MY “LITTLE BIT”
MARIE CORELLI
MY “LITTLE BIT”
BY
MARIE CORELLI
AUTHOR OF “THE YOUNG DIANA,” “THE LIFE EVERLASTING,”
“INNOCENT,” “ROMANCE OF TWO WORLDS,”
“BARABBAS,” ETC.
[Illustration]
NEW YORK
GEORGE H. DORAN COMPANY
_Copyright, 1919,
By George H. Doran Company_
_Printed in the United States of America_
DEDICATED
TO
MY FRIEND
A. R. M. L.
AND HIS FELLOW-MEMBERS
OF THE CARLTON CLUB
PREFACE
The articles in this book, with the exception of the first two, were
all written during the war at the request of the various editors by
whose courtesy they are now reproduced in volume form. Most of them,
notably those which appeared in the _Pall Mall Gazette_, were, by my
own desire, gratuitous, though payment for them was offered. But, being
unable to handle sword or gun, I was glad to offer the free service of
my pen whenever such service was desired, or considered useful, just
as I would have been glad, had I been a man, to fight voluntarily for
Great Britain, without any thought of other recompense than that of
the personal pride and joy such action would have given me. The first
two articles: “Savage Glory” and “The Great Unrest,” were published
some considerable time before the outbreak of war, and while the editor
of _Nash’s Magazine_ was generous to a fault in his praise of “Savage
Glory” he was so doubtful as to the accuracy of the indictment conveyed
in “The Great Unrest” that he felt himself compelled to preface it by
a note, stating that he, or rather “we,” could not be held responsible
for any agreement with or endorsement of the author’s ideas. Readers
can now judge for themselves whether those ideas were fairly prophetic
or otherwise. Naturally, no heed was paid to them, except by a huge
silent public, the press apparently making it a rule not to notice in
any one paper what their rivals print in others, unless it happens
to be by one of their own special clique, or the utterance of a
Cabinet Minister, which they generally misquote. But, such as they
are, these various contributions to English and American sections of
journalism indicate the straight and loyal road my pen has travelled
during the wickedest and stupidest war that ever devastated the world.
The stupidity of it was even more glaring than the wickedness of
it--especially in the case of Germany. Germany was an advancing and
prosperous nation, chiefly through the industrial progress of her
hard-working people, and her “peaceful penetration” was conquering
every quarter of commerce. She has, for the time being, ruined
everything by a blind faith in and following of her scoundrels of
finance, for whom the Krupp and other dividends were not sufficiently
high or secure; the work of years has now been destroyed and every gain
has to be discounted as loss, though there is not the slightest doubt
that her cleverness and cunning will enable her to mend the hole in
her wall far more rapidly than our dilly-dally statesmen imagine. For
the immediate time, her degradation and ruin involve more than her own
position; other nations, even our own, are deeply affected, and, like
ships in unsafe anchorage, sway from their moorings--all are tormented
by a spirit of turbulence which will not let them rest, and men with
weak brains and vacillating purpose are playing with the destinies of
peoples in a wholly unforseeing and nerveless way, heedless of the
fact that there are other more powerful players behind them who are
about to make an end of their game and push them far away from the
goal. In what I have written, however slight and inadequate, I have
had but one aim in view: to hold up to the public as far as I can or
may, the greatness of this beloved land of ours--its splendid ancient
history and tradition, and to resent, as much as a mere pen can do,
the disloyal and agitating influences which seek to disrupt unity and
belittle the achievements of the noble British people. Of the wicked
waste of that people’s money by the most obtuse Government methods, and
the iniquitous premium on idleness foolishly given in the “Unemployment
dole,” I could say much, notwithstanding that I am told it is “a sop
to check Bolshevism.” One does not offer a sop to a mad bull--one
kills it. And it is not credible that the sane, sound men of Great
Britain, with an Empire of glorious renown at their backs, will ally
themselves with Red Riot which means ruin to themselves as well as to
its instigators. True it is that Stupidity is the present order of the
day among our blind leaders of the blind--that very Stupidity which
Voltaire affirmed to be the only crime--and there is little else for us
to do in our extremity but “wait and see” whether Stupidity will prove
more than a blundering guide to “where the rainbow ends.”
CONTENTS
PAGE
ENGLAND, 1918 15
SAVAGE GLORY 16
FOR BELGIUM! 30
THE GREAT UNREST 31
THE WHIRLWIND 46
THE KAISER’S HARVEST OF DEATH 53
THIS AMAZING WAR 61
“ALL WE LIKE SHEEP” 67
WANTED--MORE WOMEN! 73
THE QUALITY OF MERCY 79
STARVING BELGIUM 83
“THE TIME OF OUR LIVES” 92
THE WORLD’S GREATEST NEED 99
HAS CHRISTIANITY FAILED? 114
SNOOKS’S OPINION 116
SEA POWER, 1805–1918 122
THE SPLENDID SERVICE OF THE SEA 124
THE LILIES OF FRANCE 131
“WHOSO SHALL RECEIVE ONE SUCH LITTLE CHILD!” 133
APPEAL FOR THE FRENCH RED CROSS 139
GLORY OF THE WORCESTERS 145
EYES OF THE SEA 156
IS ALL WELL WITH ENGLAND? 171
THE WORLD IN TEARS 189
GOD AND THE WAR 200
TRIUMPH OF WOMANHOOD 205
IN PRAISE OF ENEMIES 209
RECRUITING SPEECH 215
SPLENDID CANADA 219
SHELLS; AND OTHER SHELLS 222
DARKNESS AND LIGHT 227
SWEEPING THE COUNTRY 230
TO SAVE LIFE OR DESTROY IT? 236
THE WAR LOAN 240
FOOD PRODUCTION 244
OUR FORTUNATE “RESTRICTIONS” 248
“HIS PAINFUL DUTY” 252
THE POTATO “SCREAM” 256
“HISTORY REPEATS ITSELF” 260
“SHODDY CHIVALRY” 264
“HINDENBURG’S EYE!” 268
“HOARDING” 271
THREE HUNDRED YEARS OF FAME 288
SHAKESPEARE’S WAR BIRTHDAY IN 1917 294
“DON’T TRAVEL” 298
“TE DEUM LAUDAMUS” 302
THE WOMEN’S VOTE 306
A “HAPPY THOUGHTS” DAY 311
WHY DID I----? 313
IN THE HUSH OF THE DAWN 316
MY “LITTLE BIT”
ENGLAND
1918
Lift up thine eyes, Queen Warrior of the world!
Stand, fearless-footed, on Time’s shifting verge
And watch thine everlasting Dawn emerge
From clouds that break and boom in thunderous War!
Lo, how thy broad East reddens to thy West,
The while thy thousand-victoried flag, unfurl’d,
Waves to thy North and South, in one royal fold
Of tent-like shelter for an Empire’s rest;
O Queen, sword-girded, helmeted in gold,
Strong Conqueror of all thy many foes,
Look from thy rocky heights, and see afar
The coming Future menacing the Past
With clamour and wild change of present things,
Kingdoms down-shaken with the fall of kings;
But fear not Thou! Thou’rt still the first and last
Imperial wearer of the deathless Rose--
Crown’d with the sunlight, girdled with the sea,
Mother of mightiest nations yet to be!
SAVAGE GLORY
AN APPEAL AGAINST WAR
(_This article was written for “Nash’s Magazine” in February, 1913,
without any other than instinctive premonition of the coming Great
War._)
EDITORIAL NOTE.--_Marie Corelli’s remarkable article should be
read by every man and woman at all mindful of the welfare of their
fellow-sojourners on this little swinging ball of ours, which we
call the earth. This contribution is far and away one of the most
brilliant pieces of writing Miss Corelli has ever achieved; it is
thought-compelling and in the larger sense inspirational; it is
wellnigh epoch-making in its new view, its virile logic, its sane
and forceful plea for the peace of the world--peace on a basis of
common sense, broad humanity, and the honour of nations._
Civilisation is a great Word. It reads well--it is used everywhere--it
bears itself proudly in the language. It is a big mouthful of
arrogance and self-sufficiency. The very sound of it flatters our
vanity and testifies to the good opinion we have of ourselves. We
boast of “Civilisation” as if we were really civilised--just as we
talk of “Christianity” as if we were really Christians. Yet it is
all the veriest game of make-believe, for we are mere Savages still.
Savages in “the lust of the eye and pride of life”--savages in our
national prejudices and animosities, our jealousies, our greed and
malice, and savages in our relentless efforts to over-reach or pull
down each other in social and business relations. If any confirmation
of such a statement be needed it is found in the fact that War is
still permitted to exist. War is unquestionably the thrust and blow
of untamed Savagery in the face of Civilisation. No special pleading
can make it anything else. We may if we like call it “Patriotism” in
our perpetual life-comedy or tragedy of feigning, but in sane moments
we must surely realise that we are wilfully deceiving ourselves.
Patriotism is understood to be that virtue which consists in serving
one’s country; but in what way is this “Patria” or country served
by slaying its able-bodied men in thousands?--the very men whose
peaceful and progressive toil makes the country worth living in? Can
any adequate answer be given to this question? Is “Honour” justly due
to the heads of Government who, themselves safely out of the fray,
send such men like sheep to the shambles--men innocent of all personal
or national offence, but who in their fine obedience to duty and the
preconceived idea of conquest which has its root in old barbaric
periods, consent to be shot down under the murderous fire of unseen
guns miles away, simply because their rulers have so ordained it? Is it
“civilised” to spread ruin and devastation through the land?--to leave
homes desolate?--and to create a wretched surplus population of widows
and orphans for no other reason than that one nation refuses to comply
with what is demanded of it by the other? Is it not possible to deal
with even a difficult and refractory subject of quarrel in the way of
reason and argument, brought to bear upon it by the soberly judging
powers of all nations? And if reason and argument should fail, then,
instead of consigning troops of blameless men to the scientific but
cruelly treacherous methods of modern warfare, would it not be more
normal and humane simply to--Stop Supplies?
Here we touch a vital centre of the question. No nation can go to war
without Money. In most cases a very great deal of this same money is
required. Who provides it? The nation itself? One may doubt whether
any nation could raise sufficient funds to carry on a serious war for
any length of time without borrowing. Supposing this to be the case,
what financial force behind the scenes so obligingly lends the cash for
the purpose of carrying out schemes of wholesale murder? Wherever such
cash is obtained we know it must be weighted with an exorbitant rate
of interest, so that the price of human blood fills the pockets of the
lenders with a certain guaranteed overflow. To stop War, therefore, it
should be made impossible to borrow the sums required for warfare; and
any loan started with the object of War in view, whether suggested or
avowed, should be considered by a National Agreement of United Powers
illegal and even criminal, as conspiring against the peace and progress
of the world. If, by what is called diplomacy or political subterfuge,
this law were cheated, and vast sums were loaned ostensibly for other
purposes than War, and it could afterwards be proved that War _had_
nevertheless been, secretly and all along, the actual purpose of such
loans, then the lenders should be compelled to forfeit all claims to
repayment. For talk fine sentiment and pious platitudes as we will,
the brutal truth is that no war can be carried on without money--money
fully guaranteed--and if we would strike at the root of the evil, then
these guaranteed supplies must be cut off.
A well-known journalist who, through his birth and family connections,
may be presumed to have more than common knowledge of the various
financial games of chess played by the “Chancelleries” of Europe, is
responsible for the statement that “War is popular.” This is one of
those brisk surface sayings that shine with apparent candour, like
the sparkle of light in the ice on a puddle, but which have no more
depth than the puddle itself. War is temporarily “popular”--so long
as it is confined to its own pomp and panoply--its martial music, its
flying banners, its glittering array of armed men--its marching and
countermarching--its sensation and “show,” in fact--sensation and show
which appeal to the multitude who are not brought face to face with
the disease and death of its darker side. The elemental passions of
a mob can be roused as easily by the “savage” beating of a tom-tom
as by the “civilised” roll of the drum, or by the fussy cackling of
an excitable Hen-Press. That Hen nowadays is always laying eggs of a
curiously abnormal nature, in fact so surprising is its daily product
that the maternal bird is for ever getting off the nest to look at
results, with an evident expectation that mere chicks may turn out to
be swans, though, as a rule, they are generally geese. To judge from
the incessant cackle and scream, one would imagine them responsible
for European opinion, and occupied in raising “nation against nation,”
with “men’s hearts failing them for fear,” in startling confirmation
of the New Testament prophecy, and some of us are disposed to ask:
Why are sinister and disturbing suggestions constantly thrown out by
the Press as baits to catch the always restless, dissatisfied and
uneasy minds of the populace? Is Finance the fisherman behind the
tree, angling with a long line and a devil’s hook at the end of it?
No one with a grain of common sense would call it Patriotism! Our men
of science, our pathologists and physicians have of late years been
studying to some purpose the mysterious power of “Suggestion”--and if
we have sufficient intelligence to understand the discovered facts
which have rewarded their researches we shall acknowledge that ideas,
started and persistently fostered in the minds of the million by
constant reiteration, frequently develop into actions. With how much
care and earnestness therefore should we see to it that the suggestions
impressed on the brains of Nations are sane, pure and noble, moving
all progress forward, with that firm gentleness which is the truest
strength, into the ways of wisdom and of peace!
As “civilised” peoples we continue to exhibit the strangest barbaric
inconsistency in our manners and methods of justice. If one man or
woman is murdered in our midst our laws are set into instant operation
to find the murderer, and if the crime is brought home to him he is
sentenced to death. But in War thousands are murdered at the mere
signal of “brave” commanders, and instead of the wrath and horror
aroused by the slaying of a single life, an uproar of jubilation and
triumph breaks out over the poor festering corpses that strew the field
of so-called “glorious victory.” The “civilised” State protests against
the murder of one individual, but looks upon the ghastly holocaust of
slaughtered lives in battle as something almost noble and inspiring! Is
this reasonable? Is it reconcilable with sane judgment? Is it any proof
that our “Education” is of real worth?--or does it not rather testify
to the amazing fact that in our greed of possession, our thirst of
conquest, and our curious conceptions of religion and humanity, we have
progressed scarcely a step ahead of our “barbarian” ancestors and their
“savage” customs!
“Alas, for men that they should be so blind!
That they should laud the scourges of their kind--
Call each man glorious who has led a host
And him most glorious who has murdered most!”
It is said by certain special pleaders that War is a Necessity. We
are referred for verification of this to the world of nature, where
it would certainly seem that various tribes of animals and insects
do make war upon each other. These wars, however, occur much more
frequently among the low grades of nature-life than the high. One may
doubt whether eagles as a tribe make war upon eagles, lions upon lions,
and so forth. That every animal should fight or work individually for
food is the natural law--the spirit of prey is one from which Man
himself is never exempt. But has any one ever heard of several thousand
lions or bears taking up a stand against each other and slaying each
other wholesale for a disputed portion of territory? Ants and emmets
make continual war among themselves, but “Civilisation” is supposed
to have set Man a trifle higher than the ant or emmet; he is even
believed to be superior in mental capacity to the eagle or the lion.
He is accredited with fine faculties of reason, and is more or less
conscious of high spiritual impulses--and in Christian countries he
professes a humane creed, and assumes to teach the ethics of a divine
moral code. During the far-off periods of his evolution from embryonic
animalism towards the higher potentialities of his being, he was
doubtless forced to fight his way against such opposing obstacles as
threatened to stay or overwhelm him in his progress, but now--now when
he stands, or thinks he stands, on a height of intellectual power and
attainment which enables him to discard old barbarisms, surely it would
be possible for him to control the lurking remains of his original
savagery! War may be, as the before-quoted journalist declares,
“popular,” but it might be as well, considering the ruin and misery
which follow in its train, to inquire into the inward working of its
asserted “popularity,” apart from its deceptive outward display.
First then, as already hinted, there are floaters of a War Loan.
With them it is undoubtedly “popular,” for it opens several channels
for the rapid making of money. Roughly speaking, most of the money
advanced at interest for all important purposes comes from the Jews.
All nations are more or less under the thumb of Israel, disguise it
as we will, or may. No great scheme, either in peace or war, can be
started without Jewish gold and Jewish support. The Jews are the
cleverest commercial people on the globe; they are also charitable and
benevolent to a degree that often shames Christianity. They could,
as a race, do much to stop War in its very beginnings if they once
unanimously and resolutely decided on such a course of action. But it
is not likely that they will ever pronounce their “veto”; the idea
would be too Utopian and unbusinesslike. Therefore, as things exist,
it is scarcely unkind to say, that with their race all over the world
War is “popular.” Its commencement, progress, and continuance are in
their hands. And they will, from a purely commercial point of view,
continue to lend cash for the furtherance and encouragement of National
Savagery, so long as National Savagery exists, and is willing to borrow
money at a high rate of interest. For with them the God of Israel is
still a God of Battles.
Secondly, War is “popular” with the Press. Unctuous newspaper articles
lamenting the “horror” of War, and disclaiming all responsibility
for fermenting and agitating the motives of quarrel, are only so
much meaningless “copy.” Useful “copy,” too, because it conveys to
the ingenuous and child-like mind of the man in the street that the
intelligent editors and journalists who “manage” his news for him are
really peace-loving, unselfish folk, and pious withal. Whereas the
very suggestion of War is a paying “sensation” for press-men; it gives
plenty of opening for big “headlines” and attractive “posters,” which
help to sell their penny or halfpenny sheets to the best advantage.
Whatever rumour is abroad, whatever whisper of a “conference of the
Powers” flies on the wind, the Press makes more than the most of both
rumour and whisper--and if it can only work up a national “Scare”
it is as happy as a monkey with a banana. Such a Press as that of
America and Great Britain could not exist without “sensation.” Even in
“piping times of peace” it resorts to the most ludicrous methods of
producing mild excitements, such as “Sweet Pea” or “Giant Carnation”
or “Photographic” competitions, or a “Symposium” as to whether milk
or fish diet is best for the brain. A murder is life to it!--while the
useful, brilliant, beautiful or noble work done in Art or Literature
gets scarcely a helpful mention. How often we see great space given
to the description of a public dancer!--her jewels, her dresses, her
opinions!--while a fine poem or picture is dismissed in a flippant
paragraph. The reason of this is obvious: it is that many of the
persons who assist in the work of daily journalism are only educated
up to the public dancer standard--the poem or the picture is lost on
the limited area of their abilities. And it may really be said again
without either prejudice or unkindness that so far as the press is
concerned War is “popular,” because it provides just that particular
“sensation” which in its turn commands sales. Therefore if press-men,
directly or indirectly, do foster national bitterness or help to
stir up strife, we must remember that they are only serving their
own interests, and that blame is chiefly due to ourselves if we give
credence to their often exaggerated statements. Bismarck is reported to
have said on one occasion, “The windows which our Press breaks we shall
have to pay for!” This is true enough. Indeed, it is just possible that
if there were no Press at all for a few years many dissensions would
die out, and many unfortunate happenings would never happen!
But setting aside the two chief forces behind the scenes, Usury and the
Press, with all other commercially concerned parties in the quarrels of
nations, who _can_ or who _dare_ say that War is “popular”? Let wives
and children answer! Let us try to understand what we ourselves mean
by our conflicting theories and arguments--we who make such ado about
a “declining birth-rate,” and fall into hysterical raptures over a
family of “soldier sons”! Let us realise clearly that the slaughter of
able-bodied men materially assists towards the “declining birth-rate,”
and that where there are “soldier sons” they have been brought into the
world apparently for no other reason than to be mangled out of it! This
is War! Glorious War! Is it sane? Is it truly “glorious” to shoot down
thousands of human beings who have committed no fault of their own, but
are simply commanded by their Governments to serve as marks for the
bullets of an enemy who might never have been an enemy at all but for
mischief arising out of idle and often erroneous report, based on what
is perhaps only a temporary and trivial misunderstanding? The best of
friends are sometimes parted by the stupid gossip of stupid persons
who, envious of happiness and grudging it to those who possess it,
never rest till something has been done to undermine and destroy it. In
the same way nations are set against each other by some persistently
irritating and ill-founded rumour--some difference of opinion, which,
if taken in hand reasonably and at once, could be satisfactorily
settled, provided there be not too much talk, “red tape,” and
officialism employed for the purpose of creating general vacillation
and muddle. The conventional “ifs” and “buts” exchanged among the
Powers may be looked upon with considerable doubt and foreboding under
certain circumstances--an overflow of fine words not unfrequently means
an outbreak of treacherous deeds.
Unhappily, and in flat contradiction to that “humane” spirit, which we
so frequently profess, treachery strikes the dominant note in modern
warfare, and this is one of the chief reasons why War should no longer
be permitted. The new long-range quick-firing gun is as dastardly as
it is powerful, for surely to shoot down men miles away who cannot see
their enemies is as reprehensible and cowardly as to stab a man in the
back unawares. Another instrument of treachery is the submarine--a
truly devilish invention devised for the avowed object of destroying
war-vessels by murderous action from the hidden depths of the sea. No
one ever seems to pause and consider what an amount of fiendish cunning
in the mind of man has evolved the construction of this deadly engine
of warfare--still less does the question ever appear to suggest itself
as to whether such a perfidious way of compassing slaughter is humane
(we will not shame the word “Christian”) or truly “civilised.” If we
refer back to what we are pleased to call the “dark ages” or ages of
barbarism, we read much concerning “instruments of torture,” such as
the rack, the thumb-screw, and other inventions brutally designed by
man to injure his fellow-man, but these things for the most part avowed
their murderous intention in open daylight--the doomed creatures knew
what they had to expect and prepared to die accordingly. But modern
science has sharpened our wits to a more merciless edge--we are cunning
enough to hide ourselves and our instruments of death from our intended
victims after the fashion of assassins lurking in ambush--therefore
by the very law of compensation it is scarcely to be wondered at
that we are sometimes “hoist with our own petard,” of which the many
appalling submarine fatalities are proof and warning. And now, not
satisfied with attack from the secret depths of the ocean, Zeppelins
and aeroplanes shower bombs upon open towns and innocent civilians, so
that even the hitherto neutral skies will be made spaces of vantage for
pitiless assault. All these “civilised” inventions for the practice of
barbarity ought to give so-called “Christian” empires food for serious
thought--yet, strange to say, it would seem that every new and more
murderous weapon for warfare is hailed with columns of praise in the
press, and such general acclamation as may truly be called “savage”--as
no “civilised” community educated according to all that we boast of
in our advanced state of progress, could or _would_ rejoice over the
construction of mere killing-machines for the slaughter of their
fellow-creatures! Therefore, it may be asked: Are we truly “civilised”
or is it all a Sham? Are we really humane?--or as bloodthirsty as when,
in our aboriginal savagery, we cracked the skulls of our enemies open
with flint axes?
The continued existence of War is, in the face of all faith and
feeling, a shame to the world! So long as nations are slaves to the
barbarous idea that Blood and Carnage alone can keep them in their
places as authoritative forces for the higher progress and welfare
of Humanity, so long will Civilisation be more or less a farce. No
one denies the self-sacrifice, the endurance, the patience, and the
courage which makes men military heroes--the pity of it all is that
such splendid qualities of character should be wasted on the mere
consummation of slaughter and conquest. What good to the world has
ever come out of Napoleon’s many massacres? Looking down upon the
sarcophagus containing that Imperial Murderer’s ashes in the gorgeous
tomb consecrated to his memory in Paris, one wonders sadly why he was
ever permitted to live. We may with the great poet Byron say:--
“To think that God’s fair earth hath been
The footstool of a thing so mean!”
If War is still to confirm us and other nations as Savages, we must
behave accordingly. We must train our men and youths to kill, and to
use the newest and surest weapons for killing. When we are offered
Dreadnoughts, we accept them with salvos of rejoicing and thanksgiving.
Yet without War these Dreadnoughts will, in ten years’ time from the
date of their completion, be useless, and the millions they cost will
be sunk into waste material. Must we have continuous War, then?--just
for the sake of employing Dreadnoughts--and proving to our own
satisfaction that we can slaughter as many innocent thousands as other
Savages if we like? Why should any cause arise for the visitation
of such a scourge upon us or any nation! If we have foes who show a
threatening front we are naturally bound to be on the defensive--and
we should be prepared to guard our kingdom and coast from Savages
more savage than ourselves. But when we can get rid of our Savagery
we shall lay down our arms. We shall realise that Civilisation means
Unity; Unity in all high purpose and progress towards the betterment of
mankind.
“Sheathed be the sword for ever--let the drum
Be schoolboy’s pastime--let your battles cease!
And be the cannon’s voice for ever dumb
Except to celebrate the joys of Peace!
Are ye not brothers?--God, whom we revere,
Is he not Father of all climes and lands?
Form an Alliance holy and sincere
And join your hands!”
Surely it is not too much to hope for this--to pray for this!--if our
Faith means anything more than mere lip-service and false show!
FOR BELGIUM!
THE PRAYER OF THE ALLIES
(_Written for “King Albert’s Book”_)
“What shall we do for our Sister in the day when she shall be
spoken of?
If she be a wall, we will build upon her a palace of silver.”
_Song of Solomon._
Maker of Heaven and Earth,
Thou, who hast given birth
To moving millions of pre-destined spheres,
Thou, whose resistless might
Resolves the Wrong to Right
Missing no moment of the measured years--
Behold, we come to Thee!
We lift our swords, unsheath’d, towards Thy throne--
Look down on us, and see
Our Sister-Nation, ruined and undone!
Martyred for nobleness, for truth and trust;
Help us, O God, to raise her from the dust!
Be Thou our witness, Lord!
We swear with one accord
Swift retribution on her treacherous foe!
Her bitter wrong is ours
And heaven’s full-armèd powers
Shall hurl her murderer to his overthrow!
Upon her broken wall
A silver palace of sweet peace shall rise
At that high Festival
When Victory’s signal flashes through the skies--
But--until then!--welcome the fiercest fray!
We fight for Freedom! God, give us “The Day”!
THE GREAT UNREST
_(This article was written for “Nash’s Magazine” two years before
the War, and was on its appearance prefaced by the following
Editor’s Note.)_
EDITOR’S NOTE.--_While “Nash’s Magazine” cheerfully presents the
following very radical and profoundly interesting article from the
brilliant pen of Miss Marie Corelli, this Magazine should not in
any sense be held accountable for either the Author’s views or her
expression of them._
“Ye hypocrites! Ye can discern the face of the sky and of the earth,
but how is it that ye do not discern this time?”
Such was the question put to the people by the Founder of the
Christian Faith two thousand years ago--a question not yet answered.
Lack of discernment is still as much as ever one of humanity’s chief
attributes, or is it perhaps less a lack of discernment than an
unwillingness to discern? “Ye hypocrites!” said the Christ. Is it not,
after all, sheer hypocrisy which, in the form of social convention,
does so obsess Man that, though conscious of approaching storm, he
prefers to bury his head, ostrich-like, in a sand-heap of his own
delusions in order that he may be as blind and as deaf as possible to
the lurid glare and wild uproar of coming disaster? He instinctively
knows disaster is imminent--even at his very doors--and that it will
presently swoop relentlessly down upon him, perhaps tossing him with
other fragments of creation into a chaos from which he shall scarcely
emerge with a sound skin; yet knowing, he pretends _not_ to know, and
plays the fool with himself and destiny!
To-day, now, at this very moment, all over the civilised world, this
terrible game of “playing the fool” is going on with reckless speed
and continuity. I use the word “terrible” advisedly, for nothing more
pregnant with all the elements of positive terror was ever seen than
the present-time spectacle of Human Humbug set face to face with that
Eternal Equity which has existed always, and which ever will exist
without any change in its Divine Source, Cause and Intention. Man,
endowed with splendid gifts of reason, imagination and psychic power,
is everywhere gambling away his highest birthright for gold; Man, whom
the celestial forces have led step by step through carefully measured
gradations of intellectual evolution till he has arrived at the open
gateways of Science, there to behold the infinitely marvellous benefits
he may possess and enjoy, still insults the Giver of all his good by
his fumbling forms of faith and worship suited only to barbaric minds
in a state of embryo--Man, semi-apathetic and in many cases wholly
indifferent to the higher roads of progress and to the steady unfolding
of that endless perspective of order and beauty intended for the
individual happiness of every individual soul, still makes wilful havoc
of his own carefully organised civilisations, like a child who builds
a house of cards and blows it down with a breath--and this because his
civilisations are mostly of a flimsy structure, having no foundation on
any fundamental Law which Nature can or will tolerate for more than
a very brief time. All history teaches this with stern and pitiless
repetition; and the signs and portents which gave warning of the
downfall of the Roman Empire were of precisely the same character as
the signs and portents which warn us of similar downfalls impending for
great nations to-day. The scheme of Creation is plainly meant to be a
perpetual movement towards perpetual advancement--this truth is clearly
demonstrated in all natural evolution, and Man is perforce compelled,
despite himself, to move with the onward and upward process--but he
invariably “hangs back” and tries to put a stop on the wheel, with the
result that he is himself crushed and ground to powder in the wheel’s
relentless revolving. He makes religions, laws and morals for himself
which have no prototype in the order of Nature, and he thereby stands
rebelliously opposed to the Supreme Intelligence, whose design of life
being exact mathematics, swerves not by so much as the shadow of a hair.
Hence arises, and always will arise, trouble. Trouble and unrest! The
sum of things never comes right, add it up, subtract, or multiply as we
will. We persist in our childish efforts to fit in figures which have
no place or part in the Divine quantities. Now and then in some sudden
flash of higher consciousness, we see the folly of our actions--but
seeing, we pretend to be blind. Some of us devote ourselves to a study
of the sciences, and we peep through a hundred loop-holes into a vista
of shining truths, any one of which would help us to draw closer to
God--yet presently we turn away and talk of predestination and original
sin, and feign to believe in a Deity whose rage against His own
Creation is so insensate and barbaric as only to be pacified by Blood!
Blood--blood! The cry of the vengeful, the murderous, the cruel, the
tyrannous in all ages of the world!--yet we do not hesitate to insult
the Creator of the whole Cosmos by endowing Him with this animal and
un-God-like craving! He, who holds the starry heavens in the hollow
of His Hand--from whose expressed Thought solar systems are born like
blossoms in the fields of ether--He, whose vast love broods tenderly
over all that He hath made, even to the nesting bird hidden under a
bunch of green leaves--“not one shall fall to the ground without your
Father”--even He it is whom daily we wrong and blaspheme by our social
methods of life and forms of worship, by our deliberate opposition to
His Laws, and by the amazingly insolent indifference we exhibit to His
inviolate Will as shown through the reflection of His Mind in visible
Nature.
And so it happens that, after a certain space of time in which we
are offered fresh chances of amendment or betterment which we seldom
take, things begin to go wrong. We know not how or where the mischief
first started, because it has stolen upon us by gradual and insidious
degrees, and we never dream of looking for the root of the evil in
ourselves or in our ancestry. But we do become slowly and reluctantly
aware that we are not on the right track--that “something” is about
to happen which will upset all our most cherished plans and push us
off our present road of what we are pleased to call “progress” in a
sufficiently disastrous manner. We have no time to retrace our steps
and look for the way we have missed, for we find that we are running
down hill with a singular self-imposed velocity which would make any
sort of a stop almost impossible--while to go back would mean to climb
a very steep and difficult ascent, an exercise for which we are neither
prepared nor willing. We have no idea how we managed the muddle in
which we find ourselves, but muddle it is and muddle it remains.
And then we enter upon the doubtful period--the kind of period in
which the whole world is living to-day--a period of vague uneasiness,
restlessness, and feverish suspense, looking for we know not what,
dissatisfied with things as they are, yet unable to decide how they
ought to be. Then is the hour of the brazen-mouthed religious ranter
and the political demagogue. The nations of the earth are disquieted
mentally and spiritually--the pulpit braggart assumes to teach them,
and the upstart in politics offers to reform them. And like the waves
of the sea before a storm breaks, the people surge to and fro in
billowy masses, with here and there a gleam of hope among them like
light on spraying foam, but for the most part moving in darkness and
deep unrest. For the time is past when the balm of old tradition can be
applied as a soothing salve to the spiritual wounds of humanity. Men do
not want to be soothed, but roused--fired to noblest energy, greatest
aims and splendid achievement--and they need to feel that their efforts
to reach the Highest are worth the making, and that the fight which
they enter upon means victory in the end.
This, most unfortunately, is not made plain to them by either the
faiths or followings of modern society. The Churches have in a great
measure lost their hold upon the people, and the consolidation of
family life is a thing of the past. When England was truly great, the
love of home and country was the chief foundation of her greatness, as
it should be with all nations seeking to hold high place and power--but
in our present modes of living, both in England and America, “home”
is voted hum-drum and a bore--sons and daughters openly profess the
gad-about principle of what they term “pleasure,” and are more or less
indifferent to the interests or convenience of their parents, showing
no more reverence or consideration for them than is necessary to obtain
financial “supplies.” They snap the chain that should bind them to
filial tenderness and duty, and follow their own particular forms of
enjoyment with a cool selfishness which can but astonish any thoughtful
beholder--yet even this reprehensible attitude of the rising generation
is but a phase of the general “Unrest” pervading all classes and all
ages--the vague sense that nothing is going to last very long--that
some dire mischief threatens the world--and that one must try to enjoy
oneself while one can, because there is no time left to do anything
else. And well-meaning fathers and mothers, especially those of the
upper classes, adapt themselves more or less compassionately and with
regret to the new and often exceedingly bad manners of their children,
who, in nine cases out of ten, resemble the Biblical “daughters of
the horse-leech,” crying “Give! Give!” and regard their progenitors
merely as human banks on which they expect to draw _ad libitum_ till
the coin gives out. All this is wrong, hopelessly wrong. Fathers should
be supported by their sons, if support is needed--not sons supported
by their fathers. And in such strange times as these, when women are
so ready to throw off their womanliness and become mere roughs in the
general fray, they too must be expected to put themselves in harness
and earn the right to live. They have wilfully destroyed the ideal of
woman, so long and lovingly cherished by man in the days of sentiment
and chivalry--and now they can hardly wonder if husbands prove
difficult to secure. Men will think a hundred times before entering
into marriage with possible window-smashers.
Yet it is all part and parcel of the one thing--the Great Unrest
which, like a storm atmosphere, envelops all our modern civilisation.
There is no country that does not feel it--no nation that is not
uneasily conscious of being on the verge of change. The disruption
of family life--the revolt of Woman against her own nature, and the
frenzied ultra-stupidity she exhibits in the efforts she makes to
reverse her own God-ordained position in the scheme of creation--the
pathetic bewilderment and weariness of Man himself, left without any
of his old ideals of faith or love, and clinging to gold as the only
seemingly tangible good which may procure him some bodily comfort
and ease, though feeling in his own soul that even this is little
worth--all these things are forerunners of coming trouble to which we
are as yet unable to give a name. Most notable and most tremendous
of all portents, however, is the earthquake tremor that is shaking
the Churches to their foundations, and the growth and extension of
what is called the “New Thought.” The New Thought is really the Old
Thought--the Thought which was the underlying germ of the mystic
religions of the East, and the foundation of the Platonic philosophy.
The “Thought” has become overlaid by a multiplicity of differing human
opinions, forming, as is their habit, into useless and mischievous
systems--but in its pure beginning it is the Christ in embryo--the
God-in-Man. In simplest truth it is an eternal Thought which by Divine
inspiration teaches us that the Soul or spirit of every human being
is an individual portion of the Spirit of God--and that as such it
is an immortal creature, whose destiny is glorious, whose splendid
faculties are for the purpose of evolving itself through phases of
wide advancement to wider attainment, and for whom there is and can
be no such thing as death. This Earth is its present school and
playground--Nature is its teacher, as well as its subject and servant.
It is to learn what it can and will by patient study and grateful
experience--it is to use what it finds in all things pleasant, helpful,
joyous, noble, and gracious--it is to breathe in an atmosphere of love;
and with the Supreme Intelligence of which it is a part, it may feed as
it will among the lilies of life, and may say, “My Beloved is mine and
I am His.”
This spiritual tie between man and his Maker has never been
sufficiently emphasised by the Churches. Their religious forms of
worship impress upon us that we are miserable sinners whatever we do,
that we must try to save our souls, and that we must put as much as
we can into the collection-plate. In great sorrow or difficulty these
instructions are not very helpful. Sometimes indeed we doubt whether
God meant us to consider ourselves such “miserable sinners” after all.
Our perpetual whinings and lamentations cannot make sweet music on the
Divine records. God gave us our bodies, not to chastise and mortify,
but to care for and make healthy and beautiful; and the laws He has
framed for our guidance and maintenance are such that if one be broken,
punishment is bound to follow. There is no forgiveness, because there
simply _cannot_ be any deviation in the mathematical precision of the
universal plan. And the punishment is measured exactly to the fault.
If we refuse to go forward, we must go back--we are not allowed to
stand still. If a man elects to throw himself headlong from a steeple,
not all the prayers of the saints could alter the law of gravitation
which causes him to fall and break his neck. What is true of physical
law is equally true of spiritual law, since Matter is simply Spirit
substantiated and made temporarily visible in endless temporary forms.
And all God-ordained laws, whether physical or spiritual, are framed
for the guidance, benefit, and advancement of creation--whereas we, by
devising other laws which pull contrary to Divine ways and means, find
ourselves “in darkness and the shadow of death” instead of in light and
the splendour of life. In our day Science has come to our rescue, and
like a great Angel stands at the open door of the Kingdom of Heaven;
she shows us the “many mansions” of worlds upon worlds in the Father’s
House--she points out the loving care with which even the tiniest
organism of life is protected--she instructs us how we may press the
lightning into our service and use the waves of the air to convey our
messages from one land to the other--and she impresses upon us, even as
a loving mother impresses a beautiful truth upon her child, the fact
that we--even we--are permitted to be the rulers of this wonderful
planet, so full of exquisite beauty and joy--and that we are expected
to use the endless gifts bestowed upon us with love, wisdom and
courage, developing ourselves into a noble race of creatures worthy of
ever nobler and higher issues.
Thus it has come to pass that with Science leading us ever onward
and upward, we cannot any longer in reason look upon “Our Father”
as a capricious tyrant, needing a sacrifice of blood to pacify His
wrath against us. Instead of this barbarous conception, we realise
that Perfect Justice cannot possibly be angry with what it has Itself
ordained--and we are overpowered and brought to our knees in devout
adoration before the Great Spirit of Love which is the Generator of
the universe, and which out of smallest beginnings works to greatest
ends--work in which we are permitted, nay, expected and commanded, to
take an active part, our disobedience always resulting in disaster to
ourselves.
It is the contemplation of these truths which Science hourly and daily
demonstrates to the glory of the Creator that the “New” or “Old”
Thought has arisen in all its strength, like Christ from the grave,
“walking in the garden in the cool of the day.” Hence the earthquake
tottering of the Churches, and the ever-spreading great wave of
religious unrest. There is, among many deeply thinking people, an
uneasy sense that we have insulted the real and ever present God by
our narrow and more or less selfish systems of faith, and that we must
hasten to make amends. Therefore, putting the question of the mentally
unfit aside in the general sorting of the sheep from the goats, it
seems evident that the time is ripening towards a New Revelation of
the Divine in Man--a “sign from heaven” for the better guidance of the
human soul towards ultimate perfection, and a surer means of obtaining
peace and happiness in this life as well as in the life to come. But
before the sign be given there must and will be heavy tribulation;
“nation rising against nation, kingdom against kingdom, earthquakes and
divers troubles”--and the very beginning of these “divers troubles” is
upon us now.
Hence the Great Unrest. People scurry to and fro all over the earth,
like ants disturbed on their hill by a burning match thrown in among
them. They do not know what is the matter, but they feel that they must
keep moving. The sensation of inexplicable haste is upon them. There
is no time for anything. Pleasure easily palls, and the most agreeable
society develops into boredom. The days of reposeful leisure, in which
the greatest works of art were created, are ended. Everything must be
got through quickly nowadays--“scamped” as a matter of fact. Sweetness
and harmony in music are no longer admired--it must be discordant and
odd to suit the spirit of the age. Fine painting is a drug in the
market unless it be the work of an “old master”--a picture must be
“sensational” in colour and in execution to suit the perverted taste
of the day. Literature and the drama must present “problems” of a
questionable nature before their productions can be pronounced “great”
by the very few critics who are more than ordinary paragraphists--while
Poetry, the highest of all the arts, is practically dead. The abnormal
condition of the human mind displays itself in costume, manners, and
social observances and over all things hangs the deepening mist of a
universal dissatisfaction for which there seems to be no cause, and
for which we can find no name.