The Clyde Valley
Hitherto my narrative has had a certain unity; for I have been
describing a chain of events, each of which followed naturally from
its fore-runners; but now comes a bifurcation. I have explained how
the Clyde Valley had been isolated, step by step, from the rest of the
country; and when the last food-stores and troops had been brought into
the Nitrogen Area, communications between the two districts ceased.
From that moment, the two regions had different histories; and I cannot
deal with them in an intertwined chronological sequence. I shall
therefore continue my account of the Clyde Valley experiment now; and
shall deal later with the collapse of civilisation in England.
When planning his colony, Nordenholt decided to occupy a belt of
country between the Forth and Clyde which contained all the required
materials in the form of coal and iron. Other things, such as copper,
he brought into the region in quantities which he believed would
suffice for months.
The frontier included something like a thousand square miles of
territory; and within the boundary lay the whole industrial tract of
mid-Scotland with its countless pits, mines, foundries, factories,
ship-building yards and other resources.
Under Congleton’s arrangements, as many ships as possible had been
brought into the Clyde and Forth at the last moment; and thereafter the
Navy blocked the entrances with mine-fields upon an enormous scale.
Nothing, either surface craft or submarine, could have penetrated
either estuary.
Aerial defence was a secondary matter. No invasion in force would come
by that road; and the destruction of the aerodromes had disposed of any
early attempts at mere malicious damage. Defences were established,
however, around the central area; and to accommodate the aeroplanes and
airships which had been brought North, immense flying-grounds were laid
out on the level reaches of the lower Clyde.
The storage of the food-supplies cost much thought; but by utilising
every spare corner, including railway and tramway depots, it had
been possible to get them all under cover and under guard. A strict
rationing system was put in force, though the allowance was quite up to
normal quantities. The main trouble was, as Nordenholt had anticipated,
a shortage of vegetables; and there was also a considerable deficit
in the meat-supply. However, after a complete census had been taken,
it seemed likely that we should be able to hold out without much
difficulty.
These material factors had given little trouble in our arrangements;
but when the human counters came into the question, the resulting
complications were much greater than appeared at first sight.
Taking the problem at its simplest, we had coal at the one end and
manufactured nitrogenous products at the other; and the quantity of
the latter depended roughly on the amount of the former, since coal
represented our source of energy and also part of our raw material in
certain of the processes employed. But, in addition, we needed coal
for lighting, either by gas or electricity, and also for heating; so
that our actual coal output had to be larger than that required for
the mere fixation of nitrogen. Then the number of miners had to be
adjusted in proportion to those of the remaining workmen in each stage
of the process; for it was wasteful to feed men who were employed in
producing a superfluity which could not be utilised. Again, the problem
was complicated by the fact that the coal could not immediately be
used as it was hewn. Time had to be allowed for the construction and
erection of the machinery whereby the atmospheric nitrogen was to be
fixed; and this introduced further complications into the calculations.
Finally, to omit intermediate details, the number of labourers required
for spreading the nitrogenous manure upon the soil was governed by the
quantities of this material which could be prepared.
But even when calculations had been made which covered all this ground,
a further factor entered into the problem. In dealing with a million
workers, death, disease and accidents have to be taken into account,
since in their effects they touch large numbers of individuals. The
incidence of these factors is not uniform in all trades; and hence
corrections had to be introduced to bring the various groups into
proportion.
The whole of these calculations had, of course, been made during
the period of enrolment; and the reason I lay stress upon them at
this stage is to show how accurately each section of the machine was
dovetailed into the neighbouring parts. It was impossible to foresee
everything: in fact what happened showed that some factors are beyond
calculation. But when the Nitrogen Area started as a going concern,
everything possible had been provided for, as far as could be seen. It
was no fault of Nordenholt’s that things went as they did in the end.
* * * * *
With the segregation of the Nitrogen Area from the rest of the Kingdom,
and the transference of Parliament to Glasgow, a problem arose which
required instant settlement. A dual control in the district might
have been fraught with all manner of evil possibilities; and it was
essential, once for all, to decide where the ultimate power lay.
Nordenholt allowed no time to be wasted in the matter. At the first
meeting of the House of Commons after the Area was definitely closed,
he took his seat as a Member and moved the adjournment of the House
on a matter of urgent public importance. His speech, as reported
officially, was very short.
“Mr. Speaker--Sir, I have watched the proceedings in this House
closely during the last weeks; and I have noted that a certain number
of members seem animated by a spirit of factious opposition to the
Government measures. I call the attention of the House to the state of
grave peril in which we all stand; and I ask them if this conduct has
their support. I have no wish to complicate matters. We have all of us
more responsibility on our shoulders than we can bear; and I have no
sympathy with these methods. Those who think with me in this matter
will vote with me in the lobby. I move that this House do now adjourn.”
The motion was seconded and the question put without further debate.
About forty members went into the lobby against Nordenholt. While they
were still there, he drew a whistle from his pocket and blew three
shrill blasts. A picket of the Labour Defence Force entered the House
in response to the signal and arrested the malcontent members, whom
they removed in custody. When the remainder of the Members returned to
the Chamber, Nordenholt took his stand before the Mace.
“Gentlemen”--he dropped the usual ceremonial form of address--“I wished
to allow these members who do not agree with me to select themselves;
and I adopted the simplest and most convincing method of doing so,
though I could have laid my hand on every one of them without this
demonstration. These gentlemen, it appears, are not satisfied with the
manner in which things are being done here. I would point out to you
that the creation of the Nitrogen Area has been mine from the start;
and that the machinery of it is controlled by me now. There is no room
for dual control in an enterprise of this magnitude. I offer you all
positions in which you can help the remnant of the nation in saving
itself; but there are no such positions in this House. Do you agree?”
For a moment there was silence, then an angry murmur ran from bench to
bench. Nordenholt continued:
“Those members who were removed from the House will to-night be
embarked on airships; and by this time to-morrow I trust that they will
all be safely landed, each in the constituency which he represents.
Since they do not wish to aid us in the Nitrogen Area, it is fitting
that they should go back to their constituents and assist them in the
troubles which are about to break upon them. Are you content?”
Again there was a murmur, but this time less defiant.
“Finally, gentlemen, as I hear some whispers of constitutionalism, I
have here a Proclamation by the King. He has dissolved Parliament. You
are no longer clothed with even the semblance of authority.”
The assembly was thunderstruck; for there seemed to be no reply to this.
“I may say,” continued Nordenholt, “that some of you are of no personal
value in this enterprise. These gentlemen also will be returned to
their proper residences immediately. The remainder, whom I can trust,
will be so good as to apply at my offices to-morrow, when their work
will be explained to them. There is only one ultimate authority here
now--myself.”
It was a sadly diminished assembly that appeared on the morrow. Neither
the Prime Minister nor the Colonial Secretary was found among its
numbers.
* * * * *
With the working men who formed the majority of the Nitrogen
Volunteers, Nordenholt’s methods were entirely different. Here he had
in the first stages to conciliate those with whom he dealt and to
educate them gradually into an understanding of the task before them.
In the beginning, no man worked more than eight hours per day or five
days a week; and the general run of the workmen had a thirty-five hour
week. Nordenholt’s object in this was two-fold. In the first place, he
instilled into the men that he was an easy task-master; and secondly,
he was able, by keeping check of the output, to place his finger upon
those men who even under those easy conditions were not doing their
full share. These workers he proposed to eliminate at a later period;
but he wished to allow them to condemn themselves.
Next he set going various newspapers. The contents of these, of course,
dealt entirely with doings within the Nitrogen Area; but their readers
soon grew accustomed to this: and as the main object of the journals
was propaganda, the less actual news there was in them, the more likely
it became that the propaganda would be read for want of something
better.
Through these papers, he began to explain very clearly the necessity
for the work upon which they were engaged, handling the subject in all
manner of ways and making it seem almost new each time by the fresh
treatment which it received from day to day. During this period no
hint of the underlying purpose of the Nitrogen Area was given, beyond
the suggestion that it was a convenient spot, in view of its natural
resources.
In order to alleviate any grievances which they might feel, he devised
a system of workmen’s committees, one for each trade; and the members
of these bodies were elected separately by the married and unmarried
men in proportion to their numbers. In this way he secured a majority
of the more responsible men upon each committee, although no fault
could be found with the method of election. Whatever grievances were
ventilated by these committees were met immediately or the reasons
against compliance with the demands were clearly and courteously
explained.
In fact, throughout this stage of the Nitrogen Area history,
Nordenholt’s main object was to show himself in the light of a comrade
rather than a task-master. He was building up a fund of popularity,
even at considerable cost, in order that he might draw upon it later.
It was a difficult game to play; for he could not afford to drive with
an altogether loose rein in view of the necessity for haste; but, as he
himself said, he understood men; and he was perhaps able to gain their
confidence at a cheaper rate than most people in his position could
have done. Like myself, he believed that fundamentally the working man
is a sound man, provided that he is dealt with openly and is not made
suspicious.
Within a fortnight, in one way and another, practically every man in
the Area understood the importance of his work. I question whether
this was not the greatest of Nordenholt’s triumphs, though perhaps in
perspective it may seem a small affair in comparison with other events.
But the generation of enthusiasm is a difficult matter, much more
difficult than feats which produce immediate effects.
In one respect Nordenholt gauged the psychology of the masses
accurately. He did not make himself cheap. Except at a few mass
meetings which he addressed, none of the rank and file ever saw him at
all. He knew the value of aloofness and a touch of mystery.
But he did not confine himself to moves made openly upon the board.
Behind the scenes he had collected an Intelligence Division, the
existence of which was known only to a few; and by means of it he was
able to put his finger on a weak spot or a centre of disaffection
with extraordinary promptitude. Grievances were often remedied long
before the appropriate committee had been able to cast their statement
of them into a definite form. Nor, as I shall have to tell later, did
this Intelligence Division confine its operations to the Nitrogen Area
itself; for its network spread over the whole Kingdom.
As soon as the machinery of the Area was working satisfactorily,
Nordenholt took a step in advance. The Workmen’s Committees were
supplied with the actual statistics of production and it was explained
to them that speeding-up must begin. The ultimate object was still
concealed; but sufficient information was laid before them to show that
at their present rate of output the nitrogenous materials prepared by
the end of the twelve months would be totally insufficient to yield
food enough for even the population of the Area itself, without taking
the outer regions into account. They were then asked to suggest means
by which output might be raised; and time was given them to think the
matter out in all its bearings. Without hesitation they agreed that
there must be an increase in productivity.
To raise the output and also to check the points where any loss was
occurring, Nordenholt introduced a series of statistical charts and
at the same time divided the workmen in each trade into gangs of a
definite number. At the end of each week, these charts were submitted
to the Trade Committee and the gangs which were failing to do their
share were indicated. By pointing out that a fixed quantity of material
must be obtained per week unless disaster were to ensue, Nordenholt
was able to make it clear to the Committees that slackness in one
gang entailed extra exertions on the rest. There was no question of
an employer trying to force up the standard of work: it was simply a
question whether they wished to starve or live.
The effect of this was striking; and certainly it was a novelty in
working conditions. Every man became a policeman for his neighbours,
since he knew that slackness on their part would demand greater
exertions upon his own. The Committees instituted a system of
inspectors, nominated by themselves, to see that work was properly
carried out; and these inspectors reported both to the Committees and
to Nordenholt himself, through special officials. Before long, both the
Committees and Nordenholt had an extensive black list of inefficient
workers; and the stage was being set for another drastic lesson.
For three days the Area newspapers contained full accounts of the state
into which things had drifted; and it was made obvious even to the
most ignorant what the inevitable result would be if the output were
not raised. Then, having thus prepared his ground, Nordenholt summoned
a meeting of workmen delegates. It was the first time that most of
those present had seen him; and I think he counted upon making his
personality tell. He had no chairman or any of the usual machinery of a
meeting; everything was concentrated upon the tall dark figure, alone
upon the platform.
It was a short speech which he made; but he delivered it very slowly,
making every point tell as he went along and leaving time for each
statement to sink well home into the minds of his audience. He began
by a clear account of the objects for which they were working--and he
had the gift of lucid exposition. He handled the statistical side of
the matter in detail, and yet so simply that even the dullest could
understand him. When he had completed his survey, every man present saw
the state of affairs in all its bearings.
Then, for the first time, he explained to them that those in the
Nitrogen Area were all that could be saved; and that their salvation
could be accomplished only at the cost of labour far in excess of
anything they had anticipated.
“Now, men,” he continued, “remember that I am not your task-master.
I am merely striving, like yourselves, to avert this calamity; and
I think I have already shown you that I have spent my best efforts
in our common cause. I have no wish to dictate to you. I leave the
decision in your own hands. Those of you who wish to starve may do
so. It is your own decision; even though it involves your wives and
families, I will not interfere. I ask no man to work harder than he
thinks necessary.
“But I put this point before you. Is it right that a man who will not
strain himself in the common service should reap where he has not sown?
Is it right that any man should batten upon the labour of you all while
refusing to do his utmost? Will you permit wilful inefficiency to rob
you and your children of their proper share in the means of safety? Or
do you believe that this community should rid itself of parasites?
“I leave myself entirely in your hands in the matter. I take no
decision without your consent. If you choose to toil in order that they
may take bread from your children’s mouths, it is no affair of mine. I
will do my best for you all, in any case. But I would be neglecting my
duty did I not warn you that there is no bread to spare. Every mouthful
has been counted; and even at the best we shall just struggle through.
“These are the facts. Do you wish to retain these inefficients among
you? Without your consent, I can make no move. I ask you here and now
for your decision.”
He held the meeting in the hollow of his hand. Cries of “No. Away with
them. No spongers,” and the like were heard on all sides. Nordenholt
held up his hand, and silence came at once. The meeting hung on his
words.
“Those in favour of allowing this inefficiency to continue, stand up.”
No one rose.
“Very good, men. I will carry out your decision. This meeting is at an
end.”
The morning papers contained a full report of his speech; but before
they were in the hands of the populace, Nordenholt had acted. All the
ca’ canny workmen had been arrested during the night, along with their
families, and removed to the southern boundary, where they were placed
on trains and motors ready for transport to the Border. The thing was
done with absolute silence and with such efficiency that it seemed more
like kidnapping than an ordinary process of arrest. Nordenholt knew
the advantage of mystery; and he proposed to make these disappearances
strike home on the public mind. The inefficients vanished without
leaving a clue behind.
At the Border, each of them was supplied with provisions exactly
equivalent to the rations remaining in the outer world; and they were
then abandoned as they stood. Nothing was ever known of their fate.
When the works opened again in the morning, their fellows missed them
from the gangs and time enough was allowed for their disappearance to
sink in; after which a redistribution took place which closed up the
gaps. But the very mystery served to heighten the effect of the lesson.
For the first time, Fear in more than one form had entered the Nitrogen
Area.
I remembered what Nordenholt had said to me some weeks earlier: “I
shall deal with them--and I shall do it by the hand of their own
fellows.”
So you can understand the roaring tide of industry which mounted day by
day in the Area. This sudden stroke had done more than anything else to
convince the people of the seriousness of the situation. Ten thousand
men had been condemned and had vanished on an instant--Nordenholt
made no secret of the number; and the remainder realised that things
must indeed be grave when a step of this kind had been necessary. He
had given no time for amendment: condemnation had been followed by
the execution of the sentence: and it was they themselves who had
pronounced the decree. They could not lay it upon his shoulders. And
the veil of mystery which enwrapped the fate of the convicted ones had
its value in more than one direction. Had Nordenholt caused them to be
shot, public sympathy would have been aroused. But this impenetrable
secrecy baffled speculation and prevented men from forming any concrete
picture which might arouse compassion.
Choosing his moment, Nordenholt announced that, in future, the
factories would be run continuously, shift after shift, throughout
the twenty-four hours. For a time he called a halt to the newspaper
campaign for increased output. He would need this form of publicity
later; and he did not wish it to become staled by constant repetition.
For the present he was satisfied. Everything was now in train and
he was into his stride all along the line. At last statistics were
accumulating which would enable him to gauge exactly how the machinery
was running; and he held his hand until a balance-sheet could be drawn
with accuracy.
* * * * *
At this point in my narrative I am trying to produce a conspectus of
the Nitrogen Area as it was during that period in its career. I leave
to the imagination of my readers the task of picturing that gigantic
concentration of human effort: the eternal smoke-cloud from a thousand
chimney-stalks lying ever between us and the sun; the murky twilight
of the streets at noon; the whir of dynamos and the roar of the great
electric arcs; the unintermittent thunder of trains pouring coal into
the city; and, above all, the half-naked figures in the factories,
toiling, toiling, shift after shift in one incessant strain through
the four-and-twenty hours. No one can ever depict the details of that
panorama.
But alongside this vast outpouring of physical energy there lay another
world, calm, orderly and almost silent, yet equally important to the
end in view: the world of the scientific experts in their laboratories
and research stations. To pass from one region to the other was like a
transition from pandemonium to a cloister.
Nordenholt had grouped his experts into three main classes, though
of course these groups by no means included all the investigators
he controlled. It was here that the Nordenholt Gang were strongest,
for the path of the scientific man is one which offered the greatest
chances to Nordenholt’s scheme for the furthering of youth.
In the first place came the group of chemists and electricians who
were engaged upon the improvement of nitrogen fixation methods; and
between this section and the factories there was a constant _liaison_;
so that each new plant which was erected might contain the very latest
improvements devised by the experts.
The second group contained the bacteriologists, whose task it was to
investigate the habits of _B. diazotans_, to determine whether it could
be exterminated in any practical manner and to discover what methods
could be employed to prevent its ravaging the new crops when they were
obtainable.
Finally, the experts in agriculture overlapped with the chemical
group, since many of the questions before them were concerned with the
chemistry of the soil. I have already mentioned how the action of _B.
diazotans_ disintegrated the upper strata of the land and reduced the
soil to a friable material. This formed one of the most troublesome
features in the cultivation problem, since the porosity of the ground
allowed water to sink through, and thus plants sown in the affected
fields were left without any liquid upon which they could draw for
sustenance. It was J. F. Hope, I believe, who finally suggested a
solution of the matter. His process consisted in mixing colloid
minerals such as clays with the soil and thus forming less permeable
beds; and the agricultural experts were able to establish the minimum
percentages of clay which were required in order to make crops grow.
I have mentioned these points in order to show how much we in the Area
depended upon the pure scientists for help. But it must not be supposed
that only those lines of scientific investigation capable of immediate
application were kept in view by Nordenholt. I learned later, as I
shall tell in its proper place, that he had cast further afield than
that.
I cannot give details of the work on the scientific side, because I
have no intimate acquaintance with them; but I met the results on
every hand in the course of my own department’s affairs. From day to
day a new machine would be passed for service and put into operation,
some fresh catalyst would be sent down for trial on a large scale
after having been tested in the laboratory, or there might be a slight
variation in the relative quantities of the ingredients in some of our
factory processes. There was a constant touch between research and
large-scale operations.
In the course of this I used often to have to visit the Research
Section; and in some ways I found it a mental anodyne in my
perplexities. These long, airy laboratories, with their spotless
cleanliness and delicate apparatus, formed a pleasant contrast to the
grimy factories and gigantic machines among which part of my days were
passed. And I found that the popular conception of the scientific man
as a dry-as-dust creature was strangely wide of the mark. It may be
that Nordenholt’s picked men differed from others of their class; but
I found in them a directness in speech and a sense of humour which I
had not anticipated. After the hurry and confusion of the improvisation
which marked the opening of the Nitrogen Area, the quiet certainty
of the work in the Research Section seemed like a glimpse of another
world. I do not mean that they talked like super-men or that the
investigations were always successful; but over it all there was an
atmosphere of clockwork precision which somehow gave one confidence.
These men, it struck me for the first time, had always been contending
with Nature in their struggle to wrest her secrets from her; while
we in the other world had been sparring against our fellows with
Nature standing above us in the conflict, so great and so remote that
we had never understood even that she was there. Now, under the new
conditions, all was changed for us; while to these scientific experts
it was merely the opening of a fresh field in their long-drawn-out
contest.
* * * * *
During the inception of Nordenholt’s scheme, my own work had dealt with
varied lines of activity which brought me into contact with diverse
departments of the machine; but when the transfer to the Clyde Valley
took place, I settled down into more definite duties. Nordenholt had
picked me out, I believe, on the strength of my knowledge of factory
organisation; and my first post in the North dealt with this branch.
Thus in the earlier days, my work took me into the machine-shops and
yards where the heavy machinery was being built or remodelled; and so I
came into direct contact with the human element.
But as time went on, the range of my control increased; and as my
work extended I had to delegate this section more and more to my
subordinates. I became, through a gradual series of transitions, the
checker of efficiency over most of the Area activities.
The under-current of all my memories of that time is a series
of curves. Graphs of coal-supply from each pit, so that the
fluctuation of output might be controlled and investigated; graphs of
furnace-production from day to day, whereby all might be kept up to
concert-pitch; graphs comparing one process with another in terms of
power and efficiency; graphs of workmen’s ages and effectiveness;
graphs of total power-consumption; graphs of remaining food-supplies
extrapolated to show probable consumption under various scales; graphs
of population changes; graphs of health-statistics: all these passed
through my hands in their final form until I began to lose touch with
the real world about me and to look upon disasters costing many lives
merely as something which produced a point of inflexion in my curves.
Nordenholt had established his central offices in the University and
had cleared the benches from all the classrooms to make room for his
staff. It was probably the best choice he could have made; since it
provided within a limited area sufficient office-room to house everyone
whom he might wish to call into consultation at a moment’s notice at
any time; and it had the further advantage that all the scientific
experts had been given the University laboratories to work in, so that
they also were within easy call. He himself had chosen as his private
office the old Senate Room. The Randolph Hall had been fitted up as a
kind of card-index library wherein were stored all the facts of which
he might be in need at any time; and the Court Room was converted into
his secretary’s office and connected with the Senate Room by a door
driven through the wall.
In Nordenholt’s office a huge graph extended right across the wall over
the fireplace. It was an enormous diagram, covering the period from
the starting of the Nitrogen Area and extending, as far as its numbered
abscissæ were concerned, beyond the harvest-time in the next year. Each
morning, before Nordenholt came to his office, the new daily points
were inserted on it and joined up with the preceding curves. One line,
in red, expressed the amount of food remaining; another, in green,
showed the quantity of nitrogenous material synthesised up to date;
whilst the third curve, in purple, indicated approximately the crop
which might be expected from the nitrogenous manure in hand. Of all the
sights in the Nitrogen Area, I think that series of curves made the
deepest impression upon me. It was so impersonal, a cold record of our
position and our prospects, untinged by any human factor. The slow rise
of the green curve; the steady fall of the red line--our whole future
was locked up in these relative trends.
I remember one morning in Nordenholt’s office, where I had gone to
consult him on some point or other. We had discussed the matter in
hand; and I was about to leave him when he called me back.
“I haven’t seen much of you lately, Flint,” he said. “Sit down for a
few minutes, will you? I want a rest from all this for a short time;
and I think it would do you good to get clear of things for a while
also. What do you do with yourself at nights?”
I told him that I usually worked rather late.
“That won’t do as a steady thing. I know the work has to be done; and
I know you have to work till midnight, and after it often, to keep
abreast of things. But if you do it without a break now and again
you’ll simply get stale and lose grip. You may keep on working long
hours; but what you do in the end won’t be so efficient. Take to-night
off. Come to dinner with me and we’ll try to shake loose from Nitrogen
for a while. I’ve asked Henley-Davenport also.”
I accepted eagerly enough, though with a somewhat rueful feeling that
it meant harder work on the following day if I was to overtake arrears.
But I wanted to meet Henley-Davenport. As I mentioned at the beginning
of this narrative, before the irruption of _B. diazotans_ into the
world, he had been engaged upon radioactivity investigations; and I
was anxious to hear what he was doing. I knew that Nordenholt set
great store by his work--he was one of the Nordenholt young men--and
I was interested. But my main reason for accepting was, of course,
Nordenholt himself. As time went on, he fascinated me more and more;
and I grasped at every opportunity of studying his complex personality.
I doubt if I have been able to throw light upon it in these pages. I
have given vignettes here and there to the best of my ability; but
I know that I have failed to set down clearly the feeling which he
always gave me, the distinction between the surface personality and the
greater forces moving behind that screen. The superficial part is easy
to describe; but the noumenon of Nordenholt is a thing beyond me. I
only felt it; I never saw it: and I doubt if any man ever saw it fully
revealed.
Just then the door of the secretary’s room opened and someone came in.
Curiously enough, I had never seen Nordenholt’s secretary before. She
seemed to be about twenty-four, fair-haired and slim, dressed like any
other business girl; but it was her face which struck me most. She
looked fragile and at the corners of the sensitive mouth I thought I
saw evidences of strain. Somehow she seemed out of place amid all this
grimness: her world should have been one of ease and happiness.
“These are the figures you wanted with regard to A. 323, Uncle
Stanley,” she said, as she handed over a card.
“Thanks, Elsa. By the way, this is Mr. Flint. You’ve heard me speak of
him often. My ward, Miss Huntingtower, Flint. She acts as my secretary.”
We exchanged the commonplaces usual to the situation. I noticed that
Nordenholt’s voice changed as he spoke to her: a ring of cheerfulness
came into it which was not usually there. In a few minutes he dismissed
her and we sat down again.
“Now, Flint, there’s another example of the effect of too hard work.
We’re all running things rather fine, nowadays. As for myself, it
doesn’t matter. So long as I can see this year through, it’s immaterial
to me what the ultimate effect may be. I can afford to run things to
their end. But you younger people have most of your lives before you.
I’m not hinting that you can spare yourselves; but you must try to
leave something for the future. When it’s all over, we shall still need
directors; and you must manage to combine hard work now with enough
reserve force to prevent a collapse in the moment of success.
“That’s why I planned amusement for the workers as well as a time
schedule for the factories. We aren’t dealing with machines which can
be run continuously and not suffer. We have to give the men a change
of interest. I suppose some of you thought I was wrong in cumbering
ourselves with all these football players, actors and actresses,
music-hall artistes and so on, who produce nothing directly towards our
object? For all I know you may jib at the sight of the thousands who
go down to the Celtic Park every Saturday afternoon to watch a gang
of professionals playing Soccer. I don’t. I know that these thousands
are getting fresh air and exercising their lungs in yelling applause.
I couldn’t get them to do it any other way; and I want them to do it.
Then the halls and theatres occupy them in the evenings when they
aren’t working; and that keeps them from brooding over their troubles.
I don’t want men to accumulate here and there and grouse over the
strain I put on them. That’s why I picked out the best of the whole
Stage and brought them here. The Labour section is getting better value
for its amusement money than it ever got in its life before; and I’m
getting what I want too.
“That’s why I cornered tobacco and liquor also. We must remove every
scrap of restraint on pleasure, Flint, or we should have trouble
at once. They must have their smoke and they must have drink in
moderation. You can’t run this kind of colony on narrow lines.
“And there’s another thing, perhaps the most important of all under
the conditions we are in: religion. I’m not talking about creeds or
anything of that kind. I’ve studied most of them from the point of view
of psychology; and they’re empty things; life left them long ago. But
behind all that mass of outworn lumber there’s a real feeling which
can’t be neglected if we are to get the best out of things. That’s
why I brought all these ministers of the various denominations into
the Area. We must have them; and as far as I could, I picked the best
of them. But I’ll have no idlers here. They have to do their day’s
work with the rest of us and do their teaching afterwards. Every man
ought to be able to _do_ something. After all, Christ was a carpenter
before He took up His work. That’s what has been wrong with ninety per
cent. of parsons since the Churches started. They don’t know anything
practical and they mistake talk for work. What was the average sermon
except expanding a text, with illustrations--diluting the Bible with
talk, just as a dishonest milkman waters his milk.
“Well, I’ve picked the best I could get; and I’ve given them a free
hand. But I wish I were sure where it is all going to lead. It’s
the most difficult problem I ever tackled, I know. Our conditions
aren’t parallel, but I am half-afraid of reproducing the story of the
Anabaptists in Münster. You can’t get heavy physical and mental tension
in an unprepared population without seeing some strange things. I
introduced these ministers as a brake on that line of development.
“And what a chance they have! It’s when men are most helpless that
they turn to religion; and here we are going to have a field in which
much might be sown. If only they are equal to the times! But it’s no
affair of mine. They must work out their own salvation and perhaps the
salvation of their people if they can.
“As for us, Flint, we’ve got enough work of our own in this world.
Take my advice and clear every idea of humanity out of your mind: stick
to your curves and graphs and don’t think beyond them. If once you let
your imagination stray over the real meaning of them--in toil and pain
and death--you’ll never be able to carry on. I can’t help seeing it
all; and that’s why I pin myself to the Curve there. I don’t want to
look beyond it. I want to keep myself detached from all that as far as
possible; for I can’t afford to be biased. It’s difficult; and in a few
weeks more it will be still harder, when these unheard cries of agony
go up in the South. But what can one do? I must shut my ears as best I
can and go forward; or everything will fall to pieces and we shall save
nothing out of the wreck. What a prospect, eh?
“Now, Flint,”--he sprang up--“off to work again, both of us. We can’t
afford to waste time if we are to have an evening free from worry. I’ll
see you at dinner.”
As I reached the door, he called me back and spoke low:
“By the way, Miss Huntingtower doesn’t know all our plans. Keep off the
subject of the South. She hasn’t been told anything about that; and I
want to keep it from her as long as I can. You understand?”
“Yes, if you wish it. But surely she must have some knowledge of the
state of affairs. You can’t have managed to keep her in the dark about
the whole thing?”
“It wasn’t difficult. She looks after certain special branches of my
correspondence and so on; and nothing except actual Area business
passes through her hands, so she has seen nothing beyond that. And once
she finishes her work for the day I’ve made it a rule for her that she
takes no further interest in the situation. I told her she must get her
mind clear of it at night, or she would get stale and be no use to me.
That was quite enough. She doesn’t even read the newspapers.”
“But what’s the use of keeping her in the dark? She is bound to know
all about it soon enough.”
“There’s a great difference, Flint, between learning of a thing after
it is irrevocable and hearing of it while there is time to protest
against it. Once a catastrophe is over, it _is_ over; and the shock is
lighter than if one feels it coming and struggles against it. I don’t
wish Miss Huntingtower to hear anything about the South until the whole
thing is at an end down there. She’ll accept it then, since there is
nothing else for it. I don’t wish her to be put in the position of
feeling that she ought to do all she can to prevent its coming about.
You understand?”