows logically that the man who fails in
the latter will do so in the former. Unable to rule himself, to be
his own conscience guide, how can he be accepted to rule over his
fellows? A man, be he who he may, rich or poor, who uses the leisure
he has ill, brutally or wastefully, has not yet qualified himself
for more. If the ideal of such a one is dog fighting, man fighting,
gambling or any other brutalising sport, his is not likely to be an
ideal of the use of leisure serviceable to himself and his family,
nor is it one which justifies his voice to be heard or his deeds to
influence the affairs of his country, for which he has shown neither
interest or inclination. Among intelligent and instructed men as
colleagues he would find himself quite out of place, and _rightly_.
A limited outlook upon life is one of the penalties which untrained,
undisciplined minds have to pay. The narrow mind is a selfish one
almost always. It is egoistic, it places the social class to which
it belongs in a position of importance far above its merits, for
whose well being, in a material sense, it would legislate to the
disadvantage of every other class.
§ 29
If there is one lesson pre-eminently prominent taught by the
experience of the Great War it is the absolute necessity for a
_revival of agriculture in the British Isles_. And more than that,
viz., that the growth of grain, fruit and vegetables should no
longer be permitted to be crushed by an increase of industrialism.
Further, that forests should be planted wherever possible, that
we may in a large measure derive our wood from our own land. Our
people need work, they need to be encouraged to hand labour, to an
outdoor, healthy life. Every machine made to hasten results, while it
provides work for mechanics, takes away from agricultural labourers.
One man employed to drive a corn-reaping machine is enough to reap
three or four acres in a day. How many does this mean thrown out
of work? Thirty or forty and more. It is true the machine does the
job quicker, but is rapidity of execution overwhelmingly important?
There is a boot-making machine we hear of which can turn out dozens
of finished boots in a day. If this is used what is to become of the
bootmakers? They must either starve or take to another trade!
And so, instance after instance might be quoted to prove the
narrowing effect produced by industrialism upon labour when carried
to such an extent as to absorb the majority of the energies and
activities of a people. Although the author has visited many
industrial towns where he must confess to have been received with
kindness, and from a section of their inhabitants sympathy, he wished
to improve his acquaintance and go to one which shall be nameless
to have a good look round. Before he relates the story of his
impressions and paints a picture of them he wishes to preface it with
a few words. In his opinion, which has been formed upon experience,
there are undoubtedly great efforts made to render industrial life
possible. There is in all industrial cities a small coterie of
enlightened men who, as manufacturers, are powerful, and who are
making an effort to achieve better conditions of life. There are
art galleries, there are museums, there are mechanics’ institutes,
schools, and many appliances for a better education. But as far
as the author has seen, the people who should be influenced are
not reached, they remain outside; they remain a _class apart_, not
perhaps ungrateful for their chances, but indifferent to them; they
are suspicious. Civilising influences rarely reach them; if they do,
they are disregarded.