the efforts of the Press Bureau, and has come perhaps to stay.
Journalists have made great efforts since 1918 to regain for the
British Press that independence and freedom it had before the war.
Fleet Street has been hard hit, and the free-lancers who live outside
Fleet Street hit harder still. Not that the writing profession has
been beaten by the manipulators of public opinion. It is fighting hard
in London and will ultimately win.
But some one is responsible for a perversion of public interest at this
time, and for leading the mind of the nation away from the real points
of vital significance. It is not mere commerce. Papers could have
been sold in even greater numbers on the strength of the stupendous
political events of England and the Continent.
England is a democracy, but what is the virtue of a democracy which
languishes in ignorance? Of all countries Britain has now the broadest
basis of franchise. We can vote, but what is the use of voting when
you know nothing of the issues at stake, and when even the candidates
are ignorant of affairs and try to win by making sentimental popular
appeals to varying prejudices? England is low. It is a humiliating
platitude. England stands far lower to-day than the level of her
national sacrifices.
The civil service and army and police are carrying on the
administration of Great Britain and Ireland, and foreign and imperial
policy. Politicians and statesmen seem to be inferior in mind and
training to the civil servants who keep the machine going. The gifts
requisite for getting into power in England are not the same gifts
which are needed for wise government. What the undistinguished have
learned painfully at school our leaders somehow have missed. One could
forgive the politician if he understood the elements of political
economy. But the unforgiveable confronts us, and our new system of
government has admitted to power people capable of abrogating penny
post and abolishing penny-a-mile railway travel, and of raising
telephone charges because the more the subscribers the more the
expense. If they are capable of these elementary mistakes it is not
surprising that they should have failed to ward off the great trade
depression, and failed to help Europe to get together. The
accessibility of markets in Europe does not interest politicians except
in the most casual way.
A remarkable phenomenon of the time is the continuation of the grand
traffic in public honours which reached such dimensions during the war.
It cannot be thought that the party funds of the politicians in power
are so low that they have to be supplemented two or three times a year.
Yet on June 4th, for instance, behold once more new Barons, Baronets,
Knights, Orders of the Bath, and Privy Councillors in columns of names.
Over and above the heads of the ordinary English people a new
aristocracy, if one can call it so, is being built up from the ranks of
business men. The ordinary British citizen begins to feel in a vague
way that there are now many thousands of new titled people up above.
One wonders what it means for the future. Is England going to develop
a new caste system which the commonalty will have to fight? There are
now six barons of the Press, and "The Times" and "Daily Mail," the
"Daily Telegraph," the "Sunday Herald," the "Express," the "News of the
World," the "Daily Chronicle," and "Pall Mall Gazette," are, as it
were, feudal castles and feudal organizations in our new England. It
is enough to start a new War of the Roses. Lord Northcliffe has much
in common with the king-maker if prime ministers are uncrowned kings.
These Press barons in their way are remarkable men, but as the gates
were opened to let them in a whole host of other people slipped
through. It is a human weakness to desire decorations. It ought to be
the function of a strong, wise Government to save us from ourselves.
In the sixteenth century Spaniards gave coloured beads to Indians in
exchange for gold. In the twentieth century something similar obtains
in England where successful gentlemen part with large sums in exchange
for tiny decorations.
Perhaps the matter is not so important as it might seem to the
theorist. Japanese students of our life make many strange deductions
from such phenomena as the extensive manufacture of new titles of
nobility. But whether they are right or wrong in their far-drawn
conclusions it must be admitted that so much honour bestowed in such
unremarkable days has made us flabby as a nation.
Indeed, we suffer by comparison with the French and the Americans who
have notably increased the dignity of simple citizenship. And yet
another contrast strikes one after a tour of Europe in 1921 and that is
that in England, despite protests about taxes, there are more people of
independent means than in any other country. The _pensionnaires_ of
the State and of industry have increased with us, whilst in many
countries they have almost disappeared. Fewer people are actually
earning their living in England than in any other country; more people
are just passengers on the economic machine. The working part of the
population carries a mass of non-workers on its back all the while.
Anyone who did well in the great war could reasonably hope to lay by
25,000 pounds which gave him an income of 1,000 pounds a year tax free.
That 1,000 pounds a year tax free has now to be earned by those who
work and given to those who work not. In Germany, in Austria, there
were also those who did well in the war and invested in war loans and
the like. But their currency depreciated to such an extent that what
would have been an income equivalent to 1,000 pounds a year had Germany
won, became in Germany 80 pounds a year, and in Austria only 7 pounds
or 8 pounds. They have to work nowadays. So have all the old moneyed
class. And even in France and Italy incomes have been reduced by
one-half and two-thirds. England is fortunate no doubt; but in another
sense she is unfortunate. We cannot exactly afford so many idle hands;
nor can we afford the number of empty minds that England has to-day.
And more time and trouble is being given to the education of children
who will not do anything for England than to the education of the
middle and working classes. The teachers generally are very
enthusiastic for their profession and their work. Like the journalists
they would make for real values, but they are obstructed by forces
which prove too great for them.
The remedy which is generally propounded is "revolution," and
revolution of a kind is bound to come. It is difficult to believe in
the suggestion of Chesterton, "Our wrath come after Russia's wrath, and
our wrath prove the worst." It may not be wrath but it will be change.
A few men on Clydeside and a few in South Wales are of the dangerous
stuff, but most people in Great Britain are passive to a fault. A
great economic change brought about by business depression is more
probable than a stampede to the barricades.
Strangely enough, all winter, spring, and summer of 1921 the "cost of
living" decreased in England. No doubt, if England resolved to live on
European food instead of colonial food, and if she could get that food
in sufficient quantities, and if she could import all the goods she
requires, the "cost of living" would still go down for quite an
appreciable time. Down also would go the pound, and eventually
up--very rapidly up--would go the cost of living.
The position of the pound is in any case against nature. Money and the
cost of materials tend like water to find a common level. The majestic
pound is standing up on end like the waters of the Red Sea to let the
Israelites pass over dry-shod out of Egypt. When they get to the other
side down will come the pound.
There is besides the economic element of revolution a political one
also. If England follows her parliamentary institutions and does not
suspend them as Czecho-Slovakia has done hers, there is bound to be a
great change soon. Adult franchise of male and female ought certainly
to bring Labour into power. But the spirit of England will overcome
the greed and vulgarity of the age.
England still preserves a fine reputation on the Continent. That is
because of the code of a gentleman. The man who keeps his word, lives
cleanly, and is generally reserved in conversation, is admired in every
capital. The political efforts made to ease the peace treaty and help
the Germans, have done England's reputation no harm. The English fill
the imagination as men of honour.
It is difficult, however, to relate England to Europe. In terms of
England's honour we are nearer than we were, and _Perfide Albion_ is
not nearly so perfidious. But as a business people we are out of
touch. We have more bad types of business men than formerly. There
are a lot of commercial rogues, who, at least, call themselves English,
though their mothers may have played false. On the other hand, the
stalwart, honest type does not get on so well as he did. The war has
confused his mind a little. Many still want to punish the Germans.
And in punishing the ex-enemy they punish themselves.
One would think that the supposed "nation of shopkeepers" would be
appealed to on grounds of commercial sagacity. A nation that has made
the experiment of a business government might be expected to live by a
business code. It is well known in business that good-will is the
foundation of prosperous trade, and that hostile relationships do not
pay.
How often has one read this type of appeal in England. The sentences
are taught in English commercial correspondence classes:
"I want to make a proposition to you, a strictly commercial
proposition. How can we help one another to do more business? How can
we be mutually serviceable to one another? Think it over. I do you a
good turn now because I know you are certain to be in a position by and
by to do me a good turn."
It has been open for England to say this to Germany, France, Serbia,
Czecho-Slovakia, the United States, and to many other countries, but
for some reason or other we have held off. We have substituted another
and not very worthy phrase, "Let them stew in their own juice,"
forgetting that if we let them stew there we shall stew, too, in ours.
And it is not likely to be a very good stew.
"The Times" has given its powerful influence to promote the idea of an
alliance with France. But it came at a moment when France had just
been thwarted by Great Britain in her European policy. Moreover, it
was not inspired by either the people or the Government of England.
France understood this. "The Times" also has been developing the idea
of Anglo-American friendship, and that has made more progress there.
The many titled American women in England naturally desire it, and
collectively they have considerable power. Most American writers in
England and English writers in America work for it.
"If we can't run together, we of the same blood and of the same
tongue," says Sinclair Lewis, to a literary club one June night, "let's
give it up. Let's cry off altogether and admit that we are all a lot
of savages."
The English masses are indifferent to the idea of alliance. The real
opposition to it is not in England, but in America where Anglophobes
abound. There are more haters of England in America than in the
countries of Europe--more lovers also. Both are sensitive, and the
game of mortifying one another goes on.
Germany, Czecho-Slovakia, Serbia, Hungary, are more eager for a
constructive friendship with Great Britain, and indeed generally
speaking Europe needs England more than America needs her.
There is one slight exception to the general apathy, and that is the
abandonment of anti-Bolshevik hate, and the signing of a trading treaty
with Russia--a long-delayed fruit of common sense. Russia is in a
desperate plight, and we cannot live by what she yields alone, but it
will help. But if we can shake hands with Bolsheviks why not with
Germans? It is curious that despite the strong sympathies for Germany
in England there is no public move for a friendly understanding between
the two powers. Pro-Germans are still a little afraid of the
war-epithets and abuse. Commercial travellers in their quiet way are
steadily placing orders for cheap German goods all over England, but
there is no effort to exploit the situation to the mutual advantage of
English and German. Alone Sir Reginald MacKenna, the chairman of the
London City and Midland Bank, in a remarkable speech to the
shareholders and directors indicated our astonishing passivity. The
war has brought Germany low, and the lower she goes the more dangerous
she is to the rest of us. But no one will face it. If we did resolve
to face it we should find many Germans ready to co-operate and give
help in exchange for help. The low German mark may seem to mean the
ruin of English manufacturers, but we ought to bear in mind that there
is no nation more direly in need of international help than this same
fearsome Germany. The trade slump is great, but it is perhaps only the
beginning. People ignorantly blame the strikers, but many
manufacturers have secretly not been sorry for the strikes. The
strikes have damped down production. They have brought down wages,
they have not raised them. It is of little use going on producing
great quantities of goods for which there is at present no market, and
no use producing above the European market price. It would be truer to
say that the strikes are partly the result of the depression. Most of
the strikes have been caused by "cuts" in wages. Wages have been
sought to be reduced in order to turn out cheaper products and so be
able to compete with other cheap European goods. The secret of the
obduracy of the coal-owners has lain in the fact that British coal
costs more than the world-price per ton. The difference in price could
be put on to the private consumer but there are limits to his means of
purchasing. It is impossible to do more trade with the consumer. The
main coal business is with the factory and the ship, and these compete
in world-markets for their own business. All want to keep the cost of
production low in order to compete with the countries of low exchange.
The European exchange is proving to be the most vital matter for
English trade. Its irregularities reflect the irregularities of our
Europe and they must be met. An equality of values must somehow be
obtained, and it could be obtained in a spirit of general friendship
and good-will. Great sacrifices would be necessary from rich people of
all the nations concerned, and large schemes of revenge and punishment
would have to be abandoned. But in doing so we should all save one
another; in not doing so we are likely all to ruin one another.
LETTERS OF TRAVEL
XVII. FROM PARIS
France is the mainspring of the new mechanism, and Paris the control.
That is why I chose to go to Paris last--so that all, even London,
could be related to her. The initiative in European politics is taken
by France and she has the most active policy. Most other States wait
to see what France is doing and shape their policies accordingly.
London is generally in opposition to Paris, but English action is so
sluggish and so independable that even those States who loathe the new
France are obliged to assume that England does not really count. With
the exception of Greece, England is not giving active support or
practical sympathy to any other country in Europe. But France backs
Poles and Turks and Hungarians and Serbs, and is carrying out a grand
scheme of world-policy clearly--if not very effectively.
France has made great progress since the war. Alone among the warring
powers in this respect she stands higher than she did in 1914. She
stands higher than she has done at any time since the great Napoleon.
The Government it is true is in direful need of money, and has always a
difficult political path to tread, but both the French individual and
the nation as a whole have gained enormously. Peoples and governments
are too often confused, and the plight of M. Briand sometimes deceives
people as to the position of France.
"France is bankrupt," says a leading publicist, in one of the London
reviews. But the French people are not bankrupt. Far from it. On the
average they are a very rich people. Even in the devastated areas
there has been a rapid financial recovery due to the hard work and
perseverance of the returned inhabitants. The constant talk about the
ruined North of France has been more a matter of propaganda than
verity. Though war was not carried into Yorkshire and Lancashire, it
is quite clear that England is to-day in a much more ruinous state than
France. The French drove our sentimental politicians through carefully
chosen routes and showed them the grand spectacle of war's ruins. And
they were impressed. But there is ruin which cannot be seen from a car
window. An economic dry-rot at the heart of a country is more terrible
than excoriations on the surface.
In Paris you realize at once a remarkable change in atmosphere after
London. The barometer has risen. It suddenly feels better to be
alive. There is a sense of something in the air; something doing.
Yes, the people are smarter and cleaner; their eyes are brighter. The
streets are better kept. _Amour propre_ is expressed in all the shop
windows, in the manners of 'bus conductors, waiters, salesmen, chance
acquaintances, in the tone of the Press. What is the matter? Can it
be that Paris has become first-class and London has ceased to be
first-class? Paris was not like this in 1913. She was decidedly
down-at-heel. There was no particular verve or dignity in the ways of
Parisians. They carried on in a second-rate way in a civilization
which to the general European traveller seemed inferior both to London
and Berlin.
Something has intervened, and that something is not merely war but
victory. Victory has intervened and has fed the French soul with the
thing which it required. We know now more of what France was like
before 1870. Evidently for fifty years she has lived in a state of
depression and spiritual thraldom, and now she has escaped and is more
herself. France has recovered her national pride and
self-consciousness. She has expanded. Increase of territory and of
national interests has given to French self-consciousness more room,
and you behold the opposite type of development to that which is in
process in Germany, where national self-consciousness has been turned
in on itself. That is why it is good to be alive in Paris and not so
good in London or Berlin.
It is possible to be winning and still remain down-hearted, but this is
not the case at Paris. The supposed fear of Germany is only political
bluff. France fears no Germans. She fears nobody. Perhaps she ought
to fear--for the far future. But she has always had a belief in
herself and her way of doing things and an inbred contempt for other
races as for barbarians, and it has only needed this colossal victory
in a world-war to set her on her pedestal of fame once more.
It was in doubt for a while before the war, but now it is sure--all the
world must learn French; if it cannot speak French it must at least
think French. French is the universal medium of civilization and good
manners. The emissaries of France in every country of Europe carry
France's civilizing mission and tell the foreign statesmen of the young
States what to do and how to do it. As England sends missionaries to
spread the gospel of Christ so France sends hers to spread the gospel
of France.
The sense of this glorious activity comes back to the heart and the
brain at Paris, and it is small wonder that steps are lighter and eyes
brighter.
If only the Government could fill its exchequer! France lives by
loans, and even an interest of six per cent free of income-tax will not
tempt the citizens to invest sufficient money to pay the Government's
way. The Government cannot raise its revenue by taxes. An Englishman
slavishly pays half his income in taxes, but not a Frenchman. It is
difficult to get five per cent. And there one comes suddenly upon
France's greatest vice and weakness--avarice.
It is France's penuriousness and meanness and her exaggerated thrift
that stands most in the way of her material greatness now. The
Government needs to spend a great deal more than it used to do before
the war, must spend it, if it is to do the best for France. France has
the consciousness of being the greatest power in Europe, and she has
the will to play the rôle of the greatest power, and she is called upon
to do things in style.
France is romantic in ambition, she is vivacious and happy and
dignified, till she is called upon to pay anything. Then the
Frenchwoman in the French nation reveals herself. The eyes become
small, the lips thin, the cheeks pale, the whole being shrinks into
itself and goes on the defensive.
France wishes to run this new Europe which has come into being, on the
old lines, playing with hatreds and jealousies and conflicting
interests as a chess-player with his pieces. The idealists of England
and America want to eradicate the jealousies and hatreds and run the
same new Europe on principles of pure love. France says human nature
never changes. Britain and America say human nature has progressed
with them and it must progress similarly in Europe. France's final
answer is laughter. So constant is France's amusement at the expense
of the Anglo-Saxon that she has adopted the _sourire ironique_ as
something necessary to typical beauty in a Frenchman.
It is, therefore, not surprising that M. Octave Duplessis in the
"Figaro" should find that characteristic work of H. G. Wells, the
"Salvaging of Civilization," quite ridiculous.
Il nous ramene aux rêves ineptes des Fourier et des Cabet, effacant de
la surface de ce pauvre globe terraqué toutes les barrières,
aplanissant avec intrépiditée les plus grands obstacles, niant le fait
concret des nationalités, de plus en plus positif pourtant à mesure que
progresse la civilisation, et saluant déjà l'aurore du jour où
Ce globe deplume, sans barbe et sans cheveux
Comme un grand potiron roulera dans les cieux
M. Britling nous ramene donc de cent ans en arriéré, au mauvais
socialisme primitif de l'époque romantique. Il ressuscite de
poussiéreuses momies.
By denying the possibility of realizing the dream of a world-State or a
collective European State, the Frenchman speaks for his country.
France regards the development of European history with simple realism
and without ideals. The only weak link in her chain-mail is the belief
in the civilizing mission of France. If there is no progress why have
a mission to civilize?
Perhaps the religious sentimentalism of Western politicians was a
revelation to French statesmen. France, for all her cosmopolitanism,
has always been badly informed as to the life of the people in England
and America. Something of the general astonishment was voiced by
Clemenceau, if the story of him is true. He is supposed to have said
of Wilson: "He is an excellent man, but he thinks he's Jesus Christ."
In France all excellence is excellence of form. The idea of the growth
of the soul and of germinal excellence of any kind is foreign. For our
part in England and America we understand little of form. France
therefore can upon occasion show the world something which no one can
deny to be excellent.
The Parisian can very well say in London or New York: "You have much
that is large and fine, but it is clear that you do not understand Art
and have very little taste. In France we do things better than this."
He does not put his _poilu inconnu_ in the depths of a cathedral in
order to bring an unbelieving crowd into the house of God, but puts him
in the public way under the Arc de Triomphe. He does not say that the
soldier died for King and Country, and then mutilate a text--"Greater
love hath no man than this," but he inscribes--"_Ici repose un soldat
français mort pour la patrie_," and leaves the living to make their own
reflections. His Paris is a city of statues and gardens but it is all
dignified, it is all in good taste. Even the houses and the shops
conform to the general idea of the fitness and elegance of Paris.