scheme. Italy has owed (in the past) everything great in its Art
to Decentralisation. The variety, hence the interest, of the great
schools of painting in Italy is due to the independent expression of
emotion as the property of the race. In Italy, the art of Venice,
of Rome, Florence, and Siena, to mention only many of the great
schools of painting that flourished there, identified itself with
the idiosyncracy of each community. Why should not the same apply to
England? The man of Devonshire is as different in mental construction
to the man of Yorkshire as the Florentine is from the Roman. Why then
should not each express himself in the vernacular of his locality?
Time will show that there is far more artistic talent in England
than has been supposed. Give it a chance of having its say, and an
admirable result is certain. Let us become something higher in the
intellectual scale than a race of shopkeepers!
Town Councils, being here composed of a much more cultivated class
than before, Commerce and Art are no longer antagonistic. On the
contrary, they appear to be becoming indispensable to each other.
The tradesmen no longer having matters all their own way, and being
checked by the stronger minds encircling them, are taking their
place, not as tyrannical class rulers, but as useful items in
communal interests and progress. In my dream, I noticed that the
walls of the public rooms in the Town Hall are not bare, or that the
only so-called decoration on them has been restricted to whole-length
portraits of weird Mayors, with an occasional bad picture of the
reigning monarch. There is in progress a scheme of History pictures.
The subjects for them are chosen by a committee of painters and
literary men. So far as this scheme has developed, I saw the products
of it; varied in merit they are, which goes without saying, but a
certain sincerity of aim and approach seemed to distinguish them from
the tiresome and commonplace; anyway, they express a good intention.
There certainly is an absence of “academic prescription”; they are
hopeful efforts. A variety is maintained, the reverse of monotonous,
showing individuality of approach, which may in time lead to greater
things.
A really intellectual life seems to be growing here, but not of
hot-house breed only accessible to a few, but one which is slowly
permeating the people, which I hold to be due to the commingling of
all the classes produced by an increased desire to do more than fill
pockets (too often by ill-gotten gold), but by a growing elevation of
the plane of thought brought about by unity of purpose and rejection
of class prejudice. Given that home life is ambitious of industry,
municipal life is certain to follow suit. A great change must come
from the bottom. It is no use to clear the surface of a pond of slime
unless the base of it is clean and fresh. It is no use to cut the
heads from weeds if the roots are left in the ground, or to achieve
good fruit from a tree whose roots are unpruned. And surely the root
of a great nation is represented by the industrious attitude taken
by the people at large. That is the essential to a Democracy that is
workable. A Democracy which is only one in name is an anomaly, and is
quite certain to be ephemeral.
§ 22
In my dream I had heard talk that once, not far from the river,
was a Benedictine Monastery, and attached to it an Abbey. Save for
a few remains of its cloisters, its kitchen, and a portion of its
great dining hall, the monastery is gone. But the Abbey remains, as
we have seen. Although vulgarised to a certain extent by barbarians
of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, it retains much of the
simplicity and grandeur of the work of the fourteenth and fifteenth
centuries. Its nave now belongs to the people. It is there that the
Hebrews and Moslems conduct their religious services. The chancel,
its sanctuary and aisles are retained for Christian worship. In the
nave, old mystery plays are reverently acted, and such noble old
dramas as “Every Man” are produced. At Christmas, the incidents in
the birth of Jesus Christ are acted, and many a primitive song of the
shepherds is heard. These presentations keep that beautiful story
vivid by bringing before the eyes of the people the mysterious events
of 2,000 years ago. They form a tangible and visible link between
those old days and these more complicated and less simple times.
A form of monasticism disconnected from hard and fast dogma is
growing. Not ascetic, it is educational; in which it resembles the
earlier forms of the old Benedictine orders. But as yet my spirit
has only heard of this; presently it will be given access to its
principles and working.
§ 23
It has been previously intimated that the Drama takes a prominent
place in the intellectual and emotional substance of the people’s
training, plus its delights. An open air theatre was proposed,
but the conclusion arrived at was that the climate (although much
bettered by the death of the smoke fiend) is too unstable to ensure
success.
The chief theatre of the city is large, capable of holding a thousand
people. It is not conducted on private enterprise, but by a council
of the best local minds, which, while occupied in supplying the best,
are wise enough not to dismiss pleasurable and light comedies so long
as they are “clean.” Declamation, the first essential of the actor’s
craft, is taught in every school. Dancing, which we have seen to be
part of a liberal education, provides an elasticity of deportment and
freedom of manner but not undisciplined, which goes far towards the
creation of a good player. The plays of Shakespeare are prominent,
but to their list are added many of the fine Elizabethan plays,
Marlow’s and others. Modern drama, so long as it is wholesome, is
readily admitted, while the old and so entirely English Pantomime and
Extravaganza of other days have been revived, and very jolly they are
and entirely in place at certain merrymaking seasons of the year.
There is no priggishness in the management, only care is taken that
no play is produced which is undesirable for the young to witness.
§ 24
Within the walls of the Town Hall is the School of Music, where
instrumental and vocal music are taught, and where the elements of
opera training can be learnt. The Town Hall is at once the seat of
government, not only commercial but artistic. A great proportion of
work done in it is voluntary, being conducted by men and women who
have time and energy to spare, and is leading more and more to what
has been called, the upper class taking part in general progress.
Time gone by, and not so long, that class was idle as regards local
affairs. Thus they got into the hands of ill-equipped tradesmen, who
were out for their own advantages, and misconducted local affairs to
a deplorable extent. I reiterate, that, being held in check, the more
or less ignorant and selfish class no longer rides roughshod, but is
held in a leash by better equipped citizens; and so there is hope for
them to mend their manners, and in time to become useful members of
Home Rule.
The theatre is not open all the year round, but only at times of
festival, hence the pleasure and instruction it provides is always
fresh.
§ 25
In my dream I became aware that the cinema, which had become an
abuse and a positive mischief, is under strict regulations. It
catered to the lowest taste and became a very dangerous implement.
Now, being under strict control of the same committee which manages
the Communal theatre, it has become free of vice, and is not only
a pleasant but instructive institution, and a picture palace is by
no means an undignified place in which to pass an hour. There is
plenty of fun there, but clean fun, and plenty of exciting situations
are presented, but, while humour and wit are present, whatever
might tend to decadence is absent. Individualists, who regard with
suspicion any form of legislation which in pompous terms they call
“interference with the liberty of the subject,” will be up in arms at
the restrictions applied by a wise Government, forgetting, or perhaps
never having read, in Plato’s “Republic” that the wise philosopher
would protect the community from degradation created by exploiters
out for themselves at the expense of a moral tone essential to
stability and real progress. These will call the care of the people,
implied by restrictions, “grandfatherly government,” forgetting that
an ignorant crowd has to be guided to abstention from any poison in
their midst, which may in time kill the soul of a nation.
§ 26
It is the aim of the Commune to ally, as far as possible,
agricultural and industrial pursuits. With a view to that, every
house has a garden which the householder is expected to cultivate.
Waste land is nowhere permitted within the city or its environs.
I find as my spirit travels hither and thither that the “entirely
leisured gentleman” hardly exists. If a man of means is not using
his leisure, and, in some instances, all his time, for the public
good, he is using it to be his own servant. I saw a man, called
rich, putting in a pane of glass, adroitly manipulating the putty
with the skill of an expert. Another I observed sawing up blocks
of wood, another cutting down trees in his garden, another pruning
fruit and rose trees, and in the country, not far distant from the
city, another cultivated scholar ploughing a furrow on his estate.
The great war taught these admirable habits, which profiteers now
regret, because “the gentleman” prefers to mend his own belongings to
paying a king’s ransom to a fellow who did it ill in obedience to his
iniquitous leaders. Shortly, he prefers to do honest work for himself
than to pay for dishonest.
Throughout the community, rich or poor delegate no manual labour
which can be done at home. Every girl of every class is a good
needlewoman and dressmaker. Every boy is trained to be a skilful
carpenter and is not ashamed of sewing on his buttons or darning his
socks. Industrious habits, habits of making use of odd moments in
practical home work, enter into every sphere. The great war taught
the wiser how much outdoor assistance could be dispensed with. The
colossal rise in wage obliged even the well-to-do to learn to turn
their hands to the simplest duties connected with _home_. In time
this beneficial result will become automatic, and a far simpler
as well as more dignified life is certain to result from it. Of
scholars, artists, writers and musicians there is a goodly number,
which is increasing, owing to less hurry and more concentration, the
result of better physical conditions. Men of the highest attainments,
who are following the professions, inspired by peace and moderate
expenditure of money, keep their minds fresh by light labour on
the land, which they prefer to SPORT; indeed, SPORT, once made a
business, is rather despised. It is thought to be enervating, and an
idle, unproductive way of “getting through time.” Mental vitality
is increased by labour which became necessary to men of small means
through the rise of wages and reckless increase of rates and taxes.
It now seems to permeate the richest as well as the poorest classes,
so men are becoming more dignified and self-helpful.
§ 27
Theoretical politics and party conventions are ruled out by strenuous
practical occupations. Instead of being the last subject for action,
_useful citizenship is the first_. Politics used to be abstractions
put into phrases by _doctrinaires_. The text completed, its result
was pigeon-holed, under the fallacy that the object was attained
when, indeed, it had only been talked about. People are now united,
hence can govern themselves. There is no need for sermons upon thrift
and economy; they are practised. Politicians have been taught that
their words formed easy back-doors for the exit of action. The people
are interested now from top to bottom in deeds. Theories which do not
lead to action represent waste of energy; energy displayed in every
section of the community is in demand.
Some return to more primitive social conditions is evidently an
invigorating process. An easy way of getting through life by
facilities which militated against effort was unstiffening the back
of the English character. Instead of saying to himself, “How much can
I do myself?” the majority was saying, “How much can I delegate?” “We
were on the look-out for a very beneficent fairy who would perform
miracles, and so, instead of effort, we were trusting to ease. Now,
we are sweeping our own floors instead of wasting our little savings
upon paying for the doing of it. We were thinking that sweeping
our houses clean was a tax upon time, an exhausting expenditure of
physical energy. Experience is telling us the opposite.” “Mental
energies are revived, even stimulated, by automatic industry which
is a rest to them. While a man is sweeping his house or garden, he
can think, and think well. He can organise his work.” These words I
heard from the mouth of a scholar. I heard the same thought expressed
by a skilled craftsman, differently, but analogous. “The lack of
domestic servants is proving a blessing to us all,” I heard a woman
say. “We did not know, under the old self-indulgent system, how long
a day was, and what a lot of time we wasted. We had forgotten we had
hands, strong muscles and vigorous aptitudes. We paid a high price
for the neglect to which we had submitted our physical energies. We
suffered from ‘boredom’ and other evils consequent upon indolence.
Now, we do not ask ourselves how we shall dispose of the day. That
question is answered before it is asked. We have our duties to
perform to the Commune, as members of it, to our homes as sacred
trusts as our palaces of pleasure as well as duty. We know what are
our responsibilities. We accept and use them, in the city and home.”
As my spirit grew in experience and closer observation, I noticed
that in matters of dress or costume there was little difference
between the classes. Constant changes of fashion created to supply
the tradesmen when novelties were so constantly demanded from them,
are out of date. The garments of the rich may be more elaborately
adorned, be more sumptuous, more composed of silk than wool, but in
their simple cut they are not differentiated from those of the poorer
classes.
“We do not make them all at home,” I heard an elegantly attired
lady of high rank say. “That would be unfair; because we can afford
to give employment, expensive though it is. At the same time, quite
half is made at home. Even in houses of the rich the peaceful sound
of the loom prevails. Our daughters are all taught to use it,
for who knows when they may be compelled to do so. It is wise to
instruct the young in occupation which they may be called upon to
use in darker times. Besides,” the lady added, “girls need quiescent
employment to establish character. It is not that the arts are
ceasing to flourish or the elegancies of mental cultivation are
curtailed; it is only,” as the lady went on to say, “now that we are
more busy we have more time. A girl can study a language while she
works her loom, or another can read to her.” This led me to wonder
if peripatetic teaching was usual? It is, for, in schools young
people are encouraged while learning by heart, reciting or reading
aloud, to personate, by action the drama or tale they are telling.
This habit, no doubt, has arisen from the high position the drama
and all that belongs to histrionic training takes in the new life.
Artists and such who are called by their genius to create are not a
set apart, nor are they regarded any longer as harmless lunatics.
Being, by the nature of their calling constructors, they are expected
to help in the affairs of the Commune, not only as specialities but
as intelligences well adapted to other forms of construction than
those demanded from their own work. The mind of an artist of any
kind, in letters, graphic or plastic arts, or music, is a well tuned
instrument. It must be so, or success is out of the question.
§ 28
Being imaginative, a follower of any of the Arts sees miles ahead
of the less endowed crowd. Besides being a useful person in that
respect, it is good for his temperament to be called away from
a groove wherein, if he allows himself to remain, he becomes a
machine, and his art suffers. The strongest faculty for creation
cannot be used for many hours daily, it cannot keep up the tension of
creation as a machine. A mind demands repose by change of work, which
can be obtained in serving upon councils where special aptitudes of
foresight and imagination are useful. Thus, coming into contact with
other minds, the individual is broadened. He is not an ascetic except
in his study; outside of that he is a man of the world and capable
of dealing with what are called “plain men,” which does not always
mean wise ones. It is related of an Italian philosopher that he spent
his days with the peasants on his little estate, the evenings in his
study. Not a bad division of the day Socrates would have told us. In
the Agora of Athens, wise men found both folly and wisdom: folly to
refute, wisdom to encourage. Plato’s Republic is an effort to show
that a democracy, under restraint, is the fairest form of government.
First, the conception of the scheme founded upon the greatest good
for the greatest number, to be followed by activity in its promotion.
Experience is gained as activity proceeds, discussion follows
experience. The bud is before the blossom. The fruit is selected;
what is rotten is thrown away. It is futile to discuss a question,
and tear it into rags before it has been set in motion. There is
a point in progress when not to start the top spinning is folly.
The top, when once started, must be whipped continually. It stops
spinning as soon as the strokes of the whip subside. The great fault
of the late administration was the policy of “Wait and see.” A blind
man may wait; doing so will not help him to see! To imagine that
committees, based only on theories, have settled all the pros and
cons, is to put the cart before the horse. Committees can do no more
than propose such and such starting points for action. The rest must
be left to the executive. Too often, no action follows the sittings
of an elaborate scheme.
§ 29
To delay action is as ineffectual as to hurry it. The great war
taught that the complete preparation of Germany failed of success
because the moral element at the bottom of extreme diligence and
multifarious ingenuity was _rotten_. The Allies were unprepared,
England most so of all (notwithstanding some historians). England
was not prepared for the great struggle, but she and her Allies had
justice on their side, hence they won. After the war reconstruction
should have started at once, which means that abuses which the war
has brought into prominence should have been stopped or England
would suffer permanently. It appears that politicians narrow and
personal in their ambition were unable to effect the change. They
delayed action even at moments of serious danger, lest their party
should suffer defeat. Now, no one cares twopence about “Party,” the
question before Democracy is, What is to be done in spite of Party
Government? A democracy, to be enduring, must govern itself. No party
must be in the ascendant, except the one which is in combination with
all parties, _e.g._, the unity not the equality, of classes. The
Agora was a place in disorder, where every man’s hand was against
his neighbour. The crowd was led by unwise agitators. Ignorance and
unwisdom are nearly related. We were tired to death of theories, of
Government promises, of its failure to keep them, of leaders who
were broken reeds, who, under pretence of giving Freedom exercised
Tyranny. So we listened to wiser men than they, we resolved no longer
to be ignorant, and becoming convinced that, as ignorant, we are not
fitted to take part in Government, we would pull ourselves together
and once more be men and work as good citizens.
These latter words and the statements which precede them formed the
substance of a lecture delivered in the Town Hall by a factory worker
this very evening. And what a contrast in tone it exhibits to that
truculent one which disfigured whatever hidden justice there might
have been in similar and dissimilar orations emanating from the same
source. This one was as wise as the other was foolish. Like Socrates,
we may now go to the Agora and find wisdom.
“Plato’s Republic aimed at completeness in Theory and discipline
in Action. The New Democracy aims at making itself aristocratic in
practice. It aims to promote activity in every corner and enterprise
of life. We do not pretend that our class is the only one necessary
to welfare. It was ignorance that in past times made us think that;
bad guidance as well. We recognise ourselves to be branches of the
great Tree of Life, whose roots are embedded in the soil of Truth.
We recognise ourselves to be as waves in a great stream progressing,
meandering, ever moving on from its source to the sea. We recognise
the sea to be as a deep scheme which nature has provided, subject to
storm, stress, and calm; we bring to its salt waters invigorating
drops of freshness from the hills and collected in the plains. We
are not at work alone, now, whatever our work be. We are brothers
in a great family, not jealous egoists. Time was when we thought of
little else than money. We thought that the educated, the refined and
learned class was made up of enemies who would make us slaves. We see
we were wrong. They are our real friends. Our enemies they are who
we thought were our friends, we see that now. Our friends will give
us _a real democracy_, in which we may have a voice if we please.
The others would give us a sham one, and rule not only our theories
but our actions and with a tyranny as ruthless and obstructive to
progress as any autocracy.”
From the Agora wise words come now, from which all can learn. The
people were _becoming_ corrupted, they have been too wise to _become_
corrupt. I think that most of us who have given ourselves the trouble
to think knew that good leadership was what was wanted. First
convincing, then leading, not looking back, but going to the root of
things which were discordant and pruning them away, that is what was
wanted.
They, of the past, wanted an “Ideal,” but they did not know it.
Indeed, they scorned the idea of something that was like religious
sectarian dogma. It was to them something hopeless and abstract, and
quite outside “Life,” with which it had no touch. They thought high
wages, wealth, indeed Mammon in any form, was the god they needed,
and to that they made their way, growing more and more discontented,
cynical, envious and suspicious. That was the matter with the people
who had once been patterns to all Europe as honest workmen. England
once simple, happy, industrious (_not industrial_) had become
complicated, discontented, IDLE.
§ 30
In my peregrinations, which became more and more absorbing as my
spirit grew more bold, I listened eagerly, not as an eavesdropper,
but as one keen to learn. One evening, it was winter--I heard a
discourse on “Happiness” by a craftsman, one of those living in
the new houses I have visited. He was an old man who had lived in
the dark, narrow dogs’ kennels of the dark, dirty city which is no
more--the city of discontent, of bad government, of callousness. He
spoke earnestly, but not with rhapsody. What he said was convincing
from the cool sincerity of his diction and manner. “Happiness,” he
said, “is rooted in the soil of LABOUR; in _doing_, not theorising.
In being so occupied as to leave no time for a morbid outlook. The
old saying, which I did not, and few seemed to understand, ‘Whatever
thy hand findeth to do, do with thy might.’ We were taught not to
do that. We were taught to work as little as possible, to receive
much, and give almost nothing. Good workmen were under a ban. If
some of us wished to do our utmost we were bullied and suspected.
The industrious of us were pushed aside by the idle. Bad, dishonest
workmen were applauded, they lived on the labour of their fellows.
We were taught to make other nations labour for us--to sell bad goods
for large prices.