THE MECHOW FESTIVAL
I told Mr. Johnson of this conversation when next we met, and he seemed
immensely amused by it. "You will have a chance of seeing a bit of
Meccanian ritual to-morrow," he said.
"You mean this Prince Mechow Festival," I replied. "What is it like? I
suppose you have seen it before?"
"Haven't you noticed the whole town is crowded with visitors?" he said.
"But I won't take the edge off by telling you anything about it. You
shall see it for yourself without prejudice."
I was aroused about five o'clock next morning by a tremendous booming
of guns. It lasted for half an hour, and sounded like a bombardment.
Then, for the next half-hour, all the bells in Mecco began ringing.
By this time I was dressed and out on the veranda of the hotel. I had
tried to go outside the hotel, but was reminded by the porter that we
were instructed to remain indoors until we were taken to a building in
the great square to watch the proceedings. At a few minutes after six
we were conveyed in a motor-car to one of the hotels in the square,
and provided with seats at the windows. There were only about twenty
Foreign Observers in Mecco altogether, and as most of them were not
very desirable acquaintances I sought the company of Mr. Johnson.
The streets were rapidly filling with people, the great majority being
dressed in grey and chocolate uniforms, with a fair sprinkling of
green. There were also quite a number of dark blue uniforms. As there
is no Seventh Class in Mecco, I pointed this out to Johnson, who said
that all the people in the streets were from the provinces.
"You will see the citizens of Mecco presently," he said.
"Where have they lodged all these people?" I asked, for I knew the
hotels would not hold them.
"Oh, every person is billeted upon somebody of his own class as far as
possible. Some of them have relatives here."
At seven o'clock, about fifty bands of music struck up, in different
parts of the great central circle. They all played the same tunes and
kept wonderful time. As soon as they struck up, Johnson said, "That
means the processions have started."
We waited about a quarter of an hour. The square itself was quite clear
of people, but a few sentries in brilliant uniforms stood guarding the
entrances from the four streets that led into it. The great statue
towered above everything. Presently, headed by a band, the first of
the processions, composed of members of the Sixth Class, in their best
grey uniforms with all their badges and stripes, reached the square.
Six men, at the head, carried a great banner, and were followed by
another six, carrying an enormous wreath, which they deposited at the
foot of the statue. Then, as the procession moved on across the square,
six abreast, the two outside files left the procession, and separating,
one to the right the other to the left, filled up the back of the whole
square four deep. How many men there were altogether of the Sixth
Class I have no idea, but they took half an hour to file past. Then
followed another still bigger procession of the Fifth Class. These
performed a similar ceremony, and proceeded to fill up the square ten
deep. After them came the Fourth Class, in their green uniforms. This
procession was much more brilliant in appearance than even the Fifth
Class in its bright chocolate uniform. There were apparently ten grades
of the Fourth Class, including as it does nearly all the professional
men, as well as officials and business men. Some of the men in the
first two grades had their breasts almost covered with badges and
decorations. Last came a much smaller procession of the Third Class.
The yellow against the background of green and chocolate and grey, as
they filed into the square, filling the inner part about four deep,
made a brilliant colour effect. There were no women in the processions,
but the buildings in the square were full of the wives and daughters
of the men of the upper classes, who watched the proceedings from the
open windows and balconies. The bands went on playing all the time the
processions were moving in and filling up the square. It must have
been half-past nine when the music suddenly stopped. There was silence
for five minutes. Then suddenly the guns burst forth again, and for a
quarter of an hour the noise was deafening. Then the bells rang for
half an hour, but after the guns they sounded like a mere tinkling. At
half-past ten, after a short silence, a subdued kind of murmur went
through the crowd, and we saw advancing from the Imperial Church,
which stands back from one side of the square, a new procession, this
time in military uniforms. They seemed to be arranged in companies of
about fifty, and there must have been a hundred companies. They were
all on foot, as it would have been very inconvenient to have cavalry
in the crowded square. They filled up the central space. Immediately
after came a group of about fifty generals, all belonging to the Army
Council. They were followed by the members of the Imperial Council,
all dressed in Generals' uniforms. Then came the Emperor himself,
followed by the Prime Minister and some of the chief officials of the
State. I could not see the face of the Emperor from where I stood. He
was dressed in the most gorgeous sort of uniform I have ever seen, and
as he appeared, at a given signal (which I did _not_ see), a great
shout went up from all the people present, "Hail the Emperor! Hail
the Emperor! Hail the Emperor!" Then everybody knelt on one knee for
about half a minute, whilst he uttered some kind of blessing which I
could not hear. The bands then struck up the National Hymn, after which
there was complete silence for a minute or two. Suddenly a loud voice
was heard. It must have been produced by a kind of megaphone, but it
was perfectly clear. We were listening to the Emperor's formal speech
on the occasion. I have not the exact words, but as near as I can
reproduce it the speech was something like this:
"We meet for the sixteenth time since the death of the illustrious
Prince Mechow, to commemorate his never-to-be-forgotten services and
to thank God for the blessings which, through the divinely appointed
instrumentality of that noble Statesman, he has so abundantly bestowed
upon this his most beloved country....
"Superior to all other nations and races in our God-given endowments,
we had not achieved those triumphs of culture of which our noble race
and nation was capable, until by God's grace my father's Minister,
Prince Mechow, showed my people of all ranks and classes how to direct
their efforts, through discipline and knowledge and devotion, to the
strengthening and glorifying of our divinely founded State....
"To-day we again show our gratitude to God for having raised up, in the
direct succession of great servants of the State, one who knew how to
serve his Emperor and his God, and thus to defeat the evil intentions
of all the host of envious and malignant enemies--enemies to God as
well as to our nation--by whom we are surrounded....
"Let those enemies beware how they set God at defiance by thwarting
the divine mission he has entrusted to us. He has set our glorious
and invincible State in the midst of all the nations, but in their
blindness and ignorance they have scorned our mission.... If, whilst
all other nations are striving within themselves, class against class
and man against man and rulers against ruled, in our nation and among
my people there is but one will, one purpose, one mind, we owe it,
under God, more to Prince Mechow than to any other.... This monument,
which to-day we decorate with the wreaths of memory, is but a symbol
of that monument which exists in the shape of the whole nation, whose
forces he organised and whose purposes he directed to one end, the
strength and unity of the State. Hail to Prince Mechow! Hail! Hail!
Hail!"
The whole crowd burst out in shouts of "Hail to Prince Mechow! Hail!"
Then came renewed shouts of "Hail the Emperor! Hail!" After he had
bowed a dozen times or so, those near him prepared to form the
procession back towards the Imperial Church, and for the next two
hours the processions filed out to the sound of music. It grew very
tiresome, and I was getting hungry, so we got permission to return to
our hotel for a meal. Until now everybody had fasted, but the rest of
the day was given up to a sort of carnival. Banquets were arranged to
take place in every part of the city, and the whole population prepared
to enjoy itself. At these banquets it is the custom to make patriotic
speeches, which are faithfully reported. The man who is adjudged to
have made the best patriotic speech is awarded a special decoration
called the Prince Mechow Prize.
As the streets were liable to be crowded with strangers, it was not
thought fit to allow us to wander about; but I learnt from Johnson that
as the day goes on, and a large quantity of beer is drunk, the streets
become filled with a boisterous crowd, which is a most unusual sight in
Mecco.
Two things seemed to me rather odd about this festival: why was it that
the Emperor allowed such adulation to be paid to a former subject; and
why was the commemoration of Prince Mechow, who had done so much to
introduce the strictest discipline, the one occasion when licence was
allowed? I put these questions to Mr. Johnson as we sat talking in the
smoke-room, where we could faintly hear the murmur of the crowd in the
streets in the distance.
"It is just as well you did not ask these questions of any of your
Meccanian conductors," replied Johnson. "The real reason is one which
I don't believe any Meccanian would avow. This Mechow Festival is
a genuine expression of national character. They used to 'enthuse'
about Bludiron in almost the same way, some eighty years ago. I have
heard my father tell of some of the scenes he saw here. They have a
childish belief in national heroes. Then, the upper classes have a very
special reason for encouraging this cult of Mechowism. They realise how
completely he did their work for them and made their power secure, and
it suits them to cultivate the superstition that there is something
sacred about everything he established. Perhaps you know that the
Military Class are the real power behind the Throne here. They let the
Emperor play his part on the stage in public, but he takes good care
not to do anything to offend them; and this worship of Mechow is a sort
of symbol of their power. The real effect of Mechow's reforms was not
to make the Emperor himself supreme, but to make the Military Caste
all-powerful. They take care, therefore, to make this festival popular.
I don't suppose the Emperor altogether enjoys the part he has to play
on an occasion like to-day."
"What you say about the Military is rather interesting," I replied,
"for only a day or two ago I was trying to get Lickrod to tell me what
the Government really is. I couldn't make out whether he knew or not,
but he certainly didn't enlighten me much."
"Of course it's the Military Class," said Johnson, with a laugh. "I
thought everybody knew that. It's a very open secret."
"I have heard that theory put forward," I said, "but I can't quite make
it square with the facts."
"Why not?" asked Johnson.
"Well, if the Military are the supreme power, why should they have such
an elaborate Bureaucracy and make such a parade of culture in every
direction?" I said.
"Ah," replied Johnson, "you must remember we are living in the
twentieth century; in fact, you must remember all that this wonderful
rascal of a Mechow taught his countrymen. The clumsy methods of the
Military Autocracy of a barbarous age would not be of the slightest use
in our times. Human society in modern times, even under an Autocracy,
is tremendously complex. An elaborate Bureaucracy is a necessary part
of the machine. Suppose, for instance, that you were an autocrat, and
you wanted to be able to wield the whole force of the nation over which
you ruled, how could you give effect to your will unless the whole
nation were organised with that end in view? Suppose you had absolute
power, as far as the law could give it you, and suppose you wanted a
powerful army; you would want also the best equipment. How would you
get it unless your industries were already organised and under control?
There is no doubt at all that the nation that can control and mobilise
all its resources for whatever purposes it happens to require them, has
a great advantage, from the military standpoint, over other nations not
so organised."
"But," I said, "they organise all sorts of things that have nothing
to do with military efficiency. Look at the theatres, and at Art, and
Music: their organisation of these is carried to an absurd point."
"That is quite true, but did you ever know any big organisation that
did just exactly what it ought to do, and stopped short of the things
it ought not to do? Once set up a Bureaucracy and it will inevitably
extend its functions. People are dirty, so the bureaucrat says, let
us make them wash. Then, he says, let us make them keep their houses
clean. Then, he says, let us make them keep their clothes tidy. He
doesn't like the way they walk, so he makes them march in step. You can
see that there was a tremendous advantage in having a well-instructed
middle class and a well-instructed working class. To secure this, a
powerful department to organise and enforce education was necessary.
Once the Bureaucracy was created there was hardly any limit to its
functions. Besides, and this seems to me rather important, the more
widely extended are the functions of the Bureaucracy, the more
effectually is its main purpose disguised. The people are accustomed to
being directed and 'organised.' They imagine, in a vague sort of way,
that it is all for their good. Another little turn of the screw is not
felt. If the State tells me what to eat, why shouldn't it tell me what
to wear, and what to read, and what to think?
"There is another reason why it 'organises' all this culture. In every
nation some kind of intellectual life goes on. It must be either free
or controlled. If it is let alone, the force of ideas is such that,
in the long run, they will shape the political structure. The State,
if it means to preserve itself as an Autocracy, must get control over
the intellectual life of the nation. In ancient times it succeeded for
a time. In the Middle Ages the Church tried the same thing. In modern
times most States have _not_ made the attempt, but this State _has_
made the attempt. It has done no more than Plato would have done. It
has done it rather differently perhaps, but it has followed the same
idea."
"They would feel rather flattered, don't you think," I said, "if you
told them they were carrying out Plato's principles?"
"Perhaps they would, but that only means they have learnt nothing from
twenty centuries of political experience."
"On the contrary, it looks as if they have learnt a good deal," I said.
"They have learnt how to make a nation of slaves and tyrants."
"And yet they don't seem to mind being slaves, if they are slaves."
"I wonder," replied Johnson. "A hundred years in the life of a nation
is not a long time. Human nature is a strange thing. They kiss the rod
so affectionately that I don't mind how long _they_ remain in bondage:
all I care about is that they should not make slaves of the rest of us."
"Do you think there is any danger?" I asked.
"I do indeed," replied Johnson. "A great danger."
"Why, how could it be brought about?" I said.
"In all sorts of ways. Liberty is the most precarious possession of the
human race. Very few nations have possessed it for long together."
"But surely," I said, "Meccania is so unpopular, to put it mildly, with
almost all other nations, that her influence can hardly be dangerous."
"Oh, but it is," insisted Johnson. "The danger takes several forms.
Meccania is tremendously strong as a military power. She knows it,
and other nations know it. Suppose a great war took place, and she
were successful; she would bring other nations under her power, as
she has done in the past. These would soon be compelled to adopt
her institutions. Then, in self-defence, other nations would feel
themselves compelled to resort to the same means as have proved
successful in her case, to make themselves strong too. To a certain
degree that has already taken place. Lots of our military people now
are always agitating to introduce what they call reforms, to place us
on a level with Meccania. Then all sorts of cranks come over here:
Sanitary Reformers, Eugenists, Town Planners, Educationists, Physical
Culturists, Temperance Reformers, Scientific Industrialists, and
so forth. Each of them finds some idea he wants to push. There are
people who think that if they could only cure unemployment they would
bring in the millennium, and they are willing to reconstruct society
for the sole purpose of doing away with unemployment. And so we get
disconnected bits of Bureaucracy set up, first for this and then for
that. By and by some one will come along who will try to co-ordinate
the whole thing."
I had evidently set Mr. Johnson on to a train of thought that excited
him, for he usually took things very calmly. After a short pause
he went on: "And yet I don't think the greatest danger comes from
these would-be bureaucrats of ours. With us the bureaucrat only
gets his chance when we have played the fool so badly that somebody
has got to step in and set things right. For instance, we had what
we called magistrates at one time. They were supposed to be the
prominent citizens with common sense and initiative; but they became
so incompetent, and the authorities chose them so foolishly, that
they lost the public confidence; so we had to replace them partly by
officials and partly by paid judges. Then look at our manufacturers;
they hadn't the sense to apply a reasonable proportion of their profits
to developing their business on scientific lines, so the State had to
step in and compel them to. They hadn't the sense, either, to encourage
their workpeople to become educated, nor even to pay them any more
than they could help. Consequently the State had to step in again. No,
what I am most afraid of is our disinclination to set things right
ourselves. We can't let mothers go on murdering their babies, we can't
let food dealers poison the public, we can't let seducers of children
traffic in obscenity; and as the public is apathetic about all these
things the bureaucrat steps in and adds another Department to the
fabric. What I am afraid of chiefly is that we shall get into a bad
mess that will place us at the mercy either of the Meccanians over here
or of our own Meccanians at home."