CONCLUSION
_"While the advances made by objective science and its industrial
applications are palpable and undeniable all around us, it is a
matter of doubt and dispute if our social and moral advance towards
happiness and virtue has been great or any."_--MARK PATTISON.
After all, a nation gets the politics that it deserves. The fault is not
in our stars, but in ourselves, that we are underlings. If the tone of
public life is a low one it is because the tone of society is not a high
one. The remedy, then, is not "Sack the lot," but rather, "Repent, lest
a worse thing befall thee."
It seems to me that a beginning in moral and social reformation might be
made if aristocracy could be encouraged to affirm its ancient rights by
the performance of its inherent duties.
We are a nation without standards, kept in health rather by memories
which are fading than by examples which are compelling. We still march
to the dying music of great traditions but there is no captain of
civilization at the head of our ranks. We have indeed almost ceased to
be an army marching with confidence towards the enemy, and have become a
mob breaking impatiently loose from the discipline and ideals of our
past.
Aristocracy, it must be boldly said, has played traitor to England. It
has ceased to lead, and not because it has been thrust from its rightful
place by the rude hand of democracy, but because it has deliberately
preferred the company of the vulgar. No one has pulled it down, it has
itself descended. It has lost its respect for learning, it has grown
careless of manners, it has abandoned faith in its duty, it is conscious
of no solemn obligations, it takes no interest in art, it is indifferent
to science, it is sick of effort, it has surrendered gladly and
gratefully to the materialism of plutocracy.
If it could have lost itself in plutocracy the harm would not have been
so great; but it still remains for the multitude a true aristocracy, and
looking up to that aristocracy for its standards--an aristocracy whose
private life is now public property--the multitude has become
materialistic, throwing Puritanism to the dogs, and pushing as heartily
forward to the trough as any full-fed glutton in the middle or the upper
ranks of life.
The standards set by the privileged classes at this time are the same
standards as ruled in France before the Revolution. There is no example
of modesty, earnestness, restraint, thrift, duty, or culture. Everything
is sensual and ostentatious, and shamefacedly sensual and ostentatious.
It is time for the best people in aristocracy to set their faces against
this wanton and destructive spirit. It is time a halt was called to
luxury and profligacy; time that the door was shut in the face of
invading vulgarity. Creation has not agonized in bloody sweat through
countless ages of suffering and achievement that those who possess the
highest opportunities for doing good should pervert those opportunities
into a mere platform for the display of a harmful badness. Evolution was
not aiming at Belgravia when it set out on its long journey from the
flaming mist of the nebula. We cannot suppose that Nature is content
with the egoism of the social butterfly. The very blood of dead humanity
cries out for a higher creature.
Aristocracy, one sees, is too apt to regard itself as the spoilt child
of material fortune, instead of humbly and with a sense of deepest
responsibility accepting the heavy duties of moral leadership imposed
upon it by the labours of evolution.
It is to be hoped that the children of the present generation of
aristocracy may grow up with no taste for the betting ring, the card
room, and the night club, or, at any rate, that a certain number of them
may find their highest happiness in knowledge and wisdom rather than in
amateur theatricals and fancy-dress balls. The human mind, after all,
cannot find rest in triviality, and after so long a period of the most
sordid and vulgar self-indulgence it is reasonable to hope that our
aristocracy may experience a reaction.
If men would ask themselves, before they rush out to seek her, What is
Pleasure? and consult the past history of humanity as well as their own
senses and inclinations they could hardly fail, except in the case of
the most degenerate, to discover that the highest happiness is not of
the nursery or the kitchen, but rather of the living spirit.
Observation of nature, love of beautiful things, delight in noble
literature, gratitude for the highest forms of wit and humour, sympathy
with all sorts and conditions of men, reverence for the majesty of the
universe, kindness to all, love of children, and devotion to the home,
these operations of the human spirit bring peace to the heart of man and
continue their ministrations to his happiness with an increasing power
of joy as his personality enlarges itself to receive the highest
revelations of Life.
* * * * *
Something far greater than she is now doing might be done by the Church
to restore the sanctions which once ruled human conduct and gave a
living force to public opinion. Religion in these days is obviously too
complaisant. To watch the Church in the world is to be reminded of a
poor relation from the provinces sitting silent and overawed in the
gilded drawing-room of a parvenu. There is no sound of confidence in her
voice. She whines for the world's notice instead of denouncing its very
obvious sins. She is too much in this world, and too little in the
other. She is too careful not to offend Dives, and too self-conscious to
be seen openly in the company of Lazarus. It is impossible not to think
that a coarse world has shaken her faith in Christian virtue. She clings
to her traditions and her doctrines, but she has lost the vigorous faith
in spiritual life which gave beauty to those traditions and has ceased
to set that example of entire self-sacrifice which rendered her
doctrines less difficult of interpretation by the instructed. She has
ceased to preach, even with the dying embers of conviction, that a man
may gain the whole world and yet lose his soul alive.
* * * * *
A responsibility hardly to be exceeded by that of aristocracy rests upon
the leaders of Labour. Every voice raised to encourage the economic
delusions of Socialism is a voice on the side of vulgarity and
irreligion. Most of the leaders of Labour know perfectly well that
economic Socialism is impossible, but by not saying so with honest
courage they commit a grave sin, a sin not only against society but
against God. For democracy in England, once the most sensible and
kind-hearted democracy in Europe, is placing its faith more and more in
the power of wages to buy happiness, turning away with more and more
impatience from the divine truth that the Kingdom of Heaven is within
us.
It is a grievous thing to corrupt the mind of the simple. Democracy in
England has been the chief representative of veritable Englishness up to
these days. It was never Latinized or Frenchified. The cottage garden
refused to follow the bad example of the "carpet-bedder." The poor have
always been racy of the soil. They have laughed at the absurdities of
fashion and seen through the pretensions of wealth. They have believed
in heartiness and cheerfulness. All their proverbs spring out of a keen
sense of virtue. All their games are of a manly character. To
materialize this glorious people, to commercialize and mammonize it, to
make it think of economics instead of life, to make it bitter,
discontented, and tyrannous, this is to strike at the very heart of
England.
But though the leaders of Labour are guilty of this corruption, there is
no doubt that the ugliness of spirit in democracy is the reflection of
the ugly life led by the privileged classes. There is no reproach for
this democracy when it looks upward. It sees nothing but the reckless
and useless display of wealth, nothing in the full sunshine of
prosperity but a Bacchanalian horde of irresponsible sensualists,
nothing there but a ramp of unashamed hedonism, and a hedonism of the
lowest order.
Democracy, nursing what it deems to be its economic wrongs, and not
unnaturally regarding the wealthy classes with bitter anger, has yet to
learn that capital was largely the creation of the Puritan character,
and that the prosperity of these British Islands was laid in no small
measure by the thrift and temperance of those who lived simply because
they thought deeply. Capital, without which Labour could have done
little, is not a contrivance of the noisy rich, but the deliberate
creation of virtuous men. Capital, now regarded as an enemy, was once
the visible best friend of Labour.
Where is there now among the possessing classes an example even of
simplicity in dress, modesty in behaviour, temperance in conduct, and
thrift in living? As for any higher example--an example of wisdom, duty,
self-sacrifice, and moral earnestness--it is nowhere visible in our
national life to those who look upward.
Until we recover this ancient spirit our politics must continue their
descent to the abyss, and democracy will listen to the corrupting
delusions of the economic Socialist.
We need the Puritan element in our characters, the Hellenic element in
our minds, and the Christian element in our souls. We must set a higher
value on moral qualities, on intellectual qualities, and on Christian
qualities. We must learn to see, not gloomily and heavily, but with joy
and thanksgiving, that our world is set in the midst of an infinite
universe, that it has a purpose in the scheme of things, that we are all
members one of another, and that there is no grandeur of character,
mind, or soul which can ever be worthy of creation's purpose.
Less flippancy in the world would lead to more seriousness, more
seriousness would lead to greater intelligence, and greater intelligence
would lead to nobler living.
"The cure for us," said George Sand, "is far more simple than we will
believe. All the better natures amongst us see it and feel it. It is a
good direction given by ourselves to our hearts and consciences."
Let each man ask himself, Is my direction worthy of man's past and
hopeful for his future?
* * * * *
"_An instantaneous success_"
+Mirrors of Washington+
+Anonymous+
_Octavo. Portraits_
+HARDING+ It does to our great and near-great
+WILSON+ what the "gentleman with a duster"
+HUGHES+ did to eminent Englishmen in "The
+HARVEY+ Mirrors of Downing Street." It tells
+HOUSE+ painfully plain truths about the personalities
+HOOVER+ of those in whose hands our
+ROOT+ destinies lie or have lain. It is searching
+LODGE+ in its analyses, and contains fourteen
+BORAH+ discerning, piercing, sometimes
+KNOX+ satirical, always brilliant, character
+PENROSE+ studies. "And," says the _N.Y. Eve.
+LANSING+ Post_, "it contains indiscretions delicious
+BARUCH+ enough to satisfy the most
+JOHNSON+ exacting." 14 portraits and 14
amusing caricatures by Cesare.
_Chicago Daily News_: "We recommend it because it gives a startling and
clear picture of Washington's fourteen great political figures--an
unusual picture, quite different from anything we have had thus far in
American critical writing. A chuckling exposé of the good and bad in
American politics ... succinct word pictures, penetrating anecdotes ...
not vicious ... gently, with a charmingly unobtrusive sapiency, the
mysterious pen has traced the ludicrous outlines of the nation's
anointed.... The book should be read by all hands and all parties. It is
not partisan ... the sort of education which may be acquired once in a
lifetime."
+G.P. Putnam's Sons+
+New York London+
* * * * *
_By the Author of_ "The Mirrors of Downing Street"
+THE GLASS OF FASHION+
SOME SOCIAL REFLECTIONS
The Author prefers to remain anonymous
He signs himself
A GENTLEMAN WITH A DUSTER
_With Portraits_
"The Gentleman with a Duster" who so mercilessly and brilliantly
clarified the mirrors of Downing Street, now turns his attention to
English Society--and what a drubbing it gets. Perhaps the sorriest
victims to fall under his cleanser are Col. Repington and Margot
Asquith. His name for the latter will surely stick--"The Grandmother of
the Flapper." But society at large is not spared, and there can be no
question as to the sincerity of the author. The _Spectator_, realizing
this, says, "The book is not a piece of mere Grubb Street morality
prepared by someone who thinks that this is the dish the public desires
at the moment."
_The Glass of Fashion_ is at times savagely ferocious, but it
scintillates brilliancy throughout.
+NEW YORK G.P. PUTNAM'S SONS LONDON+
* * * * *
+Mrs. Gladstone+
+By Her Daughter Mary Gladstone Drew+
"Presents us with a most beautiful picture of William and Catherine
Gladstone's life."
"_A Gentleman with a Duster_."
"The record this book gives us is from the pen of a loving daughter and
one qualified for this labor of love from intimate personal knowledge."
_New Haven Journal-Courier_.
"The essence of mid-Victorianism at its very best."--_Newark Evening
News_.
"An exquisite portrait of a fine old lady, true helpmate and grande dame
of the Victorian era."
_N.Y. Evening Globe_.
"Remarkable word pictures both of Mrs. Gladstone and her
husband."--_Oregonian_.
+G.P. Putnam's Sons New York London+
End of Project Gutenberg's The Mirrors of Downing Street, by Harold Begbie