should surely be enjoying to the full the result of their pliability
and humour! In the “Coupon Election” they expected six million feminine
votes--for Coalition, of course. If we conjugate Ministerial messages
as one verb, they could all have been rendered thus: “_I_ expect,
_you_ expect, _he_ expects” women to do their duty. But one point
seems rather overlooked, and that is, the precise idea women have of
duty. When I say “women” I mean women in the grand majority--not a few
hundreds or even a few thousand agitators. And I dare to suggest that
these “women in the grand majority,” do not care about their “votes”
in the least--and that all the roaring of a megaphone press will never
make them care. Nature is, and always will be, too strong for them, and
Nature has not endowed them, except in a few rare cases, with a taste
for politics. But Nature has given them far greater qualities, and has
organised them in a special way--a way most beautiful, wonderful, and
nobly privileged; and the greatest social reformer that ever risked the
oft-tried sorry business of “re-constructing” civilisation, can never
alter the work for which Nature is alone responsible. I do not believe
that Women, speaking in the plural of nationalities, ever wanted the
vote at all--but that seeing (and hearing) the wild clamour of some of
their sisters, who shrieked and smashed themselves into notoriety, they
were attracted by the fun of it, the noise of it, the curious, rowdy,
non-feminine spirit of it, and followed the whooping and the yells with
the fascinated amusement of children running after the “One Man Band”
who beats a drum with his elbows and clashes cymbals with his feet.
Mr. Lloyd George is a wise thinker in his generation, but his sagacity
will be at fault if it should be proved (Heaven forbid!) that after
all--yes, after all the screaming and smashing of windows, and all the
efforts made on their behalf--the women as a whole prove apathetic and
indifferent to this wonderful privilege they have fought for and won!
There is a French story of a certain spoilt little lady whose husband
adored her, from the glimmer of her topmost blonde curl to the point
of her broidered shoe, and who expressed to him her ardent wish for
a diamond chain she had seen in an expensive jeweller’s window. Her
husband, though rich and generous, apparently paid no attention to her
oft-repeated request, till one day he suddenly presented her with the
coveted ornament as a “surprise packet” and token of his affection. But
she pushed the gift aside and gave way to bitter tears. “Why, oh, why
did you bring me such a thing?” she sobbed. “I shall never wear it! Oh,
_why_ didn’t you buy me that dear weeny-teeny dog I saw yesterday! The
_weeny_ pet! I would have loved it so! I would have talked to it about
_you_!--it would have been _such_ a companion! Oh, I _did_ want that
_weeny_ darling!”
There is a moral in this story (despite the contempt it must evoke
among future female M.P.s), and “the pint,” as Captain Cuttle or his
friend Jack Bunsby remarked, “lies in the application on it.” Whether
Mr. Lloyd George and the supporters of the Women’s Franchise will
perceive it is problematical--but whether they do or do not, there
is a curious nature-fact about Woman which is frequently missed or
overlooked by Man. It is this: _That when she is given what she wants,
she doesn’t want it!_ That is to say--the gaining of her objective
concludes her active interest in it; the thing is possessed, and
promptly loses its value. With the swiftness and ease of a butterfly
she deserts the blossom from which she has stripped the pollen!
“Equality of the sexes” is one of the advanced feminine war-cries,
when every one with a grain of common sense knows there is and can be
no such equality. Nature’s law forbids. Nature insists on contrasts;
the small and the great, the weak and the strong, the light and the
dark. And women know well enough that their “calling and election”
are superior to those of men--they are the makers of the race and the
ordainers of the future, but their strength is not on the hustings or
in the polling-booth--it is in the silence and sweetness of “Home.”
The home is the acorn from which springs the oak of a nation. Women’s
own instincts teach them that their power is too sacred a thing for
common discussion; and when, in their despite, such discussion is let
loose in the press by vulgarly interested sexualists and sensualists,
their contempt is not concealed. They feel, strongly enough too, when
questioned in the right spirit, that it is not needful for them to mix
with the undignified scrambling of political methods; and any “apathy”
as to the use of the vote, is simply that they have, or think they
have, something better to do. Yes, indeed! They really and truly think
that their home affairs, their children, their daily duties, even their
clothes, are more in their line than “Coalition”! They are for unity
of purpose most assuredly--all of one mind as to the punishment of
surely the most miserable man on earth, the ex-Kaiser--equally of one
mind concerning the barring out of the Huns from further interference
of their own folks’ businesses--but they think, and rightly too, that
so far as putting the nation’s house in order goes, the men should be
trusted to do it. There was something very funny in Mr. Lloyd George’s
opening words to a women’s meeting at Queen’s Hall--“I feel very shy
and solitary!” Did he? Surely this was a bit of “camouflage”? But
putting all blandishment aside, it is just a toss-up as to whether
women’s votes will be quite as influential as prophesied. One of the
surprises of the Coupon Election was Mr. Lloyd George’s “sweep-aside”
of a chivalrous male candidate in favour of Miss Pankhurst, who, so
it is understood, threatened the direst things against him in past
“militant” days! Generosity and magnanimity on the part of a Prime
Minister to a Suffragette, a male to a female, could no farther
go!--but one wonders if the modern “Glendower” realised the effect
his action had on many thousands of non-Pankhurst women? For sheer
humiliation it came second only to the surrender of the German Fleet!
Whether it served as good a purpose was answered by the result. “Drive
Nature out of the door, she comes flying back through the window,”
and one of the most curious, purely natural traits in woman’s complex
character, is that she loves to have her own way up to a certain point,
but when that point is gained she has had enough, and turns to man
with a “Here! _You_ take it!” And no woman has yet been returned to
Parliament, for which we may all, if we have any common sense, thank
God, and hope for the best that she never will be!
A “HAPPY THOUGHTS” DAY
(_Written specially for the Grantham Red Cross Outings Fund_)
Here is an idea for every one--young and old, rich and poor! Let us
institute a “Happy Thoughts” Day!--one day out of the seven on which
we resolve to think only “Happy” thoughts! Thoughts of kindness,
tenderness, hope, and unselfishness--thoughts which, even while we
think them, take fairy wings and fly from ourselves to our neighbours
and propagate other happy thoughts, creating cheerfulness and hope
wherever they go. It is not easy, perhaps, to think “happy” thoughts
in dark days, but no good task can be accomplished without difficulty.
A much more simple and convenient thing it is to grumble!--to lay
our own faults on the shoulders of others,--to believe that our
own troubles are the worst in the world,--to sneer at other folks’
manners, looks, clothes, and opinions, and to throw out mocking jests
and cruel laughter at those whom we affect to despise yet secretly
envy;--but on our “Happy Thoughts” day we can have none of these ugly
and ordinary vulgarities,--we must make a bid for something higher and
more exquisite in grace and refinement. We must think “happily” of
others while we hope they will also think “happily” of us. We will make
up our minds to find our friends beautiful, charming, and lovable; we
will cheerfully admire them and their appearance and conversation,--we
will agree that it is a special blessing conferred on us that we have
any friends at all,--and we will confess that our lot in life is much
better than we have any right to expect. And we will send our “happy
thoughts” across the seas to suffering nations, conjoined with our
hopeful prayers--prayers that they may be sustained and comforted, and
by God’s mercy be victorious. And above all, we will let our “Happy
Thoughts Day” reflect its cheeriness in ourselves,--in our looks and
bearing, our talk and expression, so that we may be the carriers of
mental sunshine everywhere, even during the passing of the darkest
thundercloud. One day out of the seven, dear friends!--take it and
consecrate it to “Happy Thoughts,” happy thoughts of earth, of heaven,
of God and man,--and you will find it a day on which you unconsciously
grow stronger, braver, pleasanter to look at, more valuable to
know,--for happiness is a powerful magnet, and never fails to draw
others to its vital line. May a “Happy Thoughts Day” be the true
holiday of every loving and faithful soul!
WHY DID I----?
I should not presume to write this answer to numerous correspondents,
had it not been for the precedent given by Mr. Garvin, the erudite
editor of the _Observer_, who recently allotted several columns
of his own paper to the praise of his own book. Wherefore, gladly
accepting this “lead” from one who knows so much more about literary
“management” than I do, I take the opportunity of replying to several
letters demanding “Why” I wrote my last published novel, _The Young
Diana_. Why? Well, because (like Mr. Garvin on himself) I think it a
good idea! Moreover, I wanted to be one of the first in the field to
suggest a discovery which is approaching us in the near future; which
is, so to speak, “glimmering” ahead of our scientists like a brilliant
streak of sunrise in a summer sky. Following the example of Mr. Garvin,
who urgently recommends the public to read _his_ book, I, with equal
urgency recommend the public to read _mine_. I should not have dared to
do so unless Mr. Garvin had shown me the way, and he is such a noted
authority in journalism that I feel I cannot do wrong in copying him as
much as possible. Therefore, dear public!--good readers all!--I assure
you that _The Young Diana_ is a remarkable book. It is, really! Mr.
Garvin says his is a remarkable book, and I feel that mine is equally
remarkable. It is full of new ideas, happily expressed. Garvinly
speaking, it is a compendium of hope for mankind, or rather womankind,
because it shows how possibly the youth and beauty of the fairer sex
may be retained indefinitely, to say nothing of the prolongation of
life. Nobody wants to grow old, not even Garvin; as a matter of fact
nobody _does_ grow old nowadays: witness our beautiful Queen Alexandra
and the ever lithe and lissom “Tiger” Clemenceau. To read _The Young
Diana_, you need a little intelligence, of course. So you do when you
read _The Economic Foundations of Peace_ by Garvin. His book costs
12s. net--mine is only 6s. 9d. His treats of “the policy upon which
the safety, the prosperity, the very physical survival of humanity
depend.” Mine treats likewise of all these things, vested in fair
Woman, upon whom the physical existence as well as “survival” of man
depends. His, according to his friends on the press, is “a great idea
brilliantly presented.” So is mine. It is, to quote another friend’s
criticism, “a practical and passionate effort to save the world alive.”
Oh, friends! this is exactly what _my_ book is!--only it is a practical
and passionate effort to save _Woman_ alive!--beautiful and exquisite
Woman!--the Mother of all Man! It is “filled with cogent argument and
luminous illustration”--I copy Garvin critiques because I shouldn’t
know how to lay on the butter so felicitously as the friends of “this
remarkable book by a great journalist”--but I have occasionally been
called “a great novelist,” by semi-crazed folk, of course, and I
feel justified (after Garvin) in calling attention to my “remarkable
book.” Garvinly speaking, “it is a timely, wise and nobly-inspired
book”--you see I haven’t a newspaper of my own in which to blow my
own small trumpet, so I catch the silvery echo of Garvin’s glorious
and mellow horn and trust to my readers to catch the sound and the
meaning thereof! So read _The Young Diana_!--if she had only been
at the Peace Conference all would have been well! _Diana_ is a book
“which will leave the reader with a better hope of the future”--(vide
_Observer_)--yes, indeed, it will! Women will radiate under its
influence; beauty will have no fear of perishing; life will be “a
joy for ever,” and all this for six shillings and ninepence! Think
of it! Had I a journal of my own I would have out-Garvined Garvin in
self-adulation, but this is only a reply to my numerous correspondents
who ask, “Why did you write _The Young Diana_?” and my answer is
because, like Garvin, I seek to re-invigorate, reform, and re-establish
the world! Amen!
IN THE HUSH OF THE DAWN
A THOUGHT
Silence now where so lately the guns thundered their terrific
message,--silence, beautiful and wonderful, where just a while ago
the bursting bombs and shrieking shells tore the air on their errands
of doom. Silence!--peace!--the hush of the dawn before the rising of
the sun! Nothing in nature is perhaps more impressive than this dumb
spell which precedes approaching morning,--when every blade of grass,
every leaf on every tree seems to wait attentively for the day. And
nothing in the condition of human affairs is more awe-inspiring to
the thinker and idealist than the dramatic pause of a break between
battles,--an armistice, which may or may not lead to lasting peace.
We feel, as it were, the slow passing of mist and cloud across the
sky--we watch pale glimmerings of gold and rose in the lightening
east--we think we see the morning glory on the distant hills! For those
who view the pageant of history with living interest, and notably
for us who are permitted to witness the most marvellous scene ever
enacted in it, this is not a time for wild whirling to and fro in a
round of social excitement and foolish chattering,--it is far more a
time for prayer. Even as the Eastern worshipper prostrates himself
on the earth and waits for the rising of the sun, so should we both
spiritually and intellectually prostrate ourselves in humility before
the shining hope of the wonderful Light which promises to illumine the
world’s darkness,--the light of peace and unity which shall make war
impossible. For, though we may dance and sing and shout “Victory!” at
the top of our voices, that Light does not as yet shine,--that sun has
not yet risen! Men are not yet of one straight mind. A great majority
“love darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil.” Could
we call our nation one of absolute unity in purpose, resolved to put
aside personal prejudices and interests for the good of the whole
State, we should be certain of a real “sunrise”--we should almost touch
the millennium! But though we deem the cruellest war of all time ended,
and though the Supreme Power has given to our arms a victory so sudden
and miraculous that we are left, as it were, breathless and staring,
half in doubt as to whether our fortune be truly real, we are not able,
apparently, to stand still in our mercifully _un_-invaded country and
look each other in the face without quarrelling. Much talk there is
of reform and betterment, but if each man who advocates these things
begins the work by arguing foolish details with his political rival,
there is little hope of any useful action ensuing. Should we not call
a “hush” on these agitating folk?--a request for pause before they
cast up dust into the clear spaces of the dawn? Let us have a pure and
open sky! Let us watch the colours of hope and gladness deepen softly
and surely on the long-darkened horizon--and let no murky miasma of
discontent and disloyalty mar the happiness of the rising sun! A nobler
People,--a better, grander, stronger Empire!--this is what our king
and all our wisest men appeal for in this “hush of the dawn.” Surely
it is the highest privilege in the world to know that we can all
help in this work of Peace as we have helped in War,--we were all at
one in making munitions for death;--let us all be similarly at one in
making munitions for life. We are given our freedom by the sacrifice
of thousands of brave men,--we shall not honour their memories now
by ceaseless disputations as to our own material advantages. We
desire surely that their dauntless and noble spirits shall know that
our gratitude for their heroism inspires us to build up a nobler
civilisation than we have ever had before,--and to this end we pray God
who hath given us the victory,--so far!--in the hush of the dawn!
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation and hyphenation were made consistent when a predominant
preference was found in the original book; otherwise they were not
changed.
Simple typographical errors in English were corrected; unbalanced
quotation marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and
otherwise left unbalanced.
Misspelled non-English words were not corrected.
Page 15: Duplicate book title deleted by Transcriber.
Page 128: “Dux Fœmina facti” should be “Dux Fæmina facti”.
The French text on pages 141–144 contains several uncorrected spelling
and accent errors.
Page 179: “names of scared things” probably should be “sacred”.
Page 213: “grudges you success” perhaps should be “your”.
Page 261: “in the thoat and palate” probably should be “throat”.
Page 262: “abnominations” was printed that way.