plays its part, for in the refectory is an organ. Sweet music came
from its pipes during dinner. The number I saw was not inclusive;
many of the order were away in different parts of the county
teaching. I heard that every county in Britain contains a similar
Order of Teachers. The subjects taught, answer to the needs of the
County. The Prior has power to choose from and send teachers where
he pleases; in this sense he is an autocrat. The object is to instil
Agricultural peasants with high Ideals of their life as such, and
to enlighten Industrial districts by History. So much of the old
agitation and mistrust on the part of the people was the result of
_ignorance_. It was to combat ignorance and to place high ideals
before the people that the Order was founded. Within an easy walk for
the pedestrian, my spirit flew the distance in less than a second. I
found myself in a village. It reminded me of one that in my waking
youth I remember before the giant Industrialism had sprawled his
uncouth body there, and with his great ungainly feet had trodden down
grass, corn and fruit trees, pulled down ancient buildings to erect
factories, and turned a place of gardens into ash heaps. The horrid
remnants of his invasion have been eradicated. Everything seemed to
record peace. The country at peace, the people at peace. I went
into the village school; there I saw one of the order instructing.
No birch rod was suspended on its whitewashed walls; I looked for
it, remembering Dr. Johnson’s homage to the Rod, but saw none. The
boys and girls were being led, not driven; interested, not forced;
they were being taught the dignity of Labour and the criminality of
laziness. Taught self-respect they were, and to abominate not only
low actions, but dishonest impulses. From every cottage I heard the
music of the loom. In the fields the sound of happy song prevailed.
They rivaled the thrush and the blackbird, did those merry workers.
They were merry with the birds, joining them in song.
§ 54
In dreams, seasons change places. Suddenly it is autumn, harvest
time, a festival time when people are gay as they set out to gather
the fruit of their ploughing and sowing.
It is the same village, but the aspect is in a degree changed.
The repose of summer has given way to the activity of autumn, or
rather to the approach of it. The harvest is in full swing. The male
population is busy with _Sickle_ and _Scythe_. I did not see the
mechanical cutter; the New Communes find that the old system provides
more work for the agricultural class, which has grown numerically
since it became evident that Britain must feed itself with its own
products as much as possible. This has led to greater importance
being attached to agriculture than to industrialism, which is now an
aid, not an obstruction to agriculture. The village forge is busy;
scythes and sickles are being ground, new ones are in the making,
fresh shoes are preparing for farm horses; wheels, of great carts to
carry the grain and straw, are being set in order. A merry place is
the forge, with its lusty bellows, bright fire and brilliant sparks
like stars, dancing up the chimney. Everybody is alert. The parson,
the schoolmaster, the doctor and land owner will take part in the
great event of cutting and storing the precious products of the
soil. I noticed several of “The Order” have come up to lend a hand.
The great Barn is prepared to receive the golden result of a fine
harvest. It has been a summer of sun; the corn is so ripe it shines
like copper. The straw is strong, good for hat makers and those
occupied in the use of that precious material.
How they work, the strong fellows; with what a heart they gather
their own from the beneficent earth; it shall not be sold elsewhere
until enough has been stored for the use of the Parish. The New
Communes have an excellent habit of looking after _their own people
first_, a bad commercial economy, according to old habits, but
it answers well because it is just. Plenty of pure light beer is
brewed, and pure because brewers are not permitted to adulterate it
(if they did so here they would be punished as “forgers”); casks of
this, and of home-made cider, have been carted to the cornfields. If
the workers do stagger a bit no one blames them; anyhow, they have
not been drinking poison, as they did in the past. When the golden
harvest moon rises full in a purple sky, they fall to dancing and
merriment, and sing folk songs, but before midnight they are at rest,
for at daylight they must be up and at it again.
When the corn harvest is reaped and stored, the English vintage
begins. Hop gardens in plenty are cultivated here. Every woman and
child, besides all grown ups, who can be spared from the farms, are
engaged in gathering the lovely green fruit. Hop gathering is one
of the pleasantest of all agricultural operations. The scent of the
fruit produces a charm as the scent of poppies does, a lotus-eating
charm of quiet not excitement. The alleys between the stately hop
poles bending under the weight of fruit are dotted with tints as of
flowers, for the women’s and children’s garments are bright coloured,
woven at home and dyed by the village dyers. Here is seen _the
natural life_, for which man was created, from the labour of whose
hands bread shall be eaten. No pale, sickly faces are seen here, no
discontented looks, no morbid longings for a rich idle life prevail;
instead of that are ruddy cheeks, beaming smiles, neighbourly
greetings and happy songs are heard “_through daylight hours_.”
Winter comes, no less beautiful than summer, only different. Work
changes its character. The fruitfulness of summer depends upon winter
labour. Not only labourers plough, the parson, clerk and “Gentlemen”
plough. This reminds me that in this Dream of a purified and clean
England there is no class of “Gentlemen,” because all who labour
are such. A man who did not take part in the manual labour (in some
measure, at least) would not be regarded with respect. Even those
whose occupations demand care of their hands put in a certain amount
of hard labour. Practice being better than precept, and fraternity
being best of all, this habit succeeds.
§ 55
Now, winter is in full swing, the days are short, evenings long, but
not dull. The Village Church, well warmed, is used for concerts,
when not for them educational addresses are given by members of “The
Order.” The big schoolroom is used for dances and play acting. It is
considered by Village Communes that their duty is to help recreation
as well as encourage labour. Concise little plays have been written
by scholars of “The Order.” They make no fuss about scenery; what
they do take pains with is the playing, which, in winter, forms a
conspicuous item of education. It has been deemed wisest that the
plays shall be simple and, above all, CLEAN minded. It is the object
of the Village Communes that their people remain simple, which means
not stupid, but innocent. As far as I have travelled I have been made
aware that “Cinemas” are under strict control. It has been argued
and decided that amusements may prove fatal to development. In no
sense of priggishness, but as a proper protection. Cinemas are not
permitted to show crime; they are used, as other enjoyments are, to
excite the nobler not ignoble features of life.
We need not go to Germany now for basket-weaving, straw-plaiting
and so on. That ancient industry is restored to England, which had
let it slip, with too many others, into the hands of the Teutons an
industrious people when the English were getting idle and were trying
to live on other people’s earnings and labour, and more shame to them
for it. It is the object of the Community so to conduct affairs that
the idle are the exception, not the rule as they were growing to be
some time ago. While those occupied in the affairs of the Communes
are strict (for what is the use of Government if it is ductile,
compromising and weak?), they are not autocratic, save in the sense
that having framed laws, with consideration they carry them into
effect. They do not make a law until they are sure it is a just one,
and one which is necessary for the good of the people as a whole, not
only for a section of it.
§ 56
This principle has done away with Class Legislation, which was
proving a grave danger to the well being of England. Of course,
it stands for sense that every County is not ruled alike. There
must be Industrial districts as well as Agricultural, but they are
not permitted to invade each other. As far as possible Industrial
districts are not divorced from Agriculture. Now that the smoke fiend
is no more Industrial districts can have their gardens, and the
people can grow their vegetables and fruit with security. This has
been made possible, as we have seen, for each person is master of his
own little bit of land, which he is taught to cultivate, and which
if he does not it is taken away from him and given to someone else
who will use it. Once a year (if necessary more often) the leaders of
Communes meet in conclave somewhere in the centre of England. There
they consider the laws. In that way conditions are kept clear from
becoming stereotyped. Men of various adaptabilities shake brains with
each other. This becomes a habit and prevents isolation, because the
national interest is the County interest extended. If Agriculture
is to be the first consideration the main essential without which
the nation might starve, Industrialism had to be checked, but not
destroyed. It had to be put in its proper place, not as an autocratic
ruler, but a useful servant.
Nuisances produced by Industrialism are sternly dealt with. No
factories are permitted in Agricultural districts or to be planted
in the centre of towns among dwelling houses or where they might be
a nuisance. There is no hardship in that decision, it is just, that
is all. Borough and Village, as well as City Councils, are now so
represented that jobbery is put out of court. Not only is the body
of the people considered, but the soul of the Nation is encouraged
to enlarge and expand. Men have got to see that, and to act on it.
All forms of religion are equally regarded. There is no State Church
or State monopoly. It was a blow to the narrow brain, this was; it
wrenched power from inquisitors and took the wind out of the sails
of doctrinaires. But it is proved to have been wise, because there
is more, not less, religion than there was. It is simplified on the
broad basis of belief in God. The Devil gets a poor look in now.
Religious persecution was one of his choicest allies. The Devil found
in it admirable matter for his schemes, for it promoted hate, not
love. The noblest Greek philosophy teaches that love was the first
created abstract power, and what philosophy is better calculated to
make men of us than that is? The story of the Garden of Eden teaches
us that God made perfect beauty, which, by folly, man, in his
inquisitive, greedy pursuit of wealth, attempted to destroy.
He had to become poor to buy back what he had lost; he had to labour
to create a new Garden, and that is what the New Life is struggling
to do. Not a less, but a more beautiful Garden than the first is
being created. Now it is to be made for the many. We have history
to teach us what to avoid, and what to cling to, and it is one of
the chief duties of men versed in history to teach it to their less
favoured fellows, and that the New Order is striving to do.
Christ’s disciples were few, but by their earnestness and belief in
the truth they wrought a great change. Perhaps, in their enthusiasm,
they broke away from things that were beautiful and useful; but one
prominent good they did: they promoted a spirit of fellowship; of
fraternity which, if not new in theory, was new in practice. The
Franciscan Order began in spite of the Church. St. Francis was, in
a sense, a revolutionary. While the Church was preaching wealth he
preached poverty. While the Church was systematically conservative
he was progressive. And with what swiftness his teaching moved.
Beginning in a little company of followers in Assisi, the Order
spread over Europe, almost as a flash of lightning. All the greatest
things start small. It is enthusiasm that really moves the world;
to use enthusiasm wisely comes afterwards. Who shall say how far
or how beneficially the new lay Order in Britain will go? It may
become the ruling factor of modern democracy; it may turn a paper
democracy into a living one. Movements of less moment than this one
have changed the destinies of nations, and such changes have always
come about after great upheavals. After the terrible strain of War
people looked about them and began to wonder if what led up to the
War was not (even if it made wealth) destroying our spiritual nature.
I like better, our instinctive Ideals. It surely made the wise think
more deeply and the less wise wonder what was the matter. It was
evident that a mood was about beyond the power of politicians to
tackle. No red tape could do it; it could only wrap it up and put the
bundle away in a pigeon-hole. Was it all a chimera in which we were
living? Extended luxuries, ridiculously high wages, penalising taxes,
were all artificial and demonstrated an entirely artificial life.
Constant demand for excitement, if prolonged, must ruin a nation.
The preachments of equality were vain; there is not such a thing and
never can be. The only approach to equality can be found in _equality
of honour_; each man working his best, giving the best for decent
wages, and the noblest of all giving their best for no wages at all.
§ 57
What was the matter with England? Too rich! Too self-indulgent,
growing idle and becoming dishonest! An enormous population of
so-called Labour, led by ignorant, headstrong agitators. A weak
Government, carrying on the tactics of promise and no performance,
tactics of sops to agitators, of declining to face realities. A
Government which was losing whatever respect it might have had, even
from the Party in the Country which it had pampered and spoiled, and
what for? To gain their votes at a general election. Tradesmen who
could charge what they pleased, and a Government that one moment held
them in check, the next gave way. Growing blindness to everything
that makes a great nation, Honesty, Industry, Thrift and a high Ideal
for the future welfare of their country, and entire apathy as to
the judgment which history will pass upon the _Tone of the People_.
In fact, something so like Anarchy as to be practically, if not
theoretically, Anarchy.
Even if the Government saw the danger it did not face it. It dared
not do so because its very existence depended upon a class, and that
one the least provided with education sufficient to put it into a
position of clear thinking and sound judgment. “The idle” rich were
pointed at as the first offenders; Capital was destructive to Labour
interests, was the foolish cry, as if a country could exist without
Capital! The fact being that the higher wages the greater the capital
will have to be to meet them. To achieve capital all must work!
In my dream just now I heard a workman say, “Never again will we
cry out against Capital; we see now that without it we should be
_paupers_! And who, after all, came forward in the extreme moments of
stress during the War? Surely that part of Society dubbed ‘The Idle
Rich.’ How was the cost of five millions a day met? By Capital, of
course. How were we paid for making munitions? By Capital, of course.
And (he went on to say), from our own point of view, in our own
interests, indeed, discounting all others for the sake of argument,
our enemies were not the rich or the refined and cultivated classes,
they were the men who pretended to lead us, and, alas! they did so,
almost to our undoing; but rid of them we are now, and will never
again accept them.” New ideas, or old ones revived are catching,
and if formed on the highest motives, will prevail as long as a
good humour towards them is in favour. “The Lay Order,” which we
have watched and found entirely sincere, is working a great change.
Extending from villages to cities, from the fields to factories, from
public to private life, the Lay Order finds respect from the peasant,
the agricultural and the industrial classes. Its influence is felt
in every form of social life, from the Lord Mayors to the humblest
commoner. The peasant finds wisdom in these men! He saw them at the
plough, he found them companions as well as leaders.
We hear him say, “What they teach they do.” At first they marvelled.
“Why do gentlemen do this? We thought ‘gentlemen’ _loved ease_ now
we know that the real gentleman is a hard handed man with a gentle
heart, and he knows more than we do, so we listen to him! The Order
has done wonders in breaking down class distinction. Instead, fervent
fraternity is taking root. “We have given up the fetish of equality;
we know it is a broken reed that is quite untrustworthy, even to a
drowning man.” We know, whatever station of life is ours, that we can
dignify it or defile it.”
§ 58
Dignify it by exertion, defile it by apathy or worse. The churches
looked upon the Lay Order with suspicion at first. Inclined to
question their Dogmas, they called them “Socinians,” Atheists and
even harder names we know of, triumphantly adopted by Dogmatists. The
Cardinals of Rome mistrusted St. Francis and his little following,
who cut at the root of their wealth. The Cardinals drove about in
splendid carriages, were attended by gaily dressed footmen, of whom
they demanded servility. The Franciscans walked, footsore in snow and
hail, were exposed to scorching sun, were hungry, were beggars, but
inside them they felt the warmth of the Love of God, and a burning
love for their fellow-men. The Order has something of Monasticism,
and why not? It is Monasticism purged of its morbidity. It is not
eager to save souls for the next world, but to nourish them for
their progress in this which is, after all, the only one that can be
demonstrated and dealt with with certainty. They do not ask for joy
after death, but before it; and they find it in labour, in labour for
the less instructed, in the Doctrine of THOU more than of _I_. They
remember a fine ancient saying, “Love enters the soul when self has
evacuated the fortress of the heart.”
The word soul has been often used in this story of my dream. What do
I mean by it? I mean that part of a nation and individual that is
immortal! Not longing to escape damnation or to attain Joy hereafter,
but escape it here, and realise it here. They teach the Art of
living, “_Ars Vivendi_,” and it is followed with honesty and just
pride, “The Art of dying, _Ars Moriendi_,” will take care of itself.
They do not preach the joys of a life to come, but of this one which
we can make joyful if we please. They are Idealists who are, at the
same time practical; Rationalists, if you like so to call them. They
accept matter, not as a check or obstacle to the conduct of an Ideal,
but as inseparable from it. They teach Free Will, and have nothing
to say to Predestination. The former is certain, the latter is
supposition. It is the common sense which pervades their work that is
making it respected. They teach an Ideal that _can_ be touched if not
entirely reached: that an Ideal is not a phantom.
Education is spreading persistently, not by leaps or bounds, but
systematically and surely. Facts are taught, but not as a parrot
is. Then cause and effect, of which the parrot, as far as we know
is ignorant, is the very kernel of History. Young people are led to
reason, to obey their instincts so far as they are justified. Facts
are useful, but too many piled together puzzle more than invigorate
the mind. If we try to hold too many seeds in our hand some must
escape through the fingers. Young people are led, not driven, and
with discretion. They are not crammed with useless facts. Every
child, rich and poor, is initiated to a handicraft. In that there
is no distinction; this was forced upon us when it became certain
that we should have to be in a measure our own craftsmen and our own
servants. The rise in wages made that a _sine quâ non_, and it has
been met. The class that served as household domestics is doing now a
work much more serviceable to the country; it is working on the land,
both men and women are.
Performing our own jobs of mending, we have released a whole army of
small hand-to-mouth trades. This is economical; indeed, at the price
“little labour” demanded it was imperative, and since it has become
a habit nobody grumbles. Home exercises of prudence and economy fill
up moments which grow to be hours otherwise wasted. An effect this
has had is remarkable; it has been the cause of greater, not less
independence of self-reliance which tells upon character. We are very
wary of men of law like Napoleon; we mistrust them as we mistrust
all sophists. We do not care for them as members of our Councils; we
use them as referees, not as helmsmen. The man of law goes round and
round in a circle in equal distance from the centre, he avoids the
centre. We like the guilty punished, but we do not like that he gets
off on a point of law when the man who got him off knows perfectly
well he is guilty, this is playing with Justice, not administering it.
§ 59
“We admit that a reasonable profit is justifiable on the sale of all
goods, but the Great War taught us that tradesmen profited enormously
upon our evil times. We might grow hungry, but they must profit by
it; and it was men of our own class who did this mercilessly. This
has made us beware of tradesmen, so we have put spokes in their
wheels which they do not like, and finding they can ‘rook’ us no
longer, they have gone to work on the land, which is better for
their health and morals and for the country at large.” So spoke a
workman--mind, a workman, not a capitalist!!
Another said, “Directly we saw straight, and viewed the horizon
clearly, we knew we had power, and we set ourselves to use it
rightly, and chose leaders who would help us. We do not intend to go
back, we mean to go forward, and show the country that it may have
confidence in us. We are learning to rule ourselves, hence we may
claim a place among legislators. We know that a bad servant cannot
make a good master. The old Trades Union masters could not become
statesmen because they taught that “bad work is good for Trade,” than
which nothing can be a greater fallacy.”
§ 60
A nation progresses, even survives, only on good work. It is ruined
by bad! Since we are rid of bad leaders, the outlook on life is
extended fourfold. The new Lay Order, being composed of a great
variety of minds, some passive (as scholars and teachers must be,
in a measure) active and alert, physically and mentally, leaves no
subject of education, high as well as simple, untouched. Among this
disinterested community there exists no struggle for precedence. Each
man regards himself as an item of the nation’s wants, and strives to
advance them in due order and without prejudice. Hence we have the
men of letters, the Artist (inclusive) and Scientist working under
the banner of Justice, hand-in-hand with the ploughman. The order is
coming to be the root of all education.
§ 61
It is referred to by Village as well as City “Teachers.” It has
become a kind of university, a source from which spring many small
streams irrigating deserts that were unproductive. When started,
the scheme was considered Utopian; a mere fad, and the men who
framed its first principles were “Dreamers”--Poets, if you like, but
unpractical. In a short time it became evident that far from being
unpractical they were the reverse. They, seeing chaos, sought to
achieve Kosmos. Success, hitherto gained, has been due to the touch
created with an almost infinite variety of occupations and interests,
which, while being local, are also national. They came at exactly the
right moment, when a great upheaval threatened the very existence
of England. By personal influence, direct and circumspect, they are
doing for the country what the politician can never do, or statesman
achieve, even if they are gifted with “Imagination.”
§ 62
Theories were abundant, practice now prevails. So sure is the
growth of practical education that those who thought in grooves, now
think broadly; hence they are not easily misled. The effort of each
Commune is not to make new laws, but to enforce a few already made
which, protecting every class, are not limited to one pre-eminently.
It is said, “We got tired of Government which, to save their seats,
listened to the last popular clamour, and toyed with transient public
needs and opinions; which listened to the discontented and tried to
appease them by promises which they knew they could not fulfil. We
see through that paradox! We were tired to death of ‘The Plain Man,’
the obstinate ignorant utilitarian. We don’t want the kind of man
who prevailed, who, to lay a B line of tramways, would, if he could,
pull down the sacred trusts left to us by creative master minds. We
do not want the kind of man who, for the sake of ‘Rents,’ would build
factories or cheap houses on every open space, the ‘lungs of our
Cities.’ We do not want the man who looks upon every fair garden to
destroy it and erect ‘Flats’; who would float a company with promises
of 10 per cent. when the capital is mostly on paper.”
§ 63