CHAPTER I

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HILAIRE BELLOC

WORKS BY HILAIRE BELLOC.

PARIS

MARIE ANTOINETTE

EMMANUEL BURDEN, MERCHANT

HILLS AND THE SEA

ON NOTHING

ON EVERYTHING

ON SOMETHING

FIRST AND LAST

THIS AND THAT AND THE OTHER

A PICKED COMPANY

[Illustration: HILAIRE BELLOC]

HILAIRE BELLOC

THE MAN AND HIS WORK

BY

C. CREIGHTON MANDELL

and

EDWARD SHANKS

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY

G. K. CHESTERTON

METHUEN & CO. LTD.

36 ESSEX STREET W.C.

LONDON

_First Published in 1916_

TO

H. L. HUTTON

OF MERCHANT TAYLORS' SCHOOL

INTRODUCTION

BY

G. K. CHESTERTON

When I first met Belloc he remarked to the friend who introduced us that

he was in low spirits. His low spirits were and are much more uproarious

and enlivening than anybody else's high spirits. He talked into the

night; and left behind in it a glowing track of good things. When I have

said that I mean things that are good, and certainly not merely _bons

mots,_ I have said all that can be said in the most serious aspect about

the man who has made the greatest fight for good things of all the men

of my time.

We met between a little Soho paper shop and a little Soho restaurant;

his arms and pockets were stuffed with French Nationalist and French

Atheist newspapers. He wore a straw hat shading his eyes, which are like

a sailor's, and emphasizing his Napoleonic chin. He was talking about

King John, who, he positively assured me, was _not_ (as was often

asserted) the best king that ever reigned in England. Still, there were

allowances to be made for him; I mean King John, not Belloc. "He had

been Regent," said Belloc with forbearance, "and in all the Middle Ages

there is no example of a successful Regent." I, for one, had not come

provided with any successful Regents with whom to counter this

generalization; and when I came to think of it, it was quite true. I

have noticed the same thing about many other sweeping remarks coming

from the same source.

The little restaurant to which we went had already become a haunt for

three or four of us who held strong but unfashionable views about the

South African War, which was then in its earliest prestige. Most of us

were writing on the _Speaker_, edited by Mr. J. L. Hammond with an

independence of idealism to which I shall always think that we owe much

of the cleaner political criticism of to-day; and Belloc himself was

writing in it studies of what proved to be the most baffling irony. To

understand how his Latin mastery, especially of historic and foreign

things, made him a leader, it is necessary to appreciate something of

the peculiar position of that isolated group of "Pro-Boers." We were a

minority in a minority. Those who honestly disapproved of the Transvaal

adventure were few in England; but even of these few a great number,

probably the majority, opposed it for reasons not only different but

almost contrary to ours. Many were Pacifists, most were Cobdenites; the

wisest were healthy but hazy Liberals who rightly felt the tradition of

Gladstone to be a safer thing than the opportunism of the Liberal

Imperialist. But we might, in one very real sense, be more strictly

described as Pro-Boers. That is, we were much more insistent that the

Boers were right in fighting than that the English were wrong in

fighting. We disliked cosmopolitan peace almost as much as cosmopolitan

war; and it was hard to say whether we more despised those who praised

war for the gain of money, or those who blamed war for the loss of it.

Not a few men then young were already predisposed to this attitude; Mr.

F. Y. Eccles, a French scholar and critic of an authority perhaps too

fine for fame, was in possession of the whole classical case against

such piratical Prussianism; Mr. Hammond himself, with a careful

magnanimity, always attacked Imperialism as a false religion and not

merely as a conscious fraud; and I myself had my own hobby of the

romance of small things, including small commonwealths. But to all these

Belloc entered like a man armed, and as with a clang of iron. He brought

with him news from the fronts of history; that French arts could again

be rescued by French arms; that cynical Imperialism not only should be

fought, but could be fought and was being fought; that the street

fighting which was for me a fairytale of the future was for him a fact

of the past. There were many other uses of his genius, but I am speaking

of this first effect of it upon our instinctive and sometimes groping

ideals. What he brought into our dream was this Roman appetite for

reality and for reason in action, and when he came into the door there

entered with him the smell of danger.

There was in him another element of importance which clarified itself in

this crisis. It was no small part of the irony in the man that different

things strove against each other in him; and these not merely in the

common human sense of good against evil, but one good thing against

another. The unique attitude of the little group was summed up in him

supremely in this; that he did and does humanly and heartily love

England, not as a duty but as a pleasure and almost an indulgence; but

that he hated as heartily what England seemed trying to become. Out of

this appeared in his poetry a sort of fierce doubt or double-mindedness

which cannot exist in vague and homogeneous Englishmen; something that

occasionally amounted to a mixture of loving and loathing. It is marked,

for instance, in the fine break in the middle of the happy song of

_cameraderie_ called "To the Balliol Men Still in South Africa."

"I have said it before, and I say it again,

There was treason done and a false word spoken,

And England under the dregs of men,

And bribes about and a treaty broken."

It is supremely characteristic of the time that a weighty and

respectable weekly gravely offered to publish the poem if that central

verse was omitted. This conflict of emotions has an even higher

embodiment in that grand and mysterious poem called "The Leader," in

which the ghost of the nobler militarism passes by to rebuke the baser--

"And where had been the rout obscene

Was an army straight with pride,

A hundred thousand marching men,

Of squadrons twenty score,

And after them all the guns, the guns,

But She went on before."

Since that small riot of ours he may be said without exaggeration to

have worked three revolutions: the first in all that was represented by

the _Eyewitness_, now the _New Witness_, the repudiation of both

Parliamentary parties for common and detailed corrupt practices;

second, the alarum against the huge and silent approach of the Servile

State, using Socialists and Anti-Socialists alike as its tools; and

third, his recent campaign of public education in military affairs. In

all these he played the part which he had played for our little party of

patriotic Pro-Boers. He was a man of action in abstract things. There

was supporting his audacity a great sobriety. It is in this sobriety,

and perhaps in this only, that he is essentially French; that he belongs

to the most individually prudent and the most collectively reckless of

peoples. There is indeed a part of him that is romantic and, in the

literal sense, erratic; but that is the English part. But the French

people take care of the pence that the pounds may be careless of

themselves. And Belloc is almost materialist in his details, that he may

be what most Englishmen would call mystical, not to say monstrous, in

his aim. In this he is quite in the tradition of the only country of

quite successful revolutions. Precisely because France wishes to do wild

things, the things must not be too wild. A wild Englishman like Blake or

Shelley is content with dreaming them. How Latin is this combination

between intellectual economy and energy can be seen by comparing Belloc

with his great forerunner Cobbett, who made war on the same Whiggish

wealth and secrecy and in defence of the same human dignity and

domesticity. But Cobbett, being solely English, was extravagant in his

language even about serious public things, and was wildly romantic even

when he was merely right. But with Belloc the style is often

restrained; it is the substance that is violent. There is many a

paragraph of accusation he has written which might almost be called dull

but for the dynamite of its meaning.

It is probable that I have dealt too much with this phase of him, for it

is the one in which he appears to me as something different, and

therefore dramatic. I have not spoken of those glorious and fantastic

guide-books which are, as it were, the textbooks of a whole science of

Erratics. In these he is borne beyond the world with those poets whom

Keats conceived as supping at a celestial "Mermaid." But the "Mermaid"

was English--and so was Keats. And though Hilaire Belloc may have a

French name, I think that Peter Wanderwide is an Englishman.

I have said nothing of the most real thing about Belloc, the religion,

because it is above this purpose, and nothing of the later attacks on

him by the chief Newspaper Trust, because they are much below it. There

are, of course, many other reasons for passing such matters over here,

including the argument of space; but there is also a small reason of my

own, which if not exactly a secret is at least a very natural ground of

silence. It is that I entertain a very intimate confidence that in a

very little time humanity will be saying, "Who was this So-and-So with

whom Belloc seems to have debated?"

G. K. CHESTERTON

CONTENTS

CHAP. PAGE

I MR. BELLOC AND THE PUBLIC 1

II MR. BELLOC THE MAN 9

III PERSONALITY IN STYLE 16

IV THE POET 27

V THE STUDENT OF MILITARY AFFAIRS 35

VI MR. BELLOC AND THE WAR 50

VII MR. BELLOC THE PUBLICIST 59

VIII MR. BELLOC AND EUROPE 71

IX THE HISTORICAL WRITER 89

X MR. BELLOC AND ENGLAND 99

XI THE REFORMER 110

XII THE HUMOURIST 116

XIII THE TRAVELLER 126

XIV MR. BELLOC AND THE FUTURE 138

We have to express our thanks to the following publishers for permission

to quote from those books by Mr. Belloc which are issued by

them:--Messrs. Constable & Co., Ltd., _The Old Road_ and _On Anything_;

Messrs. J.M. Dent & Sons, Ltd., _The Historic Thames_; Messrs. Duckworth

& Co., _Esto Perpetua_, _Avril_, _Verses_, and _The Bad Child's Book of

Beasts_; Mr. T. N. Foulis, _The Servile State_; Mr. Eveleigh Nash, _The

Eyewitness_ and _Cautionary Tales for Children_; Messrs. Thomas Nelson &

Sons, _Danton_, _The Path to Rome_, _The Four Men_, and _A General

Sketch of the European War_; Messrs. C. Arthur Pearson, Ltd., _The Two

Maps of Europe_; Messrs. Williams & Norgate, Ltd., _The French

Revolution_. The frontispiece is reproduced from _T.P.'s Weekly_ by

courtesy of the editor, Mr. Holbrook Jackson.

HILAIRE BELLOC

THE MAN AND HIS WORK

CHAPTER I

MR. BELLOC AND THE PUBLIC

A CASE FOR LEGISLATION _AD HOC_

We stand upon the brink of a superb adventure. To rummage about in the

lumber-room of a bygone period: to wipe away the dust from

long-neglected annals: to burnish up old facts and fancies: to piece

together the life-story of some loved hero long dead: that is a work of

reverent thought to be undertaken in peace and seclusion. But to plunge

boldly into the study of a living personality: to strive to measure the

greatness of a man just entering the fullness of his powers: to attempt

to grasp the nature of that greatness: this is to go out along the road

of true adventure, the road which is hard to travel, the road which has

no end.

Naturally we cannot hope in this little study to escape those

innumerable pitfalls into which contemporary criticism always stumbles.

It is impossible to-day to view Mr. Belloc and his work in that due

perspective so beloved of the don. No doubt we shall crash headlong into

the most shocking errors of judgement, exaggerating this feature and

belittling that in a way that will horrify the critic of a decade or two

hence. Mr. Belloc himself may turn and rend us: deny our premises:

scatter our syllogisms: pulverize our theories.

This only makes our freedom the greater. Scientific analysis being

beyond attainment, we are tied down by no rules. When we have examined

Mr. Belloc's work and Mr. Belloc's personality, we are free to put

forward (provided we do not mind them being refuted) what theories we

choose. Nothing could be more alluring.

In a book about Mr. Belloc the reader may have expected to make Mr.

Belloc's acquaintance on the first page. But Mr. Belloc is a difficult

man to meet. Even if you have a definite appointment with him (as you

have in this book) you cannot be certain that you will not be obliged to

wait. Every day of Mr. Belloc's life is so full of engagements that he

is inevitably late for some of them. But his courtesy is invariable: and

he will often make himself a little later by stopping to ring you up in

order to apologize for his lateness and to assure you that he will be

with you in a quarter of an hour.

We may imagine him, then, hastening to meet us in one of those taxicabs

of which he is so bountiful a patron, and, in the interval, before we

make his personal acquaintance, try to recall what we already know of

him.

At the present time Mr. Hilaire Belloc to his largest public is quite

simply and solely the war expert. To those people, thousands in number,

who have become acquainted with Mr. Belloc through the columns of _Land

and Water_, the _Illustrated Sunday Herald_, and other journals and

periodicals, or have swelled the audiences at his lectures in London and

the various provincial centres, his name promises escape from the

bewilderment engendered by an irritated Press and an approximation, at

least, to a clear conception of the progress of the war. Those who

realize, as Mr. Belloc himself points out somewhere, that there has

never been a great public occasion in regard to which it is more

necessary that men should have a sound judgment than it is in regard to

this war, gladly turn to him for guidance. His _General Sketch of the

European War_ is read by the educated man who finds himself hampered in

forming an opinion of the progress of events by an ignorance of military

science, while the mass of public opinion, which is less well-informed

and less able to distinguish between the essential and the

non-essential, finds in the series of articles, reprinted in book-form

under the title _The Two Maps_, a rock-basis of general principles on

which it may rest secure from the hurling waves of sensationalism,

ignorance, misrepresentation and foolishness which are striving

perpetually to engulf it.

So intense and so widespread, indeed, is the vogue of Mr. Belloc to-day

as a writer on the war, that one is almost compelled into forgetfulness

of his earlier work and of the reputation he had established for himself

in many provinces of literature and thought before, in the eyes of the

world, he made this new province his own. The colossal monument of

unstinted public approbation, which records his work since the outbreak

of the great war, overshadows, as it were, the temples of less

magnitude, though of equally solid foundation and often of more precious

design, in which his former achievements in art and thought were

enshrined.

That there existed, however, before the war, a large and increasing

public, which was gradually awakening to a realization of Mr. Belloc's

importance, there can be no question.

There can be equally little question, that only a very small percentage

of his readers were in a position even to attempt an appreciation of Mr.

Belloc's full importance.

This was due, chiefly, to the diversity of Mr. Belloc's writings.

For example, many thinking men, who saw no reason why the common sense,

which served them so well in their business affairs, should be banished

from their consideration of matters political, felt themselves in

sympathy with his analysis and denunciation of the evils of our

parliamentary machinery, thoroughly enjoying the vigorous lucidity of

_The Party System_ and applauding the clear historical reasoning of _The

Servile State_.

Other men, repelled, perhaps, by such logical grouping of cold facts,

but attracted by the satirical delights of _Emmanuel Burden_ or _Mr.

Clutterbuck_, of _Pongo and the Bull_ or _A Change in the Cabinet_, were

led to like conclusions, and came to consider themselves adherents of

Mr. Belloc's political views.

Take another instance. Bloodless students of history, absorbing the past

for the sake of the past and not for the sake of the present, who knew

little of Mr. Belloc's attitude toward the politics of the day and

strongly disapproved of what little they did know, yet concerned

themselves with his historical method as applied in _Danton_,

_Robespierre_ or _Marie Antoinette_, and were mildly excited by _The

French Revolution_ into a discussion of what (to Mr. Belloc's horror)

they considered his _Weltanschauung_.

There are but one or two examples of cases in which men of different

types came to a partial knowledge of Mr. Belloc and his work through

their sympathy with the views he expressed. But far beyond and above the

appeal which Mr. Belloc has made on occasion to the political and

historical sense of his readers is the appeal which he has made

consistently to their literary sense in _The Path to Rome_, in _The Four

Men_, in _Avril_, in _The Bad Child's Book of Beasts_, in _Esto

Perpetua_--in his novels, his essays, his poems. If many have been

attracted by his views, how many more have been influenced by his

expression of them?

"A man desiring to influence his fellowmen," says Mr. Belloc, in

_The French Revolution_, "has two co-related instruments at his

disposal.... These two instruments are his idea and his style.

However powerful, native, sympathetic to his hearers' mood or

cogently provable by reference to new things may be a man's idea,

he cannot persuade his fellowmen to it if he have not words that

express it. And he will persuade them more and more in proportion

as his words are well-chosen and in the right order, such order

being determined by the genius of the language from which they are

drawn."

These words fitly emphasize the importance of style: and when a

distinction is drawn, as is done above, between the appeal which Mr.

Belloc has made to the political and historical sense of his readers and

the appeal he has made to their literary sense, it is, naturally, not

intended to suggest that an appeal to his readers' literary sense is in

any way lacking in Mr. Belloc's political and historical writings. The

appeal to our literary sense is as strong in _The Servile State_ or

_Danton_ as in _The Four Men_ or _Mr. Clutterbuck_. But in the one case,

in the case of the two last-named books, the appeal Mr. Belloc makes is

chiefly to our literary sense: in the other case, in the case of the two

first-named books, there is added to the appeal to our literary sense an

appeal to our political and historical sense.

The nature of Mr. Belloc's own style is dealt with in a later chapter:

here it is merely asserted that, before the war, at any rate, Mr.

Belloc's style was accorded more general recognition than were his

ideas. Many who decried his matter extolled his manner. Many men of

talent, some men of genius, such as the late Rupert Brooke, regarded him

as a very great writer of English prose. Literary _dilettanti_ envied

him the refrains of his _ballades_. His essays, many of which were

manner without matter, were thoroughly popular. What he said might be

nonsense, but the way he said it was irresistible.

Since the beginning of the war Mr. Belloc has had that to say which

everybody desired to hear. He has known how to say that which everybody

desired to hear in the way it might best be said. He has been in a

position to express ideas with which every one wished to become

familiar: he has known how to express those ideas so that they might be

readily grasped. And he has become famous.

To those who were acquainted with but a part of his work before the war

Mr. Belloc's sudden leap into prominence as the most noteworthy writer

on military affairs in England must have come as somewhat of a shock. To

those whose knowledge of Mr. Belloc's writings was confined to _The Path

to Rome_ or the _Cautionary Tales_, who thought of him as essayist or

poet, this must have seemed a strange metamorphosis indeed. Even those

who were conversant with his study of the military aspects of the

Revolution and had noticed the careful attention paid by Mr. Belloc to

military matters in various books could scarcely have been prepared for

such an avalanche of highly-specialized knowledge. For we are all prone

to the mistake of confusing a man with his books.

With regard to some writers this error does not necessarily lead to very

evil results. There are some writers who express themselves as much in

one part of their work as in another. Take Mr. H. G. Wells as an

example. His writings, it is true, are varied in character, ranging from

phantasy to philosophy, from sociology to science. But through all his

writings there runs a thin thread which binds all of them together.

That thread is the personality of Mr. Wells finding expression. In such

a case as this personal knowledge of the man merely amplifies the idea

of him which we have been able to gather from his work.

But with Mr. Belloc the case is different. Can any full idea of Mr.

Belloc, the man, be formed by reading his books? It is to be doubted.

Were you to consult a reader of Mr. Wells' phantasies and a reader of

Mr. Wells' sociological novels with regard to the ideas of the writer

they had gleaned, you would find that the mental pictures they had

painted had many characteristics in common. Were you to make the same

experiment with a reader of Mr. Belloc's political writings and, say, a

subscriber to the _Morning Post_, who knew him by his essays alone, the

pictures would be entirely dissimilar.

And if it be admitted that this is so, the question arises: why is it

so? If, in the case of Mr. Wells, the writer is dimly visible through

the veil of his writings, why does Mr. Belloc remain hidden? This must

not be understood as meaning that Mr. Belloc's personality is not

expressed in his writings. To offer such an explanation would be merely

absurd. But it means that his personality is not expressed, as is that

of Mr. Wells, completely though cloudily, in any one book. To offer as a

reason that the one is subjective, the other objective is nonsense.

Every writer is necessarily both.

There are two answers to the question: the one partially, the other

wholly true. To attempt to find the answer which is wholly true is one

of the reasons why this book was written.

For the moment, however, let us be content with the answer which is

partially true. Let us accept the charge of a contemporary and friend of

Mr. Belloc who has long loomed large in the world of literature:--

"Mr. Hilaire Belloc

Is a case for legislation _ad hoc_:

He seems to think nobody minds

His books being all of different kinds."

That is the charge. A plea of guilty and, at the same time, a defence

based on justification might be found in Mr. Belloc's words (which occur

at the end of one of his essays): "What a wonderful world it is and how

many things there are in it!"

Thus might we bolster up the answer which is but partially true until

it seemed wholly true. We might make Mr. Belloc's diversity his

disguise. We might hoodwink the public.

But that is a dangerous game. The public has a habit of finding out. Mr.

Belloc himself is always on the watch to expose impostors (especially

the Parliamentary kind) and he has described most graphically the fate

awaiting them:--

"For every time She shouted 'Fire!'

The people answered 'Little Liar!'"

So let us view the matter squarely.

The aim of this little study, if so ambitious a phrase may be used of

what is purely a piece of self-indulgence, is to present the public with

as complete an idea as possible of Mr. Belloc and his work. Up to the

present, the relations between Mr. Belloc and the public have been, to

say the least, peculiar. If we regard the public as a mass subject to

attack and the author as the attacker, we may say that, whereas most

contemporary authors have attacked at one spot only and used their

gradually increasing strength to drive on straight into the heart of the

mass, Mr. Belloc has attacked at various points. It is obvious, however,

that these various separate attacks, if they are to achieve their

object, which is the subjection of the mass, must be thoroughly

co-ordinated and have large reserve forces upon which to draw.

Some slight outline of the nature of the various attacks on the public

made by Mr. Belloc has already been given. We stand amazed to-day by the

unqualified success which has attended the attack carried into effect by

his writings on the war. But if we are to form even an approximation to

a complete idea of Mr. Belloc, it is necessary to examine these various

attacks, not merely separately and in detail, but in their relation to

each other and as a co-ordinated plan. And before we can hope to measure

the strength of that plan, we must examine the mind which ordains its

co-ordination and the forces which render possible its execution: in

other words, the personality of Mr. Belloc.

Any rigid distinction, then, drawn between Mr. Belloc's political,

historical and other writings is ultimately arbitrary. In the ensuing

pages of this book it will be seen how essentially interwoven and

interdependent are the various aspects of Mr. Belloc's work and how they

have developed, not the one out of the other, but alongside and in

co-relation with each other. For the sake of clearness, however, some

basis of classification must be adopted, and that of _subject_, though

rough and inadequate, will be understood, perhaps, most readily.

* * * * *

With a jerk a taxicab stops in the street outside. We hear the sound of

quick footsteps along the stone-flagged passage, with a rattle of the

handle the door swings wide open and Mr. Belloc is in the middle of the

room.

Hilaire Belloc, the man and his work · 第 1 / 14 章