A Scottish knight — Sir John Mercer — was imprisoned in England . 
His son , in revenge , was harrying English shipping as far away as Cherbourg , and doing it to some purpose . 
John Philpot , one of that new class of merchant financiers which the city of London was now producing , fitted , equipped and manned a fleet from his own resources , and captured the young Mercer in a brilliant Channel fight . 
It was naturally a highly popular victory with the Londoners , but it brought heavy censure from nobles who still believed that they had a monopoly of leadership . 
But , at last , Gaunt sailed . 
Opposing him was the French Admiral , Jean de Vienne — a great sailor and an able strategist . 
Obedient to the policy of his King , de Vienne avoided trouble at sea as cleverly as Du Guesclin avoided it on land . 
Gaunt was compelled to give up his search for an elusive foe , and , afraid to return home without something to show , he foolishly attempted to besiege the well-protected fortress of St Malo . 
This involved the dreary method of mining operations in which Gaunt , under the Black Prince , had shown considerable skill at the siege of Limoges . 
When all seemed to be going well , a sortie surprised the Earl of Arundel , who at that moment had charge of the mine ; the mine collapsed , and with it Gaunt 's hopes of fame and glory . 
Gaunt was compelled to return to England a disappointed and now even despised failure . 
The " ribald " Londoners , who cursed Gaunt as the murderer of Hawley , were also expressing their disappointment at the non-arrival of booty , and comparing the failure of a subsidized duke with the independent success of a London citizen . 
These dreary years of ineffective fighting provide obvious morals for those who are judges long after the event . 
It seems obvious that , though the longbows of yeomen could pierce the plate and mail of French knights , a brilliant battle was no substitute for a sound policy , and that , if archers had no target , campaigns became mere marauding route marches . 
It seems obvious that if an expedition to Brittany was compelled to attack via Calais , then the primary essential to the success of the French war was a navy in unquestioned command of the Channel . 
It seems obvious that divided forces were dissipating the advantages of a ring of bridge-heads which included Calais , Cherbourg , Brest , Bordeaux and Bayonne , and that there was no hope of final victory without a large-scale and concentrated invasion . 
But none of these deductions were drawn at the time , because large-scale war required money , and the citizens who had the money were not yet sufficiently at one with nobles and King to think their money well spent in financing a ruling class which despised them . 
The Commons were glad enough to enjoy the fruits of victory , they were not so eager to advance the needs of dynastic or baronial wars or even to provide the means for economic war , largely because it was not yet established that those who supplied means should also have control of ends . 
In this cruel process which was hammering out nations on the anvils of war , there was a constant stirring of those in authority to find some simple way out of the complicated financial impasse which always resulted , and in the story of the experiments and expedients to which the Exchequer resorted is the story of the prelude to the Peasants ' Revolt of 1381 . 
In appreciating this story , modern conceptions of governmental duties must be set aside . 
A modern government needs taxation not merely for defence and offence but for a very wide range of social services . 
A mediaeval oligarchy needed taxation in order to supplement the private wealth of the monarchy ( the royal income from the revenues of crown lands , the fees of feudalism and the fines of justice ) and to provide enough cash to meet royal expenses , and especially the expenses of waging war . 
Social service as a function of government was quite alien to mediaeval thought — its substitute was the mutual self-help of communities , whether those communities were monasteries , manors , townships , or wards and guilds of a city . 
A mediaeval tax was therefore in essence a forced payment whose return was the uncertain bounty of booty and the vague advantages of military glory ; it was therefore always granted grudgingly and coupled with the vain hope that , in the words of Parliament after Parliament , the King might " live of his own resources and carry on his war " . 
When " his " war did not bring victory and booty , a new group of Lords might oust the unsuccessful leaders , and the Commons , who usually supplied the hard cash , might be bold enough to demand the production of accounts , and even at times the impeachment of the unsuccessful . 
But the Commons were not the people , and even a full Parliament was not yet a true mirror of the nation . 
The people — Langland 's " folk " and Gaunt 's " knaves " — were villeins still tied to the feudal obligations of work or villeins who had bought their release , free labourers who worked for the highest bidders , free yeomen who had prospered enough to become successful farmers , the artisans , craftsmen , journeymen and small tradesmen of the towns , and the retainers and men-at-arms in the pay of landed Lords . 
None of these classes , except the yeomen , paid or expected to pay direct taxes . 
During the fourteenth century , the traditional methods of financing the Exchequer had become stabilized . 
When the King and his Council required additional funds , they were usually granted an export tax on the wool trade , collected by means of that " staple " system which ensured that prices , quality and tax could be efficiently supervised and controlled , together with a subsidy or tax on all movable property . 
There were two other sources of public revenue — first , the Church , which wisely followed the lead of the Commons and in its own Convocations granted equivalent contributions , and second , the foreign merchants , with whom the King 's officials had formerly made private bargains at " colloquies of merchants " , and whose payments were now authorized by parliamentary sanction at a rate roughly fifty per cent in excess of the rate for native merchants . 
In addition to these revenues , the King had the financial benefits of his position at the head of the feudal system , as its chief landowner and the recipient of the fines of royal justice . 
It was , therefore , a complicated and not very satisfactory financial system in which the borders between private and public purse were as ill-defined as the borders between private and national war , and in which the comparatively simple obligations of the feudal pyramid were becoming hopelessly involved with the complex bonds of trade and industry . 
Furthermore , it had ceased to provide sufficient revenue for the needs of continental war . 
It was a problem which had been worrying the servants of the royal household for some time — including those political clergy whom Wyclif had denounced — and , in the last year of Edward 3 's reign , they had devised an experiment to overcome their difficulties . 
They had invented the poll-tax . 
Every adult — defined as over fourteen years of age — except the beggar , was to pay a groat ( 4d. ) to the royal Exchequer . 
From the point of view of its inventors , it was a simple method of bringing the whole nation within the obligation of contributing to the glory and stability of the realm as a whole — or , as later centuries put it , "broadening the basis of taxation " . 
Its obvious injustice was that it assessed all men equally — the poor paid exactly the same as the rich ; but , as hitherto the poor had never paid anything , and as the rich still supplied the traditional revenues as well , there was a case for a tax which took a little from everybody . 
On the other hand , there was the more relevant objection that not everybody had consented to the tax — the poor were not represented in Parliament . 
In the event , the first poll-tax of 1377 ( also called the " tallage of groats " ) while naturally rousing much resentment , produced but meagre returns — there was as yet no trained bureaucracy to make tax collecting either fair or productive . 
Two years later , the inventors of the first poll-tax tried again . 
In a Great Council held in February 1379 , the Lords had adopted the significant course of raising loans by compulsion on a large scale from many of the landowners , monasteries and towns — so desperate were the financial needs of the Exchequer . 
It was a drastic method of which much more was to be heard in later years , and it was followed by presenting the Parliament called to Westminster at Easter with the necessity of repaying the loans . 
The anger of the Commons was only appeased by the voluntary production of accounts which proved the desperate need for funds , and as a result the second poll-tax was agreed . 
" { Quod omnes tangit ab omnibus approbetur " was an accepted legal maxim , but it was not yet carried to its logical conclusion — the people were still to be taxed by the Commons . 
But this time there was a very interesting attempt to apply a sliding scale to the payments demanded . 
The definition of an adult was altered to read " over sixteen " , and , where the poorest were to pay a groat , the Duke of Lancaster and the Archbishops of Canterbury and York were to pay ten marks , and between these two extremes a graduated scale of payments was fixed for the different classes of laymen and clerics . 
Again the resentment was widespread and the results disappointing — a tax estimated to yield £50,000 in fact raised only £27,000 . 
In the following year , 1380 , the last and most notorious third poll-tax was agreed by a Parliament which met at Northampton . 
There were dark reasons for a meeting so far away from the capital in a town with poor communications and not over supplied with hostelries and lodgings . 
London was again in turmoil ; but this time over a question of trade rivalry . 
A rich merchant from Genoa had been murdered , and John de Kyrkby , a Londoner , was one of those charged with the crime . 
It is clear from the chronicles that this was a sordid quarrel between monopolists and interlopers . 
The city merchants were jealous of foreign merchants who could tempt court and baronage with rarer luxuries than those within the scope of English traders , and whose prices could not be controlled in the interests of the city rings . 
The chronicler Walsingham remarks that the Genoese 's chief crime was that he proposed to sell pepper at a mere 4d. the pound ! 
At the same time , the news of the war was disheartening — a Breton expedition led by the Earl of Buckingham was not going well , and an expedition of Gaunt to Scotland was as unpopular as Gaunt himself . 
At Northampton , the Commons might be more amenable — they could be faced with the realities of the financial situation , and urged to provide the means for a solution . 
A sum of £160,000 was demanded — a staggering figure to mediaeval eyes . 
It was determined that £100,000 was a fairer target , and the Parliament agreed to find two-thirds of this sum providing the clergy supplied the remainder . 
The method of assessment to which the Commons agreed was that of the first poll-tax . 
The manifest injustice of this method had been to a certain degree corrected by the sliding scale of the second poll-tax , but this lesson was ignored , and the injustice trebled in weight by a flat-rate tax at treble the rate — every adult had to pay three groats , but this time an adult was re-defined as anyone over fifteen . 
Trebling the rate was arrived at by a simple arithmetic which argued that , as the first poll-tax had supplied £22,000 , a tax of three times the rate would produce £66,000 . 
The only concession made in view of the objections to the first two poll-taxes was the suggestion that the rich should help the poor — but this was only a pious hope because no machinery was provided for carrying it into effect , and a subordinate clause went far to nullify what small effects it had — no man and wife together were to pay more than twenty shillings , a restriction which applied to the generous rich as well as to the mean . 
They had long been preserved at Burley-on-the-Hill , the seat of the Earl of Winchelsea , one of whose ancestors married a niece of Harvey . 
It has , however , since been shown that they were much more likely to have been the property of Sir John Finch , who was once a Professor of Anatomy at Pisa , and seems to have had for an anatomical pupil one Marchetti , who made " tables of veins , nerves , and arteries , five times more exact than are described in any author " . 
John Evelyn in his Diary also refers to some tables which Sir Charles Scarburgh had seen and was anxious that Evelyn should present to the College . 
He only agreed to lend them for a short time for Scarburgh 's use in his lectures , and ultimately presented them to the Royal Society . 
Evelyn had purchased these tables at Padua in 1646 and had had them transported to England . 
They were then " the first of that kind ever seene in our Country , & for ought I know in the World , though afterwards there were others " . 
The fact that Scarburgh succeeded Harvey as Lumleian Lecturer in 1656 and refers to these tables as " unique " makes it unlikely that Harvey had used anything of the kind ; otherwise his friend Scarburgh would surely have seen them and would not then have regarded Evelyn 's as unique . 
From 1616 to 1628 there were no objections at the College of Physicians to Harvey 's new ideas except on the part of Dr James Primrose ( whose date of decease is given by Munk as 1659 , and who accepted Galen as authoritative , one of his arguments being that in the olden days patients were healed without the knowledge of the circulation , and that therefore this doctrine , even if true , would be useless . 
Lint , 1926 ) . 
Shakespeare died on 23 April 1616 , while on 3 February 1618 Harvey was appointed Physician to King James 1 , and on 7 May of that year was described in { Pharmacopoeia Londinensis , on the Committee dealing with which he had been serving , as " { Medicus Regius juratus " ; in February 1620 he served with Sir Theodore de Mayerne ( 1573-1654/5 ) and William Clement on a Committee to watch the surgeons , and in March 1625 he and his brother , John , were admitted Members of Gray 's Inn . 
In that month he attended King James 1 in the latter 's last illness which , in the accusation of the Duke of Buckingham by the House of Commons in the following year , was said to have been connected with a plaster and a posset , administered in " transcendent presumption " by the Duke . 
On Harvey 's evidence , however , there was nothing harmful in the posset , though he did not advise the plaster because he did not know its ingredients . 
He was in this year elected Censor of the College for the second time . 
In the following year he was offered an official residence in the precincts of Bart 's , where many notable people lived , but refused it and received instead an increase in annual salary from £25 to £33 6s. 8d . 
In 1627 he served on a Committee , appointed by the College of Physicians at the request of the Privy Council , to report on some alum works in St Botolph 's , Aldgate , which the Committee condemned as a nuisance . 
In November Harvey became an Elect of the College vice Gwynne , deceased , after Mayerne had refused because he was too constantly employed at Court . 
The former 's { De motu locali animalium , 1627 , written in his own hand , had formed ff. 69-118 of the British Museum Manuscript Sloane 486 , and appears to be a previously unpublished notebook in which he jotted down his thoughts with a view , eventually , to publishing a book on animal movement . 
It was added to at intervals without being finally drafted , and it is this incomplete synopsis which was in 1959 published by the Cambridge University Press after it had been edited , translated and introduced by Dr Gweneth Whitteridge , Archivist to St Bartholomew 's Hospital , for the Royal College of Physicians . 
It appears that Harvey planned a treatise on the movement of muscles even while he was preparing { De motu cordis et sanguinis . 
De motu locali animalium is the work mentioned in Chapter 17 of the former 's essay of 1628 , and it shows , even if it contains no new experimental observations , that Harvey 's understanding of muscle and of muscular contraction was sounder than that of his predecessors and even of some of his successors . 
In 1628 , the year in which he turned fifty , he was elected Treasurer of the College of Physicians and also published his first book , entitled , { Exercitatio anatomica de motu cordis et sanguinis . 
It seems reasonable to suggest that William Fitzer , the English publisher of the book in Frankfurt , had been suggested by Harvey 's friend , Robert Fludd , or Robertus de Fluctibus ( 1574-1637 ) , second son of Queen Elizabeth 's one-time Treasurer of War , and the MS. which he received has been described as " the most important medical work ever written " , for it contained Harvey 's " new concept of the heart 's movement and function and of the blood 's passage round the body " ; this he had confirmed in the presence of the President ( Dr Argent ) and Fellows of the College of Physicians for more than nine years past by numerous ocular demonstrations , and had freed from the objections of learned and skilful anatomists . 
In so doing he had surely shown the world " the truth that is more beautiful than the evening and the morning stars " , and had raised himself effectively from the ground and placed his head among the stars , as he had planned to do in his days at Padua . 
It is fitting before reading the " { libellus aureus " to cast one 's mind back over the efforts of the great men of the past in physiology , and to realize what a supreme act of courage it must have been on the fifty-year-old Harvey 's part to challenge concepts established over so many generations . 
One can understand how much his colleagues at the College must have helped by their agreement with the ocular demonstrations of those things for the reasonable acceptance of which he once again so strongly pressed . 
" Over many years a countless succession of distinguished and learned men had followed and illumined a particular line of thought , and this book of mine " , he said , " was the only one to oppose tradition and to assert that the blood travelled along a previously unrecognized circular pathway of its own . " 
So he was very much afraid of a charge of over-presumptuousness had he let his book , in other respects completed some years earlier , either be published at home or go overseas for printing unless he had first put his thesis before the Fellows and confirmed it by visual demonstration , replied to their doubts and objections , and received the President 's vote in favour . 
He concluded his words to the President and Fellows with a splendid passage worthy of an Elizabethan , which by birth he was : " It was , however , dear Colleagues , " he said " no intention of mine , in listings and upturnings of anatomical authors and writers , to make display by this book of my memory , studies , much reading , and a large printed tome . 
In the first place , because I propose to learn and to teach anatomy not from books but from dissections , not from the tenets of Philosophers but from the fabric of Nature . 
Secondly , because I consider it neither fair nor worth the effort to defraud a predecessor of the honour due to him , or to provoke a contemporary . 
Nor do I think it honourable to attack or fight those who excelled in Anatomy and were my own teachers . 
Further , I would not willingly charge with falsehood any searcher after truth , or besmirch any man with a stigma of error . 
But without ceasing I follow truth only , and devote all my effort and time to being able to contribute something pleasing to good men and appropriate to learned ones , and of service to literature . " 
In an introduction to his short book of seventy-two pages , Harvey shows the relative weakness of previous accounts of the movement and function of the heart and arteries , for by reading what his predecessors have written and by noting the general trend of opinion handed on by them a man can confirm their correct statements and " through anatomical dissection , manifold experiments , and persistent careful observation emend their wrong ones . " 
At the end of his introduction he wrote that "from these and very many other arguments it is clear that the statements made hitherto by earlier writers about the movement and function of the heart and arteries appear incongruous or obscure or impossible when submitted to specially careful consideration . 
It will therefore be very useful to look a little more deeply into the matter , to contemplate the movements of the arteries and of the heart not only in man , but also in all other animals with hearts ; moreover , by frequent experiments on animals and much use of our own eyes , to discern and investigate the truth . " 
In Chapter One he gives his strong reasons for writing , beginning by saying how difficult he found it to discover through the use of his own eyes in living animals the function and offices of the heart 's movement so that he all but thought with Fracastorius , that it had been understood by God alone . 
At length he propounded his new view on the matter , and found it acceptable to some , to others less so . 
He published so that , if something accrued to the republic of letters through his work in this field , it might perhaps be acknowledged that he had done rightly ; also , that others might see that he had not lived idly ; or at least that others , given such lead and relying on more productive talents , might find an opportunity to carry out the task more accurately and to investigate more skilfully . 
In Chapter Two he gauged the nature of the heart 's movements from the dissection of living animals , showing how these movements alternate with rests and are seen best in cold animals or in flagging warmer ones . 
At the time of its movement the heart becomes generally constricted , its walls thicken , its ventricles decrease in volume and it expels its content of blood , appearing paler in so doing in animals such as serpents , frogs , and the like . 
At one and the same time , therefore , occur the beat of the apex , the thickening of the heart walls , and the forcible expulsion of their contained blood by the contraction of the ventricles . 
Going on in Chapter Three to the movement of the arteries , likewise gauged from the dissections of living animals , Harvey noted that contraction of the heart and the apex beat occur in systole , simultaneously with dilatation of the arteries and of the artery-like vein , and expulsion of the ventricular content . 
Arterial pulsation disappears with cessation of ventricular contraction . 
During cutting or puncture of the ventricles , there is often forcible expulsion of blood from the wound . 
Arterial diastole is thus synchronous with cardiac systole but , when movement of blood through arteries is hindered by compression , infarction or interception , the more distal arteries pulsate less because their pulse is nothing other than the impulse of the blood entering them . 
Chapter Four dealt with the nature of the movement of the ventricles and of the auricles , gauged from dissection of living animals . 
[ In four-chambered hearts ] there are four movements which are distinct in respect of place but not of time , the two auricles moving synchronously and then likewise the two ventricles . 
With everything more sluggish as the heart lies a-dying , and in fishes and in relatively cold-blooded animals , the auricular and ventricular movements become separated by an interval of inactivity so that the heart appears to respond ever more slowly to the pulsating auricles , and the order of cessation of beating is left ventricle , left auricle , right ventricle , and finally ( as Galen noticed ) right auricle . 
" And while the heart is slowly dying , one can sometimes see it — so to speak — rouse itself and , in reply to two or three auricular beats , produce a single ventricular one slowly and reluctantly and with an effort . " 
Yet in spite of the fact that his ideas did his business no good George would never conceal them . 
He was a socialist and believed in the right of the working class to control their own destiny , and said so . 
Being a craftsman and a skilled man , George won many prizes , and though some people would have nothing to do with him , others would , and the comrades helped in many ways . 
When eventually the ovens were fixed at the new shop , the tremendously hard work was if anything intensified . 
George used to mix 100 stone of bread in 12 hours , and Kate served in the shop , which was open from 8 o'clock in the morning to 12 o'clock at night . 
At that time pastries and buns were sold at 32 pieces for one shilling . 
On returning from school young George found many chores awaiting him . 
George , however , would find time to speak at meetings , no matter what his commitments , to act as chairman , to speak at street corners . 
In this Kate helped him a great deal , often taking the bread out of the oven after he had gone out . 
Also his bakery was still a meeting place where current problems were discussed , and working men argued and clarified their ideas , thrashed out the issues of the day , where they listened to George and his exposition of Marxist theory . 
From its inception the British Socialist Party had carried out intensive propaganda , not confining its activities to the City and the East End but reaching out to the suburbs and outlying districts , the main speakers being George H. Fletcher , Alf Barton , and A. E. Chandler . 
They conducted classes in economics , put up candidates for elections , and held a number of meetings in support of the miner 's strike of 1912 for a minimum wage . 
( In this strike , as reported in the Sheffield Guardian in March of that year , 1,000,000 men were out a fortnight , disciplined and solid , when only 20 per cent of them stood to gain anything from the strike and the other 80 per cent made sacrifices for their fellow men ; this remarkable strike raised the question of a living wage and showed the worth of the common man . ) 
Propaganda efforts of a week 's duration took place , demonstrations , social events and field days . 
In order to raise money for their manifold activities the Sheffield British Socialist Party began the manufacture of razors , knives , etc . 
There was the Revolutionist at 3s. 6d. , the Clarion at 2s. 6d. , or just a common Proletarian at 1s. 6d. , a Red Flag pocket knife being the same price . 
They were made by local comrades who were " little masters " , and on the boxes was a suitable inscription : " Sharp enough to cut the throat of the most hard-hearted Capitalist ! " 
Other methods of raising money were tried such as the Male Voice Choir , which Charlie Grant worked particularly hard to bring into being . 
" Can you sing ? " he asked Arthur Parkin . 
Arthur could n't , but he joined the Choir . 
Most of the members were unemployed at the time , they had never sung a note in their lives , and hardly one of them had a decent suit to wear . 
Uncompromising material , perhaps , but Charlie Grant persevered and began by teaching them tonic sol fa . 
They paid 1s. 6d. a night for a room and rehearsed twice a week . 
Soon they were good enough to sing at meetings . 
One of the helpful by-products was that they were able to obtain some respectable clothing , with which they wore a white tie and Red Flag badge , thus presenting a much better appearance . 
Later , on many a sunny Sunday evening , when George went to speak at Malin Bridge , they would be there to begin the meeting . 
They sang to get a crowd and save the speaker 's voice . 
Many fine speeches were delivered by George , who had become so well known and popular that if he were announced to speak the week before , the crowd would be there at the appointed time and place , ready and waiting . 
Collections of 30s. or so would be taken . 
As they became known the Choir went to working-men 's clubs , to Conisborough on cheap trips to sing to the miners , and sang for other organisations such as the Bakers ' Union , for whom they went on Saturday evenings to the Corner Pin Hotel , to rally the members . 
The B.S.P. also rented pleasant rooms on West Street , where a successful Sunday school was held . 
One of the students was young George , and another the dark-haired little granddaughter of Charlie Grant . 
George often spoke at the Sunday school . 
He christened the babies . 
Also , when called upon to do so , he would officiate at funerals . 
Religion was one of his pet subjects , for being well acquainted with the Bible , which he had read in prison where it was the only book they were allowed , he could debate on religion with anyone . 
Although his ideas were diametrically opposed to those of parsons he got on wonderfully well with them , particularly those who , like the Rev. Conrad Noel , the eloquent leader of the Church Socialist League , genuinely advocated socialism . 
With such men , who had the courage of their convictions and their Christianity , common ground could be found . 
There was no abatement in political work . 
The British Socialist Party endeavoured to get more socialist members sent to the Council , and to Parliament , being determined and obdurate in their attitude that their candidate must go forward in the elections . 
In the Sheffield Trades and Labour Council meeting on October 16 , 1912 , George had said , "Mr. Barton would go to the poll . 
Just as the Labour Party had fought the Liberals , they were going to fight the Labour Party . " 
This new party , the British Socialist Party , was not prepared to accept the role of junior helper in the Labour movement , or of only providing propaganda in order to increase the volume of socialist thought in the city , but sought to create in the Labour movement a more militant attitude capable of achieving socialism for the working people . 
In its ranks were men steeled in the struggle , who for many years had worked without stint to the best of their ability and knowledge for the working people . 
Not all members , though , understood the same thing by socialism or fully accepted Marxism . 
Hyndman , the leader , had for some time been propagating a reactionary policy and veering away from the rank and file . 
Alf Barton , who in 1911 was presented with a book on the life of Marx , and a gold purse in recognition of his work for the movement , was later known to say that it was not necessary to understand Marxism in order to understand socialism , though at this time he was a keen member of the B.S.P .. 
George , however , never deviated from his belief that it was the economic basis of society which needed to be changed , for the conditions of the people were appalling , there being only slight alleviations . 
In 1908 5s. a week had been granted to the old people at 70 . 
The Lloyd George Insurance Act , based upon the principle of Bismarck 's legislation many years earlier , which principle was to make the working people pay for their own benefits , had come into operation , and eased but slightly the situation of some of the most needy of the population . 
But now stagnation seemed to have set in . 
Wages were pitifully low , particularly the wages of women . 
It was reported in the Sheffield Guardian of November 1912 , that women employed in the holloware trade had had to strike for a wage of 2d. an hour , whilst the wages of many other girls did not even reach this pittance . 
In the printing trade the wage of a skilled woman worker was only 10s. a week . 
Endeavours were also made by the Amalgamated Union of Bakers and Confectioners to improve the bad conditions of the bakers . 
Their proposals were sent to the master bakers for signature but only eight out of twenty-five conceded the terms of the men . 
Jack Hawksworth , Secretary of the Bakers ' Union , attended the Sheffield Trades and Labour Council to appeal for support for the men , and a resolution was passed to boycott the non-recognised shop in November 1912 . 
In this year the Sheffield Trades and Labour Council also passed a resolution in favour of a general strike should war be declared , and the Sheffield Guardian of September 27 , 1912 , went further and declared itself in favour of passive resistance to all taxation . 
So a reading was taken of the direction the wind was blowing , presaging a world disaster , yet it was lost sight of in the immediate smaller issues of the day . 
The Liberals claimed to be working for peace but the drift towards war went on without hindrance . 
It was a readymade solution to their problems of poverty and unemployment . 
Interest , however , remained ; and George continued his leading role . 
He acted as chairman at a B.S.P. meeting in the Sheffield Corn Exchange in January 1913 , when a large audience expected Ben Tillett to be there , but as George explained , he was unable to come on account of illness . 
Jack Jones of London and Charles Lapworth , who three years before had stood for Brightside , delivered speeches , and party songs were sung by the Clarion Vocal Union . 
Rather halting and reluctant steps were taken to bring about agreement between the British Socialist Party and the Sheffield Trades and Labour Council on the question of elections and affiliation . 
These , however , did not have any immediate result , and the friction which existed between these bodies was not resolved that year , to the detriment of the labour movement . 
Although the Sheffield B.S.P. had declared , as stated by Mr. Chandler at a meeting the year before , that there were to be no leaders in their movement , yet the need for correct and definite leadership began to be urgently felt , as George was to point out in conference later on . 
In March , 1913 , at a special meeting of the British Socialist Party , they decided to adopt Comrade William Gee as Parliamentary candidate , and the following resolution was carried unanimously : 
" That this branch of the British Socialist Party adopt Mr. Wm . 
Gee of Northampton as prospective Socialist Candidate for the Brightside Parliamentary Division and pledges itself to use every legitimate effort to secure his successful return . " 
Events , however , were to decree otherwise . 
At the B.S.P. Conference of that year the cleavage of opinion became more evident . 
Hyndman 's support of a strong navy caused much hostility and he had to undertake to express such opinions only in his private capacity , and not as a member of the Party . 
It was also resolved that only Socialist candidates should be recognised , and a resolution against an increase in armaments was carried . 
In the matter of the municipal elections 1913 was a more successful year for the labour movement , and at a meeting of the Sheffield Trades and Labour Council in November , Mr. Rowlinson referred with satisfaction to their success and stated there was no reason why they should not have a big fighting force in the City Council before long . 
But the City Council was again using repressive measures to attack the labour movement of the city . 
They proposed to prohibit public meetings at the traditional site of the Queen 's Monument , and this aroused the anger and indignation of the whole labour movement , of all shades of opinion , throughout the city . 
On February 17 a special conference was called which included representatives of the Sheffield Independent Labour Party , British Socialist Party , the Daily Herald League , the National Union of Women 's Suffrage Society , the Woman 's Social and Political Union , and the Trades Council . 
A decision was taken to organise a mass demonstration of protest . 
Subsequently , on Sunday , March 8 , 1914 , an orderly and substantial procession with the banners of the British Socialist Party , the Independent Labour Party and the trades unions flying made its way from the Wicker to the Queen 's Monument . 
Collectors went alongside with petitions . 
Gathered at the Monument was a crowd of 4,000 people , many of whom had come long distances . 
He very kindly accepted , adding in his letter that he would have a friend staying with him on that day , and would like to bring him over for the drive from Kennington . 
So at 3 p.m. the car drove up to the Hall , and out of it stepped our Bishop with the Archbishop of Canterbury ! 
Dr. Davidson said he would go for a walk over the fields while we attended to our business . 
To my amusement , when we met at tea at the rectory after the Dedication , the Archbishop said he had been stopped by a farmer in a field . 
He seemed rather indignant , but we took the episode without a smile till afterwards . 
The Hall proved most useful , especially in winter when the distance to the church deterred many from coming to Sunday Evensong . 
We managed to furnish a table with cross and candles , and the people appreciated the Church Hall for worship as well as for more secular purposes . 
In 1910 Dr. Talbot was translated to Winchester , and Dr. Hubert Burge became Bishop of Southwark . 
Meanwhile I had been asked to do a bit of Diocesan work in connection with Higher Religious Education , and to become the Southwark Secretary of the Church Reading Union . 
This meant organizing lectures and courses of religious instruction through the Diocese , and I also found myself a member of the Diocesan Conference , where I remember introducing myself as the incumbent of the highest church in the Diocese . 
There was a somewhat shocked atmosphere in some quarters , until I explained that my church was 800 feet high above the sea level ! 
The work was growing pretty heavy , and we managed to get a stipendiary layman who could help among the children and young people . 
It was while I was at Tatsfield that I first visited Oberammergau in Bavaria to witness the Passion Play . 
The place and its people were to play an important part in my life . 
For five years in succession till war broke out in 1914 , I spent my summer holidays there and became very intimate with the people and the environs . 
Every year between the Passion Plays , an interval of ten years , another play would be performed at the small theatre in the village , when new talent would be discovered and trained . 
After the First World War , 1914 , I did not visit Germany for ten years , by which time in 1924 I was in a different parish in Surrey . 
Towards the end of my five and a half years ' incumbency I was asked if I would start a village choral society and conduct it . 
This opened up a new interest , and we plunged into it . 
First of all simple part-songs : I found only one member who had any idea of reading music . 
This was the village doctor who was an old school friend at Clifton . 
He could sustain the tenor part quite well and lead the others . 
As for basses and altos the conductor had to teach by singing the parts with them . 
It was very amusing , and by the end of a few months an enthusiastic choir of men and women could render simple part-singing tolerably well . 
Then we went to work on Coleridge Taylor 's " Hiawatha 's Wedding Feast . " 
Enthusiasm grew , and in a few more months we gave a concert at which the accompanist was the village schoolmaster , and the tenor solo " Onaway awake " was sung by the Rector . 
Friends from Limpsfield , in addition to the villagers , came up , and we were all happy . 
5 ST . 
MARK 'S , WOODCOTE , 1913-1922 
IN 1913 Dr. Burge , Bishop of Southwark , asked me to go as Vicar of St. Mark 's , Woodcote , Purley , a new church built by the well-known architect Mr. George Fellowes Prynne , who was to become a very intimate friend , and I was later on joint executor of his estate with his solicitor cousin . 
As Bishop Talbot had told me that I ought not to spend many years in Tatsfield , we held great family consultations . 
My eldest brother was then living in Limpsfield with his family , and found a very suitable house nearby where my mother settled , and eventually died in 1926 at the age of 92 . 
Dr. Burge was not able to be present at the Institution and Induction Service in St. Mark 's . 
This was taken by the Suffragan Bishop of Woolwich , Dr. John Leake , who lived at Blackheath , and was a close friend of ours . 
But what a change from the dear little old church at Tatsfield to the great modern church of St. Mark 's at Purley . 
One felt at Tatsfield that , small as the church was , it had its own atmosphere , and for centuries had been a House of Prayer . 
I could not but feel the chilliness of the new church , beautiful as it was and is . 
When we had found a group of people who gladly co-operated , we made the little side chapel a place of daily prayer . 
I suggested to the congregation that it needed warming up by constant prayer and worship , and we found many to help . 
Gifts of candlesticks and stained-glass lancet windows — finally a new altar — helped to furnish the chapel as a little sanctuary for prayer and quiet . 
In time we received similar gifts for the High Altar , and large East and West windows . 
It was very interesting to have the privilege of filling such a beautiful building with suitable fittings ; I made a rule that all gifts should be submitted for approval to the architect , himself a fine artist . 
It is quite possible to put beautiful things into a beautiful church and yet spoil the building with ornaments unsuitable to the environs . 
We also had a little Mission Hall leading off the Brighton Road , in a street full of small houses . 
This was called Ellen Avenue when I first went there , but was soon changed into the better-sounding name of Lansdowne Road . 
There were lots of children there , and we had a flourishing Sunday School and an evening service . 
I soon saw that the parish needed more help both at the church and Mission district . 
The Church Army Captain had done very good work in the Lansdowne Road district , but I needed more help in the church for the full rota of services on Sundays and weekdays . 
Most fortunately I was able to engage the Rev. E. U. Evitt in 1913 soon after I had come , and he organized the Mission district and got to know , and be known by , many of the people of the parish . 
A great blow disturbed all our efforts in the following year , 1914 , when war broke out . 
Very soon Chaplains for the Forces were urgently needed , and I felt clearly that one of us must volunteer . 
The Bishop , Dr. Burge , did not wish me to go then , as I had barely been in the parish for a year . 
Mr. Evitt , however , was much less committed than his Vicar , and he was accepted at once and was very soon in France where he did splendid work until his health broke down and he had a bad attack of enteric fever . 
Meanwhile in Purley there was much activity and much co-operation especially with the other Christian communities . 
At a large public meeting we launched the project known as the " Coulsdon and Purley Patriotic Fund " in whose counsels and committees I found myself deeply involved . 
At first , the main work was to help wives and relations of the soldiers to get their " Separation " allowances , but soon , alas ! , as casualties began and increased in the winter of 1914 and 1915 the matter of War Pensions became very urgent , and I was asked to be Chairman of the Committee in Coulsdon and Purley . 
Indeed , for the next seventeen years , during my time at Purley , and from 1922 at Surbiton , I was continuously Chairman of the local War Pensions Committee . 
This task involved a very great deal of detailed work for the Committee . 
We had a splendid body of local residents , and a series of excellent Honorary Secretaries . 
Our Committee met once a week in the evenings , and included professional men from every walk of life . 
Very soon we managed to get a hut in Purley where soldiers were very welcome and the ladies organized a canteen . 
Life was in those years more than busy . 
We now had a vicarage next to the church , and I was most fortunate in having for eight years a most able and devoted housekeeper whom I had known well in Limpsfield where she had a house next to the church . 
On hearing that I was to leave Tatsfield and come to Purley she offered to come and look after me . 
She was a real treasure , of yeoman stock and clever in all domestic things , a widow who knew how to look after the " boy , " who was the only other occupant of the house when Mr. Evitt had gone . 
I have now long lost sight of the " boy , " but he was lucky to be trained in domestic duties by Mrs. Everett . 
And that brings me to say something about the children . 
While the war dragged on and casualties increased , spreading sorrow into many homes , there was a great solace and joy in the work among the children . 
We gathered together a splendid Sunday afternoon service at the church , each child being given a number which , as they came into church , they could just whisper to the superintendent who filled in the register at her own home . 
Each child had a picture given them and the lesson was largely based on this . 
It was on a stamp which could be stuck in their book , and there was quite a clamour for back stamps if a child had to miss the Sunday Church from any cause which the Vicar considered justifiable ! 
It was quite amusing to see how much the children enjoyed the service , and I heard of parents or faithful nurses threaten any naughty child with the penalty of not being allowed to come to the Children 's Church on Sunday afternoon . 
I hope the threat kept them good in the week , but anyway they were a most delightful lot , and it is a great joy to meet them now fifty years afterwards when so many are parents or even grandparents , and one of the present churchwardens and several officials of the church still remember those days . 
Speaking of churchwardens and children leads me at once to chronicle a most intimate and lasting friendship begun in 1913 in Purley and continuing till old age to-day . 
When I went to St. Mark 's , the first contact I made was with the Vicar 's Warden , Mr. F. W. Charlton and his family , the youngest of whose three sons was just coming into the world in this year of 1913 . 
From then till now the acquaintance ripened into a very deep friendship which I have taken with me through all the many vicissitudes of a long ministry . 
Mr. and Mrs. Charlton have been from the first difficult years of war , when most lives were upset and some tempers were easily frayed , the most loyal and devoted friends . 
Their homes — for since those years they have lived on in Purley — have always been havens of rest , and the welcome has never failed . 
Their three boys , now successful men , were in our Children 's Church from the outset , and when we do n't see one another we do not forget . 
In those early years 1914-18 , life was very full both in the parish and in the wider war activities . 
The Bishop , knowing that I spent my holidays in Bavaria , asked me if I would do something for two wards at the Royal Herbert Hospital , full of war prisoners . 
I was very glad to help in this way , and visited them frequently , establishing at once a friendly contact with the Bavarian wounded who were delighted to find someone who knew their native villages . 
I could at once notice the great antagonism between the Bavarians and the Prussians who openly scorned these more simple country folk . 
For me , at any rate , this was all slightly ludicrous , almost shame-making , but one had to take it as part of modern life . 
The effect of make-believe was , if anything , heightened by the arrival in the room of the German uniforms . 
Surely this must be fancy dress . 
There was continuing unreality in the few verbal exchanges and the multiple signatures of many documents and then suddenly , came a heart-stirring display of such moral courage as one rarely meets . 
All done , German General Alfred Jodl , some time Hitler 's Chief of Staff and now , with Admiral Friedeburg , co-signatory to his country 's defeat , leant across the table to General Bedell Smith , our Chief of Staff , and in command of this little operation , asking in English for permission to say a few words . 
Instinctively , somehow , permission was given , whereupon General Jodl delivered in German a last-minute appeal to the conquerors to acknowledge the sufferings of the German people and to treat them with "gna " digheit " . 
It was of the very essence of the German dilemma that this man , this fine soldier , who had allowed himself to become the instrument of his country 's destroyer , should find himself capable , at this climax of his and his country 's disaster , of pleading with cogent eloquence on behalf of his countrymen . 
I was able next day to confirm the impression of him as a soldier of the highest efficiency when giving him our Supreme Commander 's orders as to the disposal of the forces remaining in being under German command . 
Within hours of this final act of surrender Admiral Friedeburg had killed himself . 
We killed General Jodl later by hanging him in Nuremberg Gaol . 
There seemed to me to be an appropriateness in making the final act of this , my second Great War , here at Rheims with its scars still unhealed from thirty years before when the city had stood on the edge of the four-year battle zone of that first great struggle . 
The lovely cathedral still showed its wounds and it was still possible easily to trace the lines of the old No-Man 's Land of 1914 to 1918 . 
This time , mercifully , there had been little destruction but warlike atmosphere was not entirely lacking since , through the town , ran one of the " Red Ball Highways " , those one-way highspeed supply routes along which by day and night thundered the endless convoys of giant American supply trucks carrying supplies from Normandy to the battle-fields . 
It was seemingly not only humans that derived comfort from the roar of engines , for it seemed to have positively intoxicating effect upon the nightingales that appear to exist in Rheims in great profusion . 
It was of our disjointed times that one should be kept from sleep by the deafening chorus of a positive nuisance of nightingales . 
As a counter-irritant almost I used to listen of nights to light music broadcast from Deutchlandsender-Berlin in equally unbroken stream save when the girl announcer would break in with air raid warning of " many enemy aircraft in flight toward Germany . " 
Until a night of no more music when one realized , almost with regret , that the Russians must have overrun the transmitter . 
Not entirely to my regret , I was not of the party who flew to Berlin there to re-enact the ceremony of surrender for the benefit of Russian propaganda . 
From the garbled accounts given by the participants on their return and restoration to normality it had seemingly developed into an oriental orgy of monumental proportions . 
Instead I organized for myself a personal celebration of victory and , on the invitation of American General Maxwell Taylor , brilliant commander of that crack 101st U.S. Airborne Division , I visited Berchtesgaden . 
There I lodged in the Hotel suite that had until recently been permanently reserved for the notorious Heinrich Himmler , and was shown the local sights . 
Foremost among these , of course , Adolf Hitler 's famed " Eagle 's Nest " , that stupendous piece of engineering leading up to the Alpine boudoir where so much mischief had been hatched for all the world . 
In the madness of the whole concept one could sense evil . 
One could imagine the follies of grandeur that must have assailed the disordered mind as it rode the storm up on those heights , surrounded by the tempests on which it must have seemed that the Valkyries rode to greet the Wagnerian hero gazing out over that wonderful vista of mountain , lake and plain . 
Then down below was hidden away the vast Goring collection of art treasures , the loot of all Europe . 
Herein was another testimony to mental aberration . 
Was it perhaps that , deep down in the man 's vast depravity , there was a craving after beauty that had somehow gone adrift and , nurtured on obscenity , put out freakish growth . 
I wonder if he appreciated his ill-gotten possessions in the short time he had them . 
So on to Germany to confirm the great victory , this time without equivocation — no mere armistice , no hanging back at the Rhine , no haggling , not at any rate with our late enemies . 
Easy enough said but to find a suitable location brought us up against considerable difficulty . 
Thanks to the devastation wrought by our Air Force , choices were few , it being necessary to find a place not only with reasonable accommodation intact but whence good communications radiated . 
The lot fell on Frankfurt on the Main where the great I.G. { Farben Industrie Head Office , surely one of the world 's most advanced functional buildings , was found to be reasonably intact . 
Efficient fire-watching had kept within reasonable limits the several fires that had obviously been started on the roofs by incendiary bombing . 
Bazooka battles in the basement had failed to undermine the fabric . 
The various temporary lodgers who must have streamed in and out of the place had caused damage principally only to the vast numbers of safes and strong rooms which had been burst open and ransacked . 
Providence gave the solution of the biggest problem which was that presented by the destruction of a large acreage of window glass . 
By some freak of chance there was found to be surviving in the devastated railway yard nearby a trainload of sheet glass , enough to make a reasonable replacement job . 
Blocks of modern flats housed the junior staff in some luxury while the seniors suffered no pain in the palaces of the I.G. Farben Directors up in the charming villages of the Taunus Mountains only a few miles out of town — Konigstein , Falkenstein and Kronberg with its imposing Victorian castle , its sculptured likeness of Queen Victoria herself on the church tower . 
Here at last we had found for ourselves an ideal lay-out , high efficiency in the offices , great comfort in our billets — so , inevitably one might say , there came the end of S.H.A.E.F. 
The German surrender having disposed of the military problem , it was no longer possible to ignore the inevitable consequences thereof that demanded for their solution efforts that might be of a different nature , but were none the less strenuous . 
So long as the battles lasted they naturally took priority over all other activities and thoughts and one tried to salve the conscience with the hope that , victory won on the battlefield , the rest would be " all right on the night " . 
But , recovered from the excitements and tensions of those few dramatic hours of " unconditional surrender " , the partial capitulations on the two flanks to Field-Marshals Alexander and Montgomery and then the overall climax at Rheims with its repeat performance in Berlin , one became immediately and horrifyingly aware of the terrifying inadequacy of our preparations for what was now to come . 
So long ago as in the early C.O.S.S.A.C. planning days I had earnestly sought for some definition of the ultimate object of the whole great enterprise ; whether , for instance , Germany was to be destroyed , dismembered or reorganized . 
I had asked , in fact , for the definition of some positive object to pursue . 
Here we were at the end of the campaign still with no answer to my question . 
And , for the majority , thought on the subject had been inhibited by the narcotic effect of the terrific slogan " unconditional surrender " than which nothing could be more negative . 
We had received the enemy 's unconditional surrender . 
So what ? 
To make it all doubly difficult , the end of battle had released the unifying pressures that had bound the alliance so comparatively intimately , and there became at once evident a pronounced tendency in the other direction , a tendency to fly apart . 
So that we were in the worst possible shape to deal with the immediate task of trying to co-operate with the Russians who suffered from no such disadvantages as did we . 
History suffered dismal repetition . 
Back in 1918 the end had also come with unexpected speed and had found the western alliance infirm of purpose and lacking precision of aim . 
At the very heart of the confusion the resolute but unbroken Germany , grievously wounded but far from destruction , was able to lay the firm foundations for military revival . 
So now in 1945 the Russians were quick to take advantage of the all too evident disunity among those from whose efforts they had , since 1941 only , been glad to benefit . 
As a British officer of S.H.A.E.F. , serving an American Chief , I was well placed to watch the distressing drift apart , the growing impatience on American part with British bombast and bland assumption of superiority in so many fields . 
While on the British side there appeared all the evidence of a growing inferiority complex , jealousy of lavish American resources of all kinds and reluctance to acknowledge the scale of American achievement . 
The speed of events once the Rhine was crossed found both British and Americans equally unprepared for what followed . 
We had overestimated the degree of resistance to be put up by the Nazi party and by the German people . 
We had given too much credence to German propaganda , which had built up in our minds a picture of widespread fanaticism that might well entail prolonged operations of a type that would call for most careful handling . 
We foresaw a withdrawal by the Nazi e2lite with the cream of their surviving S.S. troops into a well-chosen mountain fortress in the Tyrol , heavily fortified and provisioned , that would necessitate difficult siege operations for its reduction . 
Meanwhile we should have met the Russians head-on , in mid-Germany , which might lead to anything . 
Even at this late stage there was no working arrangement as to the details of this encounter . 
It was bound to happen one day and from our side every conceivable effort had been made to arrive at agreement on a procedure for the avoidance of unfortunate accident in the heat of battle . 
Less than no response from the Russian side led one to fear that the event might well have the outcome that the Nazis evidently hoped might lead to disaster . 
Then there had been much talk of the setting up among the German population of a general system of " francs-tireurs " , to be named "Werewolves " . 
Arms were to be distributed widespread among the civilian population , whose burning patriotism would inspire them to wage a clandestine war of murder , sabotage and terror against the hated conquerors . 
As it turned out we were wrong on all accounts . 
Altogether we had overestimated the hold of the Nazi party over the German people . 
The Nazi fortress concept turned out to be nothing more than a fantasy . 
Thanks to the good sense of the front line soldiers , the meeting of East and West was marked by the use of no weapon more lethal than vodka . 
And the effect on the German people of the first ten years of the promised thousand of Nazi rule , so far from creating a spirit of warlike frenzy , had produced universally a dull bewildered apathy . 
So far had our thinking led us in this matter of the " Werewolves " that we had contemplated the necessity of very special precautions to guard the lives of our airmen . 
Particular hatred , we felt , was bound to be aimed at the representatives of those who had , over the years , spread such ghastly havoc , destruction and death over Germany , causing such wholesale slaughter among men , women and children , old and young alike . 
In mid-April Anglesey moved his family and entourage from Rome to Naples , there to await the arrival of his yacht from England . 
The beauty of the place quite exceeded his expectations . 
" I am enchanted " , he told Arthur Paget . 
" Probably the Element [ the water ] has not a little to do with it , but I admire Vesuvius , which smokes and spits a little to please us , and altogether the locale is certainly charming . 
I am now looking out in earnest for the Pearl .... 
At present I am not in force . 
The fact is Italian weather is a humbug and March is ( barring Fogs ) as bad at Rome as in London . 
I fancy this place more . 
The Scene at least is superb , and if it be too cold to go out , one may at least sit and enjoy it behind the windows { a3 l'abri du vent , and with the benefit of Sun , whereas at Home every house is constructed and placed so as to have as little as possible of that very agreeable companion . " 
By the end of the month he still delighted in Naples . 
He told Cloncurry that he enjoyed it as much as his health permitted him to enjoy anything . 
" The Pearl " , he wrote , " is arrived , which is a great resource . 
Vesuvius seems to be tired ; he is going out fast .... 
What a gay , lively people , and what a busy town . 
At Rome , every other man was a priest : here the priest is superceded by the soldier — a favourable change in my eye , particularly as the troops are very fine . " 
When the sailing season was past , he sent Pearl back to England , and returned to Rome for the winter . 
In late November , he was " suffering as usual " , but hoped , he told Arthur , " to find this place agree with me better than Naples . 
The journey has been against me , as there has been much rain and damp , but the temperature is high & I have not yet thought of a fire .... 
By the by , " he added , " what good cooks the Neapolitans are . 
I have a very good one , but alas ! " t is all lost upon Maud ! " 
The utmost extent of my eating is a little macaroni , spinage & { compote de pommes , with which , however , I quite keep up my condition , altho' I sleep little &wake constantly & in pain . 
A pleasant life truly ! ... 
It so happens that I have an Italian who is perhaps the best { Valet de Chambre that ever was . 
But he has not one word of English . " 
While he was writing this letter he heard of the fall of the Whigs , and the temporary assumption of the government by the Duke of Wellington . 
" What a frightful event ! " he wrote . 
" I tremble ! 
What infatuation ! 
Personally I am indifferent , but I really tremble for my country ! 
I may be mistaken , tho' I can not but fear that the exasperation of the People will be so great at the return of Ultratoryism , that the Commons House upon a dissolution , which must be had , will be a mass of Radicalism , & then God knows what may happen .... 
God grant , however , that I may be a false prophet & that all may go well . 
Sir R. Peel was here , I understand , but an express took him off yesterday . " 
While he was in Naples there had opened a new chapter in the history of Anglesey 's unceasing search for an effective alleviation of his painful malady . 
None of the numerous conventional remedies to which he had been subjected ever since the symptoms had first shown themselves seventeen years before had had the slightest effect . 
Nor is this to be wondered at , for even today , in the 1960s , no cure has been found for the { 6tic douloureux . 
As early as 1830 , when Anglesey believed himself to be on the point of death , the new German curative method known as homoeopathy had been brought to his notice . 
In April of that year his first wife 's brother-in-law , the diplomatist Lord Ponsonby , had written to advise Anglesey to give the system a trial , adding that it was being cultivated with extraordinary success in France and Italy , and that he himself was being treated under a doctor who had studied under its founder , the aged Dr. Samuel Hahnemann . 
This remarkable man of medicine , whom Sir Francis Burdett described to Anglesey a year or two later as " more like a God upon earth than a human being " , had an increasing number of disciples among unorthodox medical men in the cities of Europe . 
One of these was the Neapolitan , Dr Giuseppe Mauro , whom Anglesey consulted in May 1834 . 
Mauro 's first action was to write to his revered master at Ko " then , near Leipzig , asking for advice . 
In doing so he described his distinguished patient and his symptoms . 
He told Hahnemann that he found Anglesey a strong , energetic man with a gentle and charming character , even-tempered and sedate , not easily irritated , patient and persevering , " but he appears to despair of ever being cured . " 
Only the right side of his face was affected , the pain extending from the corner of the mouth and the chin , up to the eye socket and as far back as behind the ear . 
During an attack the outer skin would become so sensitive that on being touched it felt as if something red-hot were singeing it , and the acts of speaking and swallowing became difficult in the extreme . 
North and east winds and sudden changes in the weather generally provoked severe bouts of pain . 
These were always accompanied by an irregularity of the pulse and acute constipation . 
During a bad attack Anglesey would writhe in silent agony , burying his head in his hands , the torment coming in spasms every three or four minutes , over a longer or shorter period . 
Hahnemann 's reply to Mauro was to send off some medicines ( which took three months to reach Naples ) and to write personally to Anglesey stressing the need for continual outdoor exercise above all else . 
In September , Sir James Murray was replaced as Anglesey 's personal physician by Dr Dunsford , an English disciple of Hahnemann 's . 
He at once took over the correspondence with Hahnemann , but soon came to the conclusion that as soon as it was possible to cross the Alps , Anglesey and his party should take up residence for a period in Ko " then . 
Consequently , at the end of April 1835 , Anglesey , accompanied only by his son Clarence , Dr Dunsford and two servants , arrived within hailing distance of the great Hahnemann himself . 
The reason for taking Clarence , who was now a young man of twenty-three , was that he too was in need of medical assistance . 
His complaints were venereal , and Hahnemann refused to prescribe for him without a personal examination . 
What success Hahnemann had in Clarence 's case is not known , but after a month 's treatment at Ko " then , Anglesey seemed to be well on the way to a cure . 
This happy but impermanent state of affairs was brought about by a very careful application of the homoeopathic system . 
At that date the doctrine that " likes should be treated by likes " , which is its essence , was completely revolutionary . 
The fact that homoeopathy utterly rejected the weapons commonly used against disease , such as bleeding , mercurialism and purgatives , ensured that "every Apothecary " , as Lord Ponsonby put it , " must be its determined foe . " 
But Hahnemann had had extraordinary successes in curing diseases which had quite baffled the conventional remedies , and in Anglesey 's case , by experimenting with selected medicines and meticulously noting their effects , he managed to reduce the frequency and violence of the attacks very considerably over a period of several months . 
This partial success may well have been due less to the drugs than to the cessation of the debilitating remedies hitherto employed . 
For instance , Hahnemann told Dunsford that it was "never necessary or useful to lessen the amount of blood because it always means a lessening of energy and those forces whose reactions are all the more beneficial the more they are kept intact . " 
This diktat , and others like it , though universally accepted today , sounded like treason in the ears of the orthodox practitioners of the 1830s , but their application was clearly the chief basis of Hahnemann 's success . 
Anglesey was so impressed by what seemed a miraculous cure , that he gave Dunsford permission to publish an account of it . 
In this were detailed the various medicines tried and their effects ; Anglesey was pictured as having " recovered the stoutness , the vigour and the activity of a young man . 
For several months he has not felt the coming on of the tic , and he has such confidence in homoeopathy that no relapse can lessen it . " 
Though this last statement was an exaggeration , Anglesey was certainly grateful to Hahnemann for giving him the longest periods of freedom from pain he had ever had . 
It was said that he looked ten years younger and wherever he went praised the miracles which homoeopathy had wrought in him . 
By June 1835 , when he had returned to England and re-established himself at Beaudesert , he felt that his sojourn abroad had well served its purpose : what he called the " wretched nerves " of his face were at last quiescent , and he knew once again the blessing of uninterrupted sleep . 
Later in the year , the idea of some sort of public employment was again in the air . 
Lady Cowper , for instance , told Princess Lieven on September 25th that Anglesey was very much annoyed at not obtaining the Admiralty in place of Lord Auckland , who had gone to govern India . 
If there was any truth in this , Lord Melbourne 's letter of the following day , offering Anglesey the Government of Gibraltar , may have been a sop . 
" It is " , he wrote , " one of the best military situations which the Crown has to bestow — the salary has been settled ... at five thousand pounds yearly , it being understood that the Governor is not hereafter to be absent from his post . 
It has struck me that altho' very improbable it is not quite impossible that you might be willing to accept of this appointment . " 
The reply was not bereft of asperity : 
" Beaudesert , Sept. 27 , 1835 
" Dear Melbourne , 
"I have received your letter of yesterday . 
" I am not prepared to spend the remainder of my life at Gibraltar , & moreover ( if even residence were not the condition ) , having no taste for a sinecure , I have only to thank you for the offer & to decline it . 
" I remain , dear Melbourne , faithfully yours , 
" ANGLESEY " 
Soon after his return from Europe , Clarence Paget had become seriously ill with a supposed abscess on the lungs . 
After months of suffering , his life was almost despaired of when as a last resort it was suggested that the patient should be taken to consult Hahnemann once again . 
It was no longer necessary to go further than Paris , for by this time the great man had been driven from his native Germany by the antipathy of his orthodox brethren . 
The main difficulty was how to make the expedition from England without killing the patient before he completed it . 
The problem was overcome in an interesting manner . 
" Fortunately , " wrote Clarence in after years , " the King ... remembered there was a luxurious old bed travelling-carriage in the royal coach-houses , which had carried his brother , George 4. , and he kindly placed it at the disposal of my father . 
Into it I was put , more dead than alive , and we got across to Calais , and from thence by easy stages to Paris ... 
Dr Hahnemann was immediately summoned — a little wizened old man of seventy [ he was , in fact , over eighty ] , not more than five feet high , with a splendid head , and bent double — with him his wife , a remarkably intelligent French woman , who was very plain , and much younger than the doctor . 
He gave one the idea of a necromancer . 
He wrote down every symptom , examined me all over , asked ever so many questions which I had scarcely strength to answer , and took up his gold-headed cane to depart . 
My father hung upon every word , but could get nothing from him . " 
When he saw Trelawny 's printed letter , Lord Sidney wrote to Douglas Kinnaird saying that it was incorrect throughout . 
He had no sooner heard from Count Gamba and Fletcher that Byron would have wished his body to return to England than that course was " immediately carried into effect " — not in spite of himself and Sir Frederick Stoven , but with their perfect concurrence , while " General Adam was at Corfu the whole time and never interfered in the slightest degree about the matter " . 
His only reference to Trelawny by name in the course of several communications to Hobhouse and Kinnaird about Byron 's affairs is satirical : "I have not the honor of any acquaintance with Mr Trelawny who seems to have had charge of the Mule when Count Gamba accompanied the remains of our deceased friend to Zante .... " 
If Trelawny failed even to meet Lord Sidney and the British Government 's other representatives in the islands , while they warmly welcomed Gamba to their counsels , it would go far to explain his attempts to exalt himself at the young Italian 's expense . 
In his popular and acutely unreliable book on Byron and Shelley , Trelawny implies that not only Gamba but Fletcher and Tita and the steward , Lega Zambelli , failed to perform the most elementary duties towards the dead . 
He pretends to have found everything in uttermost disorder — " tokens that the Pilgrim had most treasured , scattered on the floor , — as rubbish of no marketable value , and trampled on " . 
This was to give colour to his pretext for copying Byron 's last letter to his sister , which was that its chance of reaching its destination had seemed slight . 
The collection of Pietro Gamba 's letters deposited among the Murray manuscripts show that the greatest care was observed in gathering together all the possessions of a man whose importance was fully recognized by everyone about him . 
" I have had put under Government seal his belongings , which will be opened by Prince Alexander Mavrocordato in my presence and that of certain Englishmen who are here . 
I have taken an exact inventory of them . " 
Thus on April 21st , several days before Trelawny appeared , Gamba wrote to Lord Sidney Osborne , and his inventory has been preserved . 
The papers were reopened in the presence of leading Missolonghi officials in order to make sure that no recent will was amongst them . 
It may have been then that Trelawny contrived to do his copying . 
Considering that Pietro was not above twenty-three years of age when he undertook a load of heavy responsibilities , his conduct reveals him as one of the most intelligent as well as the most sympathetic of Byron 's entourage in Greece . 
With his good looks — for he " carried the passport of a very handsome person " — his good manners and his perfect lack of pretension , he even succeeded in disarming Hobhouse 's possessiveness and making him forget how deeply he had disapproved , less than two years ago in Italy , of the immoral way the Countess Guiccioli 's family accepted Byron as her lover . 
Augusta Leigh too was favourably impressed , and wrote to Lady Byron after she had received a visit from him : " 
I have today seen Count Gamba — which was very distressing for many reasons but quite unavoidable — he is a pleasing , fine looking young man & spoke with great feeling . " 
The unfortunate Augusta was in one of her worst states of confusion . 
She had loved Byron , but she had betrayed him , betrayed him not twice , as he had betrayed her , but again and again over a long span of time , fawning on his implacable wife , purveying to her in secret the unguarded letters he never suspected any eye but her own would see , feeding the stealthy fires of her animosity : and having betrayed him , she had grown to fear and almost to hate him . 
She had dreaded his outpourings of affection for her in poetry that he thought would clear her and that only compromised her , and the headstrong folly that tempted him to write on ever more daring themes , teaching the world to guess what repentance and unrepentance preyed upon his thoughts . 
She had dreaded still more that he might return to England , overshadowing her again with spiritual and social peril . 
But this kind of return was what she could never have foreseen ... that he should come back not voluble but silent , not beautiful but defaced , not in obloquy but with his praises ringing ! 
She could remember now his exciting laughter , his almost filial love for her , her almost maternal love for him . 
Above all she could remember the anguish of their parting , and how he had been " convulsed , absolutely convulsed with grief " . 
So love revived , and in its most sentimental form . 
While he lived she had lost touch in her perpetual alarms with what was best in him ; dead his memory became sacred to her . 
She felt almost as strongly as Hobhouse about biographies . 
Quite apart from the divagations of her " poor brother " — so she constantly referred to him — there were a hundred reasons why it would be objectionable to have the family history exposed . 
Whatever latitude she allowed in the warmth of her kindly nature to others — or to herself — she believed implicitly in the moral code she had learned from her good grandmother , the Countess of Holderness , living in a well-ordered Derbyshire manor . 
She had no desire to see in print that her mother , who was to have been a duchess , had been involved in a scandalous and ruinous divorce , that her father , " Mad Jack Byron " , was a profligate and a bankrupt who had squandered every penny two successive wives had brought him and left the second on the verge of destitution , and that he had died a drunkard and perhaps a suicide , hiding in France to escape his creditors . 
It was no more pleasant for the Hon. Augusta Leigh to share this kind of story with the world than it would be for most 20th-century ladies moving in court circles and having children to be settled advantageously in life . 
She had lived down the rumours which had made the year of the Byron separation a nightmare to her , and she had also succeeded , though with an increasing sense of effort , in persuading her little world to avert its eyes from her husband , " that drone " , as Byron called him , whose career of devotion to the turf was reputed to have a certain shadiness . 
She had earned the right to be left in peace . 
Byron 's fame was , of course , very wonderful , but it carried with it too many reminders of his terrible indiscretions — the writing of Don Juan , which she had never ceased to deplore , his shocking blasphemies like the Vision of Judgement , his making friends with the atheist known to her as " that infamous Mr. Shelley " , and his mixing with really low and horrid people such as the subversive journalist Leigh Hunt , whom one would never conceivably meet in decent society . 
She was most emphatically opposed to the production of sheer indelicacies , and that was the light in which she saw the proposed book by Dallas . 
Letters between a mother and a son — a son so outspoken and a mother so far from suitable to be paraded before the public ! 
And brought out by that seedy poor relation , Dallas ! 
Could anything be in worse taste ? 
The ill-mannered man had not even had the common courtesy to write to her about it , but had sent her a verbal message through a niece of his simply informing her that it was his intention to bring out the book . 
It was a good thing she had Mr Hobhouse to depend on . 
There had been a time when she had shared Annabella 's detestation of Mr Hobhouse — had agreed with her that he was a bad influence , one of the " Piccadilly crew " who encouraged Byron to drink and behave outrageously . 
She was far too diplomatic to have let him suspect the scornful terms in which she was referring to him in her daily letters to Annabella when the marriage was breaking up ; and this was fortunate because he had turned out to be a powerful friend to her . 
No one had done more to silence the whisperings which connected her , so untruly and unfairly , with the Separation . 
He was not , after all , the godless debauchee he had once seemed but a serious-minded person who felt exactly as she did about Byron 's poetical defiances , and who had the same passionate desire to protect his memory . 
He was generous too , and although his expenses as a Member of Parliament were heavy and he depended on an allowance from his father , he had renounced for her sake Byron 's legacy of a thousand pounds . 
Hanson , the solicitor , was naturally remunerated for his services , but all Mr Hobhouse 's duties as executor were performed without reward . 
And now there was more trouble brewing with those unbearable Dallases . 
Dallas senior was detained in Paris by severe illness , but Dallas junior was full of fight and applying for the injunction to be lifted . 
He had gone to Byron 's cousin , now 7th lord , and had got him to compose an affidavit to the effect that , whereas he had formerly been reluctant to approve the publication unless it had first been examined by the relatives and friends of his predecessor , he had now read the book and was content for it to be issued without that precaution . 
There were few things in Augusta 's whole life , full of calamities though it was , that hurt her more than this contemptuous slight from George Anson Byron , whom she had loved with an unswerving loyalty , and had looked on as her intimate friend . 
Moreover , he was without the right to make such pronouncements : he had inherited nothing from her brother but his title , whereas she was not only of nearer consanguinity but the chosen recipient of his property . 
These , if she had only known it , were precisely the reasons why her cousin took pleasure in the opportunity of annoying her . 
Lady Byron did not like Augusta to have intimate friends , and in every instance where the occasion was granted her , she managed to find some excuse for bestowing , in whole or in part , those confidences which never failed to leave her audience agape with wonder at her magnanimity and Augusta 's wickedness . 
George Anson Byron had seen enough of the poet 's atrocious conduct as a husband to be aware that Augusta , so far from being responsible for the collapse of the marriage , had been Lady Byron 's greatest support and comfort at the time ; but it had been deemed necessary all the same to enlighten him as to the suspicions in the background , and he had repeated them to his newly married wife . 
Their friendship for Augusta became rather hollow , and the news that Byron had left her practically all his money caused it to crumble to oblivion . 
Though Lady Byron knew perfectly well that Byron , as early as the year of their wedding , 1815 , had made a will in Augusta 's favour , she had evidently not passed on that information ; and it came as an appalling surprise to Captain Byron that he had been left without the fortune that would keep up the title . 
Why he should have cherished expectations it is difficult to see , considering that a nearer relative was poor and in debt , and that he had been on bad terms with Byron since the Separation , in which he had whole-heartedly and with courage allied himself with the opposite side ; but that he suffered a shock his letters poignantly show , and the disappointment must have been all the worse because the will was not produced until nearly seven weeks after he had learned of his succession . 
" Respecting the will " , he wrote to Byron 's widow a few days after hearing its contents , " the very thought of it is painful to me . 
What Mary has said about it is too true . " 
What Mary , the new Lady Byron , had said about it was written on the first half sheet of the same paper : " 
My dearest Annabella , 
The more we consider the most prominent subject in your letter , the more we are convinced of the truth of that dreadful history connected with it . " 
All friends in the India Office emphasised Ritchie 's humanity , " the revelation that anyone in his position could spare time and thought for the younger members of the office " , " his continual kindness , generosity and public spirit " , together with " social pre-eminence as one of the very few witty Englishmen " ; while the Indian Press dwelt on " the load of personal additional responsibility , due to the Secretary of State 's illness " ( in March 1911 he had a fainting fit and was ordered two months ' rest ) " and to his leadership of the House of Lords , which broke down the Permanent Under Secretary " ; and observed too that Ritchie was " more human , genial and considerate than his reticent and aloof predecessor , Lord Kilbracken " . 
There is a true story , connected with another branch of the Service , regarding an official , who , having represented his country abroad for some ten years in an obscure post in a distant country , came home on leave and , summoning all his courage in the hope of getting a transfer , telephoned to the head of his Department and said : " This is H.M. Representative in — " , to which the head of the Department replied : " Christ ! " and hung up the receiver . 
In this delicate art of handling subordinates , Ritchie adopted a different method . 
A high-spirited young Indian Political Officer , Terence Keyes , brother of Admiral Sir Roger Keyes , V.C. , and uncle of Colonel Geoffrey Keyes , V.C. , came home on furlough from the North-East frontier and expounded to Ritchie some local objections to the frontier policy of the Government . 
A few days later Ritchie was infuriated to find the same objections , obviously communicated by Keyes in his nai " ve inexperience , and lapped up with delight by the Treasury , in a letter supporting some financial objections of their own . 
At a subsequent reception at the India Office Ritchie pitched into the Treasury officials present for what he called " their Chinese methods " , and then into Keyes , whom he nevertheless invited to a talk at the Office , later repeating the invitation several times in writing , until Keyes eventually came , and Ritchie was able to explain that , though it did not matter to him personally , he realised the feelings of young officials home from India about " old buffers " like himself , and had been afraid he had put a young fellow on a wrong path . 
Keyes left the office , not only reconciled to his drubbing , but convinced that Ritchie was the only Englishman never resident in India who understood the East , and was the best Government official in his experience . 
An account may also be given of Ritchie 's opinions of high officials , for few of whom he cherished unbounded regard . 
For Kilbracken indeed he had great admiration , but considered that he was timid when it came to the crux . 
Of Kitchener he used to say with humorous exaggeration : " One can do nothing with him . 
One must shoot him . " 
He added : " There are two or three people like that in our office . 
One can do nothing with them . 
One must shoot them . " 
But he would have spared Lord Morley , for Lady Minto recalled how , when her husband was Viceroy , Ritchie once said to her , with a twinkle in his eyes , " There will always be a few people who will know that it 's Lord Minto who keeps Lord Morley in order " — he was found " very cranky and not level-headed " by Lord Hardinge , the next Viceroy . 
Of Lloyd George , on the day after his Mansion House speech of 21 July 1911 , in which he gravely warned Germany that England would be no mere spectator in the development of the Agadir affair , Ritchie said , with amused contempt : " He is so happy — he has at last been allowed to talk about something important . " 
Since his Eton days he had known Lord Curzon , who had always been one of his admirers . 
To a colleague Curzon wrote far back in 1892 : "Ritchie 's knowledge and experience are unrivalled in the Office . 
His great ability and judgment enable him to take a large share of responsibility , and in all Parliamentary points ( questions , debates , etc. ) he is a better adviser than anyone here . " 
In 1909 , on Ritchie 's appointment to the head of the Office , Curzon wrote : " Hurrah . 
So at last you have climbed to the dizzy but inevitable spot . 
It is good for you , but better for the India Office , and best of all for India itself . " 
And he assured Lady Ritchie , after her husband 's death , that his good relations with Ritchie were never affected by his difficulties with the India Office when Viceroy of India , and a few days later , in order to defend before the House of Lords the purchase of large amounts of sterling for the Government of India through Messrs Samuel Montagu and Company instead of through the Bank of England , he pointed out that the financial experts had been fortunate enough to obtain , through the whole transaction , the advice and concurrence "of a gentleman of whom they all so deeply deplored the loss — he meant his friend Sir Richmond Ritchie , the late Permanent Under Secretary at the India Office . " 
On his appointment as Viceroy Curzon had offered to Ritchie the post of his Political Secretary , but Ritchie had declined , not reciprocating Curzon 's admiration . 
Before leaving for India , Curzon came to Ritchie 's room at the India Office , " very affectionate and cordial " , as the latter wrote at the time , " but in bad spirits and rather doubtful about his health . 
We had a solemn farewell . 
Existence officially will certainly be nicer with him safe in the far distance . " 
Years later , on 14 July 1911 , the Pop Centenary Dinner was held at Eton . 
Curzon went , but Ritchie was too busy . 
A week later , passing down the High Street at Eton , he paused to look at a photograph of the Dinner , at which Curzon could be seen at the end of the top table delivering a speech . 
" He looks very well there " , was Ritchie 's sole comment . 
" Not too close . " 
As Government documents covering the last fifty years are not public , no full account can be given of Ritchie 's actual achievements at the India Office , but the Dictionary of National Biography observed that , although the part which he played in the momentous changes in Indian administration was confidential , "it is believed that he was responsible for the strict adherence to recorded precedents which was an unexpected feature of Lord Morley 's policy in all questions relating to internal affairs of native states . 
He was also closely connected with the negotiations with Tibet which followed the armed mission of Sir Francis Younghusband to Lhasa in 1903-4 , and with those which resulted in the Anglo-Russian Convention of 1907 . " 
The old India Office files contain the draft and counterdraft of this Convention in his own handwriting , from which still emanates the aroma of the tobacco which he had smoked over fifty years ago , poring day and night over these papers . 
This Anglo-Russian Convention regulated the relations of Great Britain and Russia in Persia , removed the menace of Russian military operations against India , and initiated the Entente with Russia which , together with the British Entente with France , enabled Great Britain to face the German danger in 1914 . 
It was one of the landmarks and turning points in British diplomatic history at the beginning of the present century . 
In spite of very great difficulties due to the prevalent Russian anti-British feeling , and to sharp and violent political conflicts in Russian ruling circles , as well as to the weakness of the Russian Government itself , the negotiations for this Convention were carried out during 1906 and 1907 with the greatest skill and success in Russia by Sir Arthur Nicolson ( then British Ambassador in St Petersburg , later Lord Carnock ) and in London by Sir Edward Grey ( then Foreign Minister ) and Sir Charles Hardinge ( then Permanent Under Secretary of State at the Foreign Office , afterwards Lord Hardinge of Penshurst ) on behalf of the Foreign Office , and on behalf of the India Office by Lord Morley ( then Secretary of State for India ) and Ritchie ( although then only head of the Political and Secret Department of the India Office ) . 
The Government of India , which did not altogether approve , was left " entirely out of account " , and only the Prime Minister and Lord Ripon were kept informed , according to Sir Charles Hardinge 's letter to Sir Arthur Nicolson of 10 July 1907 . 
This astonishing secrecy { 6vis-a3-vis the Government of India was due , according to a later letter of Valentine Chirol dated October 1907 , to Lord Morley 's " fears " of Lord Kitchener ( then Commander-in-Chief India ) and the " weakness and inefficiency " of Lord Minto ( then Viceroy ) , whose ideas , as Lord Morley complained , "involved a complete subversion of the policy of H.M.G. " If one may accept Lord Hardinge 's estimate of Lord Morley , mentioned above , it would seem hard to overestimate the role played by Ritchie , and one may wonder whether it was adequately rewarded by the award to him of a K.C.B. in the summer of 1907 , the G.C.B. being at the same time awarded to Nicolson in St Petersburg . 
Later , after Ritchie 's death , Hardinge , then Viceroy , wrote to Crewe : " I was very much shocked to get your telegram today announcing the death of Ritchie . 
He was a man in whose judgment I have learned to have great confidence . 
During the five years that I was in the Foreign Office he and I worked together in very close conjunction , and he made things go very smoothly between the India Office and the Foreign Office . 
I always looked upon him as one of my best friends and as a most loyal coadjutor . 
If he and I had not been on such good terms together , I think there might have been more difficulties in connection with the conclusion of the Anglo-Russian agreement . " 
Reference may also be allowed to Pope-Hennessy 's recent biography of Lord Crewe , from which it emerges that from 1905 to 1910 , when Lord Minto was Viceroy and Lord Morley Secretary of State for India , even if " very cranky and not level-headed " , " the power of the Secretary of State in London increased gradually but imperceptibly , so that by the end of Minto 's rule the Secretary of State for India had more control over Indian affairs than had ever been the case before " , and that after 1910 the Viceroy was Lord Hardinge who " lacked Lord Minto 's enterprise , and was in every way a more conventional and less imaginative man " , while the Secretary of State was Lord Crewe , much absent from the India Office on account of ill health and other duties in the House of Lords . 
Ritchie was permanent head of the India Office during most of this time , and it is not surprising that Sir Mackenzie Chalmers ( see page 19 ) considered that it was only through Ritchie 's great ability and devotion that the Government of India was enabled to pull through the serious difficulties of those years ; that Sir Henry Dobbs ( see page 19 ) wrote that Ritchie had very great influence on affairs in India and saved the Government from many mistakes ; that Sir J. R. Dunlop Smith ( see page 20 ) considered Ritchie 's death a blow to India not easy to measure ; and that Lord Crewe himself ( see page 17 ) admitted that Ritchie could in no way be replaced . 
Nevertheless , anybody able to wade through the enormous mass of correspondence between the India Office and the Foreign Office , or between the former and the Government of India during the vital busy years covering the Anglo-Russian Convention , the Minto-Morley reforms and the Delhi Durbar , will be struck by the relatively small quantity of letters or memoranda from Ritchie . 
That was typical of how he worked . 
As he himself had once written to a young authoress : " One never accomplishes anything outright , but as a result of one 's exertions , things end by happening to a certain extent as one would wish . " 
At the India Office he worked through successive Secretaries of State and Viceroys , and they knew his value . 
To Lord George Hamilton Ritchie , then forty , was "his right hand man " , to Lord Morley he was " the ablest man in the Civil Service " , and Lord Crewe leaving for the Delhi Durbar in 1911 recommended the Parliamentary Under Secretary Montagu , who remained behind , in everything "to consult Ritchie " . 
There was no change in my working life except , as the years went on , for better positions and more money . 
But there was a great change in my social life , as complete as that from school to the nursery garden . 
Cut off from my old acquaintances , and Slough 's mad round of spurious gaiety , I groomed myself for the country life . 
To do this , I threw in my lot ( about £12 ) with my sister 's , who had always been so horsey that she might have been a Sellars and Yeatman original . 
With the help of Bertie Barnwell , an old acquaintance of my mother 's from Pytchley , we bought a hunter , saddle and bridle for £25 . 
With a slit in the back of my coat and a straw between my teeth , standing with my feet in the fifth position , smelling faintly of ammonia , I could soon talk horse until the cows came home . 
I could talk of the Italian forward seat , the uselessness of hunter classes at horse shows , the vagaries of scent , and I could quote Surtees , Beckford , and the Badminton Library books on hunting and driving , and the Horse and Hound , as if the opinions I expressed were my own . 
My best line was whether it were better to ride to hunt or hunt to ride . 
I was for the former , on account of the fact that I was never a brilliant horseman . 
I read Memoirs of a Foxhunting Man in full , and after that there was no holding me — not with snaffle , gag , pelham , curb , bridoon or universal ( all done from memory , nothing up my sleeve ) . 
I hunted on Saturdays in the winter and went to horse shows in the summer . 
I stopped earths , built fences , dug badgers , schooled ponies , drove traps , and became the complete " unspeakable in pursuit of the uneatable " . 
I lost touch with my old friends and their narrow outlook , making new ones with a narrower . 
The local Hunt was the Staff College Drag , which hunted fox on two days a week and ran a drag line for another two . 
What with this and preparing for their annual pantomime , it is surprising that we were as well prepared for war in 1939 as we were . 
But this military atmosphere , and the example of some of my old friends in Slough , persuaded me to apply for a commission in the Territorial Army , and I was gazetted 2nd Lieutenant in the 5th Battalion , the Queen 's Royal Regiment , in 1936 , one of the 800 officers to have his commission signed by King Edward 8 . 
This was all part of the act . 
I was beginning to put on the agony of the squire , the yeoman farmer , the old A. G. Street romantic stuff . 
I found out that my family had lived in Chobham ( the parent village to West End ) for over 350 years and that we had been honoured in the district , at some time in the dim past , by having a local common ( Street 's Heath ) named after us . 
Students of Surtees will now readily understand that a latent cynicism made me decide then that if ever I should write enough to need a pseudonym , it would be " Stephen Dumpling " . 
The act was good , but it lacked the necessary backing . 
I soon realized that in spite of my attention to my uncle and aunt I had no hope of joining them at the Nursery during my uncle 's lifetime . 
My only possible expectation was that it would be left to me after his death , with some provision for my aunt . 
As they were then aged respectively seventy-four and sixty-eight , it seemed as if I might not have to wait so very long , at that . 
Not that I did n't work hard : almost every evening I would call on my uncle at the Nursery , after I had bathed and changed , to have a chat with him . 
I took them both to church . 
Regularly , Sunday in and Sunday out , I went to church at eleven o'clock , to Matins , the service of respectability . 
Nothing so common as Evensong ( the service for the servants after a day 's work on the day of rest ) or anything so extravagant and Romish as a regular attendance at the eight o'clock Communion Service . 
Going to church continued to be a habit , one that included a walk round the Nursery with my uncle — and the constant hope that he would drop a hint about my future prospects . 
My uncle had been People 's Churchwarden for so long that no one could remember anyone else . 
When he gave up , I followed him . 
It was Trollope , Jane Austen , Angela Thirkell , the lot . 
But I was , in fact , only a correspondence clerk on a nursery . 
Because of my family connections ( everyone assumed that one day I should go into the business ) I could only obtain promotion if it were impossible to find anyone else to do the job . 
I might leave at any moment and take my knowledge and ability to my uncle . 
So , at twenty-two , I settled down to wait , as a Dead End Kid , having learnt all that it seemed necessary to learn to step into my uncle 's shoes and a ready-made business . 
Quite apart from this thwarting situation , growing rhododendrons and azaleas seemed , in 1939 , to be a futile occupation . 
Munich and its aftermath made gardening a trap more than an escape , to a young man of twenty-two . 
Even hunting was beginning to pall , and in March 1939 I attended what I thought would be the last meet of the Staff College Draghounds . 
My energies were now directed to the Territorial Army and my reading matter became Field Service Regulations 1927 , Volume 2 , and " Cassandra " of the Daily Mirror . 
William Connor , who began that column in 1935 , is my favourite journalist . 
My secret ambition was to write a similar column but with a right-wing slant . 
Before the war I seldom agreed with what Connor wrote , but I was lost in admiration for the way it was written . 
And once , about this time , he was so very wrong . 
He wrote a bitter , brilliant piece tearing to bits , with every tooth and claw in his magnificent vocabulary , the comment of some woman in America that , to people doing a routine job , war could be a welcome relief . 
She was right . 
He was wrong . 
For it was a relief to me . 
And if I had still been hoeing , it would have been more so . 
In peace-time I was a single young man waiting for a dead man 's shoes : in war I should be a keen young officer with a flying start in training and seniority . 
But I never heard a shot fired in anger , which accounts for a lot — particularly for my mental attitude today . 
I was in the war , but out of it . 
My experience is no more than that of the Angry Young Men . 
In 1941 I was dangerously ill with pneumonia in Leeds Castle Hospital , near Maidstone . 
Andrew Smith , a subaltern with me in the same company before the war , was stationed in the town and looked after my mother when she came to visit me as the result of a dramatic telegram . 
Let me be quite fair ; it was Harold Fennell who made all the arrangements for her journey , even providing her with a hired car — not easy in those days . 
It would probably be unkind , I think , to suggest that his motives were no better than mine when I was so regular in my attendance at church together with my uncle and aunt . 
After coming to see me , and learning that I was not reacting to drugs , Mother was sitting in her room at the hotel , feeling sad and close to tears . 
Andrew came to cheer her up . 
" Do n't worry , Mrs Street . 
You 'll see . 
John will get better , they 'll send him home , he 'll meet some nice girl , get married , while I may well be killed . " 
For some ten days I was very ill , out under morphia most of the time . 
I was well nursed — it makes all the difference in the world when they fill in your next-of-kin as " Mother " and not "Wife " . 
But the drugs were not having the right effect . 
Once more , I do not expect you to believe what follows . 
I do not even defend what I am about to tell you . 
I am quite prepared to listen to rational explanations , to be told that it is coincidence , self-persuasion , a triumph of the human will . 
But what happened to me during that long illness must be told , plainly and simply . 
On the second Sunday that I was in hospital , during my morning period of consciousness , just after I had been washed , the hospital Chaplain came to my bed and asked if I would like to make my Communion . 
I said I would . 
The screens were brought round . 
The Chaplain administered the Sacrament . 
He prayed for my recovery and , as far as I was able , so did I. 
Almost at once , I began to get better . 
And all the argument in dialectic materialism or progressive humanism or applied psychology will not convince me that I was not cured by a near-miracle . 
I had just gone through a bad patch of selfishness and disbelief . 
And I was still a stout Protestant , with no great faith in the mystery of the Eucharist . 
In fact , only a few days before I was taken ill , I had been deliberately offensive to Father Stevenson , the Roman Catholic priest attached to my Company mess . 
I had tried to provoke him about the Anglo-Catholic church in the town where we were stationed . 
Now that it is too late I regret my pride and bad manners and my narrow sectarian insolence . 
But Father Stevenson had more influence on me than he will ever know — coupled with my personal miracle at Maidstone . 
Daily , hourly , I grew stronger . 
As soon as I was fit to be moved , I was transferred to a room on my own , and my eating utensils all had a piece of elastoplast stuck to them . 
The nurses would only answer my questions with tactful evasions . 
" It 's rather noisy for you in the ward . " 
" It 's easier for us to attend to you . " 
" There is a larger night staff up here . " 
But none of them convinced me . 
So it was no great shock when the senior physician told me that I had a spot on my lung , the result of the pneumonia , and that I was to be transferred to the British Legion Sanatorium at Preston Hall . 
Yet it was still bad enough . 
The Army was now my life : I had even been accused of out-soldiering the soldiers . 
I had enjoyed every minute , from wet hours in a slit trench to foot-stamping on a barrack square . 
The thought that I might have to leave the Army in 1941 , with the war only half fought , was unbearable . 
In bed all day , on complete rest , I only caught an occasional glimpse of hollow-cheeked men who lived all the year in open huts in the grounds — men who knew only too well that phosgene smelt of musty hay , and mustard gas of garlic . 
For three months I lay on my back with nothing to do but look forward to the morning injections , and pray that I would not be discharged from the Army . 
Then I began to think . 
Not just vaguely reminiscing , or idly speculating , but serious constructive thinking about all sorts of problems . 
A cousin sent me The Weekend Book , and I read poetry for pleasure for the first time . 
And it made me think again . 
Then I began to write spasmodically — odd descriptions of things I had seen , little experiences , brief character sketches of people I had known . 
It was an important time for me , those three months in bed , more important than I have made it seem . 
It showed me that I had , within my own mind , a source of pleasure that had been stamped on in the past by rugger boots or riding boots or " Boots , brown , Officer 's pattern " . 
27 
A GERMAN PRISONER OF WAR CAMP CAME TO THE VILLAGE . 
QUIET , gaunt young men , they gave no trouble . 
They tamed and made pets of grey squirrels and field mice and kept the camp in a beautiful state of order . 
Garden patches surrounded by whitened stones sprung up where there had been nothing but rubble and old tins . 
If all fraternising had not been strictly forbidden , the village maidens would gladly have obliged . 
Some of the men were allowed to take outside work in the afternoons , which was how I got Willi . 
He came as part-time gardener in place of Ron , transferred to another Home Guard . 
When I first saw Willi I thought him a middle-aged man . 
He was gaunt and angular and already going grey . 
I was surprised to discover he was only twenty-three . 
What it had taken Ron a whole day to do , Willi achieved in an hour , leaving everything ship-shape and in order it was good to see . 
He was embarrassingly humble and self-effacing , bitterly ashamed of what he could do nothing about . 
There were many children coming about the place and he would stop for a moment and lean on his spade and watch them . 
Especially a small blonde girl . 
One day he told me she was just the age of his own small daughter . 
" I also have a son , but him I have not seen . " 
As we got to know Willi better , he told me he had been taken away from his farm , shortly after he left school , turned into a soldier and packed off . 
" I worked with agriculture and knew little about politics . 
I was not very clever . 
I did not know very well what it was all about . 
Only that I who wished to be a farmer , must be a hero . 
In the country we hear talk of Hitler and this and that . 
It did not seem to have anything to do with us . " 
It had been so much my own position at the start of it all that I understood well enough . 
A General in full rig came down one day to lunch with me . 
He came across Willi in the garden . 
Willi went very white , half expecting , I think , a sword would be drawn and he would be cut down on the spot . 
The General took out a cigarette case and offered him one . 
" It is not like that with us , " Willi said afterwards , and he shook his head , sad and bewildered . 
He worked for me for two years . 
I gave him tea on his afternoons at the cottage , with boiled eggs and coffee , things he had not seen for years . 
He asked if he might take the used coffee grounds back to his friends . 
He never did anything without first asking permission , always a little shamefaced , as if fearing he presumed . 
Before he left he made a doll for the little girl he called Blondie , and came shyly to ask might he be permitted to give it to her . 
There was nothing arrogant or bumptious about him , and nothing servile . 
Only excessively humble and any kindness or consideration that came his way obviously caused him immense surprise . 
Willi went back to Germany when peace came . 
His home was now in the Russian zone . 
" Here in my own country , " he wrote me , " I am less free than I was as a prisoner of war in England . " 
His ambition was somehow to save enough to get his family and himself out , and at one time it had seemed within his grasp . 
Then a change in the currency laws reduced his savings to nothing . 
I have not heard from Willi for some time . 
The last news I had of him was from someone who had got out and gone to America and wrote me from there saying Willi had asked him to inform me he had not forgotten us but life was not easy , and please when I wrote him would I be very careful what I said , because letters to foreign countries and from foreign countries were carefully watched . 
" No one " wrote the man in America " can realise what these poor people must go through and suffer . 
The houses are broken and there is not wood or nails to mend them , and now since these new laws , much of his saving money is also gone . " 
I did not get my usual Christmas card last year . 
The box of clothes I sent for his children was not acknowledged . 
28 
TO VISIT AMERICA JUST AFTER THE WAR WAS LIKE WAKING FROM A bad dream to find oneself suddenly in Aladdin 's Cave , with all the jewels edible . 
We were mostly undernourished , in England , grown accustomed to empty shops and dreary plaster mock-ups of trifles and iced cakes , and of a sudden here was the real thing . 
Fruit piled man-high in the supermarkets . 
Ice creams we had forgotten about . 
Great steaks that looked like a dinner for eight , were a portion for one . 
I remember I had to buy a good bit of soda mint to tide me over . 
The toys made even greater impact . 
We had n't seen a toy for years . 
At Saks Fifth Avenue there was a whole window devoted to Teddy Bears — pink and blue and the conventional buff . 
Teddy bears with lovable coloured velvet and chamois leather soles to their feet — leading a domestic life in Teddy-sized houses . 
My scanty dollars did not run to buying any of them , but looking was free . 
People were so kind . 
I felt like a shipwrecked mariner who had been rescued by a luxury liner . 
Strangers pressed boxes of chocolates on me . 
The Lift Man in one of the big shipping companies , previously known to me , gave me a large supply of candy bars , saying " Sister , you sure look peaked . " 
I saw Oklahoma with its original cast , before it had been watered and slowed down as someone appears to think American plays have to be for English audiences ( but they are wrong ) . 
That was a little interlude worth facing the rigours of the journey out and back for — and they were many . 
I went out on a Liberty ship . 
There was a rumour going about that they frequently came apart in the middle . 
The weather was so bad the tin biscuits were never out of the portholes . 
Four women , one of them desperately seasick all the way ( not me ) , were closeted together in a small cabin for eight days . 
But there was any amount of drink on board — to us amazingly cheap — and the other three stood me cocktails , and even champagne , to encourage me to recite poetry , or tell them stories . 
Over all that trip hangs a golden alcoholic haze . 
I came back in " luxury " on the Queen Mary . 
She was still a trooper and there were not enough chairs for everyone to sit down in the lounge at the same time , so they never had a chance to cool off . 
Four of us shared a cabin for sixteen — hence the luxury . 
One was a woman I could not place . 
She tried to smuggle in a fifth — a dog — but the numbers were against her , and him we packed off to the butcher — traditional cherisher of hounds aboard ship . 
She wore slacks and a jumper , and went to bed by simply undoing one button when the whole caboodle fell off on the floor . 
Usually half seas over , she had glasses of whisky standing around at vantage points , to which she put her lips when so disposed . 
These we emptied out of the window or down the loo when we got a chance . 
Nightly she staggered in , undid the vital button and went to bed smoking a cigarette . 
Presently it fell from her nerveless fingers on to the bunk beneath which was piled high with life jackets marked HIGHLY INFLAMMABLE . 
Why more Atlantic Liners did not , and still do not , go up in flames , I often wonder , what with lit cigarette ends blowing about the decks — lit cigarettes thrown away to windward taking a short cut into the handy portholes . 
However , we got our wayward belle , in the face of fearful odds , safely ashore . 
She was discouraged because we would not allow her gentlemen friends in to visit her in the cabin . 
England looked drab and shabby , the autumn colours faded and wishy-washy after the Connecticut Fall . 
I returned to troubles galore , but so pepped up with square meals I felt I could face anything . 
My Mother-in-law was getting old . 
She had seen plenty of trouble and finally succumbed to the buffetting of fate and retired to bed for good . 
This was a very sensible idea , except for the fact she had no one to look after her save Redman the Gardener . 
That same patient soul who had been bombarded with Shakespeare in the asparagus beds . 
He had been wielding trays and goodness knows what else until I arrived . 
Accustomed to Eastern servants in her young days , my Mother-in-law had never been able to accustom herself to the I-don't-mind-if-I-do attitude of domestic workers at home . 
They in their turn would have none of her autocratic ways . 
So she was all alone . 
" I knew you would fix something when you got back , dear , " she said , with touching confidence . 
The situation was complicated by Redman himself collapsing . 
I finally got her rooms and attendance in a large country house nearby , where from her windows she would see much the same scenery as from her own home . 
Old ladies are crotchety and hard to please . 
She kept me busy one way and another , and it seemed strange that I — the only one who had ever stood up to her — was the one she turned to now . 
No other member of the family was available or mobile , or within reach . 
Or they had young children of their own , or they had married a wife and could not come . 
Old age can be frightening in these days when the young people have all been brought up to please themselves only . 
Forgetting that for them also a time will come ... 
There was no snow that year until March . 
Ron , newly demobbed from the Home Guarding , gladly laying his rifle aside , built me a fruit cage for the raspberries and gooseberries . 
It looked like an elephant keddah . 
Mrs. X , the carpenter 's wife , died . 
There were two Mrs. X 's in the village . 
Rumour at first reported the wrong one , at which Mr. X , the carpenter , was deeply incensed . 
" It 's my wife wot 's died . 
Surely I ought to know , " he said , standing in his yard full of statuary which for some reason he collected . 
( Warriors in strange uniforms , angels off tombs , elves and toads . ) 
" It was ever such a surprise , " said Mr. X in an injured voice , as though resentful of the fact she had not given him proper warning . 
He said he hoped I 'd come and take a look at her when he got her all proper and laid out . 
I could not face it , but passed the invitation on to my Home Help , in whose day disaster was ever a bright flag . 
Although it was common knowledge that Mr. X had never paid much attention to Mrs. X while she was mobile , he was immensely proud of her now she was dead . 
His arrangement of screens , and flowers and pieces of rich embroidery purchased at sales ( perhaps against this very day ) was , said my Home Help , tearfully , a real treat . 
The funeral was not to be for a whole week . 
" He does not want to part with her , " she said , wallowing , and shedding a further tear . 
" Maybe he 'll stuff her and keep her , " I said , trying to introduce a lighter note . 
This conjured up a life-like picture of Mrs. X neatly stuffed ( for everything Mr. X does is meticulous ) , wearing her dolman and toque , propped up in his yard amongst the rest of the statuary . 
I wrote to June in America saying , " Do n't have me stuffed , pettie , when I die . 
Unless you think I could be useful standing in the hall holding a tray for cards — like bears in Scots Baronial homes . " 
Did his audience know anything of land hunger ? 
They ached for allotments and smallholdings . 
Did they know of the effects of land monopoly on the life of a village ? 
A Tysoe man would never take a job that meant living in a closed village . 
No ! 
He 'd go to Birmingham , rather , or cross the ocean . 
Did they know how wealth from over-large estates gets misused ? 
They 'd heard of great estates being enclosed in the past by removing villages ( there was an old example not so far away ) : of Compton House being emptied and the old place in danger of being pulled down to pay for bribes and oceans of beer at an election . 
Did not the old folk know of starvation and crime here in the old days ? 
Those had not been due to lack of corn in England . 
In a certain chapter of Irish Realities they would read the proof that deaths in the so-called potato famine in Ireland were not due to lack of food in the country . 
The food was there — the deaths were due to the impassable gulfs between classes and to a " governing class " which did not know how to govern and was not in a position to find out ; and yet would not let the people learn to manage their own affairs . 
In Ireland the gulfs were deeper than they had ever been here — conqueror ruling conquered still . 
Now there was the Home Rule Bill to let the Irish improve their own country , take their own problems in hand . 
There were to be safeguards and compensation . 
Those were right enough : over-sudden and over-drastic changes meant trouble and loss always . 
Joseph held up the book again . 
It had been printed seventeen years before , yet conditions were still the same . 
Why ? 
What stood in the way ? 
Who stood in the way of Tysoe 's small desires for betterment ? 
Who whittled down the Allotments Bills ? 
Who threw out bills to give farmers security of tenure ? 
And all the bills ever drawn up to allow a village to have a real village school ? 
Who prevented villages two years ago from gaining a reasonable court of appeal from decisions of Feoffees of Town Lands and the like ? 
The House of Lords ! 
And the House of Lords would throw out the Home Rule Bill . 
Let Tysoe men never forget it : what worked for well-being in Tysoe would work in other communities . 
What went seriously wrong here would go wrong there . 
You ca n't , he said , turn the Home Rule Bill into an Act : but it was the duty of all village wiseacres to vote for it . 
CHAPTER 10 LAND HUNGER : THE PROMISED LAND 
THE main subject of this chapter was too plain a tale , too little lightened by any humour or success ever to be told as a whole in a family circle . 
But though I never heard the story in full I gathered its outline ; its events affected the childish lives of myself and my brothers and sisters . 
They helped , for one thing , to form our economic background . 
They must also have had a certain influence on my father 's outlook — not too large an effect on a mind so naturally large , but they must have sharpened its political edge . 
Locally , the events had their publicity . 
By 1896 my father was writing occasional notes for the Warwick Advertiser and counted its editor among his very friendly acquaintances . 
Mr Lloyd Evans was a Radical and a warm-hearted spectator of village struggles . 
So it came about , I infer , that Tysoe affairs were well ventilated in the county paper . 
In the election just passed , of 1885 , Gladstone had been returned to power but , as everybody foresaw , his Home Rule Bill was thrown out by the House of Lords . 
As a consequence , there was another election in 1886 and this time a Conservative majority was returned to the Commons — but the Tysoe labourers had the satisfaction of knowing that their spirited member , the Radical Mr Cobb , still represented the Rugby Division . 
The Liberal programme had included the promise of an Allotments Act and now there was no chance of it . 
True , the new government hastened to promise an Act with the same title but it would not have the same nature . 
It would permit and even encourage ten-pole allotments , which the Vicar already permitted , and would do Tysoe no good . 
Two years earlier Joseph had thought the Labourers ' Allotment Committee a waste of effort ; it would be better , he had thought , to wait in the hope of new legislation which would enjoin upon local charities and perhaps upon vestries the duty of providing allotments when they were demanded . 
He had known also that the needs of weekly wage-earners were not the only ones . 
Thatchers , hauliers , carpenters were all trying , and of course failing , to get an acre or two , sometimes to grow wheat and animal feed , in some cases to pasture a horse , or for a cow and pigs . 
The times were discouraging and yet at Southam , not so many miles away , an Allotments Association had been successful in getting a good acreage . 
It was a larger and luckier village , the folk more varied . 
A doctor had grasped that starvation made for ill-health and allotments for good food , and had given help and support . 
Whatever the handicaps , Tysoe men must try again . 
So at Christmas 1886 a new start was made . 
Eighty-six signatures were obtained to a statement of the need for small parcels of land and a public meeting was held early in the next year , fifty men present . 
The Tysoe Allotments and Smallholdings Association was formed and soon had seventy-five members , an extraordinary number , representing a high proportion of the village , but perhaps some were young men living with their parents . 
One may suppose my father 's part in all this to have been a large one , possibly indispensable . 
It was the constant calls of members of the Association interrupting the kneading of her bread or causing her to drop the scissors at a crucial point in cutting out her children 's clothes that made my patient mother agree that we needed more space . 
But Joseph was far from being the only effective member : the inclusion of tradesmen brought in a greater vigour and resilience and more " know-how " . 
Then also , the Lower Townsmen joined , and in a tough fractious spirit . 
They were sometimes a roughish party , liking to stand apart a little from the other Towns . 
But now they had a story of frustration all their own , and brought power to the common effort . 
Joseph became the first Secretary of the Association and held the office for many years — until all its main objects had been attained and its affairs reduced to routine . 
In these early days he urged his Committee to get influential support from outside the village ; it might be possible to shame obstructors as they had been shamed in the matter of wages , fifteen years before . 
Get the local papers to regard their claim as news , get a well-known president , he urged . 
But to please the old Labourers ' Association their President was adopted . 
Mr Daniel Fessey was a notable Tysonian — the only one I ever heard of who made a fortune . 
He was a member of a poor unfortunate family , one of whose members had been charged with manslaughter after the last crude boxing match . 
I remember him well ; he decorated our early childhood . 
He had been the inventor of curious gadgets , for example a new stirrup which was adopted by cavalry regiments . 
With his small fortune he was undergoing a change into a dapper and mannered exquisite , reminding one of Shakespeare 's Frenchmen . 
By the time I knew him his clothes were of the finest ; his speech fantastically precise and his manner to man , woman and child elaborate — but as full of friendliness as of formality . 
Just as he was never ashamed of those disreputable ancestors so he sympathised with the poor and stood by their small movements . 
The Committee thought it best to await the publication of the Government 's Allotments Bill before moving far , so they drew up regulations for their non-existent holdings , visited the Southam Association and corresponded with the agent of the Compton estate , stating their needs and asking for a first refusal of land . 
When the Bill became law Tysoe 's would-be cultivators gave it a sardonic attention . 
Under the Act , if no land were available after elaborate inquiries and other processes , the Sanitary Authority was given power to propose a special Act of Parliament to compel some owner or owners to sell land . 
What a strange body to choose ! 
It neither could nor would use such powers , said the Tysoe Association . 
They were right : in all England only one of these Acts was ever proposed . 
Meanwhile there was the Queen 's jubilee . 
Why should men grudged by a government a scrap of land to dig celebrate the long reign of its head ? 
Majuba and Khartoum and the new imperialism were sharpening the atmosphere . 
Many sensing future trouble looked back thankfully over fifty years of comparative peace . 
Fifty years on the throne , and a woman ! — the Queen could be acclaimed . 
So the village was at one in a mild rejoicing . 
In May the village made ready — a committee was chosen to plan celebrations . 
The Managers of the School hung up a huge picture of the old Queen with her grey hair , her solemn face and wide blue Garter Ribbon ; and on each side of her , smaller pictures of the neatly bearded Prince of Wales and of Princess Alexandra with a wall of tight yellow curls along her brow ; another of the Queen was hung in the Reading Room , a full-length portrait with a profile of her face and of stout , gathered skirts sloping far back behind her , and yet another in the Peacock , flanked by Disraeli and Gladstone . 
The great day was the twentieth of June . 
After the service in the church , an oak tree was planted on the green by the Vicar 's wife , who was that rare thing , a woman of intellectual interests . 
Her speech stressed the hope for village unity . 
Two hundred and thirty years earlier had died , she said , a venerable Vicar of the Parish . 
After forty-nine years of service he had gone — said an entry in the Parish Register for 1654 — " to enter on his eternal Jubilee " . 
In the seventeenth century England had known fifty years of doctrinal quarrels and civil war ; clergymen had been turned from their cures , and churches irreverently used . 
But while in other parishes there had been bitter discord , John Stevenage and another Stevenage , his nephew , had quietly continued their duties in the old peaceful way . 
Let all take example by John Stevenage . 
Let all pray for peace — peace for the nation and within the nation , peace in Tysoe . 
Then the Vicar pointed to the trees , young and old , that had been planted on the green , witnessing to other occasions when the village had been at one — the William and Mary elm , celebrating the coming of that man of peace , the Prince of Orange ; the tree of constitutional liberty ( the " Franchise Tree " ) ; and now this sapling , the tree of loyalty . 
It was always the same ; all Tysonians felt that the village ought to be at one . 
Those who opposed the Vicar were mischief-makers , disturbers of the peace ; on the other hand he and his missus brought from inferior parishes notions that no self-respecting folk could put up with . 
The different patterns of community at the back of minds , the needs , the passions , the fantasies — these though doubtless understood in part were never made plain in the discussions . 
The Jubilee interval was over . 
In October the Vicar invited the holders of the ten-pole allotments to a tea-party and made a speech to them on their duties . 
Allotments , he said , might be rightly cultivated by them , under certain conditions . 
They must have the necessary leisure to till them ; they must apply manure ; the produce must be consumed at home ( which meant they were not free to sell it ) . 
A sixteenth of an acre was the right extent . 
Possibly if a man had no garden at all , it might not be wrong to have two sixteenths . " 
The Captain , however , forbade it . " 
I honestly do think that a captain of one of H.M. ships seldom finds himself criticized in an official document requiring his signature . 
Brock , as usual , ignored the impertinence — for the moment . 
On the other hand I find a cutting from a Naval and Military Record of December 14th pasted into my diary which reads : " Sir — In your issue of the 30th ult. there was a letter signed " Naval Officer " complaining that our main fleets spend too much time at sea and that on this account there is a grave discontent among the personnel . 
As an officer of more than a couple of years ' standing I have discovered none of these terrible grievances . 
In fact I am perfectly satisfied with my lot , and do not find my ship in the least stuffy , nor do I mind putting to sea in her . 
These views are shared by everyone I have spoken to . 
Does " Naval Officer " want our fleets to lie alongside the home ports , Gibraltar or Malta , for nine months in the year ? 
It is not every naval officer who is afraid of battle exercises , or manning and arming ship , or of sea trips between nice places . 
If " Naval Officer " chooses to present one side of the case to the British public , surely the views of the majority may have a hearing also . 
N. O. " Of course no one penetrated my anonymous signature . 
Brock would have been puzzled at such a letter coming from me ! 
It was about now that I took action against Their Lordships themselves in the matter of the yearly Examination in French of Junior Officers Afloat . 
My diary simply records : " French exam . 
Had hoped to do well but they asked what were the pronouns which correspond to the adjectives " { ce , cette , ces , son , nos , leurs . " 
Got furious with the question and wrote down "Ce , ces and cette are not adjectives ; son , nos and leurs are pronouns . " 
So do n't expect much Kudos . " 
Their Lordships ' reply was in the shape of a £5 silver stop watch by S. Smith &Son , 9 The Strand , London , inscribed : " Admiralty Prize Junior Officers Afloat , 1905 , French , Midn . 
O. M. Frewen , R.N. " , an unusually gracious admission of defeat probably due to a printer 's error . 
The watch , admittedly not worn continuously , fell into disrepair just fifty-two years later , and it seemed to me natural to go to the address printed on its face to ask the makers to overhaul it . 
By 1957 London traffic had become something of a nightmare to rural drivers so that my wife parked our little Morris car in the taxicab sanctuary of Charing Cross " just for a moment " while I walked west to No. 9 — and found it not , not on the south side anyway , where stand the other low odd numbers . 
After much research , and in an indignation equal to that of Midn . 
Frewen at his French exam , I crossed the road and demanded of a shop-owner opposite where were S. Smith &Son ? 
" Never been in the Strand , " he answered . 
" Well , here 's their address on the face of my watch , " I retorted . 
" Well , I can only say that I 've been here twenty-five years and they 've never been here in my time " closed the discussion , but not the enquiry : he kindly produced a London Telephone Directory which directed us to 179 Great Portland Street , W.1 , with more and worse traffic jams , including a succession of " No Entry " streets negatively barring our car 's access to the Promised Land . 
We eventually walked there and my watch — " her speed she reneweth again " . 
The taxi drivers at Charing Cross had also shown the courtesy one has come to expect of them . 
I had loved the idea of coming to sea , to cruise and see the world , but my diary entry in December 1905 reads : " Have now done 90 days — in Malta . " 
Ninety Days ' Detention was a stereotyped punishment for major offences by lower deck ratings . 
And we had another six weeks to come before again sailing the seas . 
8 Feminine Influence on Senior Officers 
CHRISTMAS DAY , 1905 , was my first one in a ship , 1903 and 1904 having been spent on leave . 
I think my diary entry may be of interest for a typical account . 
It reads : " Turned out 7.30 . 
After breakfast read Last Days of Pompeii till Divisions . 
Skipper had everybody aft and told them in a good short speech that the C.-in-C. would have gone rounds had the ship not been in dockyard hands . 
Then Church . 
After Church I had meant to take Holy Communion but , being ordered up there by the Commander , I got very angry and refused to go . 
Then went round the Mess Decks , taking various savoury meats from various nicely decorated messes , notably the Chief Stokers ' . 
The Skipper and Warrant Officers then came into the gunroom . 
After lunch got into de Burgh 's knickers , my blue jacket , brother Hugh 's stockings , and brown boots . 
Went ashore with Ritchie and de Burgh ; went up to Admiralty House and found Gibbs , who promptly offered me the loan of his riding-boots . 
Wore them . 
Went back to Calcara Steps and mounted . 
My G. a most spirited one . 
He kept galloping away from the rest the whole way to St. Paul 's Bay , where we had tea , twenty-four of us ; the C.-in-C. , his wife , nine officers and thirteen snotties . 
( Hervey left his G. behind and turned up in a carrotze . ) 
Started back about 4.30 . 
Had a splendid series of gallops and got back to Porta Reale about 5.30 . 
Went to Admiralty House to return my boots and Gibbs made me eat unheard-of chunks of ripping cake . 
Then came on board . 
Had no dinner . 
Could n't after Gibbs ' cake . 
Feeling rather sore but very bucked up with the afternoon 's work , though not exactly with things in general . 
Dominant fed-upness of the day was that fool Commander stopping me going to Second Service . 
He might have known that any self-respecting Englishman would , in the first place , go ; and in the second place refuse to be ordered about on such subjects . 
And he thought he was doing right too , I suppose . 
All hands stood off after Divisions . " 
I was indeed so indignant over being ordered to Holy Communion that I actually entered it in my official Journal for the Naval Instructor 's and Captain 's signatures . 
Holy Joe sent for me and said that if I did not erase it he would have to draw the Captain 's attention to it , so this I did . 
Whether as a Chaplain he considered the incident reflected on the Commander , or whether as my Naval Instructor he considered that it reflected on me for disobedience of orders , I never knew . 
My Journal also says of my ride , " No casualties , although I was nearly thrown onto a donkey-cart and was repeatedly not under control . 
Mr. Hervey came in a carrotze , being unable to persuade his pony to keep up with the rest . " 
( Tactfully put . ) 
" A very enjoyable afternoon , but it made me very stiff for two or three days after . " 
My Journal for December 31st states aggressively : " Nothing of note happened until 11.55 p.m. when I was turned out rather forcibly and after witnessing Mr. Bennett strike " 16 bells " , drank punch in the wardroom . 
Owing , however , to the Captain 's not caring for noise and singing we turned in again about 12.30 . 
Thus ended the year 1905 . " 
To be fair to poor Osmond de B. Brock , who did n't attend the traditional ceremony of striking 16 bells , my diary records that we "went and struck about 32 bells " , i.e. no ceremony but just a cacophony on the ship 's bell , and in the wardroom the demure noise and singing is described " sang { 2Auld Lang Syne " . 
Then Chichester as junior snottie attempted " Clementine " and I helped him through it . 
" However , at the third verse the Skipper got agribulgent , so we desisted and went and kicked up hell and the sleepers in the chest flat . 
At last slept and lay in till 7.30 . 
Then worried Hardy by singing in the bathroom . " 
The Captain responded to the aggression in my Journal , which he inspected and initialled on Tuesday , by sending for me on Thursday to tell me the sketch I had put in was not good enough " for such a good Journal as mine and would I improve it before going ashore " . 
In fact , stopped my leave . 
I submitted my improvements the following Tuesday " and the old devil is n't satisfied yet ! but let me have my leave back " . 
I was also in trouble now with Gathorne-Hardy , who ordered me to report myself , dressed , to him every morning , for not being out of the chest-flat by 7.45 . 
I turned out next morning at 5.30 to attend the daily " Hands fall in " , dressed and woke the distinguished senior lieutenant and made my report by 6.15 , which was not well received . 
News now came through that Mamma and sister Clare were going to arrive on the 18th . 
I searched Valletta for rooms and , with a good deal of trouble , finally managed to secure them in the Royal Hotel in Strada Mercanti , not the best quarter of the city but the best I could do . 
But Sir George Warrender , Bart. , Captain of H.M.S. Carnarvon , had also been on the lookout and found them grander ones at the Lord Nelson , in Floriana . 
And with their arrival the scallywag snottie was thrown back to his first few days at sea and became the popular midshipman of the Bulwark , to be received by admirals , captains ( except him of the Bulwark ) , wardroom officers , and even by the Rifle Brigade , then stationed at Pieta , whose major , Tom Hollond , had been the Duke of Connaught 's A.D.C. at Clare 's coming-out season in Dublin in 1903 , when the Duke was Commander-in-Chief . 
My diary for the 18th records : " Turned out 7.30 and dressed in plain clothes . 
During breakfast got a signal from C.-in-C. [ cruising in H.M.S. Surprise , the C.-in-C. 's yacht in those gracious days ] asking when my people were coming . 
Told him , and then went ashore . 
At 9.20 the General Chanzy arrived , and chartering a nice dghaisa , I followed them up harbour . 
Bennett turned up with a signal from the Admiral saying his barge and carriage were at Ma 's disposal . 
Found the carriage awaiting us at the Custom House and drove to the Lord Nelson , and I had my second breakfast . 
Then Lula ( Tom Hollond 's most charming wife ) and Sir George looked in on us . 
At 4.30 we three went to Lula 's and wandered round the garden till Acheson turned up , when Clare and he wandered round together and Ma and I kept out of the way . 
After tea Ma and Clare returned to their hotel and I to the ship . 
Made an evolution of dressing , hurling the innards of my sea-chest far and wide , and ended up with a flying leap across the Schoolplace table in the middle of dinner to provide myself with a gold stud . 
Then repaired to Sir George 's and we had a good dinner — in fact I ate too much . 
We then went on to the Opera , using No. 13 box ( Charlie B. 's ) . 
The opera was Rigoletto . 
All the e2lite were there . 
Gibbs turned up with a message from the C.-in-C. and I introduced him . 
Clare went into ecstasies over him and Ma thought him so nice and good looking . 
Gather I am not a screaming success , especially with Mother . 
They stripped me of my white waistcoat to send it to the wash , and lectured me on the need of sucking up to my superiors , with the usual result . 
Then returned on board 12.35 and turned in . " 
Next morning , a Friday , " asked the Commander for leave till Feb. 5th . 
He said he would see the Captain about it , but did not expect I would get it . 
Then seizing my fast-waning courage in both hands and a tooth , asked could I go ashore now . 
He said if Parsoon agreed , I could . 
Parsoon disagreed , so I did . 
Found Ma in her chemise and Clare in her bed . " 
He was very proud to think that he had conceived the original idea of a League of Nations ; but as a matter of fact this reality which he had produced was , in the opinion of Mr. Wells , something much more practical and far reaching . 
It was not organised talk but assembled knowledge . 
The International Institute of Agriculture , sustained by subsidies from fifty-two governments and administered by a permanent committee representing these governments , existed to compile records , based on telegraphic reports from the Boards of Agriculture of different countries , of the agricultural prospects throughout the world . 
The intention was to provide such information about production that the distribution could be adjusted to the probable demand . 
In addition , the Institute had developed departments dealing with meteorology and with the prevention of diseases in plants . 
David Lubin was quite clear that as his " fabric of economic intelligence " was built up , it would become evident that there must be a revision of the conditions of international transport . 
The transport of the whole terrestrial globe , he reckoned , could , if there was a centralised control , be as well regulated as his mail order department . 
This conception , in spite of its failure , aroused the curiosity of Mr. Wells and appealed strongly to his imagination . 
The ultimate intention was to obtain control of the food supply of the world and of its distribution . 
Eventually in the interests of civilisation , the activities of this Institute might have been extended to the control of other things beside food stuffs . 
Just as the Hague Tribunal may be thought of as the first faint sketch of an International Court of Justice , so this International Institute of Agriculture might turn out to have been a foreshadowing of the germ from which might spring not only universal economic peace but an economic World State . 
The Great War submerged this internationalism . 
In August 1914 , there was " a dismally sentimental little dinner , " when the French , German , Austrian and Belgian members of the Committee drank together to the Peace of the Future . 
Then , talking of their immediate duty , they dispersed "in a state of solemn perplexity " to serve each his own belligerent country . 
What was left of the Institute , staffed by women and by the mutilated and unfit , devoted itself to the problems of the allied food supply . 
President Wilson ignored the Institute . 
During the influenza epidemic of 1918 its founder died . 
In January 1919 , the funeral of David Lubin passed disregarded through the streets of Rome hung with bunting to welcome President Wilson . 
David Lubin 's International Institute was established at Rome , as we have said . 
Very naturally , the reader may wonder why this city was selected . 
The fact is that the King of Italy met Mr. Lubin more than half-way . 
" That is why , " said Mr. Wells , "in a not very widely-known book of mine which represented a World State emerging out of Armageddon , I made the first World Conference meet at Brissago in Italian Switzerland under the presidency of the King of Italy . " 
Thus Mr. Wells was able to utilise one of his earlier Anticipations , of " an intelligent monarch who might waive all the ill-bred pretensions that sit so heavily on a gentlemanly king " and come into the movement . 
On a similar occasion , Mr. Wells hinted at an English monarch , a most admirable gentleman , who submitted to the traditional trappings of royalty but who preferred to be incognito so that he might pass as " plain Mr. Jones . " 
In spite of Mr. Wells 's antipathy to monarchs , royalty does not fare so badly in The World Set Free . 
Not only is the King of Italy made to preside over the World State but another ruler is favourably depicted . 
We mean , of course , the democratic Egbert , sovereign of the most venerable kingdom in Europe . 
" He was a rebel and had always been a rebel against the magnificence of his position . 
In theory his manners were purely democratic . 
It was from sheer habit and inadvertently that he was permitting his companion to carry both bottles of beer . " 
As a matter of fact , the king had never carried anything in his life ; and he had never noticed it . 
CHAPTER EIGHT THE WAR H. G. WELLS was no Jingo . 
On the contrary , he considered himself " an extreme Pacifist . " 
In his opinion , " of all monstrous , irrational activities , war is the most obviously insane . " 
On no conceivable ground is there any sense in modern war . 
It effects nothing except the waste of much energy , the destruction of huge quantities of material , the slaughter and mangling of many men . 
Modern warfare changes nothing but the colour of maps , the design of postage stamps , and the relationships of a few accidentally conspicuous individuals . 
There was not a man alive who could have told you of any real , permanent benefit that would be obtained from war between England and Germany . 
There was certainly nothing which counter-balanced the obvious waste that must result , whether England shattered Germany or whether she was overwhelmed . 
On the other hand , Mr. Wells had no reason to be surprised when war broke out in 1914 ; for , as far back as 1901 , he had "anticipated " that before Germany could " unify to the East " she must fight the Russians , while " to unify towards the West " she must fight the French and perhaps the English , for France was not likely to have to fight alone ; very probably she would have the support of the British Empire . 
" Writing in the midst of the turmoil of war , " Mr. J. D. Beresford was vividly aware that his mind had been prepared for what had come by the romances of H. G. Wells . 
In The War in the Air , particularly , " with just such exaggerations as are necessary in fiction , " which described what had now happened . 
No doubt we would learn our lesson from experience but it might have been learned from the fiction of H. G. Wells without paying such a fearful price . 
Mr. Wells considered himself to be very nearly an average man . 
If he was at all abnormal , he supposed that it was " only by reason of a certain mental rapidity . " 
Be this as it may , the outbreak of hostilities evoked much the same response in Mr. Wells as in many other Englishmen . 
He was against the man who first took up arms . 
He carried his pacifism beyond that ambiguous little group of British and foreign sentimentalists in the Labour Leader who pretended " so amusingly " to be Socialists and who later in 1916 would have made peace with Germany at once , thus giving her a breathing space in which to recover sufficiently to commit a fresh outrage . 
Mr. Wells did not understand these people : he did not want to stop merely this war : he wanted " to nail down war in its coffin . " 
As early as August 7th we find him writing about The War that will End War . 
To him it was a war of Ideas . 
( He called chapter eleven " The War of the Mind . " ) 
All the realities of this war were , in his opinion , things of the mind . 
The real task was to get better sense into the heads of those Germans — and of people generally . 
We must end the idea of war . 
Our business was to kill ideas : the really important thing was propaganda . 
Every sword that was drawn against Germany , was in his opinion , " a sword drawn for Peace . " 
Consequently Mr. Wells was heart and soul behind the Allies . 
With his one lung and damaged kidney he was not likely to go on active service . 
Even with the advent of conscription , there was no chance for him . 
It is worth noting , by the way , that Mr. Wells had always maintained that compulsory military service followed almost as a corollary from the principles of Socialism . 
He had always commended the advice of his friend , William James , who used to urge that the youth of a nation might well be saved from effeminacy by compulsory national service in places like mines and sewers and the deep sea fisheries . 
If one ought to have conscription for labour in Peace , why not conscription for war ? 
H. G. Wells , ahead as usual , was busy in July 1916 with the problem of Reconstruction . 
His Elements of Reconstruction , with an introduction by Viscount Milner , appeared in The Times during July and August . 
The first chapter stated that the book was the work of "two friends " and in the introduction Lord Milner referred to the " authors " but as a matter of fact the whole series was written by H. G. Wells . 
In August , 1916 , Wells was persuaded to make a tour of the Western Fronts . 
One of the peculiarities of this " queer " war was this " tour . " 
After suppressing information for some months , during which even the war correspondent was almost eliminated , both sides discovered that opinion was playing a larger part than had been expected . 
As a result , Wells one day found Mr Habokoff the editor of The Retch , and Count Alexy Tolstoy , that writer of delicate short stories , and Mr. Chukovsky the subtle critic , calling upon him after braving the wintry seas to visit the British Fleet . 
M. Joseph Reinach soon followed , upon the same errand . 
Then our turn came ; and Mr. Arnold Bennett was soon wading in the trenches of Flanders while Mr. Noyes became " discreetly indiscreet " about what he had seen among the submarines and Mr. Hugh Walpole was with Mr. Stephen Graham " in the dark forest of Russia . " 
When H. G. Wells , in August 1916 , arrived in Italy , he found it " warm and gay " with memories of Hilaire Belloc , Lord Northcliffe , Sir Arthur Conan Doyle , and Colonel Repington . 
Some writers , Mr. Wells assured us , made their tour with very great diffidence . 
He himself did not want to go at all . 
In fact , as early as 1915 it had been suggested that he should go but he " evaded the suggestion . " 
" I travel badly , " he tells us , " and I speak French and Italian atrociously . 
I am an extreme pacifist and I hate soldiering . " 
His reluctance to be a spectator at the Front was largely due to a " fear of being swamped by the spectacular side . " 
He knew that the chances of being hit by a projectile were infinitesimal but he was afraid of being hit by some vivid impression : he feared that he might see some horribly wounded man or some decaying corpse that would so scar his memory that he would be reduced to " a mere useless gibbering stop-the-war-at-any-price pacifist . " 
It appears that many years before he had unexpectedly , one tranquil evening , come upon a drowned body which so disturbed his mind that it was " darkened for some weeks by a fear and distrust of life . " 
On the other hand , it seemed as if no man could claim to have done his duty as a rational creature unless he had formed some idea of what was going on " out there . " 
It seemed necessary moreover to obtain some conception of what this upheaval was going to produce . 
In addition , it seemed as if one ought to have not only an idea of what was going on but also some notion of how one wanted it to go . 
To make a long story short , Mr. Wells went . 
One of the first things he did in Italy was to meet the King — the first sovereign he had ever met . 
He found the King of Italy in a drawing room very much like that in which he had met General Joffre a few days before . 
As he was handing his hat to the second of two servants standing by , a " pleasantly smiling man , " appearing at the study door , began to talk in excellent English about Mr. Wells 's journey . 
As they went into the study it gradually became evident that this was the monarch himself . 
" Addicted as I am , " said Mr. Wells , " to the particularly sumptuous study furniture of the cinema , I found the appearance of this royal study very simple and refreshing . " 
The modern ruler shows a disposition to intimate at the outset that he can not help it . 
There are those on the one hand who say , "absolutely not . 
People would panic and start pulling the communication cord . 
They might even surge up the corridors and try to get on the engine themselves , whereupon the whole vehicle would be brought into greater peril than ever . 
Leave the men on the engine alone . 
With a large hatful of luck they might get us somewhere without a smash-up . 
And if not , well , that just goes to show that journeying through the world is a hazardous business and it is a mistake to look for too much security . " 
The people who take this view exist everywhere — in Communist countries no less than in others . 
It was one of the reasons why Stalin got left on the engine a long time after he was visibly unfit to run the train . 
Others , and they , too , exist in millions everywhere , are all for spreading the dire news among the passengers as speedily as possible . 
They think these unfortunates have the right at least to know what is going on up there at the head of the train . 
Some of them think that just spreading that news , and pointing with derision at the way the driver is acting , is all that they can usefully do . 
They are satirical and unconstructive . 
They admit they probably could not operate the engine any better themselves , while claiming as credit to themselves that at least they are not even pretending to . 
Some others are firm in the belief that once the passengers know what is happening they will somehow find ways and means to avert the threatened catastrophe — perhaps , somewhere in the second class coaches , there are some real engineers . 
These call themselves democrats , but as they have never yet got full control of the footplate , nobody knows what their large claims amount to . 
What arouses the indignation of the honest satirist is not , unless the man is a prig , the fact that people in positions of power or influence behave idiotically , or even that they behave wickedly . 
It is that they conspire successfully to impose upon the public a picture of themselves as so very , very deep-thinking , sagacious , honest and well-intentioned . 
You can not satirize a man who says " I 'm in it for the money , and that 's all about it . " 
You even feel no inclination to do so . 
In the 1930s it was easier , or perhaps simply more stimulating , to satirize the leaders of the British Government than to go to work on Hitler or Mussolini . 
For these latter , at least in the eyes of other peoples than their own , were creatures who roared out in public their bestial thoughts and intentions . 
Hitler in particular , because he had the enthusiastic support and spiritual concurrence of the vast majority of Germans , had no need of that hypocrisy which Wilde described as the tribute vice pays to virtue . 
He said he was going to persecute and murder the Jews , and no sooner was it said than it was done . 
He proclaimed his delinquent 's contempt for civilization , and , to ensure that nobody misunderstood him , organized such fe5tes and galas as the "burning of the books . " 
He lied certainly — lied continuously . 
But his lying was of a special kind — it did not , and could not by him have been expected to , deceive anyone who did not secretly wish to be deceived . 
In this he resembled the great confidence tricksters . 
The confidence tricksters , it seems , consider it axiomatic that no wholly honest man can be regarded as a likely victim of the confidence trick . 
It is not the mere fools that the confidence men successfully delude . 
It is , in their pregnant phrase , the " larceny in the blood " of the victim which results in his victimization . 
And that was how Hitler operated — exploiting and using as his leverage the " larceny in the blood " of innumerable politicians in every country who wanted to believe that here was a man who really had found a way of making diamonds out of plastics ; a way , that is to say , of making a quick profit out of an illicit sale of the Western soul . 
You can not satirize a confidence trickster — the best you can do is expose him , send for the police . 
But when you find a respectable citizen — the victim — who , beneath his air of solid good sense and goodwill is secretly hoping to turn a dishonest political profit by getting a flashy-looking collection of goods labelled " peace " or " security " or " the end of Bolshevism " for some minimal down-payment in the way of a betrayal of the Jews , or the sacrifice of a couple of small nations , then you have a subject which invites and excites the attention of the satirist . 
The satirist , as I have remarked , is certainly among those who can not bear that the passengers should be left for a moment longer in ignorance of the incompetence of malignancy of the engine driver . 
He is also likely to feel that having done that much his particular function has been accomplished , and he is not apt to pay much heed to those who keep asking him for his " solution " . 
He will reply that while he may , in some other capacity — as , say , a voter or a magistrate or Trade Union secretary — feel able and bound to propose and work towards " solutions " , as a satirist that is not his job . 
Myself , I hold this to be a self-evident truth . 
And having , during the early 1950s , had some particular opportunities of watching at close range the way the wheels of neo-Elizabethan Britain went round , together with the very great advantage of viewing the whole box of tricks in the perspective of Ireland , I was more than happy to find myself suddenly and , for me , startlingly in close collaboration with a man whom , for many years , I had learned to regard as an incarnation of the Devil . 
9 
I THINK it was a few months after the wind-up of Seven Days that I got a letter in Youghal which surprised me not a little , for it was an invitation to write an article for Punch . 
Not only that , but it was signed by my friend Anthony Powell who , it astonishingly appeared , had become Punch 's literary editor . 
A pleasure of living in Ireland is that you can , so to speak , turn England on or off as desired , and at that time , having been a little soured of London by the Seven Days episode , I had turned it off altogether and become absorbed in whatever I was doing at the time . 
I had thus had no knowledge of the volcanic disturbance which started to shake Bouverie Street with the appointment of Malcolm Muggeridge as editor of that publication . 
Furthermore , had I heard this bit of news it would certainly not have occurred to me that it boded me any particular good . 
True , I had no intention of writing for Punch , but if I had , the appointment of Mr Muggeridge would have seemed to me to rule out any possibility of successfully so doing . 
For although we had never actually met I had hated him for years . 
Those were , of course , principally my Communist years when Malcolm Muggeridge had great prominence in our Rogues ' Gallery of men who , for example , had gone to Moscow to bless and stayed to curse ; of hardened , obstinate and vicious enemies of Truth and Progress ; of particularly able , and , therefore , particularly detestable and dangerous journalistic and literary swordsmen in ranks of wickedness and reaction . 
Nor was conflict with Muggeridge in those days restricted to the battle of the typewriters . 
For he was often deadly active in the affairs of the National Union of Journalists — his activity always directed towards frustrating or defeating some vital activity of our own . 
At that time the National Union of Journalists was as a running sore to the anti-Communists of the T.U.C. For the London Branch , being by far the largest in the Union , was at most times able to play a preponderant part in framing the policies of the Union as a whole , and the London Branch , in its turn , was for long periods at a time , dominated by the Communists for the sufficient reasons , first , that the Communists were united in pursuit of various objectives whereas the anti-communists were in general united only in their anti-communism , and secondly , that the Communists were the only people who held it as a holy though often irksome duty to attend the Branch meetings . 
( These were usually held on Saturday afternoons at the St Bride 's Institute , in one of the lanes just south of Fleet Street . 
There are not many drearier meeting halls in that part of London , which is saying a good deal , and in any case Fleet Street on any Saturday afternoon is one of the dreariest places anywhere . 
Add to this that I personally detest meetings and speeches , and all the business of resolutions and points of order . 
Naturally , I am entirely aware that all this is of the absolutely indispensable essence of democracy , and that when you attend such meetings you are seeing and taking part in the true life and work of democracy . 
All the same , I wished profoundly that it were possible for me personally not to have to do that thing . ) 
More than once it had happened to me that my reason for asking to be excused attendance at St Bride 's on a given Saturday afternoon had been accepted as valid by the Communist Party leaders , and then , just as I was rejoicing over such a release , the word would come that Malcolm Muggeridge was going to attend that particular meeting , was going to launch some major attack ; in consequence all " leave " was cancelled , no excuses for non-attendance were any longer to be deemed valid . 
On such Saturdays I looked upon that man with more than ordinary political hostility . 
I humanly loathed him . 
In a paradoxical manner he represented all those disciplines of Communism and democracy which I had always found excessively irksome . 
He embodied for the moment everything that could make life vexatious , particularly on a Saturday afternoon in the desert parts of London . 
Knowing nothing of his appointment to the editorship , I was still bewildered by the presence in the literary chair of Anthony Powell who I had known since Oxford and whose novels , with their exquisite sinuosities and profound risibility had enchanted me for years . 
What , I had to ask myself , in God 's name was he doing in that gale3re ? 
And what , admitting that he personally was aboard the sluggish old hulk , on earth made him suppose that my presence would be welcome ? 
Just making the matter more mysterious was a note in his letter — he was asking for an article about Ireland — saying that he would like the piece to be " somewhat astringent " . 
If he were simply trying to do me a good turn by arranging for me to get a small piece of money out of Punch , surely , knowing my general line of literary brew , he would instead have put in some cautionary note urging me to draw it mild ? 
I certainly needed the small piece of money , so I wrote the piece , signing it discreetly " J.H. " — initials of James Helvick , under which name I then principally wrote . 
Within an hour or so of the earliest time the piece could have reached Bouverie Street from Youghal , I had a telegram from Anthony Powell offering hearty congratulations upon it , but asking had I any objection to signing " in full " . 
I wired back to say he could certainly sign it James Helvick . 
To this the response was equally prompt , and its contents made me ask myself whether Tony had gone actually off his head . 
For it emphatically urged me to sign " Claud Cockburn " . 
Resignedly , I telegraphed back that it was all right with me if he insisted . 
But to myself I thought that this bit of be5tise must inevitably mark the end of my connection with Punch — surely it ought to have been obvious to Tony that nobody in authority there was going to have a person with my sort of reputation writing articles — " astringent " at that — in their paper ? 
Although he had a good knowledge of English , and a great admiration for the British and their political tradition , his diffidence and his conservative temperament made it virtually impossible for him to adapt himself to the very different life of the British capital . 
Anglo-Jewry , as indifferent in those days to Jewish learning as to Jewish nationalism , was for him no better than a whited sepulchre , and English Zionism , still dominated by Herzlian conceptions , had no attraction . 
The " foreign " Jews of London , though not so denationalised as the assimilated Anglo-Jews who despised and patronised them , were scarcely less remote from him in the cultural sense . 
He took life too seriously to have much time for its lighter side , and his personal contacts were determined by his serious interests , which were for practical purposes limited to the Jewish national movement in the widest connotation of that term . 
It resulted that throughout his London period he remained outside the Jewish community , and made practically no new friends , with the exception of a handful of young English Jews , who had been influenced by his writings and broadly shared his outlook . 
There were in England a few Russian Jews whom he had known while still in Russia — among them Chaim Weizmann , who was a Lecturer in Chemistry at the University of Manchester — and the society of those of them who lived in the metropolis , and of old friends from elsewhere who visited London from time to time , saved him from complete isolation . 
But he remained a stranger in a strange land . 
He had come to London with hopes of being able at long last to retire from the field of Zionist controversy and from committee work , and to devote his spare time to study in the Library of the British Museum , and to writing a book on Jewish nationalism or the ethics of Judaism , two subjects on which he was eminently qualified to make an original contribution to Hebrew and Jewish literature . 
These hopes were disappointed . 
He found the hubbub of the City of London , and the strain of the daily underground journeys to and from it , nerve-racking and exhausting , and sustained intellectual work after office hours was seldom possible . 
He got so far as to map out the plan of a projected work on Jewish nationalism , but no further . 
In the six years preceding the summer of 1914 , when the first world war broke out , he wrote in all about a dozen pieces for publication , and these , together with a few of earlier date , were included in the fourth and last volume of At the Crossroads , which appeared in 1913 ; but he never wrote a book . 
The dozen pieces included two of his best-known essays , called in their English translations Judaism and the Gospels and { Summa Summarum . 
The first of these , written in 1910 , in the form of an extended review of Claude Montefiore 's Synoptic Gospels , is of permanent value because of the original view which it propounds as to the fundamental nature of the difference between the religious and ethical standpoints of Judaism and Christianity . 
The well-worn antithesis between Judaism as the religion of Justice and Christianity as the religion of Love does not , in Ahad Ha-Am 's opinion , go to the root of the matter . 
" What essentially distinguishes Judaism from other religions is its absolute determination to make the religious and moral consciousness independent of any definite human form , and to attach it without any mediating term to an abstract , incorporeal ideal . " 
Hence the Christian idea of a divine-human being , who mediates between God and man , is one which Judaism can never accept ; and on the ethical side , Judaism rejects the Christian ideal of altruistic self-sacrifice , and holds to the principle of abstract and impersonal justice , according to which " the self " and " the other " must be regarded with complete impartiality , and a man is forbidden to satisfy his own selfish desires at the expense of his neighbour , but is not called upon to place his neighbour 's life or interests before his own . 
The other essay , written in 1912 , gives his impressions of Zionist progress after a visit to the tenth Zionist congress and to Palestine in the preceding year . 
It was written for once in a mood of comparative optimism , which enabled its sceptical author to discern encouraging signs both of new thinking in the Zionist camp , and of the emergence of a new Hebrew type of life in Palestine . 
The grandiose ideas which Zionism still professed officially seemed to him as remote from reality as ever , but he was happy to see Palestine beginning to develop into that " national spiritual centre " which the Jewish people needed above all things . 
Outside the literary field , he was , during the years immediately preceding the war , an active member of the Board of Governors of the Technical High School which it was proposed to establish at Haifa , with money provided partly out of a charitable fund set up under Kalman Wissotzky 's will , and partly by the German-Jewish philanthropic organisation known as { Hilfsverein der deutschen Juden . 
Ahad Ha-Am was appointed to the Board by the Wissotzky trustees , and along with Shmarya Levin and Yehiel Tchlenov , two of his old friends who were prominent in the Zionist Organisation , represented the Zionist point of view against the assimilationists of the Hilfsverein , who held the whip hand because only they would have been able , if the need arose , to finance the scheme out of their own resources . 
He attached very great importance to the project both from the point of view of the material progress of the yishuv and from that of the prestige of Jewish Palestine in the Middle East , and he patiently acted as a moderating influence in the inevitable clashes of opinion on the Board ; but in spite of his efforts the uneasy partnership broke up in 1913 , when the erection of the school buildings was in progress . 
The immediate cause of the rupture was the insistence of the Hilfsverein on making German the language of instruction for all but Jewish subjects . 
The nationalist members of the Board , including Ahad Ha-Am , resigned on that issue ; and , in sympathy with their point of view , the teachers of the already existing Hilfsverein schools in Palestine declared a boycott of all its educational institutions . 
The outcome of this action was the establishment by the Zionist Organisation of its own Hebrew school system , which marked a turning-point in the history of the yishuv . 
Ahad Ha-Am objected in principle to the boycott weapon — it seemed to him not to differ essentially from the herem , or excommunication , which was a dreaded weapon in the hands of religious bigotry — and he also had grave doubts about the ability of the Zionist Organisation to find the money for the upkeep of an efficient Hebrew school system ; but the activists had their way , and on this occasion the results did not justify his fears . 
As for the Technical School project , the Hilfsverein 's intention to implement it alone was frustrated by the outbreak of war in the following year ; and after the war , when Palestine was placed under a British Mandate as the destined national home of the Jewish people , the present Haifa Technion was established under Zionist auspices . 
The War Years 
The outbreak of the first world war in 1914 put an end to Ahad Ha-Am 's literary career . 
He disdained to write for publication under war conditions , in which censorship precluded the absolutely unfettered expression of opinion ; and the Hebrew-reading public waited in vain for some indication of his views on the attitude to be adopted by the Jewish people towards the war , or his expectations of what the future might bring . 
Nor was it possible for him to find in wartime the peace of mind which might have enabled him to retire into an ivory tower and devote himself to philosophy or scholarship . 
The world war meant for him a relapse into barbarism , which shook the foundations of his implicit belief in the progress of humanity ; and without that belief he was like a lost soul . 
The massacre of the Jews in his beloved Ukraine , and the uncertainty as to what might be the fate of the yishuv , intensified his unhappiness ; and his malaise adversely affected his physical health . 
Paradoxically , it was during this period of acute distress that he made for the first time a direct contribution to the shaping of the policy of the Zionist Organisation . 
Thanks to his intimacy with Dr. Weizmann , he was kept informed from the outset of the steps which were taken during the war to win the sympathy of the British Government and British public opinion for Zionism . 
He was throughout in close touch with those who conducted the negotiations which ultimately led to the issue of the Balfour Declaration of 2nd November , 1917 , and was a member of the small informal Political Committee which was set up to advise Weizmann and Sokolow when those negotiations reached the decisive stage . 
His great moral influence was consistently exercised in the interests of realism and moderation in the formulation of Zionist demands , both during the war and later , when the Zionist case for the Versailles Peace Conference of 1919 came to be prepared . 
Taking , as always , the long view , he regarded the unequivocal recognition by the civilised world of Jewish national rights in Palestine as of greater value than the immediate establishment of a Jewish state , for which in his opinion neither Palestine nor the Jewish people was as yet prepared . 
The Balfour Declaration , designed to create conditions in which the political future of Palestine would be determined primarily by the amount of effort and sacrifice that world Jewry was prepared to put into the task of developing the country , was in line with his gradualist approach , and seemed to him to go as far as could be reasonably expected at that time in the recognition of Jewish national rights . 
He realised , however , as not all Zionists did in those days , that there was an important difference between " the establishment in Palestine of a national home for the Jewish people " , which was what the British Government undertook to support , and "the re-establishment of Palestine as the national home of the Jewish people " , which was the formula suggested on the Zionist side . 
He looked forward to an era of steady expansion of the yishuv under British tutelage , and of the progressive revitalisation of diaspora Jewry through the influence of the " national spiritual centre " , which for him was of greater moment than any spectacular achievement in the political or economic sphere . 
His last years 
The end of the war , in 1918 , found him a broken man , psychologically even more than physically . 
He was still able to carry on his duties as manager of the Wissotzky business in London for a time , but he had no strength left for study or writing . 
A breakdown of his health towards the end of 1919 necessitated months of sanatorium treatment , and left him suffering from some deep-seated nervous trouble , which defied precise diagnosis . 
He now had only one desire , to spend his last years in Palestine , where he hoped , and was encouraged by his medical adviser to hope , that he might recover his health sufficiently to be able to make some contribution to the life of the yishuv . 
It had always been his wish to settle in Palestine , but his passionate love of independence had stood in the way of his seizing any of the opportunities of doing so which had presented themselves at one time or another . 
Now , at the age of 63 , he felt that he had earned the right to retire on a pension which would enable him to live in reasonable comfort in the land of his dreams . 
For unknown reasons , over a year elapsed before the necessary arrangements could be made ; and it was not till the end of 1921 that he was able to leave London for Palestine , accompanied by his wife and their son and daughter-in-law . 
He preferred to live in Tel-Aviv , which was a creation of the new spirit of Jewish nationalism , rather than in the Holy City of Jerusalem , to which the aura of medievalism still clung ; and the Tel-Aviv Municipality built him a house next to the { Gymnasia Herzlia , the first all-Hebrew secondary school of modern times . 
A second effort to romanticize Devon did no better . 
Fletcher , with memories of Elizabethan England , spoke of local talent . 
Sidney whinnied scornfully . 
" Here it is . 
Us . 
We three . 
We 're the only local talent within fifty miles . " 
And Fletcher , who had wanted masochistically to claim Philistinism for America , clicked his tongue . 
It took us a long time to discover anything about his private life . 
Not till he announced one day gloomily , " I endoor domesticity , " did we even know that he was married . 
4 
My acquaintance with Basil Blackwell , my first publisher , developed quickly into a friendship which , though we have not often met since I left Oxford , has lasted and is based on real regard . 
Presently , with an appetite sharpened by the American anthology , I suggested to him that it would be a good idea for me to make an anthology picked from the many poets he had published . 
He fell for this idea , and the result was Eighty Poems , beautifully produced at the Shakespeare Head Press . 
The book drew attention to the work which he had done , and a most interesting bunch of poets were represented . 
Turning the pages now , I find that quite a number of poems still stand up with individuality and power , poems which I should pick again today . 
There was Wilfred Childe 's Recognition and The Gothic Rose , which I put in another collection many years later , and still admire ; a happy conceit of Gerald Crowe , { Ad Sanctum Geraldum Pro Nautis Ejus : a short lyric , Still-Heart , and two longer poems by that little-known poet Frank Pearce Sturm , a friend of Yeats 's . 
Their inclusion provoked an interesting correspondence , and Sturm sent me a little ivory Chinese figure which I have today . 
Roy Campbell contributed a delightful monkey poem , Bongwi 's Theology . 
The three Sitwells , Dorothy Sayers , Edgell Rickword , Katharine Tynan , and Fredegond Shove were represented ; Susan Miles offered one of her village poems ; Morley Roberts appeared in an unfamiliar light ; my Oxford poet friends all figured , and there was a short lyric by Vincent Morris . 
In all , fifty-seven poets were represented . 
But the book 's main importance for me was two friendships which it brought . 
Among the poets published by Blackwell was Clifford Bax . 
I was deeply impressed by his Traveller 's Tale , and wrote to tell him so . 
The result was an invitation to a meal , and at what was then De Maria 's restaurant at the foot of Church Street , Kensington , began yet another friendship of the kind that absence or catastrophe has no power to disturb . 
Clifford 's charm and breadth of worldly and other-worldly wisdom delighted and enthralled me . 
Still very much the country bumpkin , for all my Oxford overlay , I admired the grace and assurance which wealth , travel , and experience had given him . 
His voice and smile emphasized the gentleness of his nature , and his Buddhist faith confirmed it ; yet there were delightful contradictions . 
On the cricket field , for instance , Clifford flung the mantle of contemplation aside and emerged as a man of unpredictable and decisive action . 
The only thing that was safe to predict about an innings of his was that the figure six would appear on the score sheet ; how often depended only upon how long he remained at the wicket . 
Sometimes he was bearded , sometimes clean shaven , but this was his only variation . 
I never saw him ruffled , much less out of temper , and while he had a healthy appetite for gossip and was under no illusions about the characters of the people he met , I can not imagine him unkind in word or deed . 
Clifford was deeply interested in philosophy and religion , and had an open mind with regard to supernatural phenomena . 
He and his brother Arnold , to whom he presently introduced me , had been very strongly drawn into the Irish Revival in the first years of the century . 
Arnold wrote under the name of Dermot O'Byrne , and both brothers were friends of A. E. ; this friendship must have helped to acclimatize Clifford 's mind to aspects of experience towards which he was by nature prone , but over which the social side of his life might otherwise have drawn a glittering curtain . 
It was characteristic of Clifford 's generosity of spirit that he never made me feel uncultivated . 
I felt so naturally , and blurted out my feeling more than once , but he discounted it , showing me with a very pleasant realism that , if I were as bad as I felt , this , that , and the other person would not be able to endure my company . 
In sum , he was one of the people who helped me with my growing pains , and I shall always be grateful . 
Another was Humbert Wolfe . 
I had met him for the first time when he came to speak to a College society , where he was received with especial honour as a Wadham man . 
He also was represented in the Blackwell anthology , and this brought about a less impersonal meeting . 
Commenting on its ineptitude as a setting for him , I gave him dinner at the Philistines ' Club , where his long drooping lock , loose bow , and weary voice roused some astonishment . 
We were a party of four , and with the utmost courtesy he set himself to please us . 
He presently teased me because , when asked my opinion of certain people , I praised their kindness . 
" You seem to set particular store by this quality , Strong . 
Who has kicked you ? 
How did you acquire this abject attitude ? " 
I protested that it was not abject , and he conceded that instead it might be the romantic faith of a provincial . 
He himself was inclined to suspect kindness as a self-interested wish to please . 
He was , as I was later to discover , extraordinarily kind , but hated either to acknowledge or have it acknowledged . 
At any rate , he kept to the end his accusation of romantic faith against me . 
Many years later , he had to introduce Richard Church and me as successive speakers at a dinner . 
Of Richard , he said , " Here now is Richard Church , who has kept all his illusions " ; and , when my turn came , " Here is Leonard Strong , who has no illusions , but many delusions . " 
Richard Church I met through the American anthology . 
He was at this time a civil servant , much junior to Humbert , who used to mock him affectionately when they ran into each other in Whitehall . 
Under a shy and slightly myopic exterior Richard hid a needle-like observation and a lightning wit . 
At his sharpest , he rivalled Humbert , and that is saying a lot . 
His temperament has always been warm and generous , and , particularly in these early days , it would lead him into enthusiasms which sometimes brought him to the verge of absurdity , where he was saved by his sharp wit . 
All his friends pulled his leg about these enthusiasms , and Richard , sensitive to the affection which prompted them , would beam and blush ; but the glint in the eyes behind the glasses would be steely sharp , as he mischievously looked for a chance to hit back . 
Never strong physically , he was in these days working far too hard , with the office all day , and his own writing , and a great deal of reviewing . 
He and I got on well together from the start , but I do not think either suspected how much we were to be together in the future , and how often we would turn one to the other for comfort and advice . 
5 
My hunger for music , ignorant though I was , led me into several friendships I must otherwise have missed . 
The sturdy John Ellis had taken himself off , and gone to work on the railways at a job which he kept until he died , of a congenital heart complaint , while still in his early forties . 
He helped me more than I can say , and in many ways . 
Above everything I owe him the return to comparative sanity and balance after the disturbances caused by those soire2es with Schiller and Co . 
All my life I have been lucky in meeting the right person at the time of need ; and in no instance was this truer than with John Ellis . 
Apart from this enormous service , he laid the foundations of my musical education , both by his example and by his comments on the gramophone records I would nai " vely play him : unerringly selecting what was good , however unpromising its setting — the anonymous violin in a trio on an eighteenpenny record , the little-known baritone singing a song by a composer I had never heard of — and screaming in falsetto derision at performances by artists far better known , or merely vulgar . 
Ellis 's work was too sporadic to win the title of composer , though he set a number of poems to music , and sometimes invited me to write new words in place of the verses he had used . 
This I found I could do with little trouble , having sung enough to have a sense of word values and the possible duration of the various vowels . 
The next musician whom I got to know well was a much younger man whom I have already mentioned , Sidney Lewis . 
He had a long , equine head and a jerky manner which was the product of an urgent inner life and of energies too great for his thin asthenic frame . 
Sidney lived in a blaze of activity , mental and psychic . 
His dream life had sometimes a tragic intensity . 
I would not say that he had second sight as Romer Wilson had , but rather that some of his perceptions were dissociated in such a way as to give him uncomfortable , angular glimpses of eternity ; glimpses which sometimes comforted but more often threw him into an agitation of all his powers . 
Like many gifted people who have grown up in places where there is hardly anyone for them to rub their wits against , Sidney was a strange mixture of fantasy and practical horse sense . 
His shrewdness was alarming . 
He could drive a perception like a steel nail into the most imposing fac6ade or the most complex situation . 
He had a great power of enjoyment , and would go into convulsions of laughter so violent that they could embarrass those who were with him in public places . 
He had beyond a doubt a touch of genius , but of the kind which is not destined to blossom in this world . 
6 
Sidney had a number of older friends who had immediately discerned his quality and treated him as if he were of their own age . 
One of these was a Hindu who had come to Oxford to study Western philosophy . 
He was of short , stocky , powerful build , with fiercely curling black hair and eyes which immediately apprehended the essential things around him . 
His name was Basanta Kumar Mallik . 
The force of his mind and personality had made him many friends at Oxford , and it is possible that I should have met him through Robert Graves , or a Balliol man of great ability named Harries , if I had not been introduced to him by Sidney . 
Sidney however was the link , and this was important , since it was through Sidney 's elder sister Winifred that I later resumed the friendship interrupted by Mallik 's return to India and a gap of thirty years . 
Mallik 's philosophy was at this stage impenetrable to me , but I could appreciate some of its practical conclusions . 
He was a very lively companion , and among other things a superb maker of curries , a gift which much endeared him to me . 
I liked his curries all the better because they were not too hot : he explained that the very hot kind were more for the taste of retired colonels and Indian civil servants than for the Indian connoisseur . 
Few things pleased him more than to be turned loose by a hostess with instructions to make curry for her and her guests , but the joys of the meal would often be followed by a rueful inventory of the larder , for Mallik would put in everything he could lay hands on , including items which ninety-nine English people out of a hundred would have thought immune . 
The Varsity Regatta was always held at sea in boats which were borrowed for the occasion , and quite unfamiliar to all the competitors . 
The authorities had not yet been persuaded to award a Half-Blue for sailing as is done now . 
Another member of that early team — and a subsequent Captain — was Francis Usborne , now Secretary of the Royal Yachting Association . 
Stewart was always the principal spur . 
I was invited by his parents to stay on the Broads in their beautiful converted wherry Sundog ; she moved from regatta to regatta with a string of racing dinghies and one-designs towing astern , all superbly kept in trim by Cubitt Nudd , one of the best " paid hands " in all Norfolk . 
For these holidays I was usually Stewart 's crew , but when his new fourteen-foot dinghy Clover was built for him by Morgan Giles in beautifully selected teak , I wondered if I would be considered good enough to crew him in important races . 
Much later , when I had crewed in less expertly handled dinghies and finally graduated to my very own fourteen-footer , I wondered if I would be good enough to beat Stewart ? 
Without this friendly rivalry over the years I should never have been selected to represent Great Britain at the Olympic Games ( with Stewart as my spare man ) in 1936 ; I should never have won a Bronze Medal there — and likely enough I should never have become ( quite accidentally as it transpired ) the President of the International Yacht Racing Union . 
Most of the races at Ely were sailed in deadly earnest , and it was a good training ground , for in so narrow a river inches counted and fine judgement could be cultivated . 
A well-rounded buoy passed less than a foot away down the boat 's side as a matter of standard practice . 
A boat 's length was to be gained when " going about " by shooting up along the bank before filling away on a new tack . 
On occasion the sailing was more light-hearted . 
There was an afternoon when an unofficial prize had been offered for the helmsman who , sailing single-handed , contrived to capsize his boat first after the starting gun had been fired . 
The Commodore had not been informed of this plan ; he walked up the bank with his megaphone , shouting " Let the sheet go , you stupid boy , you 'll have the boat over in a moment if you 're not careful . " 
But his warning was of no avail and a few seconds later I won the prize . 
CHAPTER 15 Of Pinkfeet and Punts and Blue Geese 
DURING our Christmas holiday on the Solway we had heard rumours that very large numbers of geese assembled at the head of the great estuary upon their first arrival from the Arctic in late September . 
Between the River Esk and the River Eden is a vast merse covered only by high spring tides and for a few years this was used as an assembly point for what must have been at times something like thirty per cent of the world 's Pinkfooted Geese . 
Nowadays no such concentrations of geese are to be found on Rockliffe Marsh as we saw there in the autumns of 1929 and 1930 . 
Great numbers of Pinkfeet still come to the Solway , but not in any concentration until well into October , and their headquarters is now ten miles further to the westward around the Lochar mouth and the sanctuary provided for them on the Kinmount Estate near Annan . 
On 20th September , 1929 , I set out from London alone in the family 's Austin Seven and arrived at Sark Bridge Farm , Gretna , eleven hours later . 
Next morning I found that many thousands of geese had already arrived at Rockliffe . 
All that day more were coming in . 
This was the first time I had ever seen geese arriving on migration . 
There were little bunches coming in high over the Metal Bridge , heading the westerly wind and planing down on to the marsh — some in threes and fours , some in groups of a dozen or twenty . 
The little parties were scattered about the sky almost wherever you looked . 
It is a pattern I have seen many times since , but never more impressively than on that first day . 
I know now that the geese were coming from Greenland and Iceland , but in those days Spitzbergen was thought to be the breeding ground of most of the British Pinkfeet . 
But wherever they came from , it was far away in Arctic or Sub-Arctic lands , and it added immeasurably to the mysterious appeal of these wonderful birds . 
Rockliffe Marsh was private shooting , but by crossing the Esk in a boat it was possible to intercept the geese at the marsh edge , or from " lying-pits " out on the sand . 
In the week that I was there I shot twelve geese and was vastly pleased with my success . 
More recently I believe Manorial Rights extending to the river channels of the Eden and Esk have been substantiated , but in 1929 this had not been clarified and the sand was widely , if erroneously , held to be free shooting . 
Digging in on the sand is not now regarded as a wise procedure , for if it is extensively practised on a goose roost it seems eventually to drive the geese away . 
This may have been one of the contributary causes of the abandonment by the grey geese of Wells and Holkham , though I do not think it influenced their change of habits on the Solway . 
But in that first autumn on the Solway digging lying pits on the sand seemed only to be a practical if difficult method of goose shooting , and a number of my geese were bagged while shooting from their scanty cover . 
For my last two days in Scotland I moved westward to Wigtown Bay in order to go punting with Major Hulse — the Expert as we called him . 
I joined him at Creetown and we spent the two days afloat in pursuit of wigeon , which confirmed my earlier conclusion that punting was the best that wildfowling had to offer . 
Our bag was meagre and the occasion was chiefly memorable for my meeting with Adam Birrell and for a stirring return journey in the punt in a gale of wind . 
I had met Adam very briefly at the end of my previous day 's punting with Major Hulse , but now for the first time I recognised this was no ordinary fisherman-wildfowler . 
He was a first-class naturalist , with an astonishingly wide ( self-administered ) education . 
He was delightful company whether on a fowling expedition or bird-watching or fishing , and we remained in fairly regular communication thereafter for a quarter of a century . 
After the two days ' punting I set off from Creetown in the Austin Seven at a quarter to eight in the morning and arrived in London at a quarter to eight in the evening , having stopped for half an hour in Carlisle and three-quarters of an hour at Boroughbridge where I had lunch . 
It is an interesting commentary on the Great North Road and motoring conditions in 1929 that I was able to make the 380-mile journey in a seven-horsepower car at an average speed of just over 35 miles per hour . 
It is also perhaps worth recording that my ten days in Scotland had cost me almost exactly £10 . 
On the flood-waters of the Bedford Levels we had Penelope and Grey Goose , but we still had no sea-going double punt for the Wash , and this must clearly be remedied . 
Mr. Mathie , a boat-builder in Cambridge , was commissioned to build one , based mainly on the design and specifications of the Expert 's punt . 
She was to be twenty-four foot long , four-foot beam , with a twelve-foot cockpit , and she was to be called Kazarka — the Russian name for the Red-breasted Goose . 
Kazarka was launched just below Magdalene Bridge in Cambridge on 11th December , 1929 . 
On the following day I set out with a companion , David Lewis , to sail her to the coast . 
There was a south-westerly wind which was very strong at times and we made good progress until just before Ely , when there was a stretch which came closer to the eye of the wind and the lee boards could not really cope with it . 
But a passing sugar beet tug took us in tow as far as the Ely beet factory . 
Thereafter we sailed without difficulty to Brandon Creek which was to be our staging point for the day . 
There is a fascination in the bareness of the Fenland river banks . 
Trees are few and far between , and the river runs artificially straight or nearly so for many a mile , broken only by an occasional bridge . 
From the punt we had no view into the distance , for the high green banks rose steeply on either side to the skyline at most fifty yards away . 
The flat fenland fields , mostly below the level of the river , were hidden from us ; and yet I remember that the passage , the testing of our boat on her maiden voyage , the anticipation of her arrival on the fowling grounds of the Wash , the pleasure of spinning along under the small sail , all added up to a sheer delight which I can clearly recall today — just thirty years later . 
Christopher Dalgety came to meet us at Brandon Creek , and we took David Lewis to Ely to catch a train ( which he missed ) and then went on to the Globe Hotel at King 's Lynn which was our coastal headquarters . 
Re-reading my shooting diaries in 1959 in the course of writing this book I came upon the entry for the following morning , Friday , 13th December , 1929 , which is of more interest than I realised at the time . 
There was a moderate west-south-westerly breeze blowing as we walked out along the old drove at Terrington ( past a pole evidently set up on the salting long ago as a landmark and known inevitably as the North Pole ) and out to the edge of the salting . 
" I was in position at 6.40 , " says my diary , " " streak of dawn " having been at 6.10 . 
As it got light geese began honking all round . 
A lot of mallards had been sitting at the edge of the mud as I came up and now a lot more came over . 
I could have had several shots but the geese were all round . 
At last I saw about eight geese coming straight towards me . 
They sagged away on the wind and passed rather wide . 
I had a shot but without success . 
The sound of the shot put up a big lot of about 200 which had been sitting farther to the east . 
These pitched again about 200-300 yards away . 
I looked at them and thought that one on the left of the flock looked different . 
With the glass I could see at once that it was a white goose . 
His head , neck and breast were pure white and his back was dark brown , darker than the surrounding Pinkfeet . 
From the fact that he was a head taller than the rest ( and longer in the leg ) and also that his bill was very large and thick , I felt no doubt that he was an albino Greylag . 
In general size he was much larger than the Pinkfeet and was much more on the alert . 
He had his head up the whole time — once when only three other geese in the whole 200 had their heads up . 
After the flock had walked towards me a little , they sat for a while , and then I think they must have scented me , for away they went , crossing my creek further down and joining some more geese on the mud to the west . " 
Well , there it is ! 
There is the first record of the Blue Goose for Europe . 
The description is perfect . 
We even know that he was the rather less common form in which the white of the head extends on to the breast and belly . 
I may have exaggerated the size a little , and I gave him ( and his fellow Pinkfeet ) a sense of smell which I do not now believe could have accounted for their departure . 
Wesley often dined with him , sometimes with his other colleagues . 
The Rector 's brother , Sir Justinian , was an occasional guest whom Wesley met at dinner on Christmas Day , 1732 . 
Three days later , all the fellows in residence had dinner and supper with the Rector and his brother and played cards . 
A year later when Wesley 's father was staying in Oxford over Christmas , Isham invited John Wesley to read prayers and later entertained them both . 
Both Isham and his brother were among the subscribers to the projected work on Job , as were also some of the fellows and former undergraduates . 
At times the Rector was justifiably concerned at Wesley 's indiscreet religious zeal , but realized his merits , and on 28th June , 1734 , made a donation to the work of the Castle , a gesture by which Wesley was obviously touched . 
Wesley had been recalled to act as tutor to the undergraduates , and it was as a teacher and preceptor that he had returned into residence in November , 1729 . 
He was already well-read in the classics and in divinity . 
These , together with logic , were the principal subjects in which he had to guide his pupils . 
Like all his contemporaries , he regarded Aldrich 's textbook on logic , { Compendium Artis Logicae , with profound reverence ; he supplemented his teaching on logic and classics by reading Sanderson and Langbaine . 
Long after he had left Oxford the imprint of the syllogistic reasoning which he had learned and taught remained . 
" For several years " , he wrote much later , " I was Moderator in the disputations which were held six times a week at Lincoln College in Oxford . 
I could not help acquiring hereby some degree of expertness in arguing ; and especially in discerning and pointing out well-covered and plausible fallacies . " 
He fulfilled his duty as Moderator by lecturing or presiding over disputations in the College Hall at ten or eleven on week-day mornings . 
At first he seems not to have had a private pupil , though he certainly gave his brother , Charles , and their mutual friend , William Morgan , what could be called tutorials . 
With them he read Milton 's poetry , Lucas ' popular devotional work , Norris ' sermons , lives of Bonnel and de Renty and the warning tract known as the Second Spira . 
The character of these books suggests that this reading may have been part of that prescribed for the recently formed Holy Club . 
In June , 1730 , he noted proudly that he had his " first pupil " , in all probability Joseph Green , the Bible clerk whom he had introduced to the Rector on 10th June and whom he took to be matriculated two days later . 
Green 's father lived at Shipton , where Wesley often took the service for his friend , the former Lincoln undergraduate , Joseph Goodwin . 
It was probably through Wesley 's efforts that Green came to Lincoln . 
He was soon calling on Wesley , who lived in rooms just above him in College , at ten every morning , presumably for tuition . 
On 4th June , 1730 , the Rector had allocated eleven men to Wesley , John Westley , Jonathan Black , from Harringworth in Northamptonshire , Thomas Waldegrave , a Lincolnshire boy from Londonthorpe , two northerners , Thomas Hylton from Monkwearmouth and Robert Davison from Durham , John Bartholomew from Dorchester , Dorset , John Sympson , almost a neighbour , from Gainsborough , Edward Browne , a merchant 's son from St. Asaph , Richard Bainbridge from Leeds , and George Podmore from Edgmond in Shropshire . 
None of these ever achieved great distinction , but Bainbridge was later a fellow of Lincoln , while Thomas Waldegrave was subsequently elected a fellow of Magdalen and was Edward Gibbon 's first tutor . 
It is one of the minor ironies of history that in going through the plays of Terence with the precocious young man Waldegrave was probably reproducing the notes which he had once learned from John Wesley ; but Gibbon thought the tutorials so unrewarding that he resolved to absent himself from them . 
There were few days when Wesley did not give up some hours , usually either at ten in the mornings or two or five in the afternoons , to his pupils ; even on Sundays and holy days he noted in his diaries that he had seen his pupils , presumably to give them religious instruction . 
It is not very clear what the College tutor in the eighteenth century was expected to teach outside the lectures in Hall where he presided over disputations or commented on the Greek Testament . 
Fortunately John Wesley has himself left a list of the books which he read with his pupils . 
In 1730 he instructed them in Virgil 's Aeneid , Terence 's plays , Horace 's poems , Juvenal 's Satires , Phaedrus , and Anacreon . 
In English they studied Richard Lucas ' Enquiry after Happiness , Norris ' Sermons , Stephen 's Letters and half of John Ellis ' Defence of the Thirty-nine Articles . 
Next year he read Gentleman Instructed and Charles Wheatley 's The Church of England Man 's Companion with one pupil . 
With another he perused Atterbury 's sermons and Edward Welchman 's { Articuli 39 Ecclesiae Anglicanae . 
With another he ended Cicero 's { De Natura Deorum and read his Tusculan Disputations . 
With another he studied Aldrich 's Logic , but to so little effect that when they had finished it they began all over again . 
Finally a fifth pupil read the plays of Terence as well as Aldrich with him . 
He had evidently acquired something of a reputation as a tutor in logic as three young graduates of the College , William Smith , George Bulman , and Frederick Williams were given tuition in the ubiquitous Aldrich . 
He took his pupils ' intellectual problems seriously , correcting declamations for Edward Browne on 22nd September , 1730 , and for Joseph Leech on the afternoon of 28th February , 1733 , and teaching Thomas Greives an hour later that same day ; earlier he had spent some time thinking out syllogisms for an exercise in logic . 
On 26th June , 1732 , he wrote out a logical problem for Smith . 
In the winter of 1733 he noted wearily that his pupils would not learn Hebrew and on the last day of the year he was angry because they had failed to turn up . 
His relationship with these young men was much more than that of teacher and pupil . 
Hitherto his contacts at Lincoln had been with men of comparatively senior status like William Cleaver , Matthew Horbery , the son of a former vicar of Haxey , and a future fellow of Magdalen and his neighbour , Robert Pindar , who matriculated as long ago as 1726 . 
Now he was concerned with supervising younger men who had just entered the College , and he certainly set out to take an interest in them far beyond the obligations of a tutorial nature . 
He sat with young Joseph Green at the Bear . 
In August , 1732 , after calling on Benjamin Holloway , son of the rector of Middleton Stoney , who was to enter the college in the following November , he accompanied Richard Bainbridge on an expedition to Cottisford and Rousham . 
He said later that he made no attempt to persuade his pupils to become members of the Holy Club , but he had too strong a personality to keep his religious views in the background . 
His diary shows that he regularly invited his pupils to breakfast and prayers , and those who showed any interest in the activities of the Holy Club were subsequently brought under close supervision and spiritual discipline . 
His first book , A Collection of Forms of Prayers for Every Day in the Week , with preface and questions for self-examination , was written for his pupils and published in 1733 . 
It is possible that the Rector was increasingly and explicably unwilling to entrust Wesley with the care of pupils because of his close identification with the Holy Club . 
In August , 1733 , Wesley told his mother that he had as many pupils as he required . 
" If I have no more pupils after these are gone from me , I shall then be glad of a curacy near you ; if I have , I shall take it as a signal that I am to remain here . " 
There were in fact only a small number of new entries at Lincoln every year . 
Wesley seems to have been only on intimate terms with his earlier pupils and either because of lack of time or because the Rector was anxious about the recruitment of impressionable young men his later pupils were few . 
This view is supported by Richard Morgan 's unfriendly picture of Wesley in a letter to his father . 
Indeed , he wanted to be transferred to the other tutor of the College , " reckoned one of the best tutors in the University " , and of whom Lord Lichfield had so high an opinion that he thought to send his eldest son to Lincoln . 
" He has " , he wrote , " what few are in college ( except one Gentleman Commoner and two servitors who are Mr. Wesley 's pupils ) under his tuition . " 
If Morgan was correct , then at the beginning of 1734 Wesley had , presumably in addition to Morgan , only three other pupils , probably Westley Hall ( who was a gentleman commoner ) , Matthew Robinson , and either Joseph Green or Joseph Leech , all of whom were servitors . 
We should , however , be careful about accepting Morgan 's statement without qualification , and other evidence would suggest that Wesley was at least being consulted on tutorial matters by other members of the College . 
His residence at Lincoln may have attracted a number of undergraduates to the College . 
John Sympson , who was admitted as a servitor in 1728 , lived in Gainsborough ; so did George and Thomas Hutton , whose father was a local lawyer . 
Joseph Green , from Shipton , probably entered the College as a Bible clerk partly through Wesley 's support . 
He certainly played a part in the admission of two of his other prote2ge2s , Westley Hall and John Whitelamb . 
Westley Hall was admitted as a gentleman commoner on 22nd January , 1731 , and John Whitelamb was admitted as a servitor on 10th April , 1731 , and , much to Wesley 's satisfaction , was later given a scholarship . 
Hall , who came from Salisbury , was related through his mother to John Westley , who was already an undergraduate at Lincoln . 
His mother , who was a daughter of a vicar of Imber , near Warminster , had married a clothier , Francis Hall ; his brother , Robert , later Lord Mayor of London , and knighted in 1744 , was the father of the Lincoln undergraduate ; " My first cousin , John Westley being there ... 
John Wesley my tutor " , as Hall later commented . 
John Whitelamb , " poor starveling Johnny " , was the son of humble parents ( his father Robert , however , is described in the matriculation book as Robert , gentleman of the parish of Hatfield ) , who lived at Wroot , the dreary village where Wesley acted as curate ; and he had been employed by the elder Wesley as his amanuensis . 
He was an intelligent young man , who entered the College at the unusually late age of twenty-two ; Wesley had great hopes of Whitelamb , but as in the case of Westley Hall , they were steadily to evaporate . 
Of the twelve young men who entered the College in 1731 , the one who was eventually to repay Wesley 's tutorship most was in his first year practically unknown to him ; James Hervey , the son of the curate of Collingtree . 
Although Wesley was as far as possible rationing time to serve the more serious pursuits of life , he neither withdrew from social life nor ceased to take part in the normal recreations of Oxford . 
Twice , on 10th March and 19th May , 1730 , he went dancing . 
Genuinely fond as he was of music , he seized such opportunities as Oxford then presented , once attending a concert with Charles and William Morgan ; and in the summer he himself studied the gavotte from Otho , " { Non e si vago e bello " . 
He occasionally went on the river ; on 28th September , 1730 , he gathered walnuts . 
Walking was his normal exercise , with Charles and Morgan , to Binsey , round the Meadows , or in Merton garden , once with Wilder and Dr. Grove . 
He was now the proud possessor of a horse . 
This was in effect a first necessity if he was to take services at the villages in the neighbourhood of Oxford . " 
" Yesterday " , he told his mother on 28th February , 1730 , " I had the offer of another curacy to continue a quarter or half a year , which I accepted with all my heart . " 
" All officers , " growled George from behind a cow , who had no love of the War Ag. , and proceeded to tell me a story far removed from this present ( as most of his stories were ) of how in India , where he had been a private in 1916 , the cow was brought to the householder 's door each morning , and while it was milked consumed the contents of the dustbin . 
Actually this wartime farming of ours on Road Farm was a mixture of ancient and modern . 
I had a modern rib-roller ; but there was also one made out of a trunk of a crab-apple tree , one hundred and fifty years old , I should think , I found lying at the back of the cart-lodge . 
And we used that one too , on some tender young beet . 
It was also a mixed , cosmopolitan , ideological farming . 
Land girls , Germans , Italians , succeeded one another in our fields as the war went on . 
I had also a young Quaker , a pacifist who contradicted everything I said , but he meant well . 
And George Goforth plodded on , who had once had all this farm to himself , knowledgeable in the handling of tackle , stoical ; getting on best , characteristically , with the least fortunate ; the prisoners , the enemy , lost to their own kindred , far from their own homes . 
There was a shortage of implements at first on account of the war . 
Scenes come to mind . 
There was the day when we missed being able to borrow a neighbour 's swath-turner by one minute . 
It had just been lent to somebody else . 
It was a day on which hay demanded to be turned . 
So the tractor which had returned without it was switched off . 
Larks sang : we could hear them suddenly , when the tractor stopped , as we bared our arms for hard work . 
Six acres of swaths to be turned before dewfall , and at four o'clock milking would deplete our team . 
But it was the longest day . 
Bumblebees disturbed from the swaths by our rakes zigzagged into the air before us . 
I glanced at the roses in the hedge , at the buds that were more red than pink . 
Someone was saying , " There 's one thing , every round gets shorter as we move towards the middle . " 
Round and round that field we walked all day . 
I came to know that hay intimately , every ingredient of it ; clover , rye-grass , cocksfoot , and the occasional pallid corpse of a plant of chicory . 
I was soon in that state belonging to my former unmechanized farming , of mental stupefaction induced by repetitive manual movements . 
The jumping teeth of my rake had a life of their own to my eyes , as they snatched at the swath again and again , rolling it over like a small wave , and the hay whispered like surf . 
There was still plenty of the physical exhaustion of that former farming , owing to the exigencies of the time . 
I walked behind a pair of horses again , ploughing , before I got delivery of a tractor . 
But the plough here in East Suffolk was an iron plough , having wheels . 
It was known as the " improved two-horse plough " , which reminded me of the name of my old-type of kitchen range at Creams : the " New Leader " . 
I doubt if I enjoyed any part of my wartime farming so much as ploughing the stubble with Kitty and Boxer , days whose peace was only broken by the sudden roar of an express train going by in the cutting beside the field , which startled me , not the horses ; they had been used to trains since they were foaled here . 
I , too , got to know the trains : I told the time by them . 
I also had contract ploughing done for me by the War Ag . 
A young man came with a crawler tractor and multiple-furrow plough . 
He told me that his father was a small farmer , and that on Saturday afternoons , having been ploughing with his crawler tractor all the week , he took a pair of horses and ploughed for his father on his small-holding . 
He enjoyed that : it was his recreation , he said . 
The field which I ploughed so carefully with the horses , I drilled with wheat by tractor . 
It was one of the first jobs my new tractor did . 
And it was a horrible day . 
Fine when we started , drizzle when we had done about two acres , downpour for the rest . 
The tractor floundered , the drill kept gumming up with mud : it took one man all his time to keep the spouts clear . 
We ended soaked to the skin , in a field that was churned to a morass . 
And the wheat — oh those beautiful straight drill-rows of our 1922 Cherry Tree Farm ! 
How unlike them when the corn showed were those of this first field I drilled of my new farm . 
But it turned out to be the best crop of wheat I ever grew . 
I remembered then an old country saying I had heard about wheat : " sow in the slop , and reap a good crop " . 
There was also sugar beet , a crop which I had not grown before . 
A gang of prisoners of war came to hoe them . 
They hoed up weeds industriously all morning . 
At midday a pelting shower soaked the ground : the thirty men moved off across the field to their dinner , and as they went , every foot , treading on a hoed-up weed , planted it again in the receiving earth . 
And the cows . 
There was the blind cow whose name was Christmas , because she was born on Christmas Day . 
She was not discovered to be blind until one day heaps of manure were placed at intervals for spreading on a pasture that the herd crossed , and Christmas tripped over them . 
Ever since then Christmas preferred to walk beside the hedge , making a detour from gate to gate . 
How did she know that she was walking beside the hedge ? 
Was it that a hedge has a peculiar quality of scent ? 
Or was there a sixth sense which told her that something was there beside her ? 
She walked holding her head up and a little sideways , in a listening attitude . 
In former days it might have been thought that Christmas , being born in an august hour , had met with a blinding light . 
But the vet said , " Probably a phosphorous deficiency , " and one had to accept that . 
On the journey home to milking , along the green lane to the farmstead , Christmas walked last . 
The other cows were purposeful ; knowing dairy cake awaited them . 
Let nothing get in their way : they trotted . 
But Christmas dawdled in the lane , last , alone , safe from hustling , and enjoyed a feast of her choice . 
All was safe here ; there were no ditches to fall into , but close on either side tall hedges grew with shoots of many flavours . 
There were tips of bramble and brier whose thorns were still tender : a wild rose was licked off its stem by that muscular tongue , which encompassed in the same sweep a dozen crab-apple leaves . 
There was hogweed , ground-ash , sallow . 
She dragged at a spray of hawthorn , which embushed her head while she tore at it . 
Had there been time enough , there could have been nothing pleasanter than to watch Christmas browsing , while one bore gently on her rump in the act of coaxing her forward . 
But the milking waited . 
Yet this pushing and this calling her by name seemed only to sweeten her dalliance . 
She knew that she had nothing to fear from the human presence , by these unhurtful urgings . 
Some movement forward was required of her , and in time she would comply . 
In the meantime it was like conversation to her , while she enjoyed her banquet of leaves in the grassy lane . 
She could not have known that there was any such phenomenon as light in the world . 
Therefore , of course , there was no such thing to her as darkness , only hours of a warmth beating down , and then hours of stillness and a cool moisture . 
The hoot of the owl and the voice of the blackbird perhaps indicated to her what was " night " and what was " day " . 
Her chief privation was that she could not follow a patch of shade as it moved with the sun . 
To her it was an arbitrary and elusive area of coolness . 
Christmas spent the night in a loose box by herself . 
She used to walk straight to it from the milking shed , and waited before it , to be steered into it . 
Once inside , she stood chewing the cud and gazing ( you would think ) over the low wall like any other cow . 
Approached from one side , she would turn her head and face you . 
If you put out your hand she would put up her head to meet it , scenting its approach . 
Sometimes she went into the meadow pond to drink , and having drunk forgot that she had not turned round , and walked on into deeper water . 
When it was up to her flank she realized that something was wrong , and turned herself about . 
The other cows did not molest her unless she was in a confined space with them . 
This situation she learned to avoid . 
Christmas was a lady of pedigree and a good milker . 
Her calvings she managed for herself , although , of course , she had never seen her calves . 
On the first occasion there was anxiety and sitting up at night for her . 
But she calved by herself after all , in an interval between the vigils . 
There she stood , her calf lying in the straw behind her . 
She turned to it , lifted her front feet and placed them accurately between its outstretched legs , and lowered her head and licked it dry all over . 
In her world of darkness she never injured any of her calves : she seemed to have an unerring instinct where to tread . 
Year by year the ploughing and the sowing and the hoeing . 
The two Italian prisoners lived in an opera act of their own , grand or comic according to their mood of the day . 
And the Quaker , who fancied he had an ear for music , hoed at the farthest possible distance from the Italians in the field , because he could n't stand their caterwauling , he said . 
And George Goforth ( whose children were also growing up ) resolutely maintaining of every new machine I bought that it would not work , and proceeding to work it , even as Bill Mould many years back used to do . 
The type does not change much . 
And the harvesting , and the Italians building waggon-loads of sheaves , movable stages for their perpetual recitative . 
And the difficult regulations about land girls not to be set to work beside Italians , when all hands were needed round the threshing machine . 
The threshing machine beat out the rhythm of the autumn day . 
Straw bales in a long spasmodic caterpillar were pushed from the baler up a slanted ladder and built like blocks of masonry . 
Similarly there had been hay bales . 
Similarly now there were for us school trunks . 
Three times a year I loaded school trunks on to the car and took them to the station , and three times a year loaded them on the car and brought them home from the station . 
Essentially bales of hay are trunks , in shape and weight , packed trunks . 
In one small field I counted one hundred and ninety-six bales . 
At six o'clock I said to Marjorie , " I 've loaded and unloaded more school trunks this afternoon than in ten years of school terms , school trunks without handles . " 
Bales are obstinate things , ungrippable , liable suddenly to slip one string and then the thing turns into an enormous dissolving accordion in your arms .... 
There was the thatching of the new corn stacks , and the Quaker showing up suddenly as a better thatcher than George , and not letting the fact be overlooked . 
Master 's tactful handling needed there , in between bouts of getting up steam in the dairy boiler . 
There was the pleasant solitary task in September of taking a second cut for hay . 
The days grew shorter , but given fine weather , another crop could still be gathered . 
It was in 1862 , as King of the Belgians , that he made a confession to the Archduke John : " 
The Prince of Prussia has also written to tell me that you regret I have tied myself to Belgium . 
I too sometimes regret that my part in the East was taken from me . 
I fancy that I could have done much good there , and though I know the disadvantages of the situation , it very often gives me a kind of nostalgia . 
How strange my fate has been since we were together in Brighton with the Regent ! 
If I had taken command of things in England in 1830 , many things would have happened differently , and what was bound to happen would have been more wisely controlled . " 
In his old age , for personal and political reasons , Leopold declared that only Greek interests had inspired his refusal of Greece ; and this was understandable , for when he " corrected " Gervinus , the throne of Greece was again on the market and he was considering it for a Coburg nephew . 
Besides , since William 4 had lived to 1837 , it was a little ridiculous to admit that in 1830 they had quarrelled over his corpse . 
On May 21st , 1830 , Leopold declined the throne of Greece . 
" Leopold " , snapped Mme de Lieven , "has played us a pretty trick . 
It is a bad business ... 
Who is going to take what Leopold has refused ? " 
Leopold 's hesitations and problems and his final rejection had created considerable ill-feeling ; and Count Matuszewicz , writing to Stockmar , declared that " Prince Leopold has shown so many arrie3re-pense2es , so much bad faith , so much irresolution , that I rejoice not to see him entrusted with the government of a country in which he would have betrayed the confidence of the three Courts ... 
There is no difficulty which does not alarm him , no obstacle which does not stop him , no gesture which does not prove that he would have brought to Greece disgust , pusillanimity , and the perpetual regret of having abandoned his so-called chances of the eminent position of Regent of England . 
It is this Regency that he will never obtain , above all now that he has crowned his shame like this ... 
Such a sovereign would have done damage to royalty . " 
And this scorn and anger were echoed by the correspondent , quoted in the Memoirs of Baron Stockmar , who wrote to the Archbishop of Cologne : " What does Your Eminence say to the behaviour of Prince Leopold ? 
It is quite in the character of the Marquis Peu-a3-Peu , as King George 4 christened him ; instead of conquering difficulties , instead of completing the work he had undertaken , he withdraws like a coward , and calculates the possible chances which the approaching death of King George 4 may throw in his way . 
A man of this weak character is totally unfit to play a bold part in life . " 
13 THE COBURG COALITION 
BY May 1830 it was sadly evident that George 4 was dying . 
His private excesses had largely damaged his reputation among his contemporaries , but after all , his excesses had been those of virility , and his virtues , though less blatant , were very many . 
He was the most civilized monarch that England had known since Charles 2 : perhaps , indeed , since Elizabeth . 
He had accepted the dedication of Emma , he had patronized Hoppner and Lawrence , he had added widely to the royal collections . 
He had inspired Nash to create the classical splendour of Regent 's Park . 
He had conjured up the Coleridgean fantasies of Brighton ; he had made ( with his architect , Wyattville ) the alterations to Windsor that had turned it into the epitome of castles ; and he had built his own Nonesuch , Carlton House . 
He had been the arbiter of fashion and of taste ; and in all he did he had been a superlative figure , larger than life . 
He was a born king , and the Marquis Peu-a3-Peu would be a king by training and ambition , not by nature . 
In May 1830 the jackals were impatient for the bulky , pathetic recluse to die at Windsor ; and Mme de Lieven , of course , was among the foremost . 
" The most delicate question " , so she wrote in eager anticipation , " will be raised by the death of the King . 
It will be necessary to make provision for a regency in the case of the Princess Victoria 's minority . 
The Duke of Cumberland is caballing for it , and Prince Leopold desires it . 
Most probably it will be assigned to the Duchess of Kent , the Princess 's mother , in which case it will be Leopold who will rule . " 
And , since the Russian Ambassador 's wife was always sharp about Leopold , she continued briskly : " He has given us every reason for dissatisfaction and complaint on account of his conduct in the matter of Greece , and the English Government would be glad to follow our lead and to oppose the Prince 's pretensions . 
This is a line , however , which prudence warns us not to take . 
He will be powerful some day , and indeed he is so already by the number of his supporters . " 
Mr Creevey likewise shot a barb which touched the truth : " I suppose Mrs Kent thinks her daughter 's reign is coming on apace , and that her brother may be of use to her as versus Cumberland ... " 
George 4 was still clinging to life , William 4 ( almost mad with excitement ) was still waiting in the wings , but the preparations continued gaily for the next reign but one . 
" Lord Durham " , added Creevey , "is now Prime Minister to the Duchess of Kent and Queen Victoria , and they are getting up all their arrangements together in the Isle of Wight for a new reign . " 
At last , on June 26th , 1830 , the reign of George 4 came to an end , and there began the reign of the simple , genial Grand Admiral — the most remarkable contrast to his brother that could be imagined . 
England changed her allegiance overnight from a splendid sovereign to an excited , bourgeois little king who could not get over the fact of his accession . 
The gold-and-lacquer days of the Brighton Pavilion were ended . 
" There are " , wrote Croly , the historian , " few more regular or temperate men in their habits than the present King . 
He rises early , sometimes at six ... 
At dinner he restricts himself generally to one dish of plain boiled or roasted meat , drinking only sherry , and that in moderation — never exceeding a pint . " 
" A quaint King indeed ! " was Mme de Lieven 's acid contribution . 
" A { bon enfant — with a weak head ! " 
William 4 was sixty-four , he suffered from chronic asthma , and it was quite possible that he might die before May 24th , 1837 ; if he did , if Queen Victoria ( the title sounded well ) — if Queen Victoria came to the throne before her eighteenth birthday , there would have to be a regency . 
There was only one move to be made now on the chess-board , and Leopold of Coburg would be Prince Regent of the United Kingdom : Regent , that is , in everything but name . 
The accession to the regency now became quite as important as Victoria 's accession to the throne , and the candidates canvassed for it almost as if they were canvassing in a general election . 
" Prince Leopold and his sister , the Duchess of Kent , are getting popularity in the provinces , " snapped Dorothea de Lieven in September . 
" He is much interested in the Regency question , and had a long talk with me about it . 
Naturally , he wants it to be given to his sister , but the Ministry wish it to pass to the Queen ... 
After the King 's death , the Queen , so far as England is concerned , is only a foreigner . 
As for the Duke of Cumberland , " finished Dorothea , " he has no illusions and puts forward no claim , clearly seeing that it would be useless . " 
And for once Dorothea de Lieven did not exaggerate . 
The Duke of Cumberland knew quite well that he was by far the most unpopular royal brother . 
The others might be more or less eccentric , but he was credited with murder , incest and homosexuality . 
Cartoons ( and they were rough and ribald ) did not spare him : Cumberland was the villain of the age . 
Besides , if his niece became Queen of England , he would receive a crown of his own , for she could not succeed to the Kingdom of Hanover . 
So Queen Adelaide patiently continued her carpet-work at Windsor , and the Sailor King , understandably disconcerted to find his death discussed before his coronation , continued to rule the country and propose the Duke of Wellington for the Regency . 
Mrs Kent ( "the Swiss Governess " , George 4 had called her ) , buxom and domineering , with the little Leiningen regency behind her , was " courted and sought after as much as if she were already Regent " , and Prince Leopold , noted Mme de Lieven , " takes a gloomy view of all that is going on . 
All the royal princes are opposed to the Duke of Wellington . 
The King is alone in his determination to support him . " 
The combination of the King and the victor of Waterloo was enough , however , to alarm the most spirited opponents ; and the Coburgs needed to keep up a constant campaign . 
" Prince Leopold and his sister " , wrote the usual observer , late in September , "are exploring the provinces in pursuit of popularity . 
The prince assumes the air of a presumptive heir . 
The regency question will in all probability be decided in favour of the Duchess of Kent ... " 
And since Dorothea never took her piercing eyes off the Coburg coalition , she reported again on October 25th : " The Duchess of Kent and her brother hold themselves very high , as if the throne is to be theirs tomorrow — and this is most unpleasant to the King . 
Leopold does not show himself , but works silently underground . " 
The Regency Act of 1830 settled , finally , that if the Queen were to have a child and the King died before its majority , she should act as its guardian and as regent ; but that if she were childless and Victoria ascended the throne at her uncle 's death , the Duchess of Kent should be her daughter 's guardian and act as regent during her minority . 
Most fortunately , at this moment Fate took a hand with the chess game . 
In September 1830 revolution broke out in Brussels . 
14 LEOPOLD OF THE BELGIANS 
ON July 29th , revolution had burst out in Paris , Charles 10 had fled , and Louis-Philippe , the ex-Duc d'Orle2ans , the exile of Twickenham , had accepted the crown " from the hands of the people " . 
Events in France had had immediate repercussions on Belgium : the repercussions which Leopold , and indeed every student of history , had expected . 
In 1792 the victory of Jemappes had put Belgium into French hands ; and French ideas had been imposed with effect . 
Division into departments , centralization of government , the introduction of the { Code Napole2on , the freedom of the Scheldt , had done much to help the development of Belgium ; and freedom of worship and civic equality replaced the old principle of the nobles ' supremacy . 
It was not surprising that a considerable French party formed in Belgium ; and its influence only weakened when the Continental blockade began to weigh heavily on the country . 
In 1815 , when the Congress of Vienna united the Belgians with the Dutch ( whom they detested ) , the memory of France grew strong again ; and when William 1 of Holland attempted to amalgamate his two peoples , Belgium thought only of separating from Holland and rejoining France . 
The effect of the French Revolution in July 1830 was therefore immediate ; the July days in Paris were followed by the August days in Brussels . 
On August 24th , at the Brussels Opera House , Auber 's Masaniello was being performed . 
It dealt with the Neapolitan rising against Spain ; it was a work of revolution . 
And when the tenor began to sing his famous aria , "{ Des armes , des flambeaux ! " the audience swept out , drunk with the message , into the summer night . 
Brussels was pillaged , and the Belgian Revolution had begun . 
The spontaneous movement spread across the Belgian provinces , and it took King William some time to organize forces to crush the rebellion . 
Late in September , the Belgian National Congress voted the separation of Belgium from Holland , and in October it declared Belgium to be an independent state . 
At any rate I found it quite difficult to shake my feelings free from beliefs which my reason had rejected . 
Fortunately for me my mother was unusually liberal-minded . 
I do not recall her ever attempting to implant any kind of rigid doctrine or fearful religious truth into her children 's minds . 
Her aim was that we should not have peculiar views and that we should grow up mildly orthodox , so that at a later age we could discard as much or as little of conventional religion as might suit us . 
I suspect that my father had been a sceptic and certainly my maternal grandfather was a convinced one . 
Agnosticism , as Huxley called it , was becoming respectable , and I welcomed that mental attitude of being free to think for myself . 
It is not very surprising that presently I earned the family nickname of the " the youngest infallible " , for I knew all the answers though not , as yet , many of the questions . 
These came my way later in life . 
Perhaps because of my secret ambitions I was curious to see what eminent people looked like . 
At Clifton College , I had often seen the immortal W. G. Grace watching his son at the wicket , and I , like other boys , had stared at the vast bearded celebrity , sometimes even having the privilege of seeing him play on the Close and smiting the ball for six . 
A heavenly spectacle ! 
At University College , the discoverer of argon , Sir William Ramsay , looked disappointingly ordinary . 
We were often given tickets to soire2es of the Royal Geographical Society where we could feast our eyes on great men and hear them talk ; Sir William Crookes lecturing on those magical tubes of his which produced X-rays , Stanley on his African explorations , Nansen and his ship the Fram , George Nathaniel Curzon who had just explored the Pamirs , and others famous then but now forgotten . 
It seemed to me that these celebrities were much like ordinary folk to look at ; why should n't I become one too ? 
During the first half of 1896 my mother was visiting her sisters in New Zealand and I became a boarder in a relative 's family in Hampstead . 
It was very uncongenial and I was desperately unhappy there , living in mental solitude without friends of any kind . 
On my mother 's return in the summer of that year a much brighter prospect opened . 
She took a house in Cambridge and there I made a fresh start as a non-collegiate student , with a view ultimately of obtaining my medical degree . 
CHAPTER 2 Cambridge 
The Medical Student at Cambridge took the Natural Science Tripos ( in Anatomy and Physiology ) as the first stage of his training but in those three years my chief interests lay in other directions . 
I worked hard at studying dramatic technique and in seeing plays whenever I could . 
In addition there were theological and philosophical works to be read and then problems to be discussed with anyone who would listen . 
At eighteen it is easy to settle the affairs of this world and to arrange those of the next to one 's own satisfaction ; but among undergraduates there are so often some whose minds are fixed in error , evidently afflicted by the sin of invincible ignorance , from which one is oneself happily free . 
In those years at Cambridge I was reaching the stage in self-education where questions become more exciting than answers . 
Sermons by eminent divines , preaching on Sundays in Great St. Mary 's , provided me with abundant specimens of theological conundrums ; and it was instructive too , in view of a possible political career , to hear examples of oratory . 
I found Father Maturin the most remarkable and Bishop Gore the most profound . 
I also heard Bishop Temple ( the great , not the less ) , Archdeacon Farrar ( of Eric or Little by Little ) , Mandel Creighton , Scott Holland , and others who figured largely in the ecclesiastical world of the nineties . 
Yet in spite of them : " 
There was a Door to which I found no Key : 
There was a veil past which I could not see . " 
Among undergraduates my greatest friend was a theological student with whom I argued interminably many a long evening ; we had nothing whatever in common and we remained intimate friends for fifty years . 
I had reached the age when sexual questions pester the imagination and supply undergraduates with an absorbing topic for discussion . 
Nature demands information . 
How to obtain it ? 
One heard vaguely that " they order this matter better in France " , but aesthetic principles coupled with an element of Puritanical shyness in my case , forbade practical experiments , and happily an alternative source of knowledge was available , namely the kind of literature which was commonly condemned as " improper " , " pornographic " or " obscene " . 
I am amazed to recall how mild were the books which , in the nineties , served to provoke a young man 's furtive blush ; the Decameron , { Contes Drolatiques and Zola 's novels , in atrocious translations ; Oscar Wilde 's Dorian Grey and the like which I suppose would today make schoolgirls yawn . 
Doubtless there are modern equivalents which serve youth equally well as psychological sedatives , satisfying for the time being those unruly impulses which might otherwise interfere with scholarship . 
I must not forget to remind myself that among other subjects at Cambridge I studied Anatomy and Physiology as a preliminary stage to medicine and as an exercise in viewing the naked truth without flinching . 
For the English mind this is curiously distasteful . 
It was the custom among us students to attend Addenbrooke 's Hospital to watch operations , as a hardening process . 
I found this had the drawback that as soon as an operation had started I fainted ; the power of suggestion — or the dislike of the naked truth — was such that eventually I even began to faint as I entered the hospital gates . 
Clearly I should have to abandon all hopes of becoming a doctor . 
Or was there a cure ? 
Making one more attempt , which I vowed should be the last , I went early to the torture chamber , sat in the front row from which escape was impossible , and spent the morning fainting and coming round over and over again . 
That effectively cured me ; it also taught a useful lesson , applicable to many things in life . 
As a non-collegiate student I found myself meeting a range of other undergraduates much more varied than at most of the colleges . 
There were men of all ages , creeds and races . 
I recall a room full of us , fourteen in number and no two of the same nation , all jabbering English . 
We happened to mention how some English families boast of Norman blood . 
Then a Greek claimed for his family a much longer descent and then among those from the East the "bidding " rose by thousands , until an Icelander capped all by claiming direct lineal descent from Odin . 
Evidently Norman blood is mere { 6vin ordinaire . 
I seized the opportunity afforded by Cambridge of starting to collect books ; I still have my eighteenth-century editions of Swift , Pope , Hudibras and the Spectator which I bought in 1897 off Mr. David 's famous stall in the Market Place . 
Whilst at Cambridge I was taught by my mother to appreciate Gothic architecture , a subject she had much studied , and during the vac we visited the glories of Normandy . 
From her too I began to learn something about pictures , especially those of the Old Italian Masters . 
Names like Fra Angelico and Filippo Lippi and Botticelli came to have a friendly significance , filling a gap in my raw sceptical mind . 
I was beginning to realize that it does n't matter much whether a legend is true so long as it is beautiful . 
At the end of my time at the University I had learnt that a properly trained aesthetic sensibility was a more reliable guide in life than any system of theological dogmas , though I would admit that this might not apply to all people . 
For me , however , aesthetics seemed to be a more civilized mode of guidance than theology . 
In order to develop aesthetic tastes it would be necessary to familiarize oneself with as many forms of art as possible , but how in the world could one do all this if one had to waste so much time learning to become a doctor ? 
How much easier it would be to belong to some Puritanical sect that stifles all expressions of beauty , hates arts and is the sole possessor of the key which unlocks the Heavenly Gates ! 
How simple just to worship ugliness and call it God ! 
But as it was , Science and Art were making rival demands on my time and thoughts ; and it seemed that while Art added to the joy of life , Science added only to its comforts . 
I suppose it is common enough to look back later in life and to say what was the most valuable of the gifts one gets from three years at the University . 
In my case certainly , it was a keener appreciation of the beauty of things , ranging from the pictures of van Eyck which I heard Professor Waldstein expound in lectures in the Fitzwilliam Museum , to the shape of the buildings of the Colleges . 
Make your way along the Backs on a May morning to the Wilderness , penetrate passages and archways , cross bridges and gaze again and again at the Great Court of Trinity : this , believe me , is what education means , real education , for through appreciating the beauty of things you come in time to appreciate the beauty of ideas . 
CHAPTER 3 Bart 's 
After Cambridge , I entered at St. Bartholomew 's Hospital , London , at the beginning of 1900 . 
My mother and I lived in the suburbs and we were so fortunate as to have as a neighbour the late J. W. Allen , lecturer ( later Professor ) in History at Bedford College for Women . 
He supplied me with what I most required at that phase of development ; he became a guide to my reading and an admirable critic of my attempts to write plays ; and he had enormous enthusiasm for good literature . 
I recall his lending me , one evening , the poems of D. G. Rossetti . 
I sat up all night until I had read the volume from cover to cover . 
I have not read any of it since ! 
I received that night an exhilarating shock to my sensibilities in appreciating the strange beauty words can present when arranged in particular patterns . 
If , with a taste for literature one happened to have grown up about the beginning of this century , one almost certainly would be conscious of that quality called " style " . 
For then books were admired chiefly for their " style " and writers laboured in pursuit of { 6le mot juste . 
As you read those slender greenish volumes of the Pseudonym Library , pausing to discover the peculiar merits of Some Emotions and a Moral , you felt that however obscure the meaning , the style was superb . 
There was , too , The Yellow Book , a veritable storehouse of literary style and if one were in doubt what the word implied , there was Walter Pater 's essay on Style to settle the matter . 
It was in fact a kind of literary " class distinction " , a superior quality which only the select were capable of appreciating . 
It was not the matter presented by the author so much as the manner that counted . 
The reader learnt to be sensitive to the shape of a sentence , to the use of " master words " round which an author like Stevenson would build significant paragraphs ; and to admire those splashes of colour that were almost purple . 
How gratifying to one 's self-esteem to patronize an art so exclusive ! 
But alas ! — already in those Edwardian years the hoofs of democracy were trampling over the flower beds . 
A more plebeian mode was in demand and authors proclaimed their views in loud , level tones . 
About that time I experienced another shock at an exhibition of Romney 's portraits , many of Lady Hamilton . 
No one , I thought , could ever have really looked as beautiful as that ; it must be a trick . 
I sat , watching that magical creature casting a spell over me , extraordinarily exhilarating ; but later came the shock of realizing that this kind of knock-out blow might happen to me in real life some day . 
We had learnt about them in our daily scripture lessons . 
We found Europe a very accommodating continent , with the easily recognized Italy " boot " , and a pink Russia taking up most of the space , where we were only required to point out St. Petersburg and perhaps Moscow . 
Like the Grecian urn and beauty , that was all we knew or needed to know about Russia . 
When it came to nearer home , then prejudice and patriotism had their stubborn way with us . 
All very well for England to spread her patchwork quilt of counties before us . 
We viewed her with unsympathetic eyes . 
But unroll the map of Scotland , and here was Geography itself . 
What could a whole wilderness of maps display that could beat this land of ours ? 
Look to the West , and there was pink Argyll , all broken up by long strips of blue sea , and lovely islands with romantic Highland names . 
Over the sea to Skye with Prince Charlie , and to Iona , where the long-ago saint built a shrine and raised a cross . 
Back to the East , and there was Edinburgh . 
And here were we , actually in a house in a street in Edinburgh ! 
Gleefully we pointed out the Firth of Forth , in which we had all bathed and paddled at one or other of the little villages on its coast . 
North Berwick , with the Bass Rock and Tantallon Castle , and over in Fife , Aberdour , its woods lovely in Maytime with the blue of wild hyacinths , and Largo , where Robinson Crusoe was born , Elie , with Macduff 's cave and the rubies on Ruby Beach , and grey St. Andrews , with the links , the ruins , and the castle , and the echoes of the long-ago lullaby : " 
Hush thee , hush thee , do not fret thee , 
The Black Douglas will not get thee . " 
We chattered , we pointed out , and compared notes on beaches and sand-castles and spades and shells , and jelly fish , and Miss Gray joined in and told us stories of Macduff , and Macbeth , and the Black Douglas . 
I had been to the Trossachs , and had seen Ben Lomond , " Ellen 's isle " and the " Silver Strand " , so when the poetry lesson was from The Lady of the Lake the pictures in my mind flashed into unforgettable words . 
Lessons ? 
These things were at the heart of us , and Miss Gray was there with us . 
That 's the sort of person she was . 
The same with History . 
History was for Miss Gray , and easily for us , a pageant of heroes and splendour , of pity and even tears . 
Scotland was of course our first love . 
Her history blazoned before our eyes the bravery of Wallace , Bruce and his indomitable spider , Bannockburn , Mary Queen of Scots and best of all , Bonnie Prince Charlie , with tartans waving and banners flying .... 
Little Arthur 's England brought us good King Alfred and Harold after a page or two of blue-painted Britons with Druids and mistletoe — and so on to the lion-hearted Richard and his brave Crusaders , and the sad tale , with a pathetic picture , of the little princes in the Tower . 
And , of course , that hero of heroes for all little girls , the glorious and adorable Sir Walter Raleigh , cloak and all . 
We learnt the names of the wives of Henry 8 , we loved Charles 1 and hated Cromwell , and after being a little bored by Queen Anne and the Georges , we ended up comfortably with our own Queen Victoria , and she , in our childish loyalties , was and would be ever the one and only heroine of the National Anthem . 
Little Arthur 's England — I have it still . 
I remember how I would open it and read the first words : " You know , my dear little Arthur " and then turn to the last page and read the last words : " I hope it will help you to understand bigger and better histories bye and bye . " 
I do n't know if it was " Little Arthur " , but most certainly it was little Miss Gray who helped me to that understanding , awaking in me , sublimely unconscious , interest and energy for tackling these " bigger and better histories " in later years . 
One of our lessons was to read aloud . 
I do not know what children read in school these days , but the people who compiled our reading books must have been as deeply concerned about what we read as about how we read it — for our books were made up of extracts from great writers , interspersed with poetry from the great poets . 
I remember being charmed and amused by the Sir Roger de Coverley papers from the Spectator , while the translation of Pliny 's letters to Tacitus describing the eruption of Vesuvius , and the lava pouring down on Pompeii and Herculaneum , must have made so deep an impression that it was still clear at the back of my mind when , many years later , I saw the smoke of Vesuvius above the Bay of Naples , and stood among the ruins of the cities . 
Of all the valuable things we learnt in those early days in " the little Schoolroom " nothing , I think , was more valuable than the poetry , which we not only got by heart , but , stirred by Miss Gray 's enthusiasms , also took to heart , laying the foundations of a love of poetry which has ever remained with me . 
Can I ever forget the stimulating joy of standing up and reciting : " 
Cannon to right of them , Cannon to left of them , 
Volleyed and thundered . " 
and all the time seeing in my mind 's eye that brave Brigade , galloping , galloping into immortal glory ? 
" Theirs not to reason why ! " 
Neither was it mine — the splendour and the tragedy were all in all . 
And " The Schooner Hesperus ! " with the ache in my heart for the skipper 's little daughter lying on that forsaken beach , " 
The salt sea frozen on her breast , 
The salt tears in her eye . " 
And the appeal of the incorruptible Casabianca , standing alone amid the flames , preferring death to disobedience ! 
Oh , the pity of it ! 
I felt it , Miss Gray felt it , we all felt it . 
I think we regarded the " Queen of the May " rather in the light of a distinguished stranger , for no Queens of May ever reigned in Scotland , but we liked her , and sympathised with her eager desire to be up and doing — the lilt of her lines was easy to learn , and she lilted so many touching and interesting things that we could only rejoice when she , having " thought to pass away before " went on living and lilting for quite a page or two longer . 
Then for rollicking fun , could anything beat " John Gilpin and his Spouse " , and that gay picnic at the " The Bell " at Edmonton , and the screaming from the balcony when the wigless John went flashing by on his run-away steed ? 
And surely there was no resisting the charm of the dashing " Young Lochinvar " and his fair Ellen ? 
" One touch to her hand , and one word in her ear " ( and could n't one just see the glint in his eye ! ) and in a trice they 're off and away , all the wedding guests coming helter-skelter behind them ! 
Then ho ! for the " racing and chasing on Cannobie Lee ! " 
How we all laughed ! 
How Miss Gray laughed ! 
In gentler strain , could anything be sweeter than that dear little brook telling its own story and how it came " from haunts of coot and hern " , chatter-chattering its way to " join the brimming river " ? 
I knew quite a lot of chattering brooks myself . 
And I think that even we , young as we were , felt the strain of music linked with infinity in the haunting refrain : " 
For men may come and men may go . 
But I go on for ever . " 
Many another poem could I speak of which sang itself into my heart and memory . 
But for me , best of all , the ever delightful blacksmith in his smithy " under a spreading chestnut tree " . 
Best for me , because I actually knew a blacksmith , just like Longfellow 's , minus the chestnut tree , who lived on Tweedside in a jewel of a tiny village called Clovenfords , where I was taken every spring . 
My father and my brothers put up at the Inn , where Hogg the Ettrick Shepherd , and Sir Walter Scott , had put up before them — but Louis and I and Ann lived in the village blacksmith 's cottage , with the smithy next door , and through the wall we could hear the bellows blowing and the horses stamping . 
My blacksmith too , had " large and sinewy hands " — " swiney " as one of my own children misread it — and often did I stand and watch him shoeing a horse , and was allowed to put my small hands on the bellows and help blow the fire . 
So it is of my Clovenfords blacksmith , dark-eyed and black-bearded , in his smithy among the hills , that Longfellow brings back the memory . 
At ten o'clock Miss de Dreux rang the big brass bell in the hall . 
She did this every hour until two o'clock , when the day-girls went home . 
At the sound of the bell , doors would open and release girls talking and laughing ; feet ran to and fro , as we all changed rooms for different classes . 
Each hour , silence changed to noise , and noise again to silence . 
A memory stays with me , of arriving late one morning to find all doors closed against me , like the gates of doom . 
The ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner seemed an echo of my anxiously beating heart . 
I could hear the voice of Mr. Robertson in the { salle a3 manger , and perhaps the German tones of Madame Kunz in the { grande salle with the Senior German class . 
Upstairs and down I heard the muffled sound of pianos , hesitating scales , or stumbling sonatas , and the guttural German voices of Miss Wehle and Miss Javrova the music teachers — all very awe-inspiring for an anxious culprit . 
In the { grande salle , from ten to eleven o'clock , Mr. Robertson taught writing and arithmetic . 
Seated at one of the long desks , I had my first thrill with real ink and a quill pen . 
Oh , the spluttering of that pen ! 
And the messiness of the thin pink { papier buvard that soaked up the blots ! 
And the pages of alphabetical moral maxims we scratched and blotted in out copy-books ! 
For our sums we used slates , and slate-pencils , which would often give out a horrible screech as our small hands slipped on a line or figure , and this would be echoed by a screech of agony from everybody in the room . 
We did a great deal of rubbing out with the torchon , helped by a lick from a finger . 
Mr. Robertson had a long red beard and whiskers which tickled my neck as he bent over me correcting my sums .... 
We had out first French lessons from Miss de Dreux . 
Hall 's First French Course , all masculines and feminines , troublesome conjugations , and exercises to write at home . 
Before very long we were reading { Un Philosophe sous les Toits — I can not remember the author , but I know I had a sort of affection for that old philosopher and his meditations under his roofs . 
It was dear Miss Bogen who gave us our first German lessons , only vocabulary , no books . 
She was a sweet , kind creature and we all loved her . 
Later on , when Madame Kunz took us over , German became important , with Weisse 's Grammar , Schiller , Goethe 's " Faust " and Heine 's poetry . 
But even in these early days we were growing daily more familiar with speech both in French and German . 
Then of course , there was music . 
There were two piano mistresses , both German , both very plain , both admirable teachers , though severe , both trained at Leipzig Conservatoire , which in those days was considered the last word for training " in all kinds of musick " . 
Miss Javrova , who taught us little ones , had a very long nose . 
Though she was strict , she was kind and appreciative of effort . 
I was a nervously conscientious child , and took my practising seriously . 
" You must play this ten times over " , Miss Javrova would say , pointing with relentless fingers to a jumble of crotchets and quavers . 
Again there was a long pause . 
" We 're mates , " he said at last ; that was all , yet I felt there was something more to it . 
I sent for the sergeant of the platoon both men were in and asked him to try to find out discreetly what lay behind this . 
It did not take him long . 
Rifleman A had a secret ; he was illiterate , or very nearly so . 
Rifleman B was teaching him to read and write in private . 
It had cost A a great effort to confess his secret to his mate and he could not face confiding in somebody else ; they wanted to complete the tuition . 
I took B off the draft and eventually sent them on another one together . 
A disproportionate amount of my time seemed to be taken up with delinquency , military or civil . 
Apart from the daily " crime sheet " there were occasional courts martial , appearances in the police courts of neighbouring towns as " prisoner 's friend " , and even , on one occasion , which I shall describe in another connection , a journey to London to give " evidence of character " in a case against a rifleman . 
The first time I appeared at a court martial I took infinite pains with my case for the defence . 
I interviewed the prisoner — a deserter — in the guardroom several times , sorted out the obvious lies from the more plausible parts of his story and , discovering that the essence of desertion lies in the intention not to return , built up an elaborate argument to show that the man had intended to come back , or at least that he could not be proved to have intended otherwise . 
This last became difficult when it emerged belatedly , via the civilian police , that he had flogged — that is , sold — every stitch of his military clothing and every piece of his equipment . 
My case got off to a bad start . 
The President of the Court asked me if I was making a plea in mitigation and seemed rather impatient when I said no , I had a complete defence to offer . 
The Court fidgeted and seemed bored ; the Judge Advocate looked , to me at least , half amused and half contemptuous . 
A sense of injustice spurred me on , and there is no doubt that it spurred me too far and too long . 
The sentence was 112 days ' detention . 
Leaving the court I met an officer of another company who had been very helpful to me ; he had once been the commandant of a military prison . 
He put his hand on my shoulder and said something to the effect that that was quite a speech I had made . 
It was nice of him to say so , I replied unhappily , but it had n't had much effect , had it ? 
Oh yes , he said . 
A considerable effect . 
" How ? " 
I asked , irritably . 
" Well , " he said thoughtfully , " I 've seen a lot of those cases , you know , and I would say that without your speech he would probably have got fifty-six days . " 
If I defended that prisoner too much there was one I defended too little , indeed not at all . 
He was a camp hospital orderly , summoned to a police court about six miles away . 
I was particularly busy on the morning of the case and sent a message to the hospital that the rifleman should report to the Company Office and I would drive him into town . 
My idea was that he could tell me the facts on the way . 
But a message came back that the rifleman had already left . 
I realised I had cut everything rather fine and left at once . 
But by the time I reached the court my man was already in the dock and there was no chance of consulting him . 
I was in time to hear the charge , which was that he had taken a motor bicycle without the owner 's permission and ridden it without a licence ; also that he had stolen a blanket and a groundsheet . 
He pleaded not guilty . 
The Chief Constable took him through the story to the point where it was established that he had , in fact , taken the articles . 
Why ? asked the Chief Constable . 
And why did he plead not guilty ? 
The rifleman was a regular soldier with a row of service chevrons . 
He stood like a ramrod in the dock , head slightly raised , looking ahead and upward over the Bench , and he spoke as if delivering a well-rehearsed recitation . 
" Well , sir , " he said , " it was like this , sir . 
There was a dance at the camp that night , sir . 
I wanted to take a girl home , sir . " 
The Chief Constable asked patiently what that had to do with the charge . 
Why had he taken the articles in question ? 
" Well , sir . 
It was like this , sir . 
There was a dance at the camp that night , sir . 
I wanted to take a girl home , sir . " 
All right , said the Chief Constable . 
He wanted to take the girl home ; that was why he took the bicycle , believing the owner would have lent it if asked . 
But why did he take a blanket and a groundsheet ? 
" Well , sir . 
It was like this , sir ... " 
The whole routine came out again , not an inflection varied . 
The Chief Constable interrupted . 
" Why , " he asked wearily , " did you take a blanket and a groundsheet ? " 
Suddenly the soldier relaxed his rigid posture , looked down at the Chief Constable , and in a totally different voice full of challenging contempt for his interrogator 's obtuseness , he said , " y'would n't like me to tell you , wouldya ? " 
All I did in that case was pay the five-pound fine which was quickly imposed and arrange for it to be deducted from his pay . 
When I was n't being an ineffective lay lawyer I was often an employment agent . 
The company 's roll included a number of men who were drawing specialist rates of pay but for whom we had no job in their specialised line . 
When a specialist was wanted anywhere the application came to me . 
One day the Adjutant telephoned that a cook was required urgently at a Stately Home some miles away which had been requisitioned as a high level military headquarters . 
I consulted the Sergeant-Major ; we went over our lists of cooks and chose one . 
He was sent for and seemed a very presentable man . 
I gave instructions for him to be driven , with his kit , to his new and cosy-sounding job . 
That evening , passing a bunch of soldiers in a camp road way , I thought I saw the cook , then decided I must be mistaken . 
But the thought persisted and I sent for the Sergeant-Major . 
Oh , no , he said , I must be mistaken . 
He had personally seen the cook off in a truck with all his kit . 
I told him to enquire . 
Half an hour later he reported back . 
I was right . 
Our cook was home again . 
The Sergeant-Major asked him what had happened . 
" I do n't know , " the man said , looking genuinely puzzled . 
" I 'd only just got there and I was in the kitchen and a sergeant came down and said the General wanted tea . 
He had company up in the drawing room . 
Wanted it right away . 
Well , when I took the pail up ... " 
Nobody had ticked him off . 
He had simply and immediately been ordered back to where he came from . 
He probably established a record for short tenure as a General 's cook , but I should like to have been present at the moment in the drawing room when tea was served . 
It was ironic that while I was trying to deal with the problems of the " employed " men I had also to cope with a less constant but trying problem of unemployed men . 
The main body of the company was fully engaged in a training programme but there were at times quite large numbers of men who had completed their training and were waiting to be drafted overseas . 
No soldier is more difficult to handle than the idle soldier , and none is quicker to realise when duties or training are designed more to prevent boredom or to keep him out of mischief than to further his proficiency . 
The draftee is restless , impatient , and apt to see no reason why he should n't be on embarkation leave until it is time for him to go abroad . 
When , as sometimes happened , a man had had embarkation leave twice and was still hanging about a camp in England , his morale was unpredictable , even from day to day . 
One sternly devised further training programmes and tried to stress their importance , but the scepticism was palpable . 
It was better to be unorthodox — so long as higher authority did n't find out — and intersperse their days with what were frankly games . 
When influenza struck down several platoon commanders I was reduced to putting bodies of these men under one NCO and offering a packet of cigarettes to the first man to reach the top of a nearby hill — stressing , of course , the need for maintaining a high pitch of physical fitness — or sending them out in pairs in " initiative tests " , which amused them , gave them some freedom , and at least got them out from under my feet . 
All the trained men had qualified in D and M ( driving and maintenance ) and when I was given two buses for use in the company 's defensive ro5le in the event of invasion I packed off whole groups to practise bus driving . 
I discovered that men who had driven even heavy vehicles for years took some time to get the knack of handling a bus and , though their military careers were unlikely to call for such a skill , this again kept them busy on something a little off the beaten track of routine . 
Nearly all the men were Londoners , and home was only a couple of hours hitch-hiking away ; so absenteeism became rife . 
It was coolly calculated . 
They knew that if they had a few days at home and were put in the guardroom when they returned they would be released if the draft movement order came through , so what had they to lose ? 
When Christmas came we had a mass of unauthorised departures . 
A pale-faced corporal reported one night that his entire barrack room was deserted . 
He had found a packet of cigarettes on his pillow with a message attached — " Happy Christmas , Corp " — and signed by all the missing men . 
The temptation to take no action , knowing they would all be back as soon as the holiday was over , was great , but one could not take that easy way . 
I had the local police of each man 's home district informed , and a sufficient number of them spent their Christmas in civilian cells to serve as a warning to others . 
The various invasion alarms were almost a relief in that they called for action which at least approximated to war , though nothing in fact happened . 
The company 's task was to guard the perimeter of an airfield a few miles away . 
When the alarm stand-by was received our curious caravan set off — two buses , a couple of jeeps , and two dispatch riders . 
We were assigned our ro5le only when the first of these alarms was received , so we arrived at the airfield in the dark . 
Two World War 1 soldiers , now ground defence officers in the RAF , greeted us . 
My first question was as to the extent of the perimeter . 
It was nine miles . 
My training told me that you should never spread men thinly , so I split my force into two small mobile units ( each with a bus ) and proposed to hold them in a central position while pickets covered the perimeter . 
But the RAF men would have none of this and it was made clear to me that once on their premises I came under their orders . 
So I had the ridiculous task of spreading my men — about 120 of them — along a nine-mile line . 
The RAF men supervised my placing of them and apparently approved . 
When dawn came I found that most of them had a field of fire which could have caused them only to shoot up the anti-aircraft gunners on the rising ground around us . 
By and large , the Citroen was a remarkably good car . 
Like most French machines , it always did what you expected it to do , and you never felt insecure driving it , no matter what the circumstances might be . 
Both the steering and the change mechanism were rather heavy , but one got used to this . 
There were times , too , when I longed for a fourth gear , particularly in hilly Devonshire country , I remember , when I was often caught between ratios and felt quite helpless . 
Characteristic of its country of origin , you always knew that there were only four cylinders working for you under the bonnet , and I should have liked to try the Big 6 , which must be a very pleasant handful of a motor car . 
The cornering and the road-holding on the Citroen were astonishingly good , as anyone knows who has driven one , and the manner in which it remained glued to the ground going round corners , no matter what the road surface might be , was most endearing . 
But best of all was the Citroen 's gluttony for work . 
It seemed to relish being driven hard , and flat-out driving all day appeared to leave it refreshed and longing for more . 
Sometimes that pleasant Citroen used to be subject to a minor vibration period when cornering fast on lock . 
This was only a slight nuisance , and was caused by the Carden shaft overrunning the engine at certain times and not at others , creating a non-constant velocity . 
I mention this only because the same thing , in a much more extreme form , cropped up at Lagondas when we were testing the prototype 2 1/2-litre Lagonda at Staines immediately after World War 2 . 
For a long time we could not understand why , when travelling slowly in top with practically no throttle , the engine appeared to miss . 
This was all the more curious because when carrying only one passenger under identical circumstances we had no trouble with the engine at all . 
I do n't know how long we all wasted on this annoying snag before the answer suddenly occurred to us . 
Of course , we at last reasoned , with the extra weight at the rear , the angle was altered between the bevel-box and the wheels and we might be subjecting the Carden shaft to a non-constant velocity . 
At last our reasoning was right , the vibration occasioned giving an almost identical impression to that caused by a missing engine . 
At that time I believe there was only one foreign firm making constant velocity joints , and as it was quite impossible to get supplies , we " faked-up " this vibration period , quite successfully , too . 
I do n't know whether Alec Issigonis and his team met this same trouble with the prototype Mini-Minor , but I was interested to see , when the specification of this car was published , that the design included a constant velocity joint . 
It would be interesting to know if any other design teams have met the same trouble , and have been as mystified as we were with the Lagonda . 
I think now that I ought really to have driven more cheap " bread-and-butter " cars during my active years as a designer , and indeed it was not even my choice that I drove one model almost daily for several years . 
It came about in this way . 
After I had been " bought " by Rolls-Royce and told to hand over to Jack Barclay my own 8-litre car , I found myself in the unusual position of being without personal transport . 
This was the first time since about 1910 , when cars were still comparatively rare anyway , that I had not had one . 
It was a curious feeling . 
I had to use buses and Tubes , and I did n't like this much , so I took to walking instead , which was probably better for me , but rather slow . 
At that time I could barely have afforded the down payment on the cheapest on the market , and though I hope I did n't tell anyone my dilemma , Billy Rootes must have divined the reason behind my curious and uncharacteristic new habit of tramping from point to point about London . 
Billy Rootes ( now Lord Rootes , of course ) had been an active and successful agent for Bentleys , and I knew him quite well by then ; well enough , anyway , for him to be able to ask me , without so much as a blush , whether I would n't mind doing him a favour . 
" I 'd be very grateful if you 'd try this car , " he told me on the telephone one day . 
" I want your honest opinion on it . " 
The car in question was one of the new Hillman Minxes , and for that particular week-end , and for almost every weekend for months afterwards , a Minx or one of their larger cars used to be made available to me . 
This was not only a great convenience , but I could quite honestly tell him that I thought the Minx was a very nice little car . 
I have never forgotten this kindly and thoughtful gesture of Rootes at a time when things were not going so well for me . 
He has not only deserved all the success he has had , but has reached his present distinguished position by honesty and integrity as well as kindness . 
I should doubt if he has any enemies . 
Some months later I was able to purchase a Minx for myself , on the specially favourable terms Rootes offered me , and from then until the beginning of the war I was never without one , although they were really my wife 's cars . 
I must say , though , that I was rather doubtful about going to the South of France in a Hillman Minx after always doing the journey previously in somewhat swifter and more robust machines . 
However , I was lucky to have a car at all , and set out with my wife , a considerable weight of luggage and some nervousness . 
But I was soon surprised at how game and robust the Minx was , and how effortlessly one could drive 350 miles in a day in it . 
It was hardly a grand tourer , but the only trouble we had was with tyres , suffering five punctures by the time we reached Le Mans , where I purchased some more suitable ones . 
A Standard 8 scarcely seemed a suitable machine for the long trek to the sun , either ; but , like the Minx , it surprised me by its willingness and ability to slog along all day at a reasonable average . 
I had one of these for a short time after the war , and did many thousands of miles in it . 
The road-holding was hardly brilliant , and of course it was never intended to suffer the liberties I took with it on one hurried return from the South of France , but it was quite a good little car . 
The only car I drive regularly now is the nice little Morris Minor , of which more later . 
2 Motor Bicycles and Brooklands 
THE four-wheeled vehicle with its internal combustion engine that we call the motor car has given me much pleasure , as well as pain and disappointment . 
But I am not sure now whether I do not resent the manner in which it has intruded , filling far too much of my life and leaving me with insufficient time to explore so many other fields in which I am interested , like meteorology and wireless telegraphy . 
Perhaps I regret now a little that I made the motor industry my profession , if only because for so long the machines filled my life to the exclusion of almost everything else . 
I sometimes wonder if I should not have stuck to those fine , powerful and friendly things — locomotives . 
The locomotive started it all for me , and if the railways had provided me with a living to the standards I considered necessary , I should probably have stuck with them . 
But it was a sad parting , and I always missed them through the years of aero-engine and car designing . 
It was , in fact , while I was working on locomotives at Doncaster that I became a motor-bicycling enthusiast ; and I certainly got more pure fun out of the motor bicycle than I ever got from any of my cars , although I willingly accept that sport on two wheels is essentially for the young , and for me it was only a sport , with no commercial purpose behind it . 
I look back now with great affection on those days of motor-bicycle competition in Edwardian times , before I was afflicted by the car "bug " . 
All the events run by the Auto Cycle Union and Motor Cycling Club possessed an excellent spirit of friendly , co-operative , uncommercialized competitiveness . 
I do not remember a single hill-climb , sprint , trial or Brooklands race in which this spirit was not present . 
It was not unusual to see competitors helping one another by the roadside , or making last-moment adjustments to one another 's machines just before a race . 
I discovered very sharply just how tough competition work was when , without any previous experience , I entered my 3-h.p . 
Quadrant for the London-Edinburgh Trial . 
This Quadrant , with its surface carburettor , was rather like an unreliable and uncomfortable present-day motorized bicycle to drive . 
Any healthy young man today would gladly take his motorized bicycle from London to Edinburgh ; that would be no great achievement , if quite hard work pedalling up some of the steeper hills . 
But we had to do this journey to a tight schedule on roads that in places seemed not to have been touched since they broke up after the Roman occupation . 
It took a day and night to accomplish , and the only food was at the control points ; but I was always too late at these to have time to eat and did the trip on apples and chocolate as I went along . 
To my astonishment , I got a gold medal , too ! 
I did a lot of these endurance trials after this , enjoying both the spirit behind them and the sense of independent competitiveness out on the open road that they inspired . 
I did them mostly on Rexs and Indians ; London to Exeter , London to Land 's End and back several times , London to Plymouth and back ; and each was a really testing challenge to your endurance and your aptitude , for , of course , breakdowns were frequent . 
Some of the hill-climbs , too , were really devastating , and the competition very close , with a fifth of a second often separating the three or four fastest times . 
Events I remember particularly were those run at Kop Hill near Great Missenden in Buckinghamshire and at Sharpenhoe near Luton , and of course those great runs up Snaefell in the Isle of Man after the Tourist Trophy races . 
As these became more popular their importance became recognized by the factories , and works teams began to appear . 
Naturally these works teams soon dominated the hill-climbs , and I had great sport as an independent trying to beat them . 
With experience I began to get the hang of tuning my 5-h.p . 
Indian , lightening the pistons and putting up the compression and generally fiddling , until I began to put up faster times than the works riders , which gave me more pleasure than anything . 
In fairness I should add that I got every sort of help from the factory , who were quite happy so long as an Indian won ! 
Motor-bicycle racing at Brooklands was a tame business after the T.T . 
and hill-climbs . 
Brooklands races were usually short sprints or one-hour events , with the results depending less on the riders than the machines . 
There was not much finesse involved in racing on Brooklands , except perhaps in avoiding the worst bits of surface . 
I have never believed that Edge 's run on the Napier soon after it was opened was responsible for the poor surface from which Brooklands suffered . 
This was always worse towards the top of the bankings , and I do n't think that the builders ever succeeded in satisfactorily blending this top section . 
Even in the earliest days they always seemed to be mending parts of the tracks , and this was not always as well done as it could have been , with the consequence that it never got over this roughness . 
I know I felt I had to put into few words everything that I had been brought up to believe in throughout my life . 
This seemed an impossible and almost a ridiculous task . 
I wrote very little and very quickly . 
" I am a lifelong vegetarian " — " I believe in the biblical injunction " thou shalt not kill " " — " I believe man is a rational being " — I said I was willing to do any sort of work in the Red Cross or St. John Ambulance Brigade , but that I was not willing to serve in the Army , even in the R.A.M.C. , where I should be under military discipline . 
I shall not describe my feelings as a few weeks later I appeared before the Northampton Tribunal in the Town Hall , except to say that I was very shy and quite inexperienced in words . 
My father went with me . 
I sat on a chair in a gangway opposite The Tribunal members with a large number of the public on either side . 
The proceedings were brief and simple : I was questioned on what I had written in my application form and about the work I was doing ; my father supported my views ; and the member of The Tribunal who asked me about my pay appeared satisfied that it was 1/6d. a day . 
There was no hectoring and no bullying . 
I was given exemption conditional upon my continuing my work . 
I asked no more . 
I was not asking for a logical world . 
But there was the world without as well as the world within . 
For the first time in my life I was living in the country where I could see the beauty of the trees in winter and the slow coming of spring . 
I had seen spring before but never the changes day by day in the countryside : I was moved by the awakening of the elms , the budding of the oaks , and the tracery of the beeches ; and I found a communion with Nature greater than that with man , and I saw that man could not disturb Nature 's harmony or even separate himself entirely from that harmony . 
On my half-days I explored the countryside on foot or on my bicycle ; I visited Castor and Wansford in England ; I saw Oundle and the great church at Fotheringhay , and the quiet stone of Stamford beside the magnificence of Burghley . 
I thought of John Clare as I cycled through Helpstone , and from the narrow Fen roads I had distant views of Ely in the setting sun . 
I saw my native countryside as I had never seen it before . 
But if the work of Nature suggested harmony , I saw little harmony in the world of man at war . 
But I lived in the companionship and friendliness of common soldiers in the little hospital community . 
I ate with them , I talked with them and I took them out in their chairs . 
They were Regulars , Reservists , Territorials and Kitchener 's Men . 
I learnt the names and badges of the regiments , I heard the different accents , I heard of rivalries and quarrels . 
I saw the wounded men arrive , recover , and get their ticket : they told me what John Bull said , as if Bottomley were a Biblical prophet ; I was in a literary world of Elinor Glyn , Marie Corelli and Victoria Cross ; I learnt to distinguish Roman Catholics by the forthrightness and foulness of their language ; and I learnt something of the simplicity and the credulity of the common soldier . 
I lived in a world of Army slang — of char , burgoo and pawnee , of mush and rooti , and of pozzywallahs and squarepushing ; and I also met a rich Anglo-Saxon world of words and experiences that had no meaning for me . 
As I wrote letters for some of the illiterate ones , or read letters which they had received , I felt lost in the simple world of sex in which they lived . 
I remember my blushes when a young soldier asked me to read a letter to him ; it was from a servant girl , addressed from " the Precincts , Peterborough " and started quite simply " I wish I was in bed with you " . 
I was shown the little cottage across the fields where a local prostitute lived , heard of her technique for keeping her husband away and I knew her likely customers among the troops . 
I was introduced to what I had never really believed existed when the tough-looking Irish Reservist with the smashed elbow , the doorkeeper of a Dublin Hotel , showed me his notebook with the list of prostitutes ' names and addresses for his hotel guests . 
The Easter Rebellion in Ireland brought a tense atmosphere , the Irish soldiers became centres of interest with small groups in excited conversation or argument and there was quarrelling among the washers-up over their extra beer . 
A few sat alone in their suffering . 
I heard of life at the Front from men who had been in the Expeditionary Force . 
An old Regular Soldier sat talking to me one day . 
His experiences of war had not shocked him or embittered him , but they had made him see something else in human nature , something that he had not realized existed before . 
He had invented a word to describe some of the things he had seen : it was brutalitarianism . 
As I lived with the wounded men I found a friendship and a kindness that I had never met before and a sympathy that bridged our differing attitudes to war . 
There is the picture of the Long Gallery as I saw it the first evening in the soft lighting of the oil-lamps and the little lamps on the lockers , with the blue uniforms , the Steinway Grand and the paintings . 
Then there is another picture in the morning light when the wards are tidied for the doctor 's round , the nurses are busy , the men are in bed or standing by their lockers , and the talk is of lead-swinging and of tickets . 
The regular visits by Dr. Walker and the inspections by Colonel Openshaw or Medical Red Hats from London or Cambridge , or by Harvey Reeves and his staff from Northampton , all mean extra care in sweeping floors and polishing boilers . 
Some of the surgeons never speak to the men but look at the tortured flesh as though it were a bone dug up from the London Clay . 
One morning a red-hatted gentleman calls for a pair of scissors as he examines the front of a soldier 's thigh , and without explanation plunges the scissors into the wound , making a great gash in the flesh , and the soldier shrieks and bounds into the air . 
I can not separate the men from their wounds and suffering . 
The faces of the men , the wounds they bore , the beds they slept in and even names still come back to me . 
There was the garrulous Bracey with the red face , monotonous voice , and stiff knee covered with wounds , who sat on the bed and told his story : he said that every anaesthetic took six months off a man 's life ; he had already had sixteen , so that meant he had lost eight years — and there were still more operations to come ; yet that was better than being like Cain or Thompson who had each had a leg off , or better still than the little Canadian whom I often carried about in my arms because he had lost both his legs . 
But it was Max the tall Irish Guardsman with his thin waxen face and black hair who distressed me more than any of the others , as he stooped and coughed as he walked about . 
He had a huge wound in his chest which the sisters washed out with long tubes and hissing fluid , and then he coughed and spat as he tried to get his breath . 
When things were bad he sat alone in a corner of the sitting-room , looking beaten and exhausted , a shadow of what he had been . 
He was like a Saint from El Greco . 
Sometimes Max played billiards with the other men , or had a short walk with his friend Mason or with one of the nurses , or a quarrel would flare up and his Irish voice would be heard shouting and swearing round the billiard table . 
When the news of the Irish Rebellion came he sat silent and alone . 
In the end of the Long Gallery was the pale-faced man — was it the one called Manchester ? — who limped about with something called phlebitis , a word that carried a threat of disaster . 
In the second bed by the window was the Gordon Highlander with the gaping cavity in his calf . 
One summer evening after an operation , something happened , the bed was soaked in blood and the wounded man lay there still and white , whilst the sisters got tourniquets and dressings and I ran to the other side of the golf course for Matron as the sun was setting . 
By the coke-boiler was the old man who looked so cadaverous and infinitely weary , and sometimes shuffled about the ward racked with pain in his stomach . 
When Sister Dean said , " It 's easy to see what 's wrong with him , " I was too distressed to confess my ignorance . 
I was in the theatre a little later when Dr. Alec operated but could do nothing . 
He found what Sister Dean had expected . 
There was the severe-looking man who went about with the heavy plaster round his neck , looking a little sinister as he stiffly turned his body to talk . 
The machine-gun bullet had entered his neck , smashed up his spine and had come out through his open mouth . 
It could hardly be believed . 
He carried an aura of fear and curiosity because we all wondered what would have happened had his mouth been shut . 
Matron seems to enjoy herself as the men parade for their medicines each day on the landing by the Long Gallery , and for a moment the tired-looking Madonna even smiles , but I often wonder if the medicines do any good as I think of my mother 's words to the maidservant , and I was still not quite certain that it had been the outside drain that was meant . 
The wounded men come in and we learn to know them . 
Then a day comes when the doctor or the inspecting surgeon gives them their discharge and they go off to other hospitals or to their Depots . 
The procession goes on and on ... 
Black Watch , Royal Fusiliers , Royal Horse Artillery , Irish Guards , Bedfordshires , Northamptonshires , K.O.Y.L.I. , Manchesters , Lancashires , Gordon Highlanders .... 
It goes on and on .... 
The faces , the wounds , the badges . 
As spring was turning into summer , an incident occurred which momentarily brought the inner and outer world together . 
One Saturday night there was a noisy crowd of men round the billiard table , pockets bulging with flasks after a visit to Peterborough , and there were oaths and swearing and cries of "pot the red " . 
I was leaving the Pillared Hall with the trolley when Mac lurched up to me , cue in hand , and shouted , " It 's buggers like you who should be in the trenches " . 
There were cries of " shut up " to Mac as he staggered back to the table . 
All was quiet when I returned . 
On Sunday morning when I came down there was a letter for me on the desk in the orderlies ' room addressed in very childish writing . 
It was a note from Mac asking forgiveness for what he had said the night before . 
Would I please understand that he had been drunk and had not meant it ? 
My eyes filled with tears and the beauty of the trees outside disappeared as I read the uneducated little note from the Irish Guardsman . 
That afternoon Mac and I walked slowly by the lake together , stopping from time to time because of his coughing . 
Soon afterwards Mac went to the Depot at Northampton , and whilst there went to tea with my mother . 
Afterwards he sent her a photograph of a group at the Fe5te on June 1st , with Mrs. Fitzwilliam , Thompson auctioning a bunch of flowers , an unknown figure in a billycock hat , and Mr. Fitzwilliam looking on benevolently . 
At last coming to terms with life , the rawness of the jungle I mastered reduced the bible to a reassuring proportion in the perspective of my destructive activity ; and I was now fit for the cathedral of the stable 's calm — the light splitting through the cracks in the door , the silence , and then the faint scratching that might be a mouse , a rat , or leaves idly swinging , or else imagination . 
After a time I heard the positive sound of my sister approaching , and then she stood in the doorway , looking for me in the shadows , not seeing me but knowing I was there , complaining to the darkness that I might have waited for her . 
But I was too busily engaged on the process of rehabilitation to want her company , and she was a woman — suspect as such , and further suspect owing to her happy association with holy writ that linked her with my father . 
It was not till the middle of the week that I began to welcome her , caring for her until Saturday night . 
Then , with the sound of the first church bell on Sunday morning , all women were suspect again ; and as the hour in the box-pew remorselessly approached — the hour of avoiding looking at Milly , at the same time trying to reconcile her with my visual world — I knew it would only lead to the hour of afternoon when the sunlight froze on the tops of the trees , immobilized as I by the bible . 
Sometimes , instead of to the stable , I went upstairs to my mother 's room . 
As I opened the door I was aware of causing an interruption , for my mother had the faculty of gazing beyond people into space inhabited by other and more exciting ones than those who were actually in the room . 
These people , whom I knew by the names under drawings and verses in her autograph books — people my mother had met in the heaven of foreign hotels — dwelt with her in her loneliness still , so that the continued pleasure of their company was denied her by my entry ; or rather , I felt that if I had not banished them , both they and I had lost something of our corporeality by being in the room together . 
Yet the sense of a romantic past my mother perpetuated in the face of the church peering in through the window , brought back colour which ( although it was divorced from any discernible form ) was more tangible than the bible I had escaped from . 
My father was disappointed with me , I reasoned , on purely technical grounds when he saw my failure to understand his teachings as a lack of spirituality ; whereas my mother found , not so much myself as my lack of years , a source of chagrin . 
For the two years which separated me from my elder brother were an insupportable barrier that gave him greater access to her mind . 
And I believed my brother somehow knew the members of the ski-ing party — the women in their large hats and veils , the men posed against mountains as immovable as their moustaches — that , in their { 6passe-partout mount , broke the faded roses on the wall . 
As I approached my mother I wished the two dividing years could evaporate , and perhaps this afternoon I would get to know the far-off friends who hovered towards her , and whom I was ready to meet half-way . 
But although her recognition of me was moderately welcoming , she was still looking beyond me , and whom-ever she was considering appeared more like the gap between me and my brother than a real personage . 
What a ghastly thing was the length of a life , starting at random and never catching up with another life that also started at random . 
No life ever drew nearer another life , and the gaps between lives remained the same , inflicting , as far as I could see , endless childhood on me . 
There was no escape from age , and as my mother opened a book to show me the pictures in it , I decided to abandon the struggle to grow up . 
The book was always the same book . 
It was called Alpine Flowers and Gardens . 
My mother so treasured it she would not let me look at it on my own , turning the pages over for me , protected by tissue paper . 
The plates depicted flowers , yet the artist had painted mountains , rocks , and glaciers behind some of them , and in one picture had even added a chamois in the middle distance . 
Although it was interesting to reach the chamois , I found the introduction of this animal rather outre2 , for after all , the book , as it said on the cover , was on alpine flowers and gardens , which should have surely satisfied the artist . 
When we had passed the chamois , I wanted to tell my mother something of my defeat over the Day of Atonement or the parable of the mustard seed , but she did not pay attention as her whole mind was now focused on the Edelweiss , Gentian , or Christ 's Thorn we had come to . 
So I too concentrated in forgetting my troubles in the flowers . 
Or , as a substitute for Alpine Flowers and Gardens , my mother would open a portfolio of water-colours and become lost in her former life — the full measure of a past that their contours described for her especially . 
Here again I felt the presence of a veil separating me from them in the same way as from the photograph of the ski-ing party . 
The silver water of a lake caught in the shifting light of an anonymous morning , a chalet perched on a slope smothered in flowers , were fully credible — but the fact that my mother had actually stood by the lake , had actually climbed up to the chalet , made them entirely hers . 
And the countries her paintings translated into personal property were more remote than those in the atlas — described once and for all , and equally for everyone . 
On the whole I preferred looking at Alpine Flowers and Gardens which mollified the remains of the afternoon for me , if not with the theatrical intensity of decapitating the cow-parsley that guarded the entrance to the stable . 
And although we sought different rendezvous — my mother hankering for the past , and I the future — there was a voiceless understanding , and also something conspiratorial in our activity . 
For my father treated my mother 's horticultural interests with gruff contempt , and thus , as she slowly continued to turn the pages , the book seemed to speak for her , and to gainsay my father and his bible . 
Yet the two books , although they suggested a clear-cut issue between my parents , in reality furthered my bewilderment . 
For why , I asked myself , since my father scoffed at my mother 's interest in flowers , did he encourage mine in insects and birds . 
I was sure he had little concern for natural history himself , yet he made a special journey to Douglas to buy me books on the subject , and encouraged me to enter my observations in a notebook . 
I could only conclude he was so mystified I displayed any enthusiasm whatever that he welcomed natural history as a possible path to the salvation he desired for me . 
The grass in the top field was brittle and brown , silvered by a soft wind that went through it like a comb and made it nod and sway with the very essence of summer . 
It was summer at last , an endless summer of drifting pollen and gleams and flashes in lazy trees that surrounded the field and cast their jangled shadows , drowsy and unnumbered across it . 
A cloud stood in the sky , and there was no reason for it ; so it gently left it . 
The field spoke and murmured in its sleep , and the sharp cries of birds were reminders of things to do and things which could be just as well left undone , for the sense of time had stopped . 
My sister and I had given up looking for the corn-crakes whose tantalizing cries , sounding so near and so far , were deceptive as the grass itself and the tremors that turned it to a sea where the fins of fishes darted , hither and thither , confusing the whereabouts of the birds . 
So we sat on the wall at the top of the field , surveying this sea that hid their calls till they became but a part that accompanied the general noise of summer . 
The corn-crake was fabulous and its voice had ceased to issue from the throat of a particular bird , exactly and tersely described in the book of birds , with its name in Roman letters followed by its Latin name in italics . 
Yet , the next morning the voice was still in the field and surely to-day we would see the corn-crakes . 
But we never did , and day after day the birds hid from view , and their voices tantalized . 
Then on a Monday when the " get ready gong " had been forgotten and ( because it was Monday ) my father sat in double gloom , the corn-crakes — as though at the lifting of a magic wand — appeared in the garden itself . 
The male , barred with brown and buff ( correct as in the book ) , stood on a stump at the top of the daffodil bank , now sear and yellow with summer . 
The female and a family of chicks pecked in the grass below him , and , as we watched in silence at the window , there was something foreordained in the unexpectedness of their presence . 
The unfortunate meal was over , the plates had been cleared away ; and we became happy partners in a terrific conspiracy of silence , with the figure of the boy Samuel doing his best to suppress the ticking of the clock in the shadow at the back of the room . 
My father and mother stood at one side of the open window , and the rest of us at the other , grouped around my grandmother who was needlessly holding her finger to her lips . 
For our silence was natural , and we shared the easy attachment that united the corn-crake family . 
The naturalness had turned us into a picture opposite a picture , and our separate characteristics had ceased to exist , harmonized in a shared interest . 
It seemed to me rather like waiting for the Bishop , but now there was no sense of anxiety , and no sense of searching for spirituality — for the corn-crakes were beyond criticism . 
How long would this sublime moment last ? 
How long could the birds be undisturbed in their task of arresting time ? 
To-day was to-day , and yesterday was yesterday . 
Yesterday had ordained to-day . 
I was with my father , walking to Mrs. Kissack who lived in the farm beyond the fun-fair . 
She had broken her leg , and when we got to the farm my father went up the steps and I stayed in the road . 
Gorse flared like the headlights of cars on the hills . 
A lark was singing high up , out of sight . 
There was cow-dung on the road , goose-dung in the yard . 
( A flock of geese was a gaggle of geese . ) 
Two dogs with their tongues out were lying in the shade of a wall where nettles sprang from the dust . 
A man in a brown waistcoat was working in a brown field . 
Then he stopped working and the lark stopped singing , the world stilled to one piece — as now . 
Then he spat on his hands and took up his scythe again , all of them busy again — the man working , the lark singing , the dogs panting . 
On the way back my father had said something about the harvest festival , but I could n't remember what .... 
The male bird lifted his beak from his chest and cocked his head in the air . 
Wind was ruffling the grass , and the corn-crakes ( as I knew they would have to ) sensed danger , and then scuttled into the field with the clumsy chicks tumbling over themselves as they followed as best they could . 
It was swiftly over . 
The garden , broken up into formal shapes and levels , was ordinary again ; and the church spire , coming to life as it jutted through the trees , frowned at the triviality of our preoccupation . 
7 
What actually developed was so much in the interests of all the three that we may be pretty certain that it was contrived , rather than that it developed naturally out of the situation . 
Catherine having been cast out , Georgina reigned in her stead undisputed queen of the home , the children , and all official social affairs , as though indeed she were the official wife , while Ellen held any emotional sway over Charles himself , in the background . 
So the reputations of all three were safeguarded , and the convenience of all three met to a nicety . 
Georgina was quite clever enough to appreciate the difficulties of Charles , herself and Ellen , and to solve them in the way this clever arrangement smoothed them out for all parties . 
Forster , too , that prudent man of the world and of business , while deploring the situation that had arisen , might discreetly advise on the same lines . 
For the continued success of Dickens as a household saint writing virtuous books , divorce and re-marriage was out of the question ; besides , Georgina would not connive at her own deposition , while Ellen might well recoil from becoming stepmother to girls of her own age and a gang of young boys . 
On this question Georgina and Forster may well have thought alike . 
She drummed it into the children , as did Dickens , that " their father 's name was their best asset " , — which was true enough . 
It was virtually their only asset , and hers too . 
The welfare of the children — and her own — was dependent upon that good name . 
And to write his best both Forster and Georgina knew that Dickens needed a quiet mind ; freedom from care and worry ; an efficiently-functioning household ; emotional and aesthetic satisfactions and companionships — all that poor Catherine , in her miserable inadequacy , had failed in providing . 
When the storm broke , Georgina seems to have felt no qualms over assisting actively in the sacrifice of her sister 's happiness , or in consolidating her own usurpation of her sister 's husband , home and children . 
In justice to her and in mitigation of her conduct , it should be said that according to Dickens ' emphatic testimony , for many years she had striven to keep husband and wife together , in face of Mrs. Dickens ' expressed desires to leave her husband . 
But a wife 's expressed intention to desert her husband when jealous or annoyed is common form , and is seldom taken too seriously , being regarded by most husbands as meaning Mrs. Micawber 's frequent declaration : " I never will desert Mr. Micawber . " 
There is no reason to disbelieve Dickens ' story of Georgina as a mediator in the past ; there may have been cogent reasons for her doing her best to prevent a rupture in previous years . 
The failure of her goodwill for her sister may have been a plant of gradual growth . 
For a long time she may have believed , as Dickens did , that the fight ( as he unhappily called it ) could only go on to the end of one or other of the contestants , being released by death from the marital torments of an irksome yoke . 
It may be that she needed time to consolidate her own position both with Dickens and in the household generally , that until her own place was established as supreme and unassailable she did not want poor Kate to leave . 
It may that once that was secured she was willing , and even eager to see her go . 
The cuckoo in the nest once firmly settled , and she having ejected the mother-bird , one by one the baby-birds must be pushed out , too . 
That is precisely what happened . 
8 
It is true that the eldest boy Charley was of an age to be flying off and building a nest of his own . 
Both he and his father agreed that he should go to the new nest of his mother to take care of her . 
But there is less excuse for hustling out the second boy , Walter , who at the age of sixteen , became a cadet in India , in the service of the East India Company . 
His health could not stand the climate , and he soon died in Calcutta . 
The third son , Frank , after failing in attempts to be a doctor , a farmer , a business-man , a lawyer and a journalist , left the country for the Bengal police . 
The fourth , Alfred , was sent off to Australia . 
The fifth boy , Sydney , left for the Navy and died after entering upon unsatisfactory courses which Georgina said would bring him to certain misery in this world , quite apart from what might be expected to happen to him hereafter — on which question his affectionate aunt did not commit herself . 
The sixth son , Henry , resisted all attempts to dislodge him , and managed to maintain his position in the nest by winning scholarships at Cambridge and keeping a steady inclination to seek call to the Bar . 
But the youngest boy Edward , known to the family as "Plorn , " was also exiled in Australia like Alfred , though there was especial weeping and gnashing of teeth over his emigration . 
Except for Henry , the boys did little good . 
Dickens had openly regretted the births of his later children , saying — as we have seen — that they were compliments from their mother that he could well have dispensed with , and even humorously suggesting a special service of intercession at St. Paul 's Cathedral that he might be considered as having done enough towards the increase of his country 's population . 
His allusions to his wife 's later pregnancies were only too often in questionable , not to say , downright bad , taste . 
Fond as he was of very young children , the boys , as they became older , were in his eyes decided encumbrances , and we can be pretty certain that Georgina thought so too . 
Their cost and charges , he declared , made his hair stand on end . 
Exile of one after another soon relieved the pressure ; and at last Gad 's Hill was no longer "pervaded by boys , every boy having an unaccountable and awful power of producing himself in every part of the house at every moment , apparently in fourteen pairs of creaking boots " , according to the distracted author . 
This , too , in spite of the most stringent home discipline which the father personally enforced . 
Father and Aunty Georgy having proved equal to the boys , the two girls Mamie and Katey were less difficult . 
Mamie was more tractable than her mother had been both to her father and her aunt ; she cleaved to them and deserted her mother from the first . 
Kate , as we have seen , had more than a touch of her father 's independence of spirit , and had a concealed distrust of her virtuous aunt . 
She felt for her mother and visited her in her affliction , though she was too much awed by her father to protest or fight . 
But uncomfortable under the new re2gime , she left home as soon as she could , though it involved making a loveless marriage with a young consumptive bridegroom , her first husband Charles Alston Collins , the brother of Wilkie . 
So triumphed the cuckoo in the nest . 
Her nest at last ! 
Thereafter , for Georgina Hogarth , undisputed mistress of the Dickens me2nage , life was tranquil at Gad 's Hill . 
Mamie relieved her of much domestic duty , and there was a staff of servants to do what was required . 
Social invitations to Dickens now almost always included Georgina — Dickens saw to that — and she went about with him a good deal , and since Mamie was fond of parties , she too , was sometimes included . 
As to social invitations from Dickens , who remained as social and convivial as ever , these were , of course pre-eminently Georgina 's administrative affair . 
In such matters , she acquitted herself to perfection always . 
As time went on , the scandal about her gradually died down . 
The decorum of the Gad 's Hill household over the years played a great part in killing it . 
But that it was not forgotten is shown by the fact that although Queen Victoria received both Dickens and Mamie at Court , there was never any Court invitation for Georgina . 
9 
When Dickens , ageing beyond his years , worn by incessant toils , anxieties and the financial burdens of helping relatives and friends , and in declining health , rushed about the country and even went to America again to give " readings " from his books to large and wildly enraptured audiences to the vast enrichment of his banking-account , Georgina stayed at home and received vivid letters recounting his adventures and triumphs . 
Catherine gone , and most of her children also , she was able to live quietly and comfortably while keeping a steadying influence upon the great man who was everything to her in life . 
As the years rolled by , her influence over her brother-in-law strengthened still more , as indeed one might expect , knowing the force of habit . 
His welfare was her sole and constant preoccupation ; no wife or mother could have been more solicitous . 
When he was absent from home , every fluctuation in his health was faithfully recounted to her , and Georgina and the children were ever upon his pen as once Kate and the children had been . 
And his "pair of petticoats " for public inspection , though there might be another petticoat in the emotional background , were now Georgina and Mamie — and what could be more outwardly respectable ? 
It was they who went to the great farewell dinner held in London when , in 1867 , he was invited to visit America for the second time . 
His visit was a tremendous success , and it was they who welcomed him back to Gad 's Hill upon his return . 
Georgina was not in the company of Dickens when he met with his first railway accident at Staplehurst , as were Ellen Ternan and her mother . 
But when Dickens was reading in Ireland he had taken Georgina and Mamie on the excursion with him . 
When the return train from Belfast met with an accident , they were all three in it , and flung themselves on the floor of their carriage to avoid injury . 
It was a horrid experience , and must have reminded Georgina of adventure in Italy long , long ago . 
Then as Dickens ' health worsened owing to his long-continued exertions and the strain of giving public readings , and it became clear that he might be on the verge of a stroke , his doctors insisted on his giving up these exhausting public appearances . 
Realising his position , as his health obliged him to do , he made his will . 
In this remarkable document , his high opinion of , and his care for , Georgina are clearly revealed . 
He left his " grateful blessings " and more money to her than to anyone else , namely £8,000 free of legacy duty , as well as most of his personal jewellery , household trinkets , and private papers . 
She was made an executrix , her partner in carrying out the will being the indispensable Forster . 
His wife Catherine was left only the interest on £8,000 and could not touch the principal , whereas Georgina 's legacy was an absolute one ; and instead of grateful blessings , there was implied reproach for the wife . 
As to Ellen Ternan , who as Dickens ' supposed mistress might perhaps have been expected to have done better for herself than Georgina , she , though named first in the will , was left merely £1,000 . 
In addition , Georgina was the subject of a whole-hearted panegyric in the will as " the best and truest friend man ever had " — which contrast sharply with silence about Ellen ( which however upon any theory is understandable ) and cold complaint as to the past expensiveness of his wife Catherine and their children . 
Further , he left Georgina to the care of his children in pontificatory words as follows : 
" I solemnly enjoin my dear children always to remember how much they owe to the said Georgina Hogarth , and never to be wanting in a grateful and affectionate attachment to her , for they know well that she has been , through all the stages of their growth and progress their ever useful , self-denying and devoted friend . " 
Tribute could hardly be more emphatic . 
But if the debt to Georgina was so obvious , it would seem desirable to spare Georgina 's blushes over her superiority to her sister , the children 's mother . 
However , one or two of the children such as Mamie and Harry certainly heeded their father 's injunction , but after his death there came a time when even Mamie failed in devotion to her " Aunt Georgy " . 
Opera , symphony , all sorts of instrumental and vocal music but not chamber music . 
His reading was considerable in classical and English and French literature . 
He knew Dickens by heart , but ranked " Vanity Fair " of Thackeray the greatest English novel of his period . 
He was sceptical of contemporary writing as he was of the latest composition . 
I guessed that in politics he was a conservative — with freedom to be against the Government whatever its colour or party . 
He loved good food and good wine , and his cigars , but not to excess . 
No alcohol had power over his quick balanced mind . 
I was taken aback when he reflected one day on his career : " Do you know , I sometimes wonder if I have n't wasted myself to some degree by giving myself almost wholly to music . 
For music does not ever encourage abstract thinking or pungency of comment or dialectical agility . 
Perhaps I was really born for the legal profession . " 
I pointed out that in music he was an absolutist , that he had no patience with music which carried extra-musical significances , and that also he had no patience with conductors , or any other performer , who found an argument , a dialectic or the faintest hint of a metaphysic in music . 
He did n't seek beyond the notes and the forms of music for some inner meaning . 
Often he gave me the impression that he was not so much the " possessed " artist in music as the connoisseur , collecting composers as he collected his furniture and plate . 
He fondled music , handled it carefully and dotingly — unless it was of the sort that protested too much , assaulted fastidiousness of taste and sensitivity . 
" Mahler ? 
Wagner ? 
Bruckner ? " he would say , cross-examining me . 
" They are not civilised . 
Mahler exposes his self-pity ; Wagner , though a tremendous genius , gorged music , like a German who overeats . 
And Bruckner was a hobbledehoy who had no style at all . 
All three of them knew nothing about poise or modesty . 
Even Beethoven thumped the tub ; the Ninth symphony was composed by a kind of Mr. Gladstone of music . " 
All that does n't imply that he was at all short of masculinity , red corpuscles . 
He could ride roughshod over his dislikes , people or compositions . 
Given the impulse from the right source , his musical energy — ( his physical energy too ! ) — concentrated into artistic and proportionate shapes . 
His interpretation of the " Requiem Mass " of Berlioz has seldom been equalled for emotional intensity and sure-minded control of the outlines . 
His temperament and intelligence responded more readily to Latin than to German stimulations , aesthetic or other . 
Sometimes he gave his conscience a holiday . 
At Liverpool an inordinately heavy programme was goading the orchestra to open rebellion , especially as Sir Thomas prolonged the interval . 
The concert was taking place on the eve of the world 's greatest steeplechase . 
When Sir Thomas returned to the platform he immediately sensed the temper of his players — and the next work to tackle was the " great C major " symphony of Schubert . 
Sir Thomas extended his arms , the baton militant . 
" Now , gentlemen , " he said , " now for the Grand National . " 
The performance was magnificent . 
One gust of his humour dispersed all animosities . 
He was not , as I say , liked or admired by everybody while he was the spruce disdainful Mr. Thomas Beecham . 
He was suspected of Dandyism and , in fact , he was the last of the Dandies . 
He kept audiences waiting at his concerts . 
In Manchester , during one of his opera seasons there , he kept the audience waiting half an hour for a performance of Isidore de Lara 's " Nai " l . " 
In those years his manners at a symphony concert did not appeal to the taste of the Establishment of British music . 
The music critic of the " Manchester Guardian " — Samuel Langford — took him to task on account of his acrobatic gestures as he conducted . 
At one concert his baton flew from his hand and nearly impaled the first trombone . 
Moreover , he was suspected of " amateurism " — long before Toscanini actually called him an " amateur . " 
A complex character ! — Falstaff , Puck and Malvolio all mixed up , each likely to overwhelm the others . 
Witty , then waggish ; supercilious , then genial , kindly , and sometimes cruel ; an artist in affectation yet somehow always himself . 
Lancashire in his bones , yet a man of the world . 
Rachmaninoff told a friend that he was unhappy about a forthcoming concert . 
" The conductor — so-and-so — he has no temperament . 
It is always so in England . 
Too many the English gentlemens . " 
" But , " his friend pointed out " last year you said your concert with Sir Thomas Beecham was one of the best and happiest of your life . " 
" Ah , " rejoined Rachmaninoff , "but Sir Thomas is not one of your English gentlemens . " 
In the prime of his life and career , Sir Thomas was as closely associated with Manchester as with London or anywhere else . 
During the 1914-1918 war he kept the city 's music alive by the sparkle , vivacity , and sway of his personality . 
His concerts with the Halle2 Orchestra and his opera productions in Quay Street elevated the city far above provincial levels . 
Until he dominated the scene Manchester 's music was mainly of German extraction , as we have noted already and will probably note again . 
Richter had not served Manchester in a backward-looking way . 
He conducted all the symphonic poems of Richard Strauss in one season at a time when — { 6mirabile dictu ! — Strauss was considered as " modern , " iconoclast and unmusical as any later Scho " nberg , Webern , or Boulez . 
Stanford went so far as to compose a musical satire of Strauss — " An Ode to Discord . " 
Ernest Newman abjured us to listen to Strauss "horizontally " while the battle-section of " { Ein Heldenleben " was played . 
It is nowadays generally forgotten that Strauss came to renown or notoriety in this country exclusively on the strength of his symphonic poems . 
Outside London "{ Der Rosenkavalier , " "Salome " and " Elektra " were little known here . 
But Richter 's enterprise ended with the " progressive German composers . " 
It is true that he was the first conductor to put Elgar on the musical map , the reason being , I fancy , that in Elgar he heard here and there the echo of his own native musical language . 
To a deputation of Manchester 's youthful { 6avant garde , demanding some representation at the Halle2 Concerts of modern French music , Richter replied , " { 3Zthere iss no mod'n F-french Musik . " 
Beecham brought pagan allurements to the Halle2 , non- " classical " — Scene 4 of Act 2 of Delius 's " A Village Romeo and Juliet , " Stravinsky 's " Firebird " suite , Borodin 's " Polovtsian Dances , " all in the same programme . 
Between the two wars he naturally modulated to a conversation indicative of the fact that he was now old enough to put behind him childish things . 
But never would he desert Delius . 
On the " classical " side he discovered Haydn for English ears . 
He even proposed introducing to Manchester Stravinsky 's " { Le Sacre du Printemps " ; but the orchestral parts went astray . 
The Halle2 Concerts Committee asked for a substitute piece at short notice . 
Beecham suggested a Beethoven symphony . 
No ; already the season 's programme had included enough Beethoven . 
They asked Sir Thomas to conduct Mendelssohn 's " Italian " symphony . 
" Impossible , " replied Sir Thomas , " quite impossible , with only two rehearsals . " 
" But , " argued the committee , " you were content with two rehearsals for " { Le Sacre . " " 
" Quite so , " said Sir Thomas blandly , " I could play " { Le Sacre " well enough after two rehearsals . 
For the " Italian " symphony five at least is absolutely necessary . " 
His creation of the London Philharmonic Orchestra absorbed him and his time in the 1930s ; consequently his appearances in Manchester became intermittent . 
After the resignation of Sir Hamilton Harty in 1933 as the permanent conductor of the Halle2 Concerts , the orchestra declined in its ensemble . 
Another permanent conductor was needed , but the Halle2 Society were reluctant to appoint one for fear of losing Sir Thomas 's presence altogether . 
And Sir Thomas scared the society by attacking the B.B.C. , forecasting that broadcasting would keep people away from concerts . 
As critic of the " Manchester Guardian , " in Manchester in the 1930s , I pointed out week by week the falling away of the orchestra in unity of style . 
But my friendship with Sir Thomas , resumed soon after our argument about his " cuts " in " { Der Rosenkavalier , " was now apparently unclouded . 
I was vastly surprised and amused to learn from Michael Kennedy 's history of the Halle2 Concerts that in 1937 Sir Thomas wrote to the society stating "that he refused to conduct any concert to which Mr. Neville Cardus was invited . " 
{ 6Et tu , Sir Thomas ! 
And all the time I imagined my notices were generously kind about him . 
Never did he refer to this letter to the Halle2 Society , demanding my excommunication , at any of my subsequent meetings with him , not even during our day by day , night by night expressions of brotherly love in Australia . 
It was round about 1931 that he told me he was about to form a new orchestra in London . 
" But where , " I asked , " where do you hope to find the players ? — the B.B.C. Orchestra has taken the best . " 
" Maybe , " he admitted " the B.B.C. has indeed attracted the best known instrumentalists of Great Britain . 
But you 'll see ! " 
In 1932 the Royal Philharmonic Orchestra played for the first time at the Queen 's Hall . 
The performance of the " { Carnaval Romain " overture of Berlioz was staggeringly brilliant . 
A highly finished performance of Mozart 's " Prague " symphony almost jerked me from my seat when Sir Thomas brought in the D major principal theme , after the introduction , at the same adagio tempo , instead of allegro . 
My notice next day called for some explanation of this curious treatment or maladjustment . 
In his flat in Hallam Street , and while he was still in bed , working on a score , he took away my breath ( not for the first or the last time ) by assuring me that his tempo for the main theme after the introduction was authentic . 
" You are probably acquainted only with the published score ... but I have seen the original manuscript written by Mozart 's own hand ... " 
All the same , the next time he conducted the " Prague " symphony the theme in question was allegro all right and unmistakably . 
He was in a word , { capable de tout ! 
Apart from some piano lessons in boyhood he was self-taught . 
He states the contrary in his biography , " A Mingled Chime , " where he writes , " In public accounts of my career has frequently appeared the assertion that I am almost entirely self-taught and , beginning as a rank amateur , have attained a professional status with some difficulty after a long and painful novitiate . 
Nothing could be more remote from the truth . 
It is possible that at the age of twenty I might have failed to answer some of the questions in an examination paper set for boys of sixteen in a musical academy ; but probably I should fail with equal success to-day ; and I venture to say that a tolerable number of my most gifted colleagues would do no better . 
On the other hand , owing to my travels abroad and wider associations with musicians here and there , my miscellaneous fund of information was much more extensive than that of others of my age . " 
For Sir Thomas , this is positively nai " ve . 
There was music of sorts in his St. Helens home ; his father practised music " as a hobby . " 
Sir Thomas substantially educated himself , as Elgar did , and Ernest Newman and Delius , perhaps the most cultured and influential figures in our music 's history since Purcell . 
He came down from Oxford after only a year or so there because , as he explained to me , " there was no musical life broad and humane enough . 
As for the rest of my studies at Oxford , they were not attractively conducted . 
And I could discover no mind or intelligence among my fellow undergraduates which did n't indicate permanent adolescence . 
In those days , even to-day in fact , the average University-educated Englishman is a case of arrested development , emotionally , aesthetically and sexually . " 
His own capacity for deep feeling was not often or obviously hinted at in his studied deportment away from the concert platform or desk at the opera . 
He gave unmistakable proof of it in my company only once , during one of the last evenings I spent with him alone a few months after Lady Betty 's sudden death . 
[ 1 ] 
Helen Keller was born in 1880 in Alabama . 
Until she was nineteen months old she enjoyed a perfectly normal infancy . 
At the age of six months she amused people by greeting them with " How d'ye " , and delighted her proud parents by shouting "TEA , TEA , TEA " . 
Her face wore smiles for everyone . 
In her cot she wriggled and squirmed and chuckled when anyone spoke to her , and the sight of birds , flowers , butterflies , or the sun glinting through overhanging trees in the summertime , sent her into shrieks of happiness . 
She loved bright objects and pleasant sounds , including that of her own voice . 
She began to walk at the age of twelve months when she unexpectedly slipped down from her mother 's lap after she had been lifted out of the morning tub , and ran to catch patterns of sunlight dancing on the bathroom floor . 
She ran until she lost her balance , staggered and fell ; but , to her delight , she tumbled right into the focus of the sunbeam . 
At the age of nineteen months , this adorable , fascinating child had a mysterious illness , which they called acute congestion of the stomach and brain , which left her blind , deaf and dumb . 
Without a moment 's warning , her bright world was blotted out and she was plunged into a darkness as black and silent as the grave . 
Only by a great and painful effort of the imagination can we begin to understand the next five years in Helen 's life . 
Although she says little about it , that terrible period will never be erased from her memory . 
She remembers the dry , hot painfulness of her eyes when she first lost her sight , the agony and bewilderment of waking and being unable to see , of tossing , half-asleep , in pain and fretfulness ; the tenderness of her mother 's hand trying to soothe her , but the utter desolation of being unable to hear her mother 's voice or see her face , and the terrible frustration of being unable to make her wants known . 
The reader should pause and try to enter into the plight of a child of nineteen months suddenly plunged into such a perplexing and frightening situation . 
During the next five years Helen tried times without number to establish some sort of contact with the outside world but all in vain . 
It was like being thrust into the dark , silent , innermost dungeon of a prison with no hope of visitors and no possibility of escape . 
She tried to free herself from the impenetrable silence and darkness which held her captive , but to no effect . 
Her deep frustration often threw her into tempests of passion which , during those five years recurred more and more frequently , until they were convulsing her daily , sometimes hourly , driving her at times almost beside herself . 
And often after such tempests , she would feel her way around the garden to hide her hot face in the flowers she could not see , or creep into her mother 's loving arms and sleep from sheer emotional and physical exhaustion . 
One day when she was six years and nine months old , Helen vaguely felt that something unusual was afoot in her home , as though some special visitor was expected . 
During recent weeks her moods had been nearly all anger and bitterness . 
The wordless cry of her soul for human communication , which she could make no one understand , reduced her to a feeling of utter misery and helplessness . 
Of course she did not understand her own condition , or her fundamental frustrations ; she felt only her maddening inability to communicate with her parents , while they , on their side , were broken-hearted that they could find no way of talking to their child , no way of getting a single word into Helen 's mind or heart . 
But this day , as Helen stood on the steps at the front entrance to their home , she felt the touch of a new hand , and a stranger embraced her . 
It was Anne Sullivan . 
The tremendous debt which Helen and blind people the world round owe to Anne Sullivan is beyond computation . 
For it was Anne who rescued Helen from her world of darkness and misery , and enabled her to bring deliverance to countless fellow sufferers . 
Anne was born in poverty , and her eyes were infected from birth . 
Her mother died when Anne was eight years old , leaving three children who were placed in the workhouse . 
It was here that Anne spent the next four years of her life , being allowed no social contacts save that of fellow paupers . 
One of them told her that blindness entitled her to go to a special school , but no one was interested in the education of a blind pauper child until Anne literally threw herself at the feet of the chairman of the visiting committee and pleaded " I want to go to school . " 
The plea was heard . 
At fourteen she was sent to the Perkins Institution for Blind Children in Boston . 
While there she had two surgical operations which partially restored her sight . 
She remained in the Perkins Institution for six years , and was still there when the Director received a letter from Helen 's parents describing Helen 's condition , and asking if he could supply a teacher for her . 
Anne , twenty years of age , was sent . 
Anne arrived at Helen 's home with eyes red through overmuch crying on the journey . 
She did not want the job of teaching a girl who was blind , deaf and dumb . 
But she had no other job , and she was without money ; economic necessity compelled her to accept this unwanted post . 
But if Anne was despondent on arrival , she very soon forgot herself in her new work . 
From the moment she embraced Helen on the front porch , she devoted all the energy of her mind and body to the service of her stricken charge . 
In complete self-effacement , sweeping all self-pity aside , she gave herself to Helen , working tirelessly to open lines of communications between the imprisoned child and the world of people and nature about her . 
[ 2 ] 
It was the day after Anne Sullivan 's arrival that Helen learned the finger language for the word " doll " . 
Anne spelt it into her hand very slowly and deliberately , and got Helen to imitate . 
Helen did not know then that " doll " was the name of the gift Anne had brought her the day before from the blind children in the Perkins Institution ; she thought she was learning some finger game , and played it repeatedly until she could do it correctly . 
Then she felt her way downstairs to show her mother the game . 
Other simple words were taught her in the same manner during the following days — such words as pin , hat , cup , sit , stand , walk — but as yet she had no idea what they meant ; no inkling that the finger work which spelt " pin " was the name of the object , or that fingering which meant sit or stand had any reference to those actions . 
The power of associating word with object or action had not yet awakened in her . 
A whole month passed in this way before Helen began to associate the letters spelt into her hand with objects . 
The association came at the end of a lesson in which Anne had tried to make Helen understand that the word mug meant the object which she held , and water meant that which the mug contained . 
But Helen simply could not understand , and as Anne persisted , she grew annoyed and gave expression to her annoyance by dashing her mug to the floor , smashing it to pieces . 
She felt the broken fragments with her feet , and experienced a measure of relief in doing so . 
The lesson was adjourned and they went out into the sunshine . 
As they passed the well-house someone was drawing water , and Anne placed Helen 's hand into the stream pouring from the spout of the pump , and spelt into her other hand the word water , water , water . 
Anne continued to do this , at first slowly and then rapidly , until it suddenly dawned on Helen 's mind that water meant the cool something flowing over her hand . 
" That living word awakened my soul , " said Helen many years after , " gave it light , hope , joy , set it free . " 
She now knew that things had names , and she wanted to learn them all at once . 
" As we returned to the house every object which I touched seemed to quiver with life . 
That was because I saw everything with the strange new sight that had come to me . " 
She learned many new words that same day , including mother , father , sister , teacher . 
She felt that she was at last in contact with the outside world . 
She went to bed that night but was too happy to sleep . 
During the following summer Anne took Helen on exploration walks , discovering plants , flowers , and trees ; Helen handling them , learning their names , inhaling their scent , feeling them against her hand and her face . 
Sitting in a field on the warm grass Anne described through their sign language the countless things which Helen could not see . 
With the new freedom of that summer Helen took to tree climbing , and loved it . 
But one day Anne left her sitting aloft in the branches of a cherry tree , while she returned to the house to fetch lunch . 
While Anne was away the weather suddenly changed , breaking into a violent thunderstorm . 
Helen tells how she felt the warmth go out of the atmosphere , by which she knew clouds had come over the sun , how she smelt the strange earth odour that precedes thunderstorms . 
She was alone and she felt afraid . 
A sense of absolute isolation gripped her . 
She felt cut off from friends ; severed from the firm earth . 
Her terror increased until she was in a state bordering on hysteria . 
" There was a moment of sinister stillness , and then a multitudinous stirring of the leaves , " she says . 
" A shiver ran through the tree , and the wind sent forth a blast that would have knocked me off had I not clung to the branch with might and main . 
The tree swayed and strained . 
The small twigs snapped and fell about me in showers . 
A wild impulse to jump seized me , but terror held me fast . 
I crouched down in the fork of the tree . 
The branches lashed about me . 
I felt the intermittent jarring that came now and then , as if something heavy had fallen and the shock had travelled up till it reached the limb which I sat on . 
It worked my suspense up to the highest point , and just as I was thinking the tree and I should fall together , my teacher seized my hand and helped me down . 
I clung to her , trembling with joy to feel the earth under my feet once more " . 
For some time after this the thought of climbing a tree alarmed her , and she did not fully overcome her fear until the next spring . 
Then as she was sitting alone one morning in the summer house , she became aware of a beautiful fragrance filling the air . 
She recognised it as the scent of the mimosa tree . 
She knew where that mimosa tree stood — at the end of the garden near the fence at the turn of the path , and she felt her way to it . 
She found it , " all quivering in the warm sunshine , its blossom-laden branches almost touching the long grass ... 
" I made my way through a shower of petals to the great trunk , and for one minute stood irresolute ; then , putting my foot in the broad space between the forked branches , I pulled myself up into the tree .... 
I had a delicious sense that I was doing something unusual and wonderful , so I kept on climbing higher and higher , until I reached a little seat which somebody had built there so long ago that it had grown part of the tree itself . 
" I sat there for a long time , feeling like a fairy on a rosy cloud . 
After that I spent many happy hours in my tree of paradise , thinking fair thoughts and dreaming bright dreams . " 
On the day of the funeral I had to be awoken at seven a.m. in order to arrive punctually at the church . 
Several streets in the vicinity had been closed by police . 
They feared a repetition of the extravagant scenes that had occurred when Valentino 's embalmed body was laid out in full evening dress for the public to visit . 
Thousands had thronged Broadway . 
Children had been separated from their parents , scores of people bruised and trampled . 
Several police charges were made . 
Plate-glass windows were shattered by the pressure of the crowd . 
Finally the mortuary doors had to be closed . 
Fortunately on the morning of the funeral everything was quiet . 
I arrived safely at The Little Church Around the Corner . 
Ben Lyon was in charge of the ushers . 
We had little to do as the church filled so quickly . 
At the last minute Pola Negri arrived dressed from head to toe in black . 
She was followed by two florists carrying an enormous blanket of white violets . 
In purple violets was inscribed the message : " With love from Pola . " 
This tribute was placed upon the coffin , almost hiding it from view . 
The coffin in question was a prodigious , ornate affair of bronze . 
Outweighing its occupant by some 500 lb. , it had cost $10,000 . 
The spectators were upset by the outsize wreath . 
On all sides audible whispers of protest broke out : "We ca n't see the casket . " 
The service was beautiful . 
Augmented by the chorus of the Metropolitan Opera Company , the choir was led by the singing of Benjamino Gigli , then at the height of his power . 
Sobs could be heard over the entire church as the eight bearers carried the casket from the altar . 
As they made their way down the aisle , a young girl sprang from her seat , throwing herself in front of them . 
When they were almost at the door , the interruption was repeated — this time by a little man , prostrating himself with a cry of " I loved him more than anybody . " 
A pathetic , jarring tribute to Valentino 's extraordinary universal popularity . 
As an usher I was unable to sit with my wife . 
As I was slowly making my way out of the church Mr Frank Campbell , owner of the famous Campbell 's Funeral Parlour which had handled all the arrangements , sent a message asking me to meet him . 
" Your wife has expressed a desire to see the Gold Room where Valentino lay in state . 
Would you care to accompany us ? " 
By that time having had my fill of flowers , crowds , mourning , and music , I replied rather tersely that that was the last thing I wanted to do . 
" If Madam wants me for anything important , I shall be lying in state myself — at the Racquet Club . " 
I had just finished my third martini when I was summoned to the telephone by Mr Campbell . 
" There has been a most unfortunate accident ... regrettable piece of carelessness on the part of my staff — " 
" What happened ? " 
I interrupted , anxiously . 
" On throwing open the doors of the Gold Room for your wife , which automatically turned on the lights , we came upon the naked embalmed body of a man lying on the floor . 
He was awaiting the assistant 's return from lunch . " 
Not altogether surprisingly , my wife had fainted . 
Mr Campbell wanted to know what I was going to do about the matter ? 
I explained that I was hardly in a position to do anything at all . 
" My wife , you say , is in the Gold Room . 
I am here at the Racquet Club . " 
Several miles separated us . 
" Are you still there , Campbell ? 
Tell her that when she is well enough to join me , she 'll find me patiently waiting for her at the bar . " 
Though this was not exactly the last we saw of each other , it was a definite prelude to our parting , when Constance decided to go alone to the coast while I returned to Scotland . 
12 THE EMBASSY CLUB VENTURE Our divorce . 
Embassy Club syndicate . 
Luigi , Ralph , Peto . 
Back to America . 
The Tucker car . 
Queen Mary 's Dolls ' House . 
My father 's retirement . 
THE episode of our marriage was ending , as it were , by mutual agreement , but the statutory requirements of British divorce in that period demanded adultery . 
The evidence I set about supplying . 
This proved more difficult than anticipated . 
However , my friend Wilfred Egerton assured me it was really no problem at all , despite the lack of a prospective co-respondent . 
" I 've just the girl for the job , " he said , " charming and attractive . " 
The following Saturday afternoon I hired a Daimler with chauffeur , despatching them to the lady 's address . 
From there they were to call for me at the club and we would set off for our transitory liaison . 
The car was on time . 
Nimbly I nipped down the steps of White 's , only to stop dead in my tracks at a glimpse of the lady . 
No ! 
With her it would be quite impossible ! 
Taking a deep breath and summoning my politest manner , I opened the car door , explaining that I was unavoidably detained . 
Would she mind returning in about a quarter of an hour ? 
Dashing back into the Club , I searched out Rod Wanamaker , who fortunately was there at the time . 
Explaining that Wilfred had landed me with a woman of whom I could not stand even the sight , I begged Rod to come as well . 
" I ca n't bear it alone ! " 
He responded to my cry for help . 
The pair of us spent the night in our sitting-room playing backgammon while the lady languished alone next door . 
For the purpose of evidence I put in a pyjamaed appearance at breakfast , when the waiter took due notice . 
Leaving an adequate sum on the sitting-room mantelpiece plus a railway ticket for her return to London , Rod and I caught the next train back to town . 
Wilfred told me of the lady 's subsequent comments over the telephone . 
She asked why she had been sent on the trip at all . 
" I do n't think your friend Mackintosh knows a woman when he sees one . 
Him and his boy-friend , they ought to be locked up ! " 
That being as it were that , it is not necessary here for me to say anything further , except that the divorce went through and my marriage to Constance ended without rancour upon either side . 
Indeed , we have remained very good friends . 
She is still very much alive and married to Walter Giblin , living in New York . 
Probably I was too much of an individualist to make a success as a star 's husband . 
Whatever the reasons , which after all concerned only ourselves , it was a romantic experience I shall never regret ... 
Being once more footloose and fancy free in London , I began to search round for a fresh interest . 
This was to be the Embassy Club . 
There will never again be a club like it . 
It was a Bond Street annexe to Ascot 's Royal Enclosure , as famous in its day as the " 21 " club in New York , { " Le Jardin de Ma Soeur " in Paris , and the Everglade 's in Palm Beach . 
In one way or another the Embassy featured in all my old friend Michael Arlen 's earlier novels . 
When his famous The Green Hat appeared , at one single lunchtime at the Embassy there were no less than five ladies in { Chapeaux Verts , doubtless anxious to be believed the inspiration of "Iris Fenwick " . 
Quite as successful as the book was the play of the same title which opened on September 2nd , 1925 , starring Tallulah Bankhead . 
Though the Embassy was open for lunch it was usually described as a night-club . 
Unlike its forerunners it was eminently respectable . 
Of course there were ladies whose reputations may have disturbed certain matrons , but the said ladies had an elegance which added lustre to the establishment . 
How did I come to be connected with the Embassy Club ? 
One Bob Hornby suggested Wilfred Egerton , myself , and some others taking over the 400 Club in Bond Street . 
It was being run by Arthur Kelly , Charles Chaplin 's London agent , who was finding the two assignments over-much for one man . 
Accordingly we formed a syndicate to buy the place , decorating it in conservative style . 
Admission price was low ; so was the annual subscription . 
Success became instantaneous . 
We renamed it the Embassy to suggest luxury . 
A great asset was that one went from the street straight into the restaurant with its dance floor , surrounded by comfortable banquette tables . 
The bar downstairs was always crowded . 
The real success of the place was due to the { 6mai5tre d'hotel , Luigi Naintre . 
He had long been in charge of Romano 's and the Criterion . 
He came as managing director , our largest shareholder . 
He was far more than just a restaurant manager ; he was an ambassador , a man of astonishing ability and tact . 
Another notable feature was the music provided by Ambrose , who was at the height of his fame . 
From the prestige angle the Club was helped by the frequent visits of the Prince of Wales and his brothers , the Dukes of York and Kent . 
It was , I think , the first night-club to be frequented by Royalty . 
We had a subsidiary company called the Embassy Wine and Spirit Company , supplying both the club and the public . 
Luigi 's aptitude may best be illustrated by the following anecdote . 
I was dining in the club when Lord Sefton and his son , Hugh , came in and sat at the opposite end of the room . 
Luigi talked to them while taking their order for dinner . 
When he came back to my table he said : "You will be glad to hear that I have just sold £10,000 worth of champagne to His Lordship . " 
How indefatigable Luigi was ! 
He would leave for home at two in the morning , rise again at five , in order to go to market and choose everything himself . 
Twelve-thirty would find him back at the club , suave , debonair , ready for the busy lunchtime session . 
Embassy shareholders made a hundred per cent annual profit over a period of some five years . 
We only sold out when compelled to do so by Luigi 's death . 
This was an occasion of great sorrow for us . 
His was an impressive funeral at St Anne 's , Soho . 
Thousands from every sphere of life attended , and five Daimlers were required to carry the flowers from the church to the cemetery . 
Our club chef had a particular reputation for the way in which he cooked Gefu " lter fish — a Jewish dish , mixture of chopped whiting , herring , halibut , cod , and mackerel , mixed with egg and breadcrumbs . 
So much did one American , Jefferson Cohn , appreciate this dish that when he was over in Paris he would have Gefu " lter fish flown over to him every Saturday ! 
Before finishing with the Embassy Club let me say a few words about one of our most eccentric members , Ralph Peto . 
He came in one morning before lunch with a polo boot on one foot and a slipper on the other . 
Had he been unable to make up his sartorial mind or merely forgotten to put on the second boot ? 
He talked to a horse-coper in the club bar . 
Ralph Peto owed the man £5000 already and was abusively demanding an additional £500 . 
His language was not merely explosive , it was obscene . 
Wilfred Egerton rebuked him mildly : 
" Please , Ralph , do n't talk like that . 
I ca n't bear dirt . " 
Ralph bowed and apologized , only to come out with an appallingly personal comment that so scared its recipient , a young lady , that she left her cocktail untouched . 
It is recorded also that in some outburst of domestic tension Ralph burned all his mother-in-law 's clothes in the middle of Manchester Square garden . 
Another time when an invitation to dinner with the Princess Polignac at her palace in Venice was not forthcoming , he jumped into a gondola . 
While the gondolier was delivering Ralph 's letter of indignation , Ralph went to the Princess 's kitchen , dismembered the stove with a coal-hammer and threw the dinner into the Grand Canal . 
The Embassy Club was by no means my sole adventure in property dealings . 
Always they have fascinated me . 
I longed , for instance , to buy the Ritz Hotel . 
Travellers from abroad and incoming mail set gossip circulating . 
The stories gained in effect from the surrounding secrecy . 
Correspondents wrote home to ask why the lurid reports were not being officially denied and disposed of . 
It was not long before all Mayfair was gossiping . 
In every club there was an indignant member spluttering against the indignity done to the Crown . 
It was an outrage . 
And who was this Mrs. Simpson , anyhow ? 
On their way back to England the King and she paused in Vienna for some pleasant hours of dancing . 
The reporters were still following . 
The headline told the tale — " Edward rumbas with Wally " . 
In Paris Mrs. Simpson saw for the first time a few examples of what folks were reading about her back home in the States . 
She was aghast . 
She telephoned " her alarm " to London . 
The King was comforting — he had been through all this publicity himself before ; it would wear itself out . 
He pointed reassuringly to the silence of the British press . 
Nevertheless as he sat down to dinner with his mother at Buckingham Palace , he wondered how much Queen Mary was aware of what America was saying . 
She gave no indication that anything out of the ordinary had reached her . 
In tones of polite enquiry she asked about his holiday . 
" Did n't you find it terribly warm in the Adriatic , " she innocently enquired . 
She was , of course , fully informed and highly indignant about the publicity her son 's association was causing . 
But her reserve remained unbroken and another occasion for a confidential talk between mother and son went by , the opportunity lost . 
The King had missed the Twelfth and the grouse , but he sufficiently conformed with custom to spend the last two weeks of September in the Highlands . 
His house-party was not formed of members such as had been gathered about them by Queen Victoria or King George 5 . 
Statesmen were conspicuously absent — Mrs. Simpson conspicuously present . 
Her arrival was the occasion for growing feeling against the King in circumstances in which he was not at fault . 
It chanced that the day she reached Aberdeen station was also the occasion for the opening of Aberdeen 's Royal Infirmary . 
While the King was driving across from Balmoral to meet her , his brother , the Duke of York was performing the opening ceremony at the hospital . 
Earlier in the year the King had decided that because of court mourning he could not perform the ceremony in person and had asked his brother to deputize . 
These facts were not known to the Aberdonians and there was an outcry that His Majesty should have neglected the hospital so that he might be free to meet his guest . 
It was a baseless charge , but it was spread around and gained wide acceptance before the truth caught up with rumour and scotched it . 
By that time harm had been done to King Edward 's reputation amongst his Scottish subjects . 
There were happy days amongst the heather and in the evenings the King in his kilt played the laird in his castle . 
Mrs. Simpson was fascinated , enjoying every moment . 
But the King 's brothers in their Scottish retreats nearby felt themselves neglected , shut out of his confidence . 
Bertie ( Duke of York ) in particular , considered himself " to have lost a friend ( in his father ) and to be rapidly losing one in his brother " . 
As September ran out the royal guests departed , leaving Balmoral to the grouse and the deer . 
The King turned south to face the future and its complications . 
He came back to a London that was agog with gossip and concern over the wretched reports from the United States . 
By that date it was Mrs. Simpson all the way in every American paper , headlines , story and pictures . 
" Palace Car at Wally 's Disposal " , "King Chooses Clothes To Match With Wallis " — there was no aspect of life untouched . 
Imaginations made good when facts ran out . 
One paper scurrilously described how Edward was neglecting a bereaved mother to dance attendance on Wally . 
Another told how Premier Baldwin sent for the Monarch to lecture him on his carryings on . 
British residents were sorely tried by the daily barrage of the news-hounds . 
It was disconcerting enough to learn that their Sovereign was in love with an American lady already twice married . 
The accompanying scurrilities made the plain fact odious . 
In Canada there was dismay at what was reported across the border . 
In their concern writers discharged their indignation in letters home to King , Prime Minister or Archbishop — indeed to any person with influence on affairs — Ministers of the Crown , Bishops , M.P.s , parsons , editors . 
The inevitable effect was to raise opinion against the author of these mischiefs . 
How could he expose himself , his Crown and his Country to ridicule and contempt ? 
Of course the worst of the reports were exaggerations and inventions , but , they were a scandal arising from the same source . 
The captain was letting down the side . 
There can be no exaggerating the effect produced . 
Long enough before the crisis broke the king 's position had been undermined amongst the pillars of the establishment . 
Much of the scandal had flowed from the Nahlin cruise and once again one thinks of the prudent man who would have foregone the hours of pleasure afloat to promote his prospects in the future . 
Instead , a prolonged stay in the Highlands , at home amongst the family and " his ain folk " , might have helped him towards realizing his hopes . 
He could have used the time to entertain and captivate members of his Cabinet . 
He related afterwards , almost with self-approbation , that he had of design omitted to invite the succession of Ministers , Bishops , Admirals and Generals who had filled the Balmoral guest list since Queen Victoria 's time . 
But a prudent king would have seen the benefit to himself in bringing the softening influence of hospitality to bear upon those forming the pillars of his throne . 
Meanwhile , Mrs. Simpson prepared herself for the hearing of her suit for divorce . 
By a device common enough at the time by those seeking to avoid the publicity of a London hearing , it was arranged for the petition to be filed for the Suffolk Assizes . 
To this end the petitioner had to acquire a residential qualification , and so Mrs. Simpson moved into a house she had taken by the sea at Felixstowe . 
So effective had been the silence of the British press that the townsfolk remained completely unaware of the presence of a notability in their midst , who across the Atlantic was hailed as the most talked-of woman in the world . 
Felixstowe had scarcely heard of Mrs. Simpson and certainly did not recognize her when she passed down the street of a morning to buy her paper . 
When she walked by the sea she " might as well have been in Tasmania " for all the notice that was taken . 
A little while was to pass and she would be looking with envy on those tranquil days of her obscurity . 
At last the date was fixed for the court hearing — October 27 . 
It acted as a goad on the various interested persons . 
After weeks of inaction something , at last , must needs be done . 
9 MR . 
BALDWIN CALLS " 
YORK : Vex not yourselves , nor strive with your breath , 
For all in vain comes counsel to his ear . " 
THE King 's Matter — how convenient the phrase — now occupied the attention of the pillars of the establishment . 
Hitherto it had been the King 's emotional complication and his own concern . 
With divorce impending there were graver implications . 
The Archbishop of Canterbury contemplated the possibilities and was dismayed . 
Divorce spelled the possibility of marriage , and the wife of a king became a queen . 
Would he , the Primate of all England , be faced with the ultimate harrowing possibility of officiating at the coronation of a sovereign married to a woman with two previous husbands ? 
Thus to participate would mean a surrender of the Church 's principles on one of the cardinal points of its teaching . 
It was unthinkable , but it seemed it might come to pass . 
What was his duty as Primate ? 
He concluded that for the present the wiser course was to take no action . 
But would not the Government intervene ? 
Ministers of the Crown began to look with distaste at the contents of their postbags . 
Every delivery added to the letters from correspondents anxious about the King 's reputation . 
There was the generally expressed opinion that something ought to be done , something of course by the Government . 
The plaguy divorce suit would add a new urgency to the letters and the need for action . 
Queen Mary viewed the possibilities with her sharp , clear vision unclouded by the concern and anger she felt . 
She had given no expression to her feelings when she met her son — there was always the chance his affections might cool . 
But divorce — she grew indignant at the thought of what might be contemplated . 
That a woman with two husbands alive should become the wife and consort of her son the King , was out of the question . 
Action was essential before the divorce case came up for hearing and she urged that the Government should take it . 
Characteristically she placed what she considered to be her obligations to the British Monarchy before her affection for her son . 
So Mr. Baldwin took the front of the stage , which he was to share with the King , others , in the background , till the play was done , for , as His Majesty phrased it , they were to settle the matter alone . 
It is the King who serves as ceremonial figure-head for his country . 
It falls to his Prime Minister to speak on behalf of England . 
Not long afterwards another man was to speak for England in another mood in the voice of Winston Churchill giving the lion 's roar , voicing the might and power of the British Commonwealth . 
Stanley Baldwin in his wistful musings pictured another England — a country of hill and valley and meadowlands , the rolling Cotswolds — and the silver serpentining Severn , of the perfection of England seen from the Malvern heights looking towards the Marches of Wales , an England of quiet country-folk , pipe-smoking farmers , decent townspeople and factories where old men could sit about on barrows . 
These quiet scenes showed him the England that he loved , but for all his wistful brooding Stanley Baldwin , by some curious twist of character , was as shrewd a politician as ever reached Ten Downing Street . 
He drew his strength , perhaps , from his understanding of the English folk of his brooding , not only the yeomen and the squires , but also those sent to Westminster to represent their fellows . 
It was his boast that his worst enemy would not say of him that " I did not know what the reaction of the English people would be to any course of action " . 
No man was more sensitive than he to the changing moods of the House of Commons . 
Of late he had gone astray over the carve-up of Abyssinia and his health was failing , indeed , he had continued in office only to see the new King established , for he shared the doubts of those who questioned whether Edward would rise above the handicaps of his character and his upbringing . 
For the weeks , whilst the House was up , Baldwin had complied with his doctor 's orders , for absolute rest . 
He returned to Number Ten to face the problem of the King 's future . 
Mrs. Simpson , divorce , marriage — the sequence seemed to point to one inevitable conclusion and a decree granted in October , he noted would become absolute about the date of the Coronation in May . 
Queen Mary was pressing for intervention — but what was a Prime Minister empowered to do ? 
A king could regulate the marriage of his children but the Statute Book makes no provision for regulating the marriage of a king . 
No one had ever thought of defining the eligibility of women to be queen . 
Nor was there precedent to fall back on , for no Premier had ever faced this problem before . 
He shared Queen Mary 's repugnance , but as to thinking the King 's marriage out of the question — there he disagreed . 
All his information pointed to the contrary conclusion . 
No better way of doing this can be found than through the medium of his autobiography , The Course of My Life , written during the last months of his life when he had reached the age of sixty-one and was able to survey , with the peculiar clarity that sometimes comes with age , his early years , the gradual development of his own powers and the varied influences that came to him through the many friends into whose orbits he was attracted . 
The warmth of his nature and his lively interest in his fellow human beings is apparent in all his descriptions of the men and women that he met — whether in the charmed circles of the literary world of Vienna in the 'eighties , or in the near-Utopian cultural climate of Weimar , where he worked in the Goethe Institute , or in the rough and tumble of journalistic life in Berlin , where he edited the { Magazin fu " r Literatur . 
He did not find agreement in opinion a necessary condition for friendship : " I loved the many-sidedness of life " , he said . 
The book was never finished , for his illness and death intervened while he was in the course of writing it . 
But it carries his story to the early years of this century and gives a comprehensive picture of all that led up to his life-work . 
Rudolf Steiner was born at the little village of Kraljevec in Southern Austria on the border between Hungary and Croatia . 
His parents both belonged to the Lower Austrian forest region , north of the Danube , and in the small town of Geras his father had passed his childhood and youth in close association with the seminary of the Premonstratensian Order , where he was instructed by the monks . 
Later he became a gamekeeper to Count Hoyos on his estate at Horn but on his marriage changed this occupation and took the job of telegraphist on the Southern Austrian Railway . 
He remained a countryman at heart and the new work was uncongenial but he was soon promoted to be Station-master of Pottschach in Lower Austria . 
At this little railway station , with the magnificent scenery of the Styrian Alps before him , Rudolf Steiner spent the formative years from two to eight . 
He was much absorbed , as any other small boy would be , in the daily business of the railway . 
His father taught him his letters and his own insatiable curiosity about the world and its ways taught him many other things , such as the complete process of milling which he learnt from constant visits to the local mill . 
But there were many problems that exercised his active mind . 
" I was filled with questions " , he says , " and I had to carry these questions about with me unanswered . 
It was thus that I reached my eighth year " . 
During this year the family moved to Neudorff in Hungary , and here they remained until Rudolf Steiner was seventeen . 
The Alps were now visible only in the distance but near at hand were mountains easier to climb and great forests where the peasants gathered wood . 
With his parents , his sister and his brother , Rudolf walked and climbed , bringing back wild fruits for supper . 
But he preferred to walk alone , and to talk to the peasants that he met . 
With them , he took part every year in the vintage and with their children he went to the village school . 
It was through the assistant master at this school that the first great event of his life took place — an event that , he believed , influenced the whole course of his development and of his future work ; it was the discovery , in his teacher 's room , of a text book on geometry . 
He was allowed to borrow it and through it he felt the deepest satisfaction he had yet known , for by this science he found justification for his own assumption that the reality of the unseen world is as certain a fact as the reality of the physical world . 
It seemed to him to be a form of knowledge which man appeared to have produced but which had a significance quite independent of man . 
He had found unaided something that gave confirmation of the " unseen " world , a world of which he had been aware even before his eighth year and in which he longed to live . 
Had not the seen received light from the unseen he would , he said , have been forced to feel the physical world as if it were a kind of darkness around him . 
Another outstanding event that took place in his tenth year , and that was to bear fruit in later life , was his introduction , through the local priest , to the system of Copernicus . 
Astronomy became as absorbing a study to him as the mechanism of the railway had once been . 
He had now formed an attachment to the priest and also to the Church , where he was a server and a chorister . 
He entered into his duties with sensitive participation , and found in the sonorous beauty of the Latin liturgy " a vital happiness " . 
It was to him a means of mediation between his two worlds . 
But it was not a soporific , for through the music and in contemplation of the ritual he saw the riddle of existence rising before him in " powerful and suggestive fashion " . 
He makes the rather sad little comment that in the matter of this early religious experience he was "a stranger in his father 's house " , for his father had temporarily shed his piety and become a " free-thinker " . 
Rudolf Steiner 's home could offer him no cultural background . 
His father , a warm-hearted , quick-tempered , gregarious man felt no need for books and loved nothing better than a political argument with the local worthies under the lime trees on a summer evening , with the mother , a good Hausfrau , sitting beside him with her knitting and the children playing around . 
Rudolf Steiner was indebted to the local doctor for his introduction to German literature . 
Pacing up and down beside the station , the tall , enthusiastic doctor opened up a new world to the eager little boy . 
For the first time he heard of Goethe , with whose conception of nature his own future was to be so closely linked , and of Schiller , from whose letters a few sentences were to wake the train of thought that led him to the perception that man has the possibility of changing his state of consciousness . 
The doctor 's literary influence happily continued when the boy was sent to the Realschule in Wiener-Neustadt , a secondary school where prominence was given to science and modern languages . 
This school was chosen because the father had determined that his promising son should become a civil engineer . 
The boy himself was indifferent as to what school he attended provided he could get some satisfactory answers to the vital questions he bore within him on " life and the world and the soul " . 
Rudolf Steiner devotes a chapter of his book to this period of his school-days and it is evident that his powers of thought were far in advance of those of the average boy , and that the scientific method of approach to the problems of existence — an approach which later he came to regard as essential for modern man — was his by natural proclivity . 
When he was barely eleven he read a paper published by his head-master on " Attraction Considered as an Effect of Motion " . 
Though he understood but little of it , for it began with higher mathematics , he derived sufficient meaning from certain passages to build a bridge between it and what he had learnt from the priest of Neudorff on the creation of the world . 
He then saved his pocket money until he could buy a book by the same author on The General Motion of Matter as the Fundamental Cause of All the Phenomena of Nature . 
The study of these two works , combined with his studies in mathematics and physics , took him through his third and fourth year and finally brought him to the conclusion that he must go to nature in order to win a standing place in the spiritual world . 
This spiritual world he consciously perceived lying before him . 
Further , he said to himself : " One can take the right attitude towards the experience of the spiritual world by one 's own soul only when the process of thinking has reached such a form that it can attain to the reality of being which is in natural phenomena " . 
He then discovered Kant . 
He had never heard of him but saw the Critique of Pure Reason in a shop window and could not rest until he had bought it , for he longed to know what the human reason could achieve in gaining genuine insight into what he called " the being of things " . 
" How does one pass " , he asked himself , " from simple clear-cut perceptions to concepts in regard to natural phenomena ? " 
Sometimes he would read one page of the Critique twenty times over in order to arrive at a definite decision as to the relation sustained by human thought to the creative work of nature . 
But he made no advance through Kant . 
The study was by no means valueless , however , for he was already subjecting himself to that severe discipline in thinking that was sustained throughout his life and which he demanded of his pupils . 
He wished so to construct thought within himself that every thought could be objectively surveyed , without any identification with feeling . 
Thus he was no mystic . 
From his earlier emotional reaction to the beauty of the liturgy he now tried to establish within himself a harmony between objective thinking and the dogma and symbolism of religion . 
This attempt , he said , in no way diminished his reverence and devotion . 
His relation to the teachings of religion was determined , he states , " by the fact that to me the spiritual world counted among the objects of human perception . 
The very reason why these teachings penetrated so deeply into my mind was that in them I realized how the human spirit can find its way consciously into the supersensible " . 
It was a natural result to arrive at the question : "to what extent is it possible to prove that in human thinking real spirit is the agent ? " 
And , furthermore , to debate from this basis the possible scope of human thinking . 
With these problems uppermost in his mind Rudolf Steiner entered the Technische Hochschule in Vienna , and at once proceeded to buy a large number of books on philosophy . 
He had now decided to become a teacher , and had already done a certain amount of coaching . 
He enrolled for mathematics , natural history and chemistry , and was fortunate in having as his lecturer in physics Edmond Reitlinger , the author of { Freie Blicke . 
He could not accept the prevailing mechanical theory of heat nor the wave theory of light , and through them was driven to a study of theories of cognition . 
The Darwinian theory of evolution seemed to him fruitful in so far as the higher organisms derive from the lower , but to reconcile this idea with what he knew of the spiritual world was immeasurably difficult , for he conceived of the " inner man " as dipping down from the spiritual world and uniting with the organism in order to perceive and to act in the physical world . 
He had now come to realize , through his own struggles to win concepts in natural science , that the activity of the human ego must be the sole starting point for arriving at true knowledge . 
Previously he had worked from the opposite premise , first observing the phenomena of nature in order to derive from them a concept of the ego . 
Now he saw that he must penetrate nature 's process of "becoming " from the activity of the ego . 
He was now about nineteen , an age when the sense of the ego begins to assert itself more fully , and from this time onwards he was gradually to expand his understanding of the spiritual and the eternal nature of man 's ego and its relation to the evolution of his consciousness . 
It came as a gift , generously and unexpectedly . 
The sun slanting across the valley lent a liquid softness to the depths below us . 
We might have been looking into an unruffled lake , 2,000 feet of clear water . 
A mile distant , where the valley dropped away , the Esera made an elbow turn to the south , thus giving the valley-head its secrecy . 
As so rarely happens in nature , we looked on a work of art . 
The very perfection was strange ; such things do not normally come about . 
We felt for the first time that unreality , that sense of a landscape under spell , which travellers have repeatedly noted in these Pyrenees . 
An alpine valley would have been groomed and put to use , beautiful in a different way : pastures subdivided into toy-like rectangles and rhomboids , tousled mops of hay drying on ash poles , ruminating cattle , brown chalets . 
Here there seemed no sign of life or husbandry , until our muleteer indicated , among the boulders on the opposing mountain-side , the hut to which Don Miguel had secured the key , and drew our attention to a curious brown blotch on the pastures below . 
" Mares , " he said . 
We descended knee-deep through feathery grasses . 
They parted easily and we walked , scattering myriads of grass seeds , as through green foam . 
There were Turk 's head lilies and patches of iris , islands of brilliant blue set capriciously in the green sea . 
Quail , unusual at such altitude , flushed at our feet but their straight brusque flight , as always , lacked determination and they collapsed into the grass fifty yards away . 
We were silent . 
One talks in a hut or by a fire in the open , but not much when walking or climbing : one is either too preoccupied , or too happy . 
Going down to the Val d'Esera we were happy . 
Approaching the valley bottom we remarked that the hundreds of horses pasturing there did not stray . 
The brown blotch they made extended no more than a quarter-mile , as though they were confined within this area by a mysterious social tie . 
They varied from cream to black and these colours were seen against sward , the curve of each back outlined against the green . 
They were not mere quadrupeds , for they had the presence of the animals that obsessed Piero di Cosimo . 
Though sharing with the valley the permanence of art — and here again was strangeness — they seemed to wheel in continual movement about an invisible centre . 
This was the more surprising for when one looked closely , narrowing vision to ten square yards , one detected only a shaken mane , a lifted hoof , an occasional arbitrary turn . 
Our route brought us to the fringes of the herd and , as we threaded our way among them , I was glad that they disregarded us . 
They had grown larger , as landowners do on their own estates , and we seemed to reach only their withers . 
They were the aborigines of the valley , the proper owners , and intruding on their gathering we were lucky not to be challenged in an unknown language . 
We trod delicately among the cropping beasts , who so generously ignored us . 
They had , we found , a herdsman ; that he , in his rags and with domed mud-hovel , could perform some useful office for these noble creatures seemed improbable . 
Here at the headwaters of the Esera to be human was a disadvantage . 
Less confident than his herd , the man jumped to his feet and held a great staff like a barrier towards us . 
We spoke from a distance and he was still watching uncertainly ( though of the herd not a head was lifted ) as we moved from the soft nap of the valley to the boulder-strewn slopes of the Aneto . 
In half an hour we had reached the hut . 
There is pleasure in an untenanted hut ; in disposing one 's gear methodically ; in finding employment for hook , table , and bench , perhaps long unused ; in starting a fire and creating warmth . 
The process offers the satisfaction of moving into a new house , but is accomplished in an hour . 
It is a satisfaction rarely to be enjoyed in the Spanish Pyrenees . 
We little realised that we slept that night in comfort such as existed nowhere else in Aragon at 7,000 feet . 
In an area which knew little of climbing history , of guides , guide-books , or huts , the Aneto and the Rencluse Hut were exceptional . 
As the highest point of the Pyrenees , the Aneto had been attempted in the eighteenth century . 
It had been climbed in 1842 and , though lying well in Spanish territory , had for decades been a popular ascent . 
The logical approach was from Luchon ; the frontier was crossed , and the Esera gained , by a dramatic notch in the watershed , the Port de Benasque , a passage between rock walls at some 8,000 feet . 
Before the first hut was built , people made their bivouac and lit their fires in a cave-like shelter , " la Rencluse . " 
Later a cabin was built nearby , where the amiable and rugged Madame Sayo , whose reputation has long outlived her , ministered to mountaineers . 
Time passed . 
With the Civil War the frontier was closed and those who found their way into the region did not come to climb . 
When the authorities regained control of the area , after 1945 , the Rencluse was in ashes . 
It had been rebuilt by Jose2 Abadias , whom we were later to meet , patriarch and innkeeper at Benasque , six hours down the Esera valley . 
Thus we slept under a roof . 
We woke to storm and wind , but even these can be acceptable in a quiet hut , if days are not too precious . 
There is a frayed rope-end to re-bind and crumpled flowers to identify . 
Beside the stove we pored over maps ; we talked of other mountains and augured hopefully from other storms on other occasions ; we dozed over our books ; we slept . 
Intermittently we questioned the barometer and from the window looked at the struggle above , watched the battle sway as the peaks threw off the assaulting cloud or went down fighting , blotted out . 
When it cleared towards evening , our spirits lifted like the vapour . 
We stepped out buoyantly to find the air deliciously clear , rinsed by the departed rain and wind . 
Jumping like children from boulder to boulder , we raced along the mountainside . 
Above us the peaks , hidden all day , had returned firm and confident to their stations . 
The valley glistened , no longer obscured by veils of driving rain . 
The mares in their formal circle were grazing unconcerned as ever , and the herdsman was fishing on the bank of the stream . 
Beside him an enormous white Pyrenean sheep-dog sat on its haunches . 
That evening we would not have been elsewhere at any price . 
Though the weather was perhaps a little too warm , the stars were out . 
Tomorrow we should climb the Aneto . 
In itself the climb was nothing , { un nada as someone had airily remarked in the cafe2 at Le2s . 
But here in Aragon there were no reassuring tracks , no guide-books or maps as the modern climber knows them . 
Imagination was free to play on our 11,000-foot mountain . 
We were back in the nineteenth century and this constituted the very point of our expedition . 
Having set the alarm clock for three-thirty , we should have crawled early into our sleeping bags , but already the morning was with us in anticipation , making sleep difficult . 
We poured more wine and sat talking at the trestle table , while the stove purred . 
Naturally we talked of the Aneto , the inelegant but convincing massif that couched above us in the dark . 
Draped with glaciers it stretched three miles from the Pic d'Alba to the Pic des Tempe5tes , and its backbone dropped nowhere below 10,000 feet . 
The crux of the climb was the Pont de Mahomet , the airy granite ridge that led to the summit . 
Presumably the name was derived from the rope known to Muslim theology which stretches over hell and which the righteous alone can cross to attain Paradise . 
The name is no stranger than that of the adjoining Maldetta , the Accursed Mountain . 
" Accursed " they say because Christ wandering in this wilderness , and meeting with fierce herdsmen and fiercer dogs , turned the latter to stone . 
Christ , Mahomet , such are the names that shepherds here have long invoked . 
To talk of the Aneto was also to talk of the two friends to whom , in a sense , the massif and much of the Pyrenees rightfully belong . 
We envisaged them , clad in Norfolk jackets , perhaps wearing the new-fangled balaclava helmets , on the skyline or straddling the Pont de Mahomet . 
By the wheezing stove in the Rencluse it was a duty to remember them , for no mountain chain has been so lovingly pioneered as were the central Pyrenees by Packe and Russell . 
They discovered most of the region nearly a century ago . 
Having no maps , with no guide but observation and a compass , year after year they navigated like sailors among the unknown reefs and glaciers . 
Their first ascents are numberless ; it was their country . 
Perhaps for this reason , their expeditions were not assaults . 
They did not conquer peaks to possess and leave them , as do mountain philanderers . 
Their climbs were not a battle and a parting : they cherished their mountains and returned . 
Packe climbed the Aneto six times ; Russell , who made at least five ascents , once spent a night on the summit and at dawn noted the snow blood-red where the first sun struck , but deep blue in the shadows . 
Though friends , they were different , representing two approaches to the mountains on which mountaineering has much depended , the scientific and the romantic . 
Charles Packe was geologist , botanist , cartographer , and scholar ( climbing with Horace in his pocket ) . 
He was also the squire of Stretton Hall , the Leicestershire gentleman who found the Pyrenees more exciting than the hunting field . 
Much of this was concealed by a brusque manner , for though a modest man he was not an easy one . 
He began his systematic exploration of the chain in 1859 . 
When a companion was killed on the Pic de Sauvegarde in the same year , while no doubt perturbed , he was clearly not deflected . 
Noting Jurassic limestone , greensand , names of rare flowers , barometric pressures and making in the uncharted country expedition on expedition , he accumulated knowledge . 
It found expression in his first guide-book to the central Pyrenees and the first map of the Maladetta area . 
At this remove the methodical explorer allows a single welcome glimpse of the eccentric squire : on solitary expeditions he roped with Ossou " e and Azor , his great Pyrenean sheep-dogs . 
Thus a hundred years ago , but surely in misplaced confidence , he crossed a frozen tarn , and perhaps negotiated the icefields of the Aneto . 
" { Mon ami Packe , " the phrase recurs throughout the writings of Count Henri Patrick Marie Russell-Killough . 
The latter 's was an affectionate and generous character . 
Born in France , and heir to a papal title , Russell was an Irish catholic . 
These facts were less important to him than the works of Chateaubriand , Lamartine , and Byron , and the mountains which he always saw in some part through their eyes . 
His life was a late but heroic expression of the romantic era . 
From that era both his literary style — for he had weird but considerable talent as a writer — and his attitudes derived much of their bravura . 
Charm , passion , eccentricity , created his legend ; there have been many less well founded . 
As a young man he wrote verse , played the fiddle , and would dance all night ( " { effre2ne2 valseur " they said ) before starting on a thirty-mile walk at dawn . 
His romantic daemon sent him briefly and disastrously to sea , and led him in his early twenties happily across Siberia , to Australia , to New Zealand ( where he was lost for three days in the Alps alone and without food ) , to the Americas , and even to within sight of Everest . 
On his return in 1863 , at the age of twenty-nine , he first climbed the Aneto and met Packe . 
The rest of his life was , quite simply , devoted to the Pyrenees . 
The range brought him something like European fame . 
He made at least sixteen first ascents , and it is in character that many of them should have been solitary . 
3 Technique and Culture : Three Cambridge Portraits S. GORLEY PUTT 1 
IN the opening paragraphs of his already famous Rede Lecture for 1959 , The Two Cultures and the Scientific Revolution ( Cambridge University Press ) , Sir Charles Snow discloses some of the personal accidents that led him to move , at an impressionable age , between those two cultures the separation of which forms the main theme of his essay . 
" By training , " he says , " I was a scientist : by vocation I was a writer . " 
He continues : " There have been plenty of days when I have spent the working hours with scientists and then gone off at night with some literary colleagues . " 
It so happened that while Snow was thus employed I was an undergraduate at his college ( Christ 's ) , spending my own working hours in and around the English Tripos and some of my happiest evenings in Snow 's rooms . 
I may even have been , though his junior in years and status , one of these " literary colleagues " to whom he refers . 
I notice that I have dropped at once into the old habit of calling my friend " Snow " rather than " Charles " . 
His old friends call him Snow : only his new friends call him Charles . 
I wonder why ? 
I think it must be because he seemed to us in those days to be less a man than a conglomeration of qualities . 
We went to him for judgements , and watched our own opinions first drawn out and then appraised . 
" I think you are probably right " , he may nowadays say with immense and even hearty graciousness ; but when he delivered a Cambridge judgment he would say , firmly and quietly , " There is no doubt " . 
This serene abstraction caused us , personally devoted as we were , to think of him nevertheless as a little other than human . 
( However fond one might have been of Dr. Johnson , one would not have called him " Sam " . ) 
But now that C. P. Snow has impinged on the public scene at many points — now that he is at once novelist , knight , critic , administrator , business man , lecturer , husband , father , seer — he has embodied his manifold abstractions and has become a baptized human being called " Charles " . 
A pity . 
To those of us who first knew him at Christ 's , the word sounds strangely formal . 
For many undergraduates of my own generation , Snow figured as the great emancipator . 
Emancipator from what , it is difficult to say . 
From shyness , I think . 
His work was mainly , in those days , in molecules ; his talk , without the slightest trace of donnish moderation , sprayed over life , love , politics , Proust ... 
All his friends were Snows , all his geese were Swanns . 
Let a member of the circle open his mouth in song , and he would be a Caruso ; let another string a short story together , and we were bidden to see in him another Proust . 
It was all , at times , like a Verdurin party . 
And although most of the Snow circle have indeed come to occupy places of considerable eminence , some of them still show traces of his early boisterousness — as when one habitue2 splendidly announced , in the midst of wartime privations : " My landlady has four thousands hens . " 
( The landlady 's name was Rothschild . ) 
Others have merely retained an undergraduate tendency to refer to public personages by their Christian names — as though in reaction to their habit of calling their private friend by his surname . 
Yet all these minor quirks are far less important than the fact that their young talents had been encouraged to flower , at exactly the appropriate time , in the sun of Snow 's approval . 
The very carelessness of Snow 's approach was salutary to us , in those days . 
It mattered less , to our personal growth , that Snow spoke rudely of The Book of Kells , than that he should have scattered his own books and papers all over the floor , should talk away into the night while playing like a kitten with a ping-pong ball , or even that he should show an Olympian ineptitude for the simple business of keeping his coal fire alight . 
There was nothing prim about him or about his friends , and it was important for a somewhat priggish undergraduate to learn , at that stage of his development , that neatness is not a major virtue . 
It is not difficult for his friends to detect in the present-day Sir Charles , the Rede Lecturer , those same qualities which in C. P. Snow the scientific research-worker might seem to have indicated a fixed temperamental opposition to the very kind of prestige he now enjoys . 
For " moral vanity " has always been , and still is , his favourite Aunt Sally at which to shy coconuts . 
He has never pretended that self-interest was a higher manifestation of moral philosophy , nor has he ever held it a virtue to " do a man down " , as he says , " in his own best interests " . 
Even his enjoyment of fame , to those who know him well , remains one of his modest and disarming characteristics . 
Snow was much given to headstrong gnomic pronouncements such as : " In many Irish houses , several kinds of bread are eaten . " 
Torn from their context , they were even more impressive than the set-piece Johnsonian broadsides — as , of Oxford Group house-parties , the comment : " It seems to me a pity that frankness about one 's private life has come to mean the public confession of things that never happened . " 
Now , this kind of thing invites parody ; but it has preserved among older fiends a certain cosmic cosiness . 
Yet if , because of his broad generalizations and his imperviousness to tinsel compliments , we used to think him unworldly , we were at once overestimating and underestimating him . 
For he has shown — and it is why the Rede Lecture has such an authoritative ring — a fine grasp of the realities of power . 
It is one reason , too , why in his novels the pictures of closed societies , clubs or departments are so horribly accurate . 
In his Cambridge days , he used to display a corresponding indifference to the outward appearance of power . 
In recent years , to be sure , like many others who have specialized in the study of the power behind the throne , Snow has come to feel that it might be rather fun to sit upon it too . 
Thus , while engaged upon the cycle of novels on which he pedals towards the G.O.M.-ship of English fiction , Snow has had the energy to sponsor a complementary critical movement . 
And as that sensible steam-roller of sensible criticism got under way , it may have seemed to some people in the literary world that Snow was intolerant . 
That is not quite true . 
There are , it is true , two things he can not tolerate : one is pretentiousness and the other is intolerance . 
He can still lodge a humble protest as well as deliver a critical ukase , and the phrase " It 's a bit much ! " is ever on his lips . 
I have heard him say , ruefully , " I shall never be as good as Dostoievski " . 
His similes were even less self-indulgent during the war when he lived for a time in Pimlico attended by a troglodyte couple named Moon : he would amble , in his Teddy-bear totter , to the head of the basement stairs and call out , always with modest incredulity , " Oh , Mr. Moo-oon ; oh , Mr. Moo-oon ! " and return with woeful countenance to face his guests : " I feel more and more like a nigger minstrel . " 
2 
The relevance of these rather impudent personal asides will appear , I trust , when one or two of my friend 's recent dicta are examined against the background of my own knowledge of and admiration for his personality . 
It would have been pointless — and , indeed , uncivil — to make use of that knowledge without passing on to my audience at least a thumb-nail caricature of the man . 
You might suppose , when I introduce my second Cambridge figure of the 1930's , Dr. F. R. Leavis , that my aim is to add to the list of examples in the Rede Lecture of mutual incomprehensibility between modern arts and modern science . 
Far from it . 
My aim is to suggest that the kinds of attitude to life represented by these very different teachers may be complementary , mutually comprehensible , and together have an influence making for both breadth and depth of thought and sensibility . 
As an undergraduate , I myself was such a prig that I had to learn to respect both Snow and Leavis before I could learn from them both how to set decent bounds to my own unfashionable tendency to respect . 
If Leavis needed to teach me a healthy disrespect for a good number of poems in the Oxford Book of English Verse before he could demonstrate just why the other poems in it were worth reading , so Snow 's impetuous scoffing at certain political and literary windbags would be clearing a space in my mind for Tolstoi . 
From the few tales I have been telling out of school it should be evident that an evening of talk in Snow 's room at Christ 's College provided a very healthy complement to the English Tripos . 
There we were able to learn , without being told in so many words , that it can be dangerous to become too exclusively sensitive to purely verbal discriminations . 
A literary sensibility can be accepted as an important faculty in life , but it is safe to admit this only in accordance with one 's readiness to agree that it is not the only equipment for life — or , for that matter , for literature . 
At the same time I was learning at Cambridge , most notably from Dr. Leavis , how much a particular kind of trained sensibility can enrich the quality of one 's response . 
It is certainly necessary to pick words very carefully here , for it would be impertinent ( and incorrect ) to suggest that Leavis and Snow were not each at home in the other 's territory . 
But the young undergraduate who sees too much of one type of mentor and nothing whatever of the other may easily become too impatient a disciple to keep steady a sense of balance such as the master himself has learned to hold . 
" What is the use of a wide outlook if the quality of vision is poor ? " 
" What on earth are you going to do with all your sensibility ? " 
The masters themselves are safe enough . 
Leavis knew precisely why discrimination was important , and we , his pupils , respected him because we saw , so to say , that in the veins of his sensibility flowed blood , not ink . 
Snow 's mental generosity was equally apparent , but we could accept it as the application to wide issues of a personality of quality — it was not just splashy enthusiasm . 
The masters , then , are safe . 
What of their pupils ? 
It is all very well to scoff at H. G. Wells because much of his writing betrays a perky mediocrity , if you yourself have a vision of life not indeed identical with his but somewhat comparable in scope . 
It is all very well to swallow H. G. Wells more or less whole in tribute to his breadth of outlook , if you yourself can detect shoddy thinking and shoddy expression . 
But with no such correctives , the submission of undergraduate minds exclusively to one or other of these enthusiasms can provide unlovely results . 
Which is the sadder sight : a puny intellect dismissing Edmund Spenser on the grounds that he is n't John Donne ( a thing Leavis himself would never do ) , or another puny intellect confidently predicting the next move of the Kremlin — a thing Snow himself would never do ? 
After the war , Snow left Cambridge and the academic life . 
He has been expressing himself in many powerful ways — via the review columns , via his own steady output of novels , via his literary partnership with his wife Pamela Hansford Johnson , via the Civil Service Commission and the English Electric Company , via television and a dozen other channels . 
Yet , oddly enough , although Snow has expressed decided views and has presumably collected his own share of literary antagonists , it is nevertheless the more retired figure of Dr. Leavis that has drawn the arrows of outraged opposition . 
This is largely because he has acquired a quite undeserved label as a detractor . 
( N ) CHARLES GREGORY FAIRFAX , 9TH AND LAST VISCOUNT FAIRFAX OF EMLY. ( ? -1772 ) 
The last Lord Fairfax was almost certainly educated at Lambspring . 
His life was full of domestic anxieties and tragedies . 
As a young man , before 1719 , he had been living in poverty abroad , vainly trying to get employment . 
The period from 1720 to 1722 , of succession to the estate , was marred by the sudden death of his first wife and his father 's troubles . 
1722 to 1736 was perhaps the happiest part of his life . 
His second marriage , to all appearances , originally a { 6mariage de convenance , turned out well and happily . 
He desperately wanted male heirs and now he had three sons and three daughters living . 
The family 's fortunes seemed assured and he took to rebuilding Gilling Castle . 
But all this collapsed like a house of cards between 1736 and 1741 . 
Two smallpox epidemics carried off his sons , his wife also died and financial troubles returned in a far more menacing form . 
From 1742 to 1760 he was occupied in trying to save the estates and to marry off his two surviving daughters — one of whom died in 1753 . 
The last twelve years of his life were financially more easy , but he was now burdened with the care of his neurasthenic daughter Anne , his sole heiress , with his own poor health , and with the certainty that the family would come to an end and the estate and his daughter become , at his death , the prey of a host of impecunious and quarrelsome poor relations . 
Up to the later 1750 's he lived most of the year in London . 
At first he moved restlessly from lodging-house to lodging-house . 
Then he settled as a paying guest in the houses of his Bredall and Pigott relations . 
Finally , when his sister Alethea Pigott had left London for Brussels he leased a house in Kensington from " Gerard Anne Edwards Esq . " 
To furnish the house , furniture was shipped from Gilling by Hull . 
Gilling servants were sent down in a batch by coach — including even a boy , who was put to school in London at Fairfax 's expense . 
In the spring and summer the family went north to Gilling . 
Occasionally they took the waters at Harrogate or Knaresborough . 
But Fairfax , perhaps because of its unpleasant early associations for him , avoided Bath . 
When his ailing wife and daughter Elizabeth went there in 1740 , they went alone . 
The Fairfaxes had frequented York for centuries . 
In the middle ages and the sixteenth century they had a regular town house — probably on the Ouse Bridge . 
In the seventeenth century the Denton family had a large town house in Micklegate , but the Gilling family had sold all its York property and relied on lodgings or leased houses . 
In the 1750's Fairfax leased a house in Petergate . 
After 1760 he devoted himself to the care of Anne , built her a fine new house in Castlegate and ceased to winter in London . 
He was always a townee . 
The traditional way of life of the Yorkshire Catholic gentry was defended strongly by Francis Cholmeley in 1722 and maintained even more strongly by Stephen Tempest of Broughton in his printed letter to his son of 1720 . 
For them a landowner must strike a happy mean between a country and a town life , with the balance inclining heavily towards the former . 
He must avoid becoming a mere rustic , a farmer of his own lands . 
There is every reason why he should have a home farm , but otherwise he should live by rents . 
On the other hand he should not haunt London and its expenses . 
A house in York for the winter season and an occasional visit to town are quite enough . 
But this sober idea can never have satisfied the wealthier Catholic gentry . 
There were always Catholic rustics , like Edward Haggerston of Ellingham , with his vilely spelt and illiterate letters and his constant preoccupation with farm and hunt topics . 
But even they had often been educated abroad . 
Education at Douai , Dieulouard , Lambspring or St. Omer in itself might rarely implant intellectual ambitions . 
But the wealthier Catholics had always rounded off school with a Grand Tour , and now " finishing schools " were appearing — at St. Edmund 's , Paris , and in the academies in France and Northern Italy . 
There young men acquired liberal tastes in art and architecture , natural philosophy and mechanics , literature and politics . 
They returned to England with little desire to immerse themselves totally in estate management . 
There were degrees of absorption in the polite arts . 
Thus Cuthbert Constable seems to have lived at home . 
But he was passionately interested in the rebuilding of his house and especially in the problems of mechanics involved , for instance , in laying on a piped water supply . 
Then there was Sir Marmaduke Constable of Everingham , who became so absorbed in the life of polite society abroad that a visit abroad for his health 's sake was prolonged into half a lifetime 's voluntary exile abroad in France and Italy . 
Yet , by post , he still controlled in minute detail his estate and kept abreast of local gossip fortnightly . 
Then a further extreme was Sir Edward Gascoigne of Parlington who lived for years in a house alongside the convent at Cambray with his wife and family , devoting himself to reading — physics , chemistry , mechanics , philosophy , political theory — leaving the oversight of the Parlington and Saxton estates to his agent and Lord Irwin . 
Lord Fairfax was of this generation and type — with some differences . 
The lists of books he bought , though moderately long , reveal little of the intense intellectual curiosity of Sir Edward Gascoigne , his brother-in-law . 
Fairfax was interested in current affairs , politics and history , though it is likely that the five huge volumes of Chambers ' Encyclopaedia of the Arts and Sciences which his chaplain , Fr. Anselm Bolton later brought away from Gilling had belonged to his patron . 
Fairfax could write and read French easily and bought a small number of current French works of literature , mostly memoirs , but including Rousseau . 
He never showed any desire to revisit the Continent . 
It is likely that his second wife visited Paris once , but , if she did so , he did not accompany her . 
Nor did he go to France with his daughter Anne in 1768 . 
He was passionately interested in building , in interior decoration , furniture and landscape gardening . 
But there is no evidence that he was the master-mind in the design of his building projects . 
Again , he was not entirely without interest in estate and agricultural matters . 
He took Edward Pigott to a village feast and spoke to the farmers of grain prices . 
He dined with Sterne to discuss turnpike matters . 
He was a patron of Hambleton and York races . 
But the family papers of his time seem to be empty of references to hunting and shooting and agricultural improvement . 
The latter meant to him merely the raising of rents . 
In London Fairfax moved mainly in Catholic circles . 
His closest friends were a Catholic merchant , Thomas Mannock , Mr. Metcalfe , a Catholic surgeon in Bromley Street , and the Bellasis family . 
He rode out to Whitton to visit the Pigotts and dined with the Petres , and Stapyltons , Dormers , Barnewells and Dillons , Lady Westmoreland , Sir Edward Smythe , the Hornyholds . 
His non-Catholic acquaintances in town do not seem to have been very numerous . 
All were relations of Yorkshire neighbours . 
The accounts of Lady Fairfax 's visit to Bath show that she also moved in Catholic circles — Mr. Errington , Doctor Bostock , Doctor Jerningham , Mr. Odonory , Lord Molyneux , Bishop York , the Misses Langdale , Mrs. Pitt ( a Bellasis , the Earl of Chatham 's Catholic aunt ) . 
Her protestant friends were few — the Mildmays and Mrs. Worsley . 
Life in York brought them into contact with all Yorkshire society at race meetings , town houses and the Assembly Rooms ( to the building of which Fairfax was a generous subscriber ) . 
The Fairfaxes of Denton had sold up in England by the 1750 's and departed to Virginia , but Fairfax family solidarity still meant something . 
American Fairfaxes still visited Lord Fairfax in York and the Fairfaxes of Steeton ( now of Newton Kyme ) occasionally wrote or left cards . 
From York or Gilling the family made rounds of visits . 
The more extensive rounds covered the Vavasours at Hazelwood , Lord Irwin at Temple Newsam , the Lawsons at Brough . 
Immediately round Gilling there was a thick concentration of Catholic neighbours and relations , the Bellasises at Newbrough , the Widdringtons at Nunnington , the Cholmeleys at Brandsby , and , to the early 1750's , the Crathornes of Ness . 
Around them lay Protestant neighbours , the Duncombes at Helmsley , Mrs. Thompson at Oswaldkirk Hall , the Carlisles at Castle Howard , where one dined on occasion . 
Visitors to Gilling were much less frequent than in the two previous centuries and came usually for several weeks at a time — Lady Fairfax 's Weld cousins from Lulworth , Sir Edward Gascoigne and his family from France , the Langdales from Houghton , Thomas Clifton of Lytham come to court Miss Fairfax , shoals of poor nephews and nieces , and the Catholic family lawyer from London , Mr. Wilmot , who faced the coaches up the North Road with such trepidation that he much preferred not to come unless the business were very urgent . 
Lord Fairfax took a keen outsider 's interest in politics . 
He took five or six newspapers , bought the current Debates of the Commons and all the latest political squibs and pamphlets . 
A typical bill from Ward & Chandler , newsagents , for 1743 runs — 
During the Seven Years War Fairfax bought large cloth-backed maps of all the principal theatres of war . 
His own political views can only be guessed . 
In 1745 the family had a strong Jacobite reputation in the county . 
In September 1745 Fairfax was bound in £100 to appear before the North Riding Justices at Hovingham to take the oath of allegiance . 
He appeared and refused the oath . 
On September 15th the Archbishop of York , Herring , wrote to the Secretary of State , Lord Hardwicke — 
"Lord Falconbridge dined with me yesterday ... 
He offered a sort of security for the honour and innocence of his relation and neighbour , Lord Fairfax of Gilling and intimated to lodge a deposition with me . 
I told him that was a matter of some nicety but whatever I saw in favour of Lord Fairfax , notwithstanding my good opinion of him , must rest upon his authority . " 
In the last week of September rumours suddenly spread in York that Fairfax was about to rise in arms . 
The Rector of Gilling , Nicholas Gouge wrote to Lord Irwin , the Lord Lieutenant , on October 1st — 
"Yesterday Lord Fairfax sent down his coachman ( who is a Protestant ) to me with compliments , and to acquaint me that one of our Town ( his Lordship 's tenant too , a most bigotted Papist ) had given out that there was a private room within Gilling Castle where 40 men might be conceal 'd and nobody cou 'd find them out and his Lordship desir 'd the person might be brought before me and punish 'd as the Law directs : and further his Lordship desir 'd that I would send the Constable ... to search his castle whether there was any such room or not ... ( the searchers went there and ) saw the place at the end of the Ale Cellar ... not two yards square ... 
The Lord 's Coachman assured me that of late there had been no company excepting Mr. Cholmondly and his wife . " 
The Rector concluded that the alarmist had spread the tale to gain credit for himself . 
He confined himself to telling " the two best Protestants " in the man 's family that the matter had been reported to the authorities , and he himself published a refutation of the rumour in the York papers . 
But another search party had been to Gilling , from York . 
Archbishop Herring wrote to Irwin on October 2nd — 
" I believe Mr. Frankland and myself took the thing too high , but the recorder was frightened and the fright caught the city . 
Lord Fairfax found out the reason of the alarm , and , I am assured , was pleased with the opportunity of justifying himself . 
He treated Mr. Dunbar ( who went with the search warrant ) at dinner and drank King George 's health . " 
To Hardwicke Herring wrote that he was now convinced that Fairfax was the King 's friend . 
The reader is now in possession of all the facts needed to determine what has happened to the aliens , and I hope not to be pointing out the obvious if I explain that the clue is in the apparent speeding-up of their television broadcasts . 
They do n't speed them up , which means , for instance , that when they walk around their space-ship they can change direction in something of the order of one-ten-thousandth of a second while moving at 30,000 miles an hour . 
No humanoid frame could stand that , unless its mass were very tiny . 
The aliens , then , are on the airfield all right , but their space-ship is sinking into a muddy heelprint or whatever . 
Apart from the effects of awe and amazement produced by the description of the pulpy monsters and so on , what we have here is a strong puzzle interest that is widespread in science fiction as a minor aspect and not uncommonly central , as in this case . 
I have already mentioned the biological puzzle — problems of determining an alien life-cycle and the like — as an important sub-category ; another involves the question of finding the weak point in some apparently invulnerable monster or hostile alien or badly behaved human artifact of the robot sort . 
The solutions to these may be progressively revealed rather than shown as deduceable , but they need not be , and " Pictures Do n't Lie " is not an isolated example of the approach that offers what are valid clues , even if they are only seen as such in retrospect . 
Although interests of this kind can hardly be classed among the most lofty , it seems legitimate to call them as literary as any other . 
Certainly science fiction appears to be on the point of taking over some of the functions of the traditional detective story , currently I believe in grave disrepair , though with a large audience , in England at any rate , nurturing itself on reprints and the more problem-posing kind of thriller . 
I can not believe that the Anglican parson and the Oxford classics don , those alleged archetypes of the Agatha Christie fan , would bring themselves to look through the files of Astounding Science Fiction in search of a story like Isaac Asimov 's " Little Lost Robot , " but they would be the losers by their reluctance , for the science-fiction deduction problem , while to some tastes inferior to the detective story in its weaker connections with the world we know , is superior to that tiny motive-means-opportunity system in its range of both problems set and kinds of answer proposed . 
To take the commercial aspect : some partial merger between the publics of the two modes does seem eventually possible , as Anthony Boucher , the most level-headed of science-fiction commentators , foresaw some years ago . 
I have already mentioned the tendency of the more full-time writers to have a foot in both camps : Boucher himself doubles as the whodunit reviewer of the New York Times , and although I can not personally confirm his assertion that science-fiction elements have recently become perceptible in some detective stories , the opposite process is clearly under way . 
A recent story by Poul Anderson , " The Martian Crown Jewels , " gives us a brilliantly clever and inventive synthesis of the two media , with a Martian detective called Syaloch who affects a tirstokr cap , a locked-space-ship problem , and a completely fair presentation of clues ingeniously disguised as technological patter . 
Even the most hardened Baker Street Irregular would be captivated by the story — if he ever learnt of its existence . 
Elsewhere , science fiction has been combined with what we are accustomed to distinguish as thriller or mystery ingredients rather than specifically deductive ones . 
All of these make some appearance in Chad Oliver 's novel Shadows in the Sun . 
The problem here is why a small town in Texas consists entirely of recently arrived inhabitants and why these are all too average to be believable . 
This is soon explained — the hero boards a flying saucer on page 27 — but the first three chapters are stuffed with 'tec tricks of presentation and style , from verbless sentences and sinister single-sentence paragraphs ( " He was afraid to go out " or " He had to know " ) to the image of the hero , who is an anthropologist but tough — the ordinary science-fiction hero needs no such apology for his learning . 
This chap "was a big man , standing a shade under six feet and pushing two hundred pounds . 
His brown eyes were shrewd and steady . 
He was dressed in the local uniform — khaki shirt and trousers , capped with a warped , wide-brimmed hat at one end and cowboy boots at the other . 
His Ph.D . 
did n't show , and he did n't look like the kind of a man who had often been frightened , " and as you might expect he soon takes up with Cynthia , who although fresh off the flying saucer makes good Martinis and is cool and slim and sets the hero 's stomach feeling tight . 
These are recognisable as importations into science fiction , which avoids that particular kind of cheap-jack stuff and indeed deserves a small round of applause for not trying to expand its audience by concessions to salacity . 
A less inane ( and more recent ) example of attempted hybridisation is Richard Matheson 's A Stir of Echoes , described on the wrapper simply as " a novel of menace " but in fact fusing science-fiction and 'tec elements with some show of wholeheartedness to produce a murder mystery with telepathic clues . 
The ability of a literary mode to expand into others is often taken as a sign of vitality , and it is true that between them fantasy and science fiction have gobbled up most of what was left of the horror story without much injury , but I can not feel that the injection of these thriller ingredients is likely to lead to much beyond blurring and dilution . 
It is not by capturing more territory that science fiction will improve itself , but by consolidating what it already has . 
Such internal reconstruction would do well to start with an attempt to bring sexual matters into better focus . 
Going easy on the puritanism would be a commendable resolve , and so would a decision to drop sex altogether where it is not essential rather than to decorate a planetary survey or alien invasion with a perfunctory love interest presented in terms borrowed from the tough school or the novelette . 
What will certainly not do is any notion of turning out a science-fiction love story . 
In the as yet unlikely event of this being well done , the science fiction part would be blotted out , reduced to irritating background noise — a dozen Venusian swamp-lilies being delivered to the heroine 's apartment , and so forth . 
A recent effort , perhaps harmless in intention but unspeakable in execution , has been made to introduce a women 's angle into the field , whereby we are introduced to a gallant little lady pretending to hate her man so that he can push off to Mars without pining for her , and an equally gallant little wife and mother uncomplainingly keeping up the production of tasty and nourishing meals while the hydrogen missiles are landing in the back garden . 
We can hope for more imaginative treatments than that , but the role of sex in science fiction as a whole seems bound to remain secondary . 
In the idea type of story it can have almost no place ; in the social utopia , it exceeds its warrant if it is much more than illustrative or diversifying , although one would not want to be decisive at what is still an early stage of the medium 's development . 
To view with aplomb the prospect of continuing limitation of sex interest in science fiction is not the same thing as to accept a damaging poverty in it , for we are dealing with a genre , not a literature , and it is unnecessary to chide the Aeneid , for instance , on the grounds of its taciturnity about daily life in Augustan Rome . 
But I quite agree that almost nothing in contemporary science fiction is more calculated to affront the tiro , nor to raise more serious doubts of the medium 's ability to come of age , than the horrid lyricism or posturing off-handedness which seem to be the regular procedures for handling these questions . 
Similar doubts attend consideration of another , and I suppose , related , weakness in the medium as at present conducted : lack of humour and , far more than this , bad attempted humour . 
There is undoubtedly a kind of priggish pomposity which can afflict even the better writers , enough at times to subvert the moral tendency of what they are saying , and I connect this with the parochial circuit of mutual congratulation , leading in some cases to delusions of grandeur , in which most of them are involved ; this is a consequence , I feel , of the history and general circumstances of science fiction itself . 
As regards simple absence of humour , I like to think I 'm as fond of a good laugh as the next man , but I can stand doing without for long periods when reading , having been trained in the Oxford English school , and many of the best science-fiction stories , " The Xi Effect , " for example , distil a kind of horror hard to conceive of as harmonising plausibly with anything comic . 
Some editors in the field , however , seem to have picked up from their reading the notion that humour is a sign of maturity , and compete with one another to fill their pages with stories whose very titles are enough to chill the blood : " The Cerebrative Psittacoid , " for instance , or " The Gnurrs Come from the Voodvork Out . " 
There is even a whole mass of writing consecrated to the defeats inflicted on learned but hidebound scientists by a generic Midwestern Paw and Maw of great natural wisdom ( alleged ) and hideous whimsicality ( actual ) . 
The British are not guiltless here either : a story called "When Grandfather Flew to the Moon " married the concepts of space travel with traditional — that is , false and folksy — Welsh humour , introducing characters called Llewellyn Time Machine and Auntie Spaceship-Repairs Jones . 
This outstanding case of unwanted originality won a prize in the London Observer 's science-fiction contest , which seems to have been judged by non-addicts ; it has been reprinted , with squeals of editorial delight , in a leading American anthology . 
However , the picture as a whole is not as grave as this . 
Humour as a main interest will sometimes work in this medium , provided that the comic notion is a valid science-fiction notion as well . 
One such example is William Tenn 's satire on mediocrity , "Null-P " ; others are to be found in the work of Sheckley , Pohl , and Fredric Brown . 
Beside his contributions to the comic-inferno division in stories like " A Ticket to Tranai , " Sheckley has devised a sub-form of his own , the comic problem . 
In " The Lifeboat Mutiny , " two men strive to outwit the mechanical intelligence which controls the boat ; it was programmed to meet the needs of an extinct , warlike , reptilian race and is of a verbose , officious disposition . 
Finally the men sham dead and the lifeboat ejects them into the sea , having read the alien burial service over them . 
The comedy here arises from the characterisation of the non-human protagonist as it lectures the men on their patriotic duty , offers them food that looks like clay but smells like machine oil , and when they refuse it , threatens them with brain surgery . 
The solution to the problem , however , does not approach the theorematical neatness and cogency of that propounded in " One Man 's Poison . " 
Here , two other but similar men are starving to death in a vast , isolated alien warehouse filled with various outlandish goods , including food , poisonous substances , and a thing called the Super Custom Transport , complete with fuel . 
The food turns out to be poison and so does the poison , whereupon the men settle down to dine off the Super Custom Transport , which proves to be an animal , and its fuel , which is water . 
Better than almost any other , this example of the science fiction of pure idea acts as a test case , in that those learned in the medium will at once salute its ingenuity and elegance , while those whose study is but little will complain of not being illuminated , of being offered an unworthy escape from the universe of man and fact , of being presented with a pseudo-question instead of a question . 
Conversely , there were other poets who from the very outset hated and denounced the war , and yet got out of it something which was both less and more than hatred . 
However fiercely they might condemn it , it exerted a sinister hold over them . 
A striking case of this is the Russian Futurist , Viktor Khlebnikov , who fought as a private soldier on the eastern front from early in the war until the dissolution of the Russian armies . 
A leading figure in the { 6avant-garde of poetry , he experimented with words and images in the hope of making his poetry tougher and harsher , and war provided him with many opportunities for effects which suited his peculiar tastes . 
It appealed to him by its elemental disorder , its reduction of life to its lowest terms , its chaotic brutality which made him believe that the earth had returned to the sway of savage , primeval gods . 
His packed , forceful lines and his bold improvisations in vocabulary reflected his isolation from other men and his imperviousness to the common claims of humanity . 
His revolutionary ardour was perfectly sincere and set him in principle against the war , but in practice he displayed his feelings largely in his love of rasping shocks and grim surprises . 
His imagination was set to work by such themes as a dead man lying in a pond , soldiers caught in battle as in a mouse-trap , the merciless torment of rain and snow and wind , the flame and smoke of bombardments , the burning of villages and the wreck of forests . 
In these he feels at home , because he sees in them a reversion to a distant , disordered past for which his anarchic temperament craves . 
He creates his own mythology for the battlefield and likes to see in its routine survivals from pagan rites . 
So in " Trizna " ( " Death-feast " ) , he presents in the cremation of dead soldiers an ancient death-feast , in which modern military drill is part of the ceremony . 
As soldiers stand in silence and watch the pyre set alight , the smoke which rises from it recalls the flow of great rivers , the Don and the Irtish , and symbolizes the overpowering domination of nature when artificial restraints are removed . 
In Khlebnikov 's love of horrors there is a streak of perversity , but it is none the less in character in a man who looked forward to the collapse of his world . 
For him also war transforms what he sees , and gives to it a fierce enchantment . 
From his knowledge of war as it really is the poet may start again towards a wider vision of it and try to see it in a fuller perspective without reverting to the old abstractions and falsities . 
It is impossible to present its illimitable chaos , but what counts is the poet 's selection from it of what really strikes or stirs him . 
This is what Georg Trakl , who died on the eastern front in December 1914 , does in " { Im Osten " ( " On the Eastern Front " ) . 
He applies to the whole shapeless panorama of battle his gift for images which form a centre for a host of associations and must be taken at their full value as each appears : 
Here the individual elements are taken from fact and give a true picture of war , but they gain a special significance because they also point to something beyond themselves , of which they are both examples and symbols . 
Trakl shows that the soldier-poet is fully capable of seeing beyond his immediate situation with an insight denied to those who have no experience of actual battle . 
Though Trakl looks upon war from the anguished solitude of a prophet , he draws no conclusions and makes no forecasts . 
Yet it was not impossible for a fighting man to let his vision pierce beyond the actual carnage and to divine with an apocalyptic clairvoyance its meaning in the scheme of things . 
This was what Isaac Rosenberg did . 
In the British army he had little in common with his fellow poets . 
They were officers ; he was a private soldier . 
They cherished a trust in a privileged and happy England which had only to survive the war and return to its old ways ; he , brought up in poverty and frustration and conscious of his alien origin , shared none of their romantic dreams . 
For him the war was indeed a cosmic event , which he believed to be needed to purge the injustices of society and to bring back sanity to men . 
As such he welcomed it when it came , and as such he continued to believe in it when others had lost their nerve on finding that their vaulting hopes were false . 
He was convinced that the war was an inevitable part of an historical process , in which England , driven by a desire for self-destruction , by an " incestuous worm " eating into its vitals , was passing to the doom of Babylon and Rome . 
He had something in common with the Russian revolutionaries , but he differed from Mayakovsky in believing that the war was necessary to attain what he desired , and from Khlebnikov in taking no pleasure , however grim or perverse , in it . 
He did not deceive himself about its actual cost , and hardly any poet has written with so unshrinking a candour about the actual appearance of battle . 
As a human being Rosenberg was racked by the agony and the waste which he saw , but he steeled himself to endure it , because he believed that only through such an ordeal could the injustices and falsities of his world be discredited and destroyed . 
In his view England was paying a price for her cruelties , and , though the price was indeed heavy , it must none the less be paid . 
For this cause Rosenberg was ready to sacrifice himself , and he fulfilled his pledge when he was killed in April 1918 . 
He spoke very much from his own point of view , but what he said is an enlightening corrective both to those who saw nothing in the carnage and to those who saw nothing beyond it . 
A second matter on which there is a wide divergence between the non-combatant and the combatant views of war is in their treatment of death . 
Those who are not in constant contact with it can not but be deeply affected by it , and not only express their grief freely but see in death much more than its immediate presence . 
Death in battle has long had its own glory , and it is understandable that Rupert Brook , who died before he had seen any fighting except at Antwerp , should proclaim : " 
Blow out , you bugles , over the rich Dead . " 
But this was not how the average soldier treated it . 
So far as the prospect of his own death was concerned , he usually observed a private fatalism , which made speculation superfluous , and in the deaths of others , however deeply he might feel a personal loss , he knew that it was useless to lament or do anything but hide his feelings in a situation where death came all the time and hardly called for special remark . 
This of course did not deceive anyone , and was not intended to do so ; it was the dignity of silence in the face of something on which there was nothing to say . 
The soldier has to adjust his mind to death . 
He does so by treating it as nothing unusual , and in his topsy-turvy world he is not wrong . 
This note of superficial detachment is what Guillaume Apollinaire catches in " Exercice " : 
With solicitous understatement Apollinaire tells of the deaths of four men behind the lines as if it were nothing unusual , and so indeed it was . 
But behind this quiet exterior there is a real compassion at the impartial cruelty of death which suddenly breaks into the soldiers ' routine and destroys them , when in their talk about the past they pay no attention to the future , which suddenly falls upon them . 
Apollinaire 's art speaks for a whole order of human beings of whom he is the representative , and presents these casual deaths in the spirit in which any soldier would , in his inarticulate way , feel about them . 
The paradox of death in war is that despite its presence life must go on without interruption and that even the most gruesome relics must not be allowed to break into the living soldier 's hold upon himself , which is at all times precarious but none the less the centre of his sanity and his ability to act . 
The contrast between what he feels or does and the surroundings in which he does it is one of war 's most violent discords , and in it we can see how the human spirit adapts itself to the most horrifying circumstances simply because it must exert itself and endure . 
Something of this kind is in the mind of the Italian poet Giuseppe Ungaretti in " Veglia " ( " Watch " ) : 
In the struggle to maintain his individuality Ungaretti has to resist any invasion of it by distress at the dead body . 
He is fully aware of it , and his words are not in the least lacking in humanity . 
He marks the horror of death in the snarl on the dead man 's face and is painfully conscious of the way in which the dead hands push towards him , but he struggles against the horror , exerts a complete command over himself — and writes love-letters . 
It is his escape from the hideous unreality of war into the reality of his affections , and it gains greatly in seriousness from the chilling circumstances in which it all takes place . 
A third matter on which the fighting soldier has his own ideas is the enemy . 
At home enemies may be denounced as inhuman barbarians , ready to destroy the hearths and shrines of lands more civilized than their own . 
Therefore patriots , safely ensconced in the rear , fulminate against them , but the average soldier soon sees that in this there is little truth . 
Living in his own isolated world of the trenches , he feels that the enemy are closer to him than many of his own countrymen , and especially than the invisible commanders who from a remote security order multitudes to a senseless death . 
On no point is there a sharper contrast between home and front , and in England we may mark the extremes , on one side by Kipling 's " 
It was not part of their blood . 
It came to them very late 
With long arrears to make good , 
When the English began to hate , " 
and on the other side by Siegfried Sassoon 's " 
O German mother dreaming by the fire , 
While you are knitting socks to send your son 
His face is trodden deeper in the mud . " 
In Germany no less pungent a contrast can be found between one end of the scale with Littauer 's " Hymn of Hate " and another with ordinary soldiers , who felt , almost despite themselves , the curious brotherhood into which battle draws its antagonists . 
So in " Bru " der " ( " Brothers " ) , Heinrich Lersch comes close to what many men felt as he tells of a dead man hanging on the barbed wire in front of his trench . 
He feels that this man is his brother , and at night he thinks that he hears him crying . 
He crawls out to bring him in and bury him , and then he sees that he is a stranger . 
He draws his conclusion : " 
{ Es irrten meine Augen . 
Mein Herz , du irrst dich nicht : Es hat ein jeder Toter des Bruders Angesicht . 
'T WAS my eyes were mistaken . 
You , heart , were not misled ; There 's the look of a brother on every man that 's dead . ) " 
In France we find similar contrasts . 
At one extreme we may put Claudel 's " { Derrie3re eux " , which in righteous anger denounces the Germans for shedding innocent blood and foretells their defeat and punishment by the implacable justice which they have aroused against them . 
It has its own proud fury when Claudel elaborates how in the end the Germans will be undone by the very forces which they have themselves set in action : " 
{ Retranche-toi , peuple assie2ge2 ! e2tends tes impassables re2seaux de fil 
de fer ! 
Fossoyeurs de vos propres battaillons , sans rela5che faites votre fosse 
dans la terre ! " but it moves in too exalted and too personal an atmosphere to speak for the common soldier . 
He may chance to cut a poor figure in the eyes of posterity , for a work which was mere commercial trash to the conoscenti of one generation might possibly become a classic to those of another . 
If , on the other hand , he is guided by a contempt for the readers of such books , then he is making a crude and unacknowledged use of my system . 
It would be safer to admit what he was doing and do it better ; make sure that his contempt had in it no admixture of merely social snobbery or intellectual priggery . 
My proposed system works in the open . 
If we can not observe the reading habits of those who buy the Westerns , or do n't think it worth while to try , we say nothing about the books . 
If we can , there is usually not much difficulty in assigning those habits either to the unliterary or the literary class . 
If we find that a book is usually read in one way , still more if we never find that it is read in the other , we have a { 6prima facie case for thinking it bad . 
If on the other hand we found even one reader to whom the cheap little book with its double columns and the lurid daub on its cover had been a lifelong delight , who had read and reread it , who would notice , and object , if a single word were changed , then , however little we could see in it ourselves and however it was despised by our friends and colleagues , we should not dare to put it beyond the pale . 
How risky the current method can be , I have some reason to know . 
Science-fiction is a literary province I used to visit fairly often ; if I now visit it seldom , that is not because my taste has improved but because the province has changed , being now covered with new building estates , in a style I do n't care for . 
But in the good old days I noticed that whenever critics said anything about it , they betrayed great ignorance . 
They talked as if it were a homogeneous genre . 
But it is not , in the literary sense , a genre at all . 
There is nothing common to all who write it except the use of a particular " machine " . 
Some of the writers are of the family of Jules Verne and are primarily interested in technology . 
Some use the machine simply for literary fantasy and produce what is essentially Ma " rchen or myth . 
A great many use it for satire ; nearly all the most pungent American criticism of the American way of life takes this form , and would at once be denounced as un-American if it ventured into any other . 
And finally , there is the great mass of hacks who merely "cashed in " on the boom in science-fiction and used remote planets or even galaxies as the backcloth for spy-stories or love-stories which might as well or better have been located in Whitechapel or the Bronx . 
And as the stories differ in kind , so of course do their readers . 
You can , if you wish , class all science-fiction together ; but it is about as perceptive as classing the works of Ballantyne , Conrad and W. W. Jacobs together as " the sea-story " and then criticising that . 
But it is when we come to the second distinction , that made among the sheep or within the pale , that my system would differ most sharply from the established one . 
For the established system , the difference between distinctions within the pale and that primary distinction which draws the pale itself , can only be one of degree . 
Milton is bad and Patience Strong is worse ; Dickens ( most of him ) is bad and Edgar Wallace is worse . 
My taste is bad because I like Scott and Stevenson ; the taste of those who like E. R. Burroughs is worse . 
But the system I propose would draw a distinction not of degree but of kind between readings . 
All the words — " taste " , "liking " , " enjoyment " — bear different meanings as applied to the unliterary and to me . 
There is no evidence that anyone has ever reacted to Edgar Wallace as I react to Stevenson . 
In that way , the judgement that someone is unliterary is like the judgement " This man is not in love " , whereas the judgement that my taste is bad is more like " This man is in love , but with a frightful woman " . 
And just as the mere fact that a man of sense and breeding loves a woman we dislike properly and inevitably makes us consider her again and look for , and sometimes find , something in her we had not noticed before , so , in my system , the very fact that people , or even any one person , can well and truly read , and love for a lifetime , a book we had thought bad , will raise the suspicion that it can not really be as bad as we thought . 
Sometimes , to be sure , our friend 's mistress remains in our eyes so plain , stupid and disagreeable that we can attribute his love only to the irrational and mysterious behaviour of hormones ; similarly , the book he likes may continue to seem so bad that we have to attribute his liking to some early association or other psychological accident . 
But we must , and should , remain uncertain . 
Always , there may be something in it that we ca n't see . 
The { 6prima facie probability that anything which has ever been truly read and obstinately loved by any reader has some virtue in it is overwhelming . 
To condemn such a book is therefore , on my system , a very serious matter . 
Our condemnation is never quite final . 
The question could always without absurdity be re-opened . 
And here , I suggest , the proposed system is the more realistic . 
For , whatever we say , we are all aware in a cool hour that the distinctions within the pale are far more precarious than the location of the pale itself , and that nothing whatever is gained by disguising the fact . 
When whistling to keep our spirits up , we may say that we are as certain of Tennyson 's inferiority to Wordsworth as of Edgar Wallace 's to Balzac . 
When heated with controversy you may say that my taste in liking Milton is merely a milder instance of the same sort of badness we attribute to the taste that likes the comics . 
We can say these things but no sane man quite fully believes them . 
The distinctions we draw between better and worse within the pale are not at all like that between " trash " and " real " literature . 
They all depend on precarious and reversible judgements . 
The proposed system frankly acknowledges this . 
It admits from the outset that there can be no question of totally and finally " debunking " or " exposing " any author who has for some time been well inside the pale . 
We start from the assumption that whatever has been found good by those who really and truly read probably is good . 
All probability is against those who attack . 
And all they can hope to do is to persuade people that it is less good than they think ; freely confessing that even this assessment may presently be set aside . 
Thus one result of my system would be to silence the type of critic for whom all the great names in English literature — except for the half dozen protected by the momentary critical " establishment " — are as so many lamp-posts for a dog . 
And this I consider a good thing . 
These dethronements are a great waste of energy . 
Their acrimony produces heat at the expense of light . 
They do not improve anyone 's capacity for good reading . 
The real way of mending a man 's taste is not to denigrate his present favourites but to teach him how to enjoy something better . 
Such are the advantages I think we might hope from basing our criticism of books on our criticism of reading . 
But we have so far pictured the system working ideally and ignored the snags . 
In practice we shall have to be content with something less . 
The most obvious objection to judging books by the way they are read is the fact that the same book may be read in different ways . 
We all know that certain passages in good fiction and good poetry are used by some readers , chiefly schoolboys , as pornography ; and now that Lawrence is coming out in paperbacks , the pictures on their covers and the company they keep on the station bookstalls show very clearly what sort of sales , and therefore what sort of reading , the booksellers anticipate . 
We must , therefore , say that what damns a book is not the existence of bad readings but the absence of good ones . 
Ideally , we should like to define a good book as one which " permits , invites , or compels " good reading . 
But we shall have to make do with " permits and invites " . 
There may indeed be books which compel a good reading in the sense that no one who reads in the wrong way would be likely to get through more than a few of their pages . 
If you took up Samson Agonistes , Rasselas , or Urn Burial to pass the time , or for excitement , or as an aid to egoistic castle-building you would soon put it down . 
But books which thus resist bad reading are not necessarily better than books which do not . 
It is , logically , an accident that some beauties can , and others can not , be abused . 
As for "invites " , invitation admits of degrees . 
" Permits " is therefore our sheet-anchor . 
The ideally bad book is the one of which a good reading is impossible . 
The words in which it exists will not bear close attention , and what they communicate offers you nothing unless you are prepared either for mere thrills or for flattering daydreams . 
But " invitation " comes into our conception of a good book . 
It is not enough that attentive and obedient reading should be barely possible if we try hard enough . 
The author must not leave us to do all the work . 
He must show , and pretty quickly , that his writing deserves , because it rewards , alert and disciplined reading . 
It will also be objected that to take our stand upon readings rather than books is to turn from the known to the unknowable . 
The books , after all , are obtainable and we can inspect them for ourselves ; what can we really know about other people 's ways of reading ? 
But this objection is not so formidable as it sounds . 
The judgement of readings , as I have already said , is twofold . 
First , we put some readers outside the pale as unliterary ; then we distinguish better and worse tastes within the pale . 
When we are doing the first , the readers themselves will give us no conscious assistance . 
They do not talk about reading and would be inarticulate if they tried to . 
But in their case external observation is perfectly easy . 
Where reading plays a very small part in the total life and every book is tossed aside like an old newspaper the moment it has been used , unliterary reading can be diagnosed with certainty . 
Where there is passionate and constant love of a book and rereading , then , however bad we think the book and however immature or uneducated we think the reader , it can not . 
( By rereading I mean , of course , rereading for choice . 
A lonely child in a house where there are few books or a ship 's officer on a long voyage may be driven to reread anything { faute de mieux . ) 
When we are making the second distinction — approving or censuring the tastes of those who are obviously literary — the test by external observation fails us . 
But to compensate for that , we are now dealing with articulate people . 
They will talk , and even write , about their favourite books . 
They will sometimes explicitly tell us , and more often unintentionally reveal , the sort of pleasure they take in them and the sort of reading it implies . 
We can thus often judge , not with certainty but with great probability , who has received Lawrence on his literary merits and who is primarily attracted by the imago of Rebel or Poor Boy Makes Good ; who loves Dante as a poet and who loves him as a Thomist ; who seeks in an author the enlargement of his mental being and who seeks only the enlargement of his self-esteem . 
They were married on March 4th , 1880 , at St. Matthias , Dublin , and the bride wore a simple travelling dress of grey . 
It was in every way more suitable , considering the bridegroom 's age , and the fact that she was still in mourning for her brother . 
But she regretted it afterwards . 
" The conventional dress of a widow has been mine , but never the dress of a bride . " 
His letter to Layard from Paris , a few days later , gives the picture of a happy , teasing relationship between them . 
" I am hardly recovered as yet from the surprise which my marriage has caused me . 
My wife , who was quite a student , is now plunged among chiffons and modistes , and I am bound to admit that she bears the infliction with a resignation which is rather alarming and ominous , excusing her new-fangled interest in dress on the grounds of pleasing me . " 
Evidently Cinderella got her finery after all . 
Her welcome from the Layards was as warm as his had always been , and for Enid Layard , her ideal of a hostess and great lady , she felt a hero-worship which developed into the closest intimacy she ever had with another woman . 
To Lady Layard 's literary antecedents I will return . 
They were only just in time to see Sir Henry in his ambassadorial glory , for his diplomatic career was coming to an abrupt end . 
A confidential despatch , in which he gave his frank opinion of the Sultan 's incompetence and personal cowardice , was published by the Foreign Office , whether through carelessness or treachery is not known . 
Queen Victoria , a strong supporter of monarchical trade-unionism , was scarcely less furious than the Sultan , and Sir Henry was not only recalled , but lost his hope of a peerage , in which matter , one is told , Sir William had been acting as intermediary . 
However , the Layards were childless and comfortably off , and had some years previously bought themselves a beautiful palazzo on the Grand Canal in Venice , so that retirement was no great hardship to them . 
The Gregorys would visit them there every spring . 
To neither friend did retirement mean inactivity . 
They continued their work for the National Gallery and their personal picture-collecting , and Sir William continued to gratify what he calls his insatiable appetite for travelling . 
Three times during his marriage he returned as a visitor to his beloved Ceylon , on the second occasion taking Augusta with him , and giving her a winter in India first . 
Other winters were spent in Egypt ; spring in Spain or Italy , and then on to the Layards . 
He had , of course , no intention of burying himself at Coole ; it was a country house for a few weeks of shooting in the late summer and early autumn . 
Nor did he take any notice of Dublin , a place of provincial dowdiness to a man of the world like himself , except to give a picture or two to its National Gallery — nothing in comparison with what he did for London 's . 
The tall house in St. George 's Place , London , was the nearest thing he had to a settled home . 
For the Cinderella of Roxborough , it was liberation indeed . 
It was fulfilment not only as a woman , but as an intelligence . 
Now at last she had someone to talk to ; in fact she had the best company in London to talk to , in the Jane Austen sense of " the company of clever , well-informed people who have plenty of conversation . " 
It was frequently the best company in the social sense too ; Sir William numbered at least two duchesses among his intimates . 
" Freed by my own happy marriage from many family traditions " — so she describes her escape from the Persse conservatism and prejudice . 
Sir William may not appear much of a revolutionary from our standpoint , but from theirs he was almost as much a rebel and traitor to his class as she was to seem to the next Ascendancy generation . 
Moreover , he was a great gentleman , with a nation-wide reputation and the grand manner , and if he chose to be a rebel , nobody dared say him nay . 
In May of 1881 , their son William Robert was born in London , to be the pride of his father 's old age , and to his mother the dearest thing on earth . 
3 
As far as the Galway remove went , only seven miles separated her from Roxborough , but from the first , she says , " there seemed to be a strangeness and romance about Coole . " 
And it is not surprising , for the two houses and their demesnes were different worlds . 
Roxborough was open and windy , bustling and busy , a working estate ; Coole was a pleasure-house , a Sleeping Beauty palace in a thick forest . 
For by his plantations the East India chairman , homesick perhaps for Asia , had created an artificial jungle , quite against the grain of that limestone country . 
His descendants had inherited his passion for tree-planting . 
Sir William had turned the nut-wood north of the house into a pinetum , putting , as he cheerfully admits , a great deal of money into the nurserymen 's pockets , since many of the rare species of conifer introduced would not take to the limestone , and died . 
But enough remained to create a handsome sub-Alpine gloom . 
The drive was two miles long , and the last mile was first an arching avenue of ilex , then a twisting forest track . 
The house itself disappointed many ( including , years later , Robert Gregory 's artist bride ) by its architectural poverty . 
It was an oblong white Georgian building with a plain little porch , the counterpart of hundreds in Ireland . 
The principal living-rooms , library and drawing-room , looked the other way , west towards the lake , through undistinguished but serviceable bays . 
All the house 's distinction lay within . 
Four cultivated generations had filled it with books , pictures , statuary , records and mementoes of wide travel , all bearing the imprint of personal taste and personal achievement . 
It was the house of people who had never been afraid to use their brains . 
As at Roxborough , there were rats ; indeed , till Robert Gregory married , and his wife persuaded him to pull down the creeper which covered the outer walls , there were rats to a positively embarrassing degree . 
A visitor of the creeper epoch recalls a rat in her bedroom while she was undressing , a rat inside the mattress when she got into bed , and unmistakeable signs that a rat had been before her when she got down to breakfast next morning ; after which she walked the three miles into Gort , and sent herself a telegram , summoning herself home . 
Ten minutes ' walk along the edge of the paddock at the back of the house brought one out — with a sense of relief if one were of a claustrophobic tendency — on to the edge of a long meandering lake , made even longer in winter by floods , since its waters , like those of the Roxborough river , only reached the sea by an underground channel , which was liable to get blocked . 
And round the lake lay more vast woods ; somewhere in their depths was a perched boulder which when struck emitted musical notes , and could be caused to ring like a chime of church bells . 
It was all very eerie , and not surprisingly , was a favourite haunt of the Sidhe , those strange Beings , in appearance just like ordinary people until They vanished or filled your pockets with derisory gold , whom it is inadequate and misleading to describe by our English word of Fairies . 
To the difficulty of finding your way about the woods was added Their propensity for leading you astray , and unwary visitors could be lost for hours , or even a whole night . 
In later years Their most notable victim was to be Bernard Shaw . 
Even in County Galway , the seven miles ' removal meant a more intellectual society . 
Sir William 's chief friend in the district was Count de Basterot , a French traveller and litte2rateur who had inherited an estate on the Burren coast from the Irish side of his family , self-exiled to France in the time of James 2 . 
The Count came to Duras for the summer and autumn , much as the Gregorys came to Coole . 
While the next-door neighbour , at Tullira Castle , was an old-maidish young man named Edward Martyn , heir and hope of one of the rare Catholic landed families . 
He had literary ambitions which Sir William had encouraged , and was in all directions talented , musically and artistically too . 
Unfortunately , he was mother-dominated to an extent which made it impossible for him to manage his life or get the full value from his talents . 
To please his mother , he had Gothicised his house at a cost of £20,000 , though besought by Sir William not to . 
He would do anything to please her but marry , and he lived like a hermit in one of the towers , nourishing a hatred for the rest of womankind . 
His position as a wealthy and cultivated Catholic later gave him great importance in the Irish Renascence ; he became a link between the different sides of the movement ; people got to know each other through him , thereafter leaving him behind . 
Three years after Lady Gregory 's marriage , Dr ( later Monsignor ) Jerome Fahy was appointed Vicar-General of Gort , the market town nearest to Coole , and this brought into their circle another intelligent man whom as Augusta Persse she would never have been allowed to know . 
Sir William , it has been noted , was a friend to the Roman Catholic religion , though perhaps not for what Catholics would consider the right reasons . 
He had always been on good terms with the Bishop and clergy of the Kilmacduagh diocese , and their support had materially assisted his election as member for Galway . 
And the new Vicar-General was no ordinary parish priest , but a historian and a man of exceptionally enquiring mind . 
On the lonely moorland of Kilmacduagh , about three miles south-west of Gort , he found one of the most considerable groups of ancient ecclesiastical ruins in Ireland : an abbey church , a monastery , a cathedral , and a well-preserved Round Tower leaning two feet from the perpendicular . 
The history of these monuments had been nearly forgotten , but he made it his business to " disinter the buried treasure " , as he puts it in the preface to his History and Antiquities of the Diocese of Kilmacduagh , published in 1893 . 
He is writing , of course , from the standpoint of his faith , but much of what he " disinterred " was folklore , and he was collecting it in the field , a decade before Lady Gregory and Yeats . 
Nor did he limit himself to legends of St Colman , but as we have seen , brought his story up to date with accounts of the reigning Ascendancy families ; dealing out censure vigorously , but giving credit to those who had discharged their responsibilities fairly , particularly to the Gregorys and the Verekers , the two families who had made Gort such a well-liking and prosperous little town . 
4 
The winter spent by the Gregorys in Egypt was an important one for Augusta , for it was then that , as she puts it , she " made her education in politics " . 
The leaders of the English colony in Cairo were the Sussex poet and landowner Wilfred Scawen Blunt , and his wife Lady Anne , granddaughter of Byron . 
Blunt was a great taker-up of causes . 
He was already disquieted by British administration in India , and a few years later , in the Land League troubles , he was to claim the honour of being the first Englishman to go to gaol for Ireland 's sake . 
He served a sentence in Galway Gaol for inciting Lord Clanricarde 's tenants to resist eviction , and while this was no doubt awkward for Sir William Gregory , who was a friend of Lord Clanricarde 's , it gave him in Lady Gregory 's eyes the status of a hero . 
All her life she was fascinated by stories of prisons and prisoners , as indeed anyone with " rebelly " leanings well may be . 
From Blunt she learnt what it felt like to be inside the grim gaol at which she had so often stared in awe when her elders came to Galway , and which was to form the background to her two most famous short plays . 
MALAY LITERATURE By SIR RICHARD WINSTEDT 
FOR more than a 1,000 years Malaya 's little courts and ports were under the influence of Hindu and Buddhist India , which in fact had created them . 
First Pallavas from the Coromandel coast imported a mixture of the religions of Brahma , Shiva and Visnu and Buddhism ; and Sanskrit inscriptions of the 4th century of the Xtian era show that in Kedah , Hinayana and Mahayana Buddhism flourished side by side . 
From the 6th to the 13th centuries , Northern Malaya was part of a Buddhist empire , Sri Vijaya , that ruled the Malacca straits from Kedah and the Sunda straits from Palembang in south Sumatra . 
And though the conversion to Islam 600 years ago destroyed the Hindu alphabets and any palm-leaf literature , there remain four times as many Sanskrit loanwords even in Malay village verse as there are Arabic . 
The Indians were too few in the land to introduce Prakrit or any Dravidian tongue as the language of conversation , but the court Brahmins brought religion and learning and furnished the primitive Malay with his first abstract terms , terms still used by the Muslim Malay to denote religion , fasting , heaven , sin , life , language , time , name , prince , property , thing , a fine , work and so on . 
It is this background that gave the Malay stories from the Jataka tales , Bidpai 's fables and the Katha Sarit Sagara or Ocean of story , carried down the centuries { per ora virum , until they were written down and published in modern times . 
Most of these stories are known throughout South East Asia and there is Buddhist influence in folktales . 
But the two chief literary relics of the Hindu period are Malay versions of the Ramayana and Mahabharata . 
The former , the Hikayat Sri Rama , is derived from the oral tradition of the Javanese shadow-play and contains details from the east , west and south-west of India . 
Some of the episodes are not found in India before the 12th century . 
The Malay version in the Perso-Arabic script would appear to date from the first half of the 15th century , when children in the streets of Malacca knew the story , and Islamic romance had not yet ousted the Hindu epics . 
The Malay versions of sections of the Mahabharata are derived from Javanese versions of the 14th century and again may probably have been translated in 15th century Malacca with its large Javanese quarter . 
By 1634 Malays were instructed by a famous theologian writer in Malay that the Ramayana might be condemned to the rubbish heap provided the name of Allah did not occur in the manuscript . 
In the Bodleian manuscript which goes back to the 16th century or earlier , it is Nabi Adam who gives Ravana his kingdoms and { Allah taala has been substituted for the Hindu Trinity ( { dewata mulia raya ) . 
One other strong pre-Muslim element in Malay literature was a cycle of some forty tales enacted in the shadow-plays of Java , Bali , Malaya , Siam and Cambodia , whose hero is a Javanese prince Sri Panji and heroine Chandra Kirana , Moon-beam . 
Some are preserved in Kelantan thanks to the shadow-plays . 
One Kelantan tale is typical . 
The god Indra sentences a heavenly nymph guilty of an illicit love affair to become a mortal and be murdered by a Javanese queen before she can return to heaven . 
She descends and becomes incarnate in the wife of a Javanese headman . 
A prince hunting sees her and weds her , though he is betrothed to a princess . 
His mother mad with rage stabs the girl in her sleep , whereupon she returns a nymph in heaven . 
As always there is horse-play by the prince 's followers who are deified ancestors turned by Hinduism into clowns . 
The Panji cycle influences the " Malay Annals " and inspired the only original Malay romance before modern times , the story of Hang Tuah or the Lucky Captain whose exploits are a mixture of myth and history found in Indian and Javanese literature of this type and include an apochryphal trip to Istanbul . 
Virginia Woolf 's analysis of Sidney 's Arcadia fits exactly not only the Panji tales but a number of Malay romances that are a jumble of Hindu folklore and mythology , Panji episodes , allusions to the heroes of the Shahnameh , incidents from the Alexander legend , references to Baghdad , Medinah , Egypt and Byzantium and even expositions of Sufi mysticism . 
" Sidney " writes Virginia Woolf , " had no notion when he set out where he was going . 
Telling stories , he thought , was enough — one could follow another interminably . 
But where there is no end in view , there is no sense of direction to draw us on . 
Nor , since it is part of his scheme to keep his characters simply bad and simply good without distinction , can he gain variety from the complexity of character . 
To supply change and movement he must have recourse to mystification . 
These changes of dress , these disguises of princes as peasants , of men as women , serve instead of psychological subtilty to relieve the stagnancy of people collected together with nothing to talk about . 
But when the charm of that childish device falls flat there is no breath to fill the sails . 
Who is talking and to whom and about what , we no longer feel sure . " 
Some of the Malay romances , which apart from any Javanese additions , all come from India , appear to have been translated in the 15th century , others in the 16th and 17th . 
One , the Indraputra was condemned to the rubbish heap in 1634 along with the Ramayana . 
The two last romances of this type were translated early in the 19th century . 
The modern Malay views them with the eye of Virginia Woolf and today they are of interest only to the folklorist and the linguist . 
The first missionaries of Islam had to provide romances to take the place of the Ramayana and Mahabharata and the popular Panji tales . 
So the pseudo-Callisthenes story of Alexander the Great as a warrior missionary of the faith of Abraham , the precursor of Mohamed , was presented to the Malays in a translation almost with the advent of Islam . 
There is a Megat Iskandar in 14th century Pasai and soon after 1400 the first Muslim ruler of Malacca changed his Hindu title of Parameswara for Sultan Iskandar Shah . 
Several Malay manuscripts name as the author of the Arabic version Al-Suri , who cites as his authority Abdullah ibn Al-Mustafa translator of the Pahlavi version of the Kalila wa Dimna . 
From its early date and the fact that it is a compilation from Persian as well as Arabic sources , the Malay Hikayat Iskandar may be derived from a Perso-Arabic source in India . 
It seems probable that Malacca 's first ruler , who died in 1424 knew the Hikayat . 
The 15th century author of the " Malay Annals " borrows anecdotes from it and also mentions the Hikayat Amir Hamza and Hikayat Hanafiah , the former a direct translation from the Persian and the latter having Shi'ah colouring and quoting a Persian verse . 
Another Malay work of Persian origin is the story of Joseph and Zulaikha , namely Potiphar 's wife . 
An excellent Malay work is the Hikayat Bayan Budiman , or story of the Wise Parrot , a cycle of tales in a frame story , where every night the parrot dissuades his mistress from going to meet a lover by diverting her with tales . 
Ultimately this cycle of stories comes from the Sanskrit but the Malay version claims to be from the Persian Tutinameh . 
Three times in the text the work is ascribed to one Kadli Hassan and twice a date , A.D. 1371 is given . 
Its excellent style suggests that it was done into Malay in 15th century Malacca and the " Malay Annals " tell us how the daughter of a Malaccan Laksamana , or Admiral was named Sabariah " Patience " almost certainly after a celebrated character in the story of the Wise Parrot . 
Another cycle of tales , called the Story of Bakhtiar was also translated from the Persian . 
The original Persian work was written in A.D. 1203 and later done into Arabic . 
From the Persian recension are derived two Malay versions of the Hikayat Bakhtiar and from the Arabic comes the Malay Hikayat Ghulam . 
The fact that Malays could borrow so much from the Persian and yet remain orthodox Sunnites of the school of Shafi'i is explained from the Turkish and Mongol rulers of Persia between 1000 and 1500 being also Sunnites . 
And during that period the Persian influence on Malay literature must have come not only from India but from Persians themselves . 
In 1336 Ibn Batuta records the presence of several Persians all Shafi'ites at the Pasai court . 
A tomb in that little Sumatran state bears an inscription from Sa'di and half a century later there were theologians living in Pasai who had come from Transoxana and Khorassan . 
The Malay version of the 1,000 Questions , the fullest version extant of the book from which Europe got to know the Arab account of Islam , is derived from two old Persian recensions and contains many references to places round the Caspian sea . 
It has no Shi'ah colouring . 
When Persians became Shi'ahs , Sayids from Mecca and the Hadramant gradually took their place in the Malay world , and we get a large number of theological works translated from orthodox Arabic originals . 
But Persian influence lingered . 
And there are four stories about the Prophet with a Shi'ah tinge , namely the tale of the Nur Muhammad or mystical light of the Prophet , the Splitting of the Moon , the Prophet 's shaving and his death . 
One manuscript of 1688 calls the first an abridgement of a Persian Rauzat { al-ahbab or Paradise of Lovers . 
After the capture of Malacca by the Portuguese in 1511 the mastery of the Malay world passed to Acheh , which was frequented by missionaries from Mecca , Yemen , Egypt and Syria whose names we know and who found pupils eager to study Islamic mysticism . 
Works of pure literature fell more and more out of fashion as Arab influence supplanted Persian . 
But still Persian influence lingered . 
The earliest Malay version of the Panchatantra or Bidpai 's fables was known to the Dutch historian Valentyn in 1726 and from its poor Malay and Sumatran style it must have been translated at Acheh . 
It came through some Indian original from the 12th century Persian recension of Nasr Allah as amended in the 15th century by the author of the Anwar-i Suhaili or Lights of Canopus . 
There is an ethical treatise " The Crown of Kings " compiled at Bokhara and done into Malay in 1603 and therefore almost certainly at Acheh . 
The verses in this miscellany are all in the form of Persian prosody . 
Among Persian works cited in it are the Siyar ul Muluk compiled by the famous Vizier Nizam ul Muluk , a verse out of the Secrets of Attar , the romances of Mahmud and Ayaz and Shirin , and Yusuf and Zulaikha . 
The introduction acknowledges indebtedness to the author of the Anwar i Suhaili . 
With the coming of Arabs from the Hadramant and with Malays studying in Mecca and later in Cairo , Indo-Persian belles-lettres gave way to theology , even the Arabian Nights not being translated until the 19th century and then from the English . 
But Malay theology is too vast a subject to handle here . 
The example of Thucydides , Gibbon and Macaulay before us , we may risk the contempt of so many of its modern practitioners and count history a branch of literature . 
Certainly it is the most original and best prosework of the Malays . 
And just as artistry has kept alive the work of the three great historians I have mentioned when countless others are forgotten or consulted only by specialists , so artistry puts the Malay 15th century "Annals " above all other Malay histories . 
It was not the earliest Malay history . 
The earliest is a History of the Rulers of Pasai ( a small extinct Sumatran state ) written after there had been time for Arabic loan-words to be adopted into the Malay language and containing one Arabic loan-word not met elsewhere in Malay asfa "reef , gold reef . " 
Islam reached northern Sumatra late in the 13th century and Pasai 's first Muslim ruler died in 1297 . 
Introduction Anthony Powell 
IN introducing Jocelyn Brooke 's investigation of Proust and Joyce , I shall not pick out the plums of the essay by naming the many points which I enjoyed in it . 
These can be read in their proper place . 
There are , however , aspects of Brooke 's approach to which attention should be drawn . 
In the first place , he is ( like myself ) a warm admirer of both great writers . 
His criticism is that of love , not hate . 
This makes it far more valuable . 
In the second place , he writes in a manner that is completely informal . 
The views are expressed just as if we were talking with him over the dinner table . 
To write literary criticism in this way is not as easy as it looks . 
To discuss writers in this easy , conversational style , dealing with important topics at one moment , trivial at another , is a delightful gift , and often gets to the core of a book in a way that more formal articles never manage to attain . 
I agree with almost everything Jocelyn Brooke says , except that I think I should myself place a wider gulf between the two writers , Proust seeming to me to possess greatly superior powers . 
The essential gift of a novelist is that he should be interested in people . 
Proust comes through this test with flying colours ; Joyce gets held up with his own special preoccupations . 
If Joyce does not know about anything — and vast areas of human experience are completely alien to him — he usually sneers at it . 
We may tire of Proust 's determination that in the end every character he writes about should be homosexual or of his obsession with jealousy . 
In spite of these King Charles 's heads , one continues to feel that everything and everybody fascinated him — perhaps at times too much . 
Gissing used to ask " Has he starved ? " when a novelist was named , implying starvation to be a { 6sine qua non of effective writing . 
Joyce did , of course , starve ; Proust did not , except when the waiters at the Ritz were inattentive . 
Indeed , Proust is a good example to prove the futility of Gissing 's question . 
I myself should prefer to ask : " Does he put over what he sets out to say ? " 
Here , both Proust and Joyce must be admitted to be successful . 
How is this done ? 
Brooke maintains — and I can not disagree — that Proust was a " bad " novelist when it came to narrative , that Joyce had a dull mind . 
In both cases Brooke 's arguments and instances are undeniable . 
At the same time no one can exactly say how certain things are " put over " in a novel . 
There exists the mystery of art . 
If the works of Joyce and Proust were pruned of their obvious faults , would they remain of equal stature ? 
Brooke observes that both writers were regarded thirty years ago as immensely daring in their treatment of sex , as well as in their innovations of style . 
There can be no doubt at all that their fame owes something to this sexual emancipation of language . 
Indeed , one might paraphrase Nietzsche by saying that a good novel in those days justified some obscenity , but that good obscenity often justified a very bad novel in the eyes of the highbrows . 
It is interesting to consider how a novelist like Galsworthy would now be regarded , had some sudden illness or accident produced a psychological change in him , resulting in his treatment of subjects then regarded as forbidden . 
Supposing in The Forsyte Saga instead of Irene leaving Soames for Bosiney , Soames had left Irene on account of that same young architect ? 
What would have been the verdict of those who now deplore , and no doubt rightly deplore , Galsworthy 's lack of psychology and his cardboard characters ? 
Would he have been hailed as a novelist who saw beneath the surface of things ? 
It is an interesting question . 
However , there we enter a world of vast speculation . 
I shall say no more than to recommend Jocelyn Brooke 's trial of Proust and Joyce on the serious charge of chronic literary imperfection . 
PROUST and JOYCE The case for the Prosecution 1 . 
Combray and Rathmines 
PROUST and Joyce : their names , even today , tend to be bracketed together , and thirty-odd years ago the conjunction was commoner still , chiefly I suppose because — for the generation which grew up in the twenties — they were without question the dominant literary figures of that period . 
To a later age , however , the association may seem surprising , for surely no two writers could , on the face of it , have been more dissimilar , either as artists or as human beings . 
If Ulysses has little in common with { A la Recherche du Temps Perdu , still less has the lower middle-class Dubliner , brought up in poverty and squalor , with the rich French rentier , the prote2ge2 of the Faubourg Saint Germain . 
So wholly disparate do they seem , indeed , that it comes as something of a shock to remember that , on at least one occasion , the two men did actually meet in the flesh , though the encounter seems to have been anything but a success . 
Yet for all their dissimilarity , Proust and Joyce have a good deal more in common than one might suppose , and the tendency to bracket their names together is less unjustified than appears at first sight . 
Both , in the first place , were revolutionary writers , in the sense that their work revealed new aspects of the human mind and of man in relation to society . 
Both , too , were technical innovators , though in the case of Proust his innovations were mainly in the sphere of narrative and construction ( for all his stylistic complexity , he remained basically faithful to the traditions of French prose ) , whereas Joyce , after a series of incredibly ingenious and daring experiments , was compelled at last to invent a brand-new language of his own . 
Both Proust and Joyce , moreover , attempted to portray in their works the totality of human experience : to write , in fact , a kind of { Come2die Humaine ; though Ulysses , I suppose , is the Human Comedy seen through the wrong end of a telescope — or , as Aldous Huxley 's typewriter once brilliantly expressed it , the " Human Vomedy " . 
In both , however , this ambition was partially frustrated by a shared egocentricity , a neurotic self-absorption hitherto unparalleled among great writers . 
For Joyce as much as for Proust , it was the " I " , the moi , with which he was ultimately concerned : both were autobiographers for whom the objective world about them was largely subordinated to their own specialized and highly subjective mental attitudes . 
For both of them this intense self-absorption was to result , finally , in a kind of partial insanity , aggravated in the one case by chronic asthma , in the other by near-blindness and alcoholism . 
With Proust , this insanity took the form of a maniacal obsession with sexual jealousy ; with Joyce ( the purer artist of the two ) , his reason foundered in a morass of over-elaborated verbal techniques and private jokes . 
Both , finally , were obsessed to an inordinate degree with the past . 
With Proust , { le temps perdu is the eponymous hero of his novel ; and as a human being , though remaining intellectually alert , he virtually lost contact — save on a relatively superficial level — with the outside world after the age of thirty-three . 
In Joyce 's case the retreat from present reality was earlier and even more uncompromising : after the 16th of June , 1904 ( when he was twenty-two ) , his whole attention as an artist became concentrated , exclusively and obsessively , upon the world of Dublin in the nineties and the early nineteen-hundreds , with special reference to the naive and limited preoccupations of his own boyhood and adolescence . 
It would hardly , in fact , be going too far to say that the similarities between Proust and Joyce , considered as psychological types , outweigh their differences . 
Yet I think that the habitual bracketing of their names had , a generation ago — and perhaps has still — a more cogent and less respectable explanation : namely , that both writers had acquired a reputation for obscenity and "immorality . " 
To young people today this must seem scarcely credible , but it is easy to forget how profoundly the climate of moral opinion has changed during the last thirty years . 
In the case of Proust the charge of " obscenity " must seem particularly surprising , for { La Recherche is seldom obscene in the crude sense of the term ; yet the fact remains that Proust was the first important novelist to deal extensively and in detail with the then forbidden subject of homosexuality , and in 1922 , even in France , the publication of { Sodome et Gomorrhe was attended by something of a scandal . 
( In England , Scott Moncrieffs ' translation was delayed until 1929 , when it appeared in a limited edition , issued not by Chatto and Windus , who had published the earlier volumes , but by the more courageous American firm of Alfred Knopf . ) 
Joyce is another matter : it can scarcely be denied that Ulysses — judged even by the far laxer standards of today — is defiantly and in every possible sense obscene . 
Personally , if I were Home Secretary , I would impose no restrictions whatsoever in such matters , but if rules are going to be imposed at all , then Ulysses must surely top the list in any { Index Expurgatorius , and the fact that it is now obtainable in this country ( and has been for a quarter of a century ) makes nonsense of the existing regulations . 
That its obscenity is aesthetically justified may be perfectly true , though I think this a doubtful point ; but obscene it undoubtedly is , within the meaning of any act which attempts to define so equivocal a term . 
On the other hand , Joyce is the least pornographic of writers : nobody , I should imagine , has ever been thrown into transports of sexual excitement by the " obscene " passages in Ulysses , though one can never , of course , be sure , for almost any book , however harmless by intention , is capable of provoking an erotic thrill in somebody . 
( I know people who find Bulldog Drummond far more exciting in this respect than Lady Chatterley 's Lover ; and did not Lawrence himself profess to find Jane Eyre revoltingly " pornographic " ? ) 
If Joyce , in revising Ulysses , could have been persuaded to omit the more flagrant obscenities ( most of which , after all , are incidental to the book , and do not form an integral part of it ) , we should have been left with an experimental novel of great interest , which would doubtless have created a considerable stir in avant-garde circles at the time . 
But would Joyce 's reputation , in such circumstances , have survived his lifetime — and survived ( one might add ) the publication of Finnegans Wake ? 
Would Ulysses and Finnegan have provided — as in fact is the case — a perpetual and profitable stamping-ground for the writers of Ph.D . 
theses ? 
It is possible ; but I , myself , rather doubt it . 
Similarly , if Proust 's treatment of sex had been as orthodox as that of , say , Galsworthy , { A la Recherche du Temps Perdu would still remain a great novel ; for that matter , when one compares Swann and the { Jeunes Filles — in which the theme of homosexuality remains latent — with the shoddiness of the later volumes , one is inclined to wonder whether it might not , in fact , have been even greater . 
True , it is hard to imagine { A la Recherche without Charlus ; yet it is at least arguable that , if Proust had made Charlus a womanizer , and Albertine a perfectly normal heterosexual girl , the novel would have been , qua novel , neither better nor worse than it is . 
But would it , one wonders , have created quite so much stir as , in effect , it did ? 
Once again , I have my doubts . 
Both writers — no doubt lacking this adventitious appeal — would have enjoyed a certain re2clame in literary circles , but neither , I feel , would have attained to the celebrity which each , in fact , achieved during his lifetime , and which survives to this day . 
The twenties were a period of sexual emancipation , Havelock Ellis and Freud had not done their work for nothing , and it went without saying that enlightened persons should fly , from the highest motives , to the defence of any serious writer who treated the subject of sex with greater freedom than his predecessors . 
They are not disparaged because they contain little that is unusual in harmony or design , for Handel 's best work is fully evident when the general style of a movement looks conventional to the score-reading eye . 
The few movements in Op. 3 which strike us as uniquely Handelian are not those in the grand manner but the best dances . 
We are glad to have Op. 3 for the charming movements rather than those which the first audiences probably found impressive . 
Particularly attractive are the sarabande which forms the middle movement of No. 1 ( the only movement with flute ) , the gavotte and variations ( not so labelled ) at the end of No. 2 , and the minuets of No. 4 . 
The manuscripts of these works are lost , but not that of a fine C major concerto called by Arnold " Concertante " . 
It bears the date 25th January 1736 and was known as "The Concerto in Alexander 's Feast " after the first occasion when London heard it . 
It was the first item in Walsh 's fourth collection of Select Harmony , which is thought to have been issued in 1741 . 
The ripieno includes two oboes but the concertino is the Corellian string trio . 
Walsh also published two other Handel concertos which need not detain us here . 
The student can find them all , as well as those of Op. 3 , in a handy volume of Lea Pocket Scores ( New York ) . 
Before doing homage to the most wonderful of all { 6concerti grossi we may take as a point of departure Chrysander 's remark that the Op. 3 concertos show " a bewildering variety of form " . 
If " design " and " form " are regarded as synonymous , then any work that is not epigonic should bewilder us , and Handel 's Op. 6 should serve a feast of bewilderment . 
Because words will no more describe the form than the expression of music , for the form is the music , we measure the parts of a musical design instead of learning a piece by heart in order to judge its form . 
One artist does not excel another because he has used a more complex design , but because his form is more organic , which means that the ideas and their growth are of the right quality and quantity for the expression . 
When equally sensitive and intelligent judges of music have different opinions concerning the quality of ideas and the forms into which they grow , their argument often settles upon design — how many themes are used , how many are germs for motivic growth , where and how contrast is made , where and how it is avoided , whether the themes are curved or angular , rightly or wrongly lacking in colour — and behind the description is the implication that one design is superior to another , a fugue with stretto superior or inferior to one that is as effective through well-timed entries between non-derived episodes . 
Thus too often we think of form as a relation of A to B , of a movement being fine if C , instead of D , follows B at a certain point ; sometimes this pseudo-explanation may in fact support truth , but we grasp the symbols of the truth instead of the truth itself . 
Beethoven had neither the education nor the natural ability to use words explicitly . 
On his deathbed , having no further need to regret his limitation or to cure it , he pointed to the Arnold volumes of Handel which had just arrived and said " There is the truth " . 
On a previous occasion Beethoven had said of Handel : " He was the greatest composer who ever lived . 
I would uncover my head , and kneel before his tomb . " 
Among Beethoven 's eccentricities we can not number that of seeking to impress company by aesthetic and musical judgements . 
Men with the greatest insight into music use one life in its pursuit and lack another in which to command words in a way that effectively communicates their musical judgement . 
Beethoven 's words are often incoherent , but when we grasp their purport we find them true . 
" Ah , my dear Ries , he was the master of us all in this art " — Beethoven was speaking of Mozart and the art of the piano concerto . 
He did not flatter . 
Mozart was and still is the master in that particular art . 
Beethoven did not say that Handel was the greatest Ku " nstler but the greatest Komponist that had lived , and he would have been right if the only existing proofs of the fact were the Op. 6 concertos . 
In each of these superb works the four , five or six movements seem like facets of one personality ; so we have twelve essays of an integrity comparable with that of the best classical symphonies . 
These concertos embrace most of the musical expression that belonged to the concert room of their time and much that belonged to the theatre , and they exclude only the morbid , bizarre , extremely tragic , directly programmatic and religious — in short what was then reserved to illustrate words or drama and to dignify worship . 
This marvellously comprehensive expression would not make us willing to doff and kneel with Beethoven unless it were conveyed in sublime examples of almost perfect form , none bewildering unless we try to explain it by the vocabulary of what should be called design . 
" The opening movement is a French overture fertilized in its slow introduction by the Handelian sarabande-like sacred aria , and in its fugato movement by the Italian sonata-allegro . " 
This tells no intelligent musician anything about Handel 's success or failure to achieve form , yet a sympathetic listener who does not know the design of a French overture may perceive Handel 's achievement . 
The empty grandiosity of certain items in Joshua or Judas Maccabeus fulfils designs which , according to text books called " Applied Forms " and " Applied Strict Counterpoint " , ensure safety for any composer who can invent or borrow ideas to suit the designs . 
The opposite of " applied " is " organic " , and because they are all organic the Twelve { 6Concerti Grossi are one of the greatest feats of musical composition . 
It has been well said that some of Handel 's best movements defy analysis because they are improvisatory — a word which can be pejorative . 
We are not intended to listen more than once to an improvisation . 
It satisfies us if we are pleased with the music as it passes , and if it is congruous . 
Improvisation , however , is the first stage in written composition , and if mechanical reproduction of an improvisation forces us to listen a second and a third time we are like the composer who scrutinizes his first draft and decides what should be pruned and what extended . 
Sometimes we are dissatisfied not with the unchecked fancy of the improviser but with our recognition of pre-fabrications , " applied forms " , modulations and developments introduced exactly as in other extemporizations . 
To extemporize from a preconceived design or upon ideas given by an auditor is splendid exercise , but at best only portions of the exercise can be significant artistic expression — in short , form . 
When , however , a whole written piece seems to have grown by impulse , and when both the ideas and their growth are of superb quality , we can hardly praise it more highly than to say that it sounds spontaneous throughout , and still sounds so when we hear it for the hundredth time . 
Comparatively late in his career Handel impressed shrewd judges by his organ extemporizations , and though it is unthinkable that the ideas and developments had the breadth of those in his published work , Handel had more ability and experience than most musicians to extemporize whole sections which , at one hearing , seemed organic within a well-proportioned whole . 
How often in composing the Twelve { 6Concerti Grossi he proceeded by deliberation and how often the music welled forth without his conscious control we shall never know , and that is one tribute to their greatness . 
They are said to have been written in a few weeks of 1739 , yet they contain no sign of careless or hasty work . 
The borrowing of one opening from Cleopatra 's { Piangero3 la sorte mia and another from Semele 's Myself I shall adore does not negate the last assertion . 
Most of the movements are an exception to the general criticism that few of the greatest works of music are well composed throughout . 
Conscientiousness can not make them so ; otherwise the form of Brahms 's long movements would be as wonderful as those of Handel 's or Beethoven 's . 
Fortunately we do not measure greatness entirely by achievement of form , but we rank the imperfect fulfilment of a noble ambition above the perfect management of trivialities and musical platitudes . 
Not a single movement in Handel 's Op. 6 is pedestrian ; no concerto fails to suggest verve and joy in the process of composition . 
Even if the Op. 6 concertos lacked their distinguishing breadth of conception and their splendid musical ideas they would still differ from Corelli 's for two main reasons : ( a ) some of them are dramatic in the strict sense of the term — they are the work of a theatre composer ; ( b ) a great number of them come from the German-French suite . 
It has been admitted that Geminiani , who was almost entirely Corellian , occasionally achieved Handel 's breadth of musical thought ; but he did this only when composing contrapuntally or by the Corellian continuation technique without motive development . 
Handel achieves a huge breadth of musical thought when composing almost mechanistically in the least weighty of styles . 
( Ex. 83 . ) 
This quotation illustrates a second point , as would almost any extract of similar length from Op. 6 . 
Into the light figuration of the violins erupts a contrasting idea by the bass instruments . 
It may have been introduced to give a touch of humour or purely for the sake of the interruption — to prevent the development from being too simple and mechanical ; yet it is surely not accidental that , when the whole flight reaches its conclusion in four bars of plain ripieno harmony , the paragraph is clinched by the solid rhythm of this interruption . 
Whether Handel planned it as he began the movement or whether it occurred to him as when improvising , this way of integrating the movement was exactly right in this place , and sensible people may call it a symphonic way . 
The last phrase seems discourteous , but it seems justified while critics spoil enthusiasm by asking us to value old music if its methods anticipate later ones . 
Thus we are told that some passages by Bach are almost atonal , and that they prefigure Scho " nberg . 
Misinterpreted by ears and minds which inherit the work of both composers , passages by Bach wherein "horizontal " thinking temporarily dominates the " vertical " thinking of continuo harmony remind us of atonal polyphony . 
We are delighted by the unusual ascendance and stimulus of discord , the pleasure of which would have been lost to Bach ( and would seem incongruous to us ) unless it brought with it the pleasure of restored tonal bearings and ultimate concord . 
The mere fact that we call it discord shows that there is little in common between Bach and Scho " nberg except recourse to the devices of counterpoint . 
Similarly we should be careful not to pretend that Handel 's movements are Beethovenian because they are often dramatic , often include passages of motivic development and often show energy and urgency that is rarely found before Beethoven . 
" Handel points to Beethoven " is a meaningless comment . 
Tubal Cain points to Sibelius . 
It is also accidental that Beethoven the man , beneath the eccentricities which may have been caused by misfortune , had some of the known characteristics of Handel , and that like Handel he was in no way a wild or revolutionary artist . 
His music and Handel 's changed gradually from early acceptance of inherited designs and styles . 
Without alteration they could not serve their expanding ideas , and when we set their first forms beside their last we observe a much larger change than between the first and last work of most revolutionary composers . 
The important parallel between Handel and Beethoven lies in their recognition of comparable , not similar means of maintaining movements on a large scale , especially when their materials suggested energy and urgency . 
These qualities in Beethoven would not have their peculiar effect if Beethoven had not been primarily a musical architect with an innate sense of symmetry and poise . 
AT WORK IN OPERA : 1 The Producer DENNIS ARUNDELL 
It is quite a common belief among non-technical enthusiasts that a theatrical producer is solely concerned with the movements of the actors ( together with some share in the lighting , when a " lighting expert " is not employed ) . 
This may have been true to some extent of the 18th-century stage-manager and is still often partly true of the director for films or television , who has with him a producer ( which in this field denotes a managerial , not an artistic functionary ) to supervise , check and organize the heads of the various departments and all the artists who contribute to the whole . 
But it is certainly not true of the play-producer , who is probably even more closely consulted on other matters by his organizing management than his film or television counterpart ; nor is it true of the opera-producer . 
Indeed opera managements ( to judge from those countries where I have worked or of which I have had close information ) seem more inclined than ordinary theatre managements to choose conductor , producer , designer , and so on , and then , having given them the responsibility and authority , not to interfere or supervise themselves . 
I do not say that managerial interference is always to be welcomed . 
( After all , " interference " is a misleading word : " practical interest " is a different matter . ) 
But it is remarkable that notable theatrical re2gimes have all been inspired by the personality and personal supervision of a manager ( think of C. B. Cochran and musical shows , Diaghilev and ballet , Mahler and opera , Hugh Beaumont of H. M. Tennent Ltd in the present London theatre ) . 
None of these managers — with the exception of Mahler — took any active part in a production , but they were always at hand to check on every detail and to solve any problems that might arise from the various conflicting elements that had to be united to achieve a satisfying artistic result . 
In opera there are more conflicting elements than in any other form of theatre entertainment — orchestral performance , vocal performance ( ranging from naturalistic speech-song to what are practically concert performances of non-dramatic arias ) , straight acting , " melodrama " ( in the technical sense ) with atmospheric music , ballet ( at least in the sense of movement to , or in harmony with , music ) and mime , quite apart from scene-design , scene-building , scene-shifting , costume-designing and costume-making , lighting , furniture and properties . 
This means that all responsible should be experts — the conductor , the orchestral players , the singers , the designers , the painters , the scene-builders , the wardrobe-master , the electrician , the property-master — and all should be ready with their expert advice to contribute to the whole . 
Now most experts are willing collaborators , but the danger with all experts is that they are often not content to give of their best but insist on valuing their own contribution higher than that of other experts : think of the brilliant designer Inigo Jones and Ben Jonson 's not unreasonable attack on his conceit . 
That is where the Mahler or Diaghilev is invaluable . 
Cochran , who checked every bit of material used in his shows ( like Bernard Delfont now ) , was always there to appeal to , and was always watching from the background ready to step tactfully in to prevent trouble . 
He used to say : " Have whatever rows you like inside the theatre over the job , so long as you can go and have a drink together afterwards . " 
( Nowadays , alas , the tendency is for any professional criticism to be taken as a personal affront . ) 
Now that entertainment has become an industry , and opera managements ( probably quite rightly ) tend to concentrate on organization rather than personal contact , the job of welding together the various elements has become the duty of the producer . 
Of course he is still responsible for the movements on the stage ( which includes arranging that the conductor can catch the eye of the singer at necessary moments and that awkward positions are avoided for singers during tricky vocal passages ) , but he also has to see that excellent scene-designs are practical both for the stage and for the action , that the lighting gives prominence to a character without either falsifying the general effect or dazzling the singer 's eyes unnecessarily , and that striking touches of production do not distract from a leading character or action . 
Moreover , he is responsible for checking the construction and painting of the scenery and the choice of materials , and the cutting and making of the costumes . 
The opera producer is called in by the management at an early stage of planning . 
He is consulted on the choice of the designer and choreographer and on the casting of at any rate the minor roles . 
Usually a management confronts him with an already decided casting of the main roles ( though I have known a producer refuse a commission because of the employment of what he thought an unsuitable principal singer ) . 
About changes of cast , when a production has once been taken into the repertory , he is not consulted . 
In the budgeting of an opera the producer has no say : he may be asked whether he would permit some alteration in his planned staging for economy 's sake , but I have myself never known of a case where a producer 's ideas have been flatly turned down for financial reasons . 
When practical work has begun , a producer has above all to be able to give all the collaborating experts their heads when desirable , and to check them gently but firmly — that is , tactfully — when necessary . 
It is rather like driving a team of fine , high-mettled horses : it is they who do the work , but , unless they are a team used to working together , they may have to be guided . 
How often does an excellent conductor wish to take a passage of music at an " effective " pace that is unsuitable in the circumstances ? 
The co-operative conductor , like Beecham , will always listen and be prepared to modify , as he did when he paced his study to get the right tempo for the Guard 's march in The Bohemian Girl — after I had objected ( as producer ) that , at his original pace , the quaver was too quick and the crotchet too slow for human steps without being comic . 
( Beecham also let me have an extra stage rehearsal in place of a scheduled orchestral rehearsal on the grounds that it does not matter how good the music is if the stage is wrong . ) 
But I have known a good conductor insist on what was arguably a " correctly " fast pace when the singer was incapable of singing at that pace . 
How often , again , does a designer create a beautiful set that is unpractical ? 
One distinguished architect 's stage setting was a flat picture background with extended frames for the sides which from anywhere but centre auditorium merely looked flatly dull on one side and non-existent on the other . 
One excellent artist objected to a window in a room although Cherubino had to jump out of it , and another designed brilliant perspective scenery which gained a round of applause at curtain-rise but meant that the performers had to duck under a steeply angled lintel to come through a door . 
I have known a clever designer in another medium hope to use a film method of lighting on a stage , and I have seen another so ingenious with moving scenery that its repetition became a bore , especially as each new result was similar . 
I learned in Milan that on one occasion fashionable modern artists without stage experience designed sets that could not be changed with ease . 
A historical example of non-co-operation can be seen by comparing the scene when Tosca places the candles by the dead Scarpia in the original vocal score and in the usual vocal score . 
In the original she does not get and place the candles until the long orchestral passage ends on a soft , religious , tender note : the later and more usual version makes her speak her comment on the dead power of Scarpia in the sinister middle of the passage . 
Surely this means that in the original production she had too far to go for the candles in the short time allotted her , so Puccini transferred the line to the middle of the music , thereby giving her longer time to fetch the candles . 
The original version , however ( which I am sure is more in key with Puccini 's intention with regard to Tosca 's truly religious character ) , is perfectly possible if the designer gives a reasonable position for the candles , sufficiently near where the body is to lie . 
This I have proved in my current Sadler 's Wells production . 
Again in Tosca there arises the problem of where Tosca is to stand when the firing squad is assembling to shoot Cavaradossi . 
She has to comment on him standing there , and later , when the soldiers march away , has to tell him not to move yet — neither of which remarks should be so obtrusive that the soldiers might notice them , but both of which should be clearly heard by the audience . 
The first time I produced Tosca I had her stand on a platform above and beyond the soldiers — ludicrous on second thoughts , but accepted by myself and others too tolerant of bad operatic tradition . 
But now at Sadler 's Wells I place her right down stage in one corner by the footlights , apparently out of earshot of the soldiers but easily audible to the audience . 
Yet she is sufficiently unobtrusive because she is more in shadow than the soldiers and Cavaradossi , who should be — and can not help being — the focus of attention . 
This was only possible by careful preliminary consultation with Paul Mayo , the designer , both as regards structure and proposed lighting . 
Ideally an opera producer should know stage technique , music both vocal and orchestral , lighting , style of period , and the design and making of costume and scenery , and should be able to weld all together so that the whole is good without any detail being over-obtrusive . 
Apart from the experts he has to deal with , he also — I am afraid — has often to coax inexperienced artists to give better than their best . 
Many soloists are nowadays chosen because of their superb ( or more often young and promising ) voices , irrespective of their experience of appearing in public or even walking a stage . 
One fine vocalist I was asked to produce as Carmen , though she had only sung as a solo recitalist on the concert platform , proved my dubious opinion of her possibilities when , in the rehearsal of the Card Scene , she declared herself unable to get her note while Frasquita and Mercedes were singing . 
Another brilliant young new singer engaged by one opera house , when asked by a friend if she was having any stage coaching before her first appearance on any stage , replied : " There is no need : I am singing . " 
( In every other profession and trade , apprenticeship is either essential or regarded as the soundest step towards success . 
Only opera-singers seem more and more able to dispense with it and to rely on their God-given natural voice which is , after all , but part of the equipment necessary for fine opera performances . ) 
Nor must we forget the great singer who insists on being centre-stage or who shouts a top note even in spite of the composer 's wishes , or who " always crosses left on this line " as one guest-artist Mephistopheles insisted to me until I told him that he would get his teeth kicked in by the dancers on that spot . 
But while it is the opera-producer 's job to co-ordinate the work of other experts ( whether willing collaborators or superior dictators ) , many producers also tend to be obtrusive themselves and to show how clever they are with this bit of business or background movement that is distracting . 
Although I try to avoid this , I have unintentionally been guilty of this myself . 
Other producers are careless about style of period ( I recently saw Almaviva in the first act of { Il Barbiere di Siviglia with neither cloak nor hat ) , and some from the straight theatre seem to have insufficient knowledge of musical problems . 
One insisted on a singer lying full-length on the ground while singing a top note — though with the singer 's approval it can be tried effectively , as I tried it once , only to discard it . 
Corneille 's alexandrines , in point of fact , may be found to follow the original text surprisingly closely , and { Le Festin de Pierre contrived to hold the stage successfully in competition with all but the most popular of Molie3re 's plays until 1730 or thereabouts . 
It reached the climax of its career in the year 1727 , with the not inconsiderable total of 11 performances ; soon after this triumph , however , the average number of performances per year dropped sharply from about 7 to about 3 , and after 1780 it disappeared almost completely from the repertoire . 
It was not until 1813 that the " lost scenes " of the " Amsterdam edition " were rediscovered and published by the grammarian , M.-J . 
Simonnin ; not until 1841 that the original { Dom Juan was restored to the stage at the Ode2on ; and even then , not until some six years later that the Corneille version was finally ousted from the { Come2die Franc6aise . 
The date 1841 , therefore , is usually taken to mark the critical turning-point in the fortunes of Molie3re 's play . 
It would be inaccurate , however , to think of this renewal of interest as an unheralded and quasi-accidental effect , produced entirely by the rediscovery of the missing portions of the original text . 
The very fact that some 28 years were fated to elapse between the " discovery " and the first performance of the restored original suggests that the process of rehabilitation involved a slow and gradual development . 
If the history of the play throughout the latter part of the eighteenth century is monotonously uneventful , the same is by no means true of the first half of the nineteenth century . 
The restoration of { Dom Juan was preceded by a revival of interest in { Le Festin de Pierre , and both plays , in fact , benefited significantly from the fascination which their common hero was destined to exercise upon the romantic imagination . 
In this connection , the influence of Byron 's Don Juan throughout the eighteen-twenties is obviously of capital importance ; but even before this period — in fact , as early as 1805 — we can trace the beginnings of a new attitude , and a new receptiveness on the part of both critics and public . 
Indeed , the year 1805 probably deserves rather more attention than most historians of the play have been prepared to grant it , since not only does it mark the first really striking revival which had been enjoyed on the stage by the Corneille version since 1730 , but the first serious renewal of interest in the original text , and at the same time , the first sign of indirect influence on the fortunes of Molie3re 's masterpiece through the creation of a later work on the same theme : in this instance , Mozart 's { Don Giovanni . 
If Molie3re 's heroic seducer was unfortunate in the manner of his reception by the Parisian audience , his operatic counterpart was scarcely less so ; and the trials and tribulations of { Don Giovanni at the { Grand Ope2ra furnish an admirable illustration of the obdurate tenacity of French musical conventions , which , in the post-revolutionary period , were certainly as rigid as those of the { Come2die Franc6aise , and even more fettering to would-be dramatists of the new generation . 
In this brief study , however , what interests us is not the direct significance of these musical conventions in themselves , but their indirect influence upon the fate of Molie3re 's { Dom Juan . 
The musical public of Paris in 1800 was unable to digest German opera in any form ; any opera written in Germany had of necessity to be " arranged " in the French , or , slightly later , in the Italian tradition , if it was to succeed at all ; and it was in fact the eventual discovery that both { Le Nozze di Figaro and { Don Giovanni , despite their having been written by a German composer , were fundamentally Italian operas , and so might be thankfully handed over to the { 6opera buffa , that finally established Mozart 's operatic reputation in France . 
The one traceable attempt to produce a Mozart opera ( { Die Entfu " hrung ) in the German tradition was so disastrous and lamentable a failure that not an echo of it remains throughout the century . 
{ Die Entfu " hrung was produced at the { The2a5tre de la Cite2 by a visiting German company , the Mozart-Theater , on 25 { brumaire An 10 . 
It was repeated on 27 and 28 brumaire , and never given again . 
The fiasco was anything but unexpected : " { Les bouffons allemands se sont arrange2s , sans doute , pour n'avoir que des Allemands pour auditeurs " , remarked one critic , knowing perfectly well ( as indeed did all his confre3res ) that what mattered in opera was , of course , the words , the de2cor and the ballets — anything , in fact , but the music : " 
{ Nos Franc6ais ne sont pas assez fous de musique pour aller chercher , aux de2pens de tous les autres agre2mens , un degre2 de plus de fermete2 et de pre2cision dans l'exe2cution de ces sifflemens allemands ... " 
A rigorous treatment at the hands of qualified French adaptors was , therefore , the first essential : action , dialogue , vocal and orchestral parts — everything had to be " arranged " to meet the conventional requirements . 
The first Mozartian opera to be subjected to this curious treatment was { Le Nozze , which appeared , " arranged " by Notaris , at the { Acade2mie de Musique on 20 March 1793 , and ran dispiritedly for five performances . 
Notaris , obviously , had not " arranged " enough , and too much Mozart had , reprehensibly , been allowed to subsist ; consequently , the next effort set about remedying the fault . 
On 20 August 1801 , { Die Zauberflo " te appeared at the { The2a5tre de la Re2publique et des Arts in an unrecognizable version entitled { Les Myste3res d'Isis , music by Lachnith , libretto by " { le citoyen Morel , ci-devant Chedeville " , and achieved a considerable success . 
In 1805 , this version was transferred to the { Acade2mie Impe2riale de Musique , where it was revived again in 1812 , 1816 , 1823 and 1826 . 
To the honour of French music , it should perhaps be added that , within a few years , these two " { fripons musicaux " , Lachnith ( " { le rapetisseur des grands hommes " ) and Morel ( "{ ouvrier en marqueterie " ) had become synonymous with all that was most reactionary and abysmal in the French musical tradition . 
{ Les Myste3res d'Isis , in fact , achieved its popularity by discarding the original music almost entirely , and by incorporating into the score — amongst other things — a substantial portion of a Haydn symphony : " 
{ On a change2 le sentiment de la musique de la Flu5te enchante2e , on en a ralenti les mouvemens pour approprier les airs au style se2rieux . 
Les paroles sont pitoyables ... l'arrangeur a coupe2 , taille2 , sabre2 les plus beaux morceaux de cet ope2ra , qu'il trouvait sans doute trop long . 
Comment , avec tant de richesses , n'a-t-on fait qu'une mise2rable compilation ? " 
Such was the situation when , on 17 September 1805 , the { Acade2mie Impe2riale de Musique decided to experiment with { Don Giovanni . 
Obviously , the { Grand Ope2ra could no more accept that masterpiece as written by Mozart and Da Ponte than the { The2a5tre Franc6ais could countenance { Dom Juan without the " adoucissements " introduced by Corneille . 
In this instance , the task of making the necessary arrangements was entrusted to one Christian Kalkbrenner , chorus-master at the { Grand Ope2ra . 
The outcome of his labours , together with those of his collaborators on the libretto , Mons. Thuring , " { ge2ne2ral de brigade " , and Mons. D. Baillot , "{ sous-bibliothe3caire de la Bibliothe3que Impe2riale de Versailles " , was a { Drame Lyrique en Trois Actes , which once again not merely altered Mozart 's music completely beyond recognition , but somehow made room within the score for several arias of M. Kalkbrenner 's own ingenious composition , together with the usual lengthy passages of incidental music to accommodate those full-scale interludes of ballet and mime which the Parisian operatic audiences demanded as their right . 
Gardel provided some excellent choreography ; but the real { 6pie3ce de re2sistance was the de2cor , with Mount Vesuvius in full eruption at the back of the stage , and streams of lava pouring down towards the auditorium . 
The few reputable music-critics who knew and respected their Mozart protested as loudly as they knew how , but all to no avail ; and for many years , Kalkbrenner 's { Don Juan was linked with Lachnith 's { Myste3res d'Isis , and remained a by-word , a glaring symbol of the depths to which French operatic taste could descend . 
" { Les airs de basse-taille sont donne2s aux femmes , change2s de ton , raccourcis , allonge2s , d'un air on fait un trio ; enfin ce n'est plus que le simulacre de la musique de Mozart ... " wrote Fe2tis some two years later , and as late as 1823 , Castil-Blaze could still recall the incident with the acutest indignation . 
However , the reputable music-critics were not asked their opinion . 
Public taste in music was guided exclusively by men of letters , and , during the whole Napoleonic era , the major dramatic critics were wont to look upon opera as their exclusive prerogative . 
Above all , it was Julien-Louis Geoffroy , the feared and influential oracle of the { Journal des De2bats , who could make or mar a composer 's reputation with a single article , although — as he thankfully admitted — music was an art which he understood no more than morris-dancing . 
The story of the resplendent premie3re , the gradual disintegration and eventual catastrophic de2ba5cle of this first French production of { Don Giovanni can be followed in detail through the reviews in the contemporary press . 
What appears evident from the various comments which have survived is that Kalkbrenner 's manipulations of the score had put all the critics except Geoffroy in a quandary . 
Geoffroy 's position was simple and unassailable . 
He was suspicious of Mozart 's reputation ( he despised Germans , anyway ) and heartily disliked whatever music of his he happened to have heard . 
" { Cet Allemand " , he pronounced , " { n'a rien fait dans le genre de l'ope2ra-comique " which could ever rival Gre2try , while his so-called " serious " operas were pitiful compared with " { les excellentes compositions de Gluck et de Piccini " . 
To honour his professional obligations , however , he attended the premie3re of { Don Giovanni . 
He found the overture detestable ( " { pourquoi coudre une symphonie a3 un ope2ra ? " ) , compared the music of Act 2 bitterly and unfavourably with Duni 's { Peintre amoureux de son Mode3le and with Paisiello 's { Re3 Teodoro , elevated Kalkbrenner 's intercalated aria , " { O Nuit , sois favorable ... " above anything written by the original composer , protested loudly that , even though the words were in French , the music was so insistent and ill-disciplined that he could not hear them , and concluded dolefully : " { Il y a trop de musique dans Don Juan ; c'est un festin ou3 l'extre5me abondance rassasie promptement ... 
Les Allemands ont ga5te2 notre Molie3re " . 
Less committed critics , however , were faced with two unpleasant alternatives . 
Here was undoubtedly a bad opera ; yet this opera was supposedly by Mozart , and Mozart enjoyed " { une re2putation colossale " among the musical e2lite . 
Either , therefore , they had to condemn it , and thus denounce themselves musically as ignorant philistines ; or else obey the fashion and applaud what they knew instinctively to be poor material , without having the necessary knowledge ( in the early stages , at any rate ) to trace the evil to its source — not Mozart at all , but Kalkbrenner . 
Thus , when it became apparent , after two or three performances , that Gardel and the lava-streams were not going to be enough , unaided , to keep this extravagant ( and expensive ) venture afloat for long , there was ill-disguised relief all round . 
" { Succe3s incomplet " , announced the { Journal de Paris , while Geoffroy moralised contentedly : " { Si cet essai pouvait nous gue2rir de notre admiration exclusive pour les e2trangers , il auroit produit un effet tre3s-heureux " . 
Quarrels and dissensions ensued among the cast , most of whom hurriedly and shamefacedly handed over their parts to understudies on various pretexts , and on November 10th , { Don Giovanni was quietly removed from the repertoire , and { Les Myste3res d'Isis substituted . 
There was , admittedly , an attempt to bring it back for an occasional Sunday performance shortly before Christmas , but by March 1806 , little remained of this ambitious and unfortunate venture save a certain amount of smoke in the upper regions of the stage : " { Ve2suve va beaucoup mieux , il ne donne pas tant de fume2e ; il n'y a que les acteurs qui vont de plus en plus mal " . 
" { Les Allemands ont ga5te2 notre Molie3re " . 
This is the key-note of criticism in relation to { Don Giovanni . 
On the other hand , to say so was one thing , but to prove it was a rather more hazardous business . 
In fact , it could only be done by putting on simultaneously a production of { Le Festin de Pierre , and by letting the audience make its own comparison . 
Art by Slabs Pieter Brueghel the Elder : Hay-Making . 
Introduced by Jaromir Sip . 
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Artists ' Prints in Colour . 
Introduced by Hans Platte . 
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Indian Art in America . 
By Frederick J. Dockstader . 
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The American Muse . 
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The Visual Experience . 
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Picasso 's Picassos . 
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IS IT quite so odd that nearly the best of this particular pride of art books — or shiny slabs of art — is the cheapest , the least shiny , the least pretentious , on the worst paper ? 
I do not see that a publisher could better the directness of the book on Brueghel 's Hay-Making . 
A great objective painting is reproduced in colour : then on a large scale two dozen sections of the painting are also reproduced ( in colour ) , and fitted to a brief account of Brueghel addressed not to anxious culture-vultures all wanting their cut from the fashionable but still queer wonders of art , but to adult appreciators who already accept art as one accepts philosophy or macaroni . " 
The example of Italy taught Brueghel to be sparing in expression , to be concise and limit himself to essentials , due proportions and things true to nature . 
He reduced human figures and everything else to basic geometrical forms and made them serve his intentions . 
Every close-up of scenes from Brueghel 's Hay-Making adds to our conviction that the basis of his use of abstraction was profound understanding of nature , of the surface of the earth , its vegetation , the animal world , men , and finally even of the objects fashioned by human hands . " 
Good . 
The enlarged details or close-ups left this reviewer more astonished than ever and more delighted than ever by the quantity of world absorbed by Brueghel , and the quality of absorption and then of its ordering and rendering . 
Artists ' Prints in Colour , from Germany , introduced and edited by Dr. Hans Platte of the Kunsthalle at Hamburg , is classy to a degree . 
Again it is not a packaged slab , but a well-designed , well-printed , well-introduced selection of sixty colour prints by sixty artists , all made since the war . 
The first is by Matisse . 
Others are by Moore , Jean Bazaine , Gustave Singier , Lynn Chadwick , Nicolas de Stae " l . 
The introduction is in part a sophisticated comment on the abstract art of this century , from Kandinsky until now , one of the best I have read . 
" The important thing is to be quite clear that the work of art can never come into being without some connection with the environment ... 
The question of the visible object then loses its significance , since our world does not find its fulfilment in the realm of the visible . " 
In part the introduction comments on the shift in prints from black and white to colour , from the graphic towards painting , and the way in which this shift is related to our epoch 's appetite for colour ( including colour printing by machine ) . 
These two books and the next ones show some unhappy differences between publishers ' Europe and publishers ' America — at any rate in the popularisation of the arts . 
Indian Art in America slides at once into the class of the shiny art slab . 
This may seem unfair : it does inform , it does have a grown-up purpose , it does illustrate many superb objects ( seventy colour plates ) , such as the painted shield covers of the Crow Indians . 
But it begins to buttonhole and brainwash with prefabricated superlatives . 
Its standards are shaky ( thin Rackham-like confections by modern Indian watercolourists , self-condemned in the splendid traditional company around them , are just as highly praised ) . 
Also it is an atrocious piece of colour-book composing , text against plate , or plate against text . 
Art books often recall that distinction Berenson made ( to a late director of the Victoria and Albert Museum ) , that museum officials were either pimps or eunuchs . 
The eunuch art-book often , at any rate , retains the dignity of art : it leaves the peruser to judge on the evidence . 
The pimping art-book has art to sell , insinuatingly , and for a purpose , like The American Muse , which has in fact a tradition to sell , and one which does n't exist , in painting ( how could it ever have formed in a "new " country ? ) . 
This brainwasher and blinder depends on serving up the same tiresome primitives , the same tiresome bits of sub-European kitsch by the Peales , the Bierstadts , the Coles , the Washington Allstons , suitably followed in this century by the celluloid rubbish of Marin , O'Keefe , Dove and many others down ( I should say myself with a firm defiance — though the substance has changed from celluloid ) to Jackson Pollock . 
Those who are curious about the stuff and the attitude ( which Americans would do better to forget ) will find a chilling eyeful in this American Muse , allied to literary excerpts — Cotton Mather to Gertrude Stein — all transferred from an exhibition in that rather brown or liquorice public gallery , the Corcoran in Washington . 
It is another ugly piece of ungraceful typography and book-making . 
The German editor of the elegant book on colour prints remarked that in the end ( I should say at the beginning as well ) the spectator has to stand entirely alone in front of the picture . 
But not if Dr. Bates Lowry gets him . 
If he does , the spectator will stand or sag in front of the picture with The Visual Experience : An Introduction to Art pressing down on his mind as if that mind were a particularly soft and soggy galantine . 
This is another conditioner : Come and learn about Art , Mr. , Mrs. or Miss Home-Study . 
I will teach you to reconcile Kurt Schwitters and Cotman , Sassetta and our Pollock , in 234 plates and 260 pages of long abstract words about recession and planes and unity . 
" In judging the quality of a work of art " — attention , please — " on the basis of the type of experience that it offers us , we leave the relatively objective area of judgment that we have defined as artistic ability and enter the more subjective area in which we evaluate the significance of the artist 's intuition . " 
At which the statue — as in Daumier 's cartoon — prodigiously yawns , and then adds a raspberry as well . 
An American wrap of this same nature entirely surrounds the largest slipperiest slab of Picasso 's Picassos . 
Without its rhetoric or gloss , here you have a colour album of those paintings by Picasso , from 1895 to 1960 , which he keeps for himself . 
They have been photographed by an American author-journalist-photographer , who talks of " the Maestro , " and treats Picasso in his text like a super-goose who lays golden eggs , starting off his gossip-text by saying ( and if this does n't justify him , what does ? ) that " no painter of this century 's Midas-touched art world has seen more of his colours and canvas change to gold . " 
A colour-photo as frontispiece depicts the Maestro attitudinising in a Spanish cloak and a Scottish tweed hat , by candlelight , and makes him look like a new Watts , OM , or like God taking the part of Gladstone in a charade . 
However , this frontispiece can be torn out , and with ingenuity all of the journalistic slobbering over the paintings and personality which journalists used to ridicule , can be cut away with a pair of scissors — when there will be left for enjoyment in the normal unpompous calm of the arts , 202 plates , various and bizarre , in which Picasso 's liberated shapes and excitingly applied and inventively combined colours play some of their very sunniest compositions . 
GEOFFREY GRIGSON Interlacery China . 
By William Watson . 
( Thames and Hudson , 30s . ) 
The Seljuks . 
By Tamara Talbot Rice . 
( Thames and Hudson 30s . ) 
The Vikings . 
By Holger Arbman . 
( Thames and Hudson , 30s . ) 
A VERY mixed batch , one would think , this latest trio from the admirable " Ancient Peoples and Places " series edited by Dr. Glyn Daniel . 
A glance through the plates — around seventy per volume — discloses odd family resemblances . 
Cousin to the Chinese dragon seems the Viking sea-serpent . 
Half-Chinese , again , look the Uighur faces staring from Seljuk reliefs . 
And everywhere lurk animals in company with lengths of geometrical interlacery which might well have crawled down from the Steppes . 
To run through the books in their chronological sequence is to get a sharper perspective . 
Mr. Watson , in his detailed archaeological survey of China Before the Han Dynasty , follows the progress of sinanthropus through the stone-age centuries to the sudden flowering of an unsurpassed bronze age under the Shang and the Chou . 
Whence came this finesse in casting alloys , and iron , too , long before iron was forged or wrought by the same people ? 
What connection is there between the spiral-painted urns of Kansu and the similar pieces from Turkestan and the Caucasus ? 
Archaeology can not yet answer a number of outstanding conundrums in this field . 
But it offers no support for older theories that the early Chinese derived their ideas from as far west as the Near East , or that they were essentially pacific and thereafter static . 
As their weapons and vessels attest , they were addicted to bloodthirsty sacrificial rites and were constantly armed to the teeth . 
When they cribbed a socketed axe from Tomsk or a spearhead from Minusinsk , they improved it . 
Of the Tartar bow they made a spring-gun with a bronze trigger , to fire blunt-nosed bolts . 
But their exchanges with the North-West , " the region of horse-raising and fraternisation of Chinese and nomad , " must often have been fruitful . 
Among the nomads who harried the Shang were the Turkish-speaking tribes whose later descendants , the Ghuzz , by the eighth century AD controlled all Central Asia . 
Through Transoxiana their Seljuk branch advanced from Samarkand and Bokhara upon Syria , Iraq and Persia . 
In her history of The Seljuks of Asia Minor , Mrs. Tamara Talbot Rice considers the achievements of the Islamised group which settled in Rum , the Byzantine Anatolia . 
Again our old views need reorienting . 
" That the Seljuks brought nothing but chaos and destruction to Asia Minor is not borne out by the facts . " 
Indeed , under the Sultanate , claims Mrs. Rice , " the Seljuks set out to provide their country with a sound economy and elaborate social services . " 
In this " veritable welfare state " the arts flourished . 
Her plates show the splendours of Seljukid architecture . 
She also devotes several pages to Rumi and Sufism ; but the reader will search her index in vain for the name of the great Persian Jelal-al-Din , which appears here disguised in contemporary Turkish orthography as " the Mawla Celaleddin . " 
In an earlier volume in this series , Mrs. Rice , who is Russian by birth , took as subject the Scythians . 
Despite chronological difficulties , it is they who have been suggested as the link between the arts of Central Asia and the Steppes , and so ultimately with certain traits in the Scandinavian and Celtic cultures . 
In his geographical history of the Vikings , Professor Arbman shows how the Rus , or the Swedes of Muscovy , traded in Black Sea ports and sent caravans into Baghdad . 
The more familiar ventures of the Vikings in Britain and Ireland , as well as their more controversial incursions into the New World , are here made vivid . 
The introduction by Mr. Alan Binns , who translated the Swedish original , is invaluable . 
Once more we are urged to modify our traditional view of these pirates , whose prowess as artists , whatever one thinks of the sagas , remains far from negligible . 
The interlacery of the Jellinge pattern can have no direct connection with interlacery remote from it by thousands of years , thousands of miles . 
Horse-raisers think in terms of plaits and straps as seafarers dream of ropes , hawsers and knots . 
These restless rangers of the abstract wastes revivified the people they raided and once settled , brought a new twist to the old strands of culture , craft and art . 
HUGH GORDON PORTEUS 
Alan R. Taylor 's Prelude to Israel , now published in this country by Darton , Longman and Todd at 18s. , was reviewed in the Spectator in its original American edition on June 24 , 1960 . 
Records Values of the Studio By DAVID CAIRNS 
IT is right that recording companies should attempt to make their recordings of opera as dramatic as possible , and natural that promoters should vaunt the realism that is achieved . 
GEORGE ANNE BELLAMY By The Rev. BROCARD SEWELL , O.Carm . 
GEORGE ANNE BELLAMY , once a leading figure on the London stage and in the fashionable society of her time , is today hardly known except to students of theatrical history . 
Her life was on the whole unfortunate , and her end sad ; yet she was a fascinating personality and a fine actress , while her life-story is highly romantic . 
It is not easy to see why her memory should have faded , especially as she wrote a most readable autobiography which went quickly through several editions . 
Recently , however , she has found a sympathetic biographer in Mr Cyril Hughes Hartmann , whose delightful book Enchanting Bellamy ( Heinemann , 1956 ) puts her story within the reach of all and sorts out a good many of the puzzles which face the reader of her own narrative , now a very rare book , An Apology for the Life of George Anne Bellamy , late of Covent Garden Theatre , Written by Herself ( London , 1785 ) . 
She was a sincere Catholic , notwithstanding the chronic disorder of her matrimonial affairs , for which she was not altogether responsible . 
For the Catholic reader part of the interest and fascination of her Apology lies in the glimpses that she gives us of Catholic life and personalities in eighteenth-century London . 
Mr Hartmann , himself not a Catholic , and writing for the general reader , has included in his own narrative only a selection of the episodes of Catholic interest . 
Since Miss Bellamy 's Apology is now so difficult a book to obtain it seems worth while to attempt a short survey of her life that will do justice to her adherence to the faith in which she was brought up . 
George Anne Bellamy was born at Finglas , near Dublin , on 23 April 1728 . 
The name which her mother wished to give her , Georgiane , was , through some blunder , entered in the baptismal register as George Anne . 
Her mother , a Mrs Bellamy , was a Quakeress from near Maidstone who had taken to the stage and entered on a liaison with James O'Hara , Baron Kilmaine and second Lord Tyrawley ( 1690-1773 ) , Field Marshal and diplomat , Ambassador in Portugal and later in Russia . 
Lord Tyrawley was considered " singularly licentious even for the courts of Russia and Portugal " ; he acquired three wives and fourteen children during his Portuguese embassy alone . 
But he was a very able man , possessed of considerable charm and some claim to polite cultivation : qualities which George Anne would seem to have inherited from him . 
Lord Tyrawley was not a Catholic ; but for some reason he had George Anne brought up in the old religion , and she was sent to school with the Ursulines at Boulogne . 
Her time there passed happily , and in her Apology she always speaks with affection of the nuns . 
Her mother was acquainted with many of the leading actors and actresses of the day . 
When George Anne was eleven or twelve years old she and her mother were invited to attend some amateur theatricals held in a barn at Mrs Woffington 's Thames-side residence at Teddington . 
This was in 1744 , and the performance was got up in honour of Margaret Woffington 's daughter Mary , aged sixteen , also just home from her convent-school on the continent . 
The play was Ambrose Phillips ' The Distressed Mother . 
Garrick himself played Orestes , with Mary ( Polly ) Woffington as Hermione and George Anne Bellamy as Andromache . 
" Though I was inferior in beauty to my fair rival , " she tells us , " and without the advantages of dress , yet the laurel was bestowed upon me . " 
She was seen at once to have unusual talent , and Garrick encouraged her to take up a career on the stage . 
She was to have a number of misunderstandings and disagreements with Garrick , who was not always an easy man to deal with ; but she admits in her memoirs that her break with Garrick in 1753 , largely out of pique on her part , was the mistake of her life . 
Some time in the year 1744 , after the amateur theatricals at Teddington , George Anne was taken on by John Rich , the patentee and manager of Covent Garden Theatre , and made her de2but as Monimia in Otway 's tragedy The Orphan . 
The leading man , James Quin , objected to the introduction of this inexperienced child-actor in a principal part , and Rich had a good deal of trouble with him and the rest of the company as a result . 
Her appearance on the first night was very nearly a fiasco , until , as she tells us , in the fourth act " 
to the astonishment of the audience , the surprise of the performers , and the exultation of the manager , I felt myself suddenly inspired . 
I blazed out at once with meridian splendour ... 
Mr Quin was so fascinated at this unexpected intervention that he waited behind the scenes till the conclusion of the act ; when lifting me up from the ground in a transport he exclaimed aloud , " Thou art a divine creature , and the true spirit is in thee . " " 
At this time George Anne had two suitors : Lord Byron , " a nobleman who had little to boast of but a title and an agreeable face " , and a Mr Montgomery ( who subsequently became , through a change of name , Sir George Metham ) . 
There seems to have been a half-hearted and unsuccessful attempt by Lord Byron to abduct her , as a result of which she became seriously unwell . 
When she had recovered she went down to Essex to stay with some relatives ; but the visit did not pass off too happily . 
On her way back to London she stopped for dinner at an inn in the town of Ingatestone : " 
During dinner [ the landlady ] informed me that Lord Petre had a noble house and estate adjoining to that town ; adding that his Lordship 's family was one of the worthiest in the world , although they were Roman Catholics . 
I could not help smiling at this reservation ; which she observing , begged my pardon ; saying , " I fear , Madam , you are one . " 
As I spoke , the starting tear glistened in my eye , at the recollection of my remissness in the duties of the religion I professed . 
I however smothered the upbraidings of my mind , and enquired who lived at the farmhouse which was so pleasantly situated at some distance from the town . 
She informed me that it belonged to a rich farmer , but they were Papishes . 
I then desired she would instruct me in the distinction between Roman Catholics and Papishes , as she termed them . 
" Lord , miss , " answered she , " sure you know the difference between a Hind and a Lord ? " " 
In 1745 Bellamy rather unwisely deserted Rich and Quin and accepted an offer from Tom Sheridan to play at the Smock Alley Theatre in Dublin . 
Arrived in the Irish capital she went at once to call on Miss O'Hara , Lord Tyrawley 's unmarried sister , who welcomed her warmly and introduced her into Dublin 's fashionable society . 
In Dublin she played Cleopatra in Dryden 's All for Love , against Barry 's Antony and Sheridan 's Ventidius , appearing also in Rowe 's The Fair Penitent and in The Provok 'd Husband by Vanbrugh and Cibber , in which Lord and Lady Townley were played by Garrick and George Anne . 
She also had a great success as Portia in The Merchant of Venice . 
While in Dublin she befriended a Mrs Gunning and her family , who were involved in the deepest distress and were about to be turned out of their house . 
Two of the children were later the celebrated eighteenth-century beauties , the Gunning sisters , who became respectively Countess of Coventry and Duchess of Hamilton . 
From even before their arrival in Ireland George Anne 's mother had been trying to induce her to marry an Irish linen-draper called Crump , a worthy but slightly ridiculous man with little to commend him to her except his money . 
Her mother 's insistence on this match , at the urging of Lord Tyrawley who wanted to get his daughter off his hands , seems to have been singularly stupid , and she was certainly a good deal to blame for all the unhappiness that was to follow from George Anne 's refusal to consider so unattractive a suitor . 
Although a Quaker , her mother was far too flighty and worldly to make the kind of friend and adviser her brilliant daughter needed ; and Lord Tyrawley was an equally unsatisfactory parent . 
He certainly treated his illegitimate children kindly , and even generously . 
They were admitted to his own family circle as though by right , which says much for the patience and large-heartedness of Lady Tyrawley , who was a thoroughly good-natured soul . 
But his care for them was fitful and spasmodic , largely because of his frequent absences abroad ; and he was ill-equipped to give them anything in the way of moral or religious guidance . 
To the misfortune of her birth and her lack of a proper home must be attributed in large part the misfortunes of George Anne 's life . 
Back in London George Anne became the principal tragic actress in Quin 's company , appearing as Belvidera in Otway 's Venice Preserv 'd , Statira in Lee 's The Rival Queens , and other parts . 
In comedy she was less successful : Mrs Ward had given way to her in tragedy , but Peg Woffington was not to be supplanted as principal interpreter of comedy . 
Still , George Anne made creditable appearances as Harriet in Etherege 's The Man of Mode : or Sir Fopling Flutter , Lady Froth in Congreve 's The Double-Dealer , and as Lady Fanciful in Vanbrugh 's The Provok 'd Wife . 
In 1749 George Metham was renewing his attentions to Miss Bellamy . 
In the Lent of that year they were both attending the Wednesday and Friday evening devotions at the Bavarian Embassy chapel , one of the few places of worship available to the Catholics of London since diplomatic privilege secured for it immunity from the penal laws then in force . 
Originally attached to the Portuguese Embassy the chapel , adjacent to Golden Square , is said to have been built soon after the Restoration of 1660 . 
Subsequently rebuilt and enlarged at different periods it is now the Church of Our Lady of the Assumption and St Gregory , Warwick Street , W.1 . 
When the Portuguese Ambassador removed to South Street , Mayfair , in 1736 , the Bavarian Embassy took over the house and chapel in Golden Square . 
Mrs Bellamy ( most actresses in the eighteenth century , once over a certain age , were usually known as Mrs whether married or not ) became closely acquainted with the Bavarian Ambassador , Count Franz von Haslang , a nobleman of fine character who was to prove one of her most faithful friends in all the distresses of her life . 
In 1780 the chapel was wrecked in the Gordon Riots . 
It is usually assumed that the chapel was totally destroyed , but Bellamy 's evidence seems to show that this was not so . 
It appears more likely that the furniture and appointments were destroyed and the fabric badly damaged , but that the chapel was still able to be used for occasional services , such as that held for the Count 's funeral in 1783 , until it was rebuilt about the year 1787 . 
If this is so , and there seems to be no real reason for doubting it , then surely Warwick Street church can claim the longest continuity of worship of any Catholic church in England , apart from certain chapels belonging to noble houses or to religious communities ? 
Such , at any rate , is Mr Hartmann 's opinion . 
Among the clergy at Warwick Street when Mrs Bellamy knew it was the Reverend John Darcy , who was there from 1748 to 1758 and who appears to have been her confessor and spiritual director , as well as her trusted friend . 
She mentions also the well-known Dr James Archer , who had begun life as potboy at the Ship Tavern , near the Sardinian chapel in Lincoln 's Inn Fields , and whose sermons went through several editions and were appreciated by Catholics and Protestants alike . 
She also knew well the celebrated Franciscan Arthur O'Leary , founder of the mission of St Patrick 's , Soho Square . 
To return to the year 1749 : before long George Anne Bellamy considered herself as virtually engaged to George Metham ; but unfortunately Lord Tyrawley intervened and expressed great displeasure at her rejection of Mr Crump , whom he was still insistent on her marrying . 
THE CASE FOR ART EDUCATION by H. S. BROUDY 
IT irks the art teacher to have art regarded as a luxury item on the school 's bill of fare . 
For one thing no one likes to think of his life 's work as easily dispensable , and experience has shown that when school money is scarce art is among the first activities to be dispensed with . 
Nevertheless , fine and highly cherished objects are regarded as luxuries , and one may question whether the attempt to convince the public that art and music are as useful as arithmetic and science would be wise strategy even if the claim could be justified . 
The claim has dubious validity . 
That artistic activity produces important results is true . 
Individual enjoyment is one such result and social control or discipline is another . 
But the sort of art that does this for most people most of the time is not the kind that has to be studied in school . 
The popular arts via the mass media furnish massive doses of enjoyment to the masses of people and likewise shape their feelings with respect to what in our culture is to be cherished , admired , loved and hated . 
We learn how to feel about love , death , success , war and peace in the movies , popular fiction , the top 20 tunes in the jukebox , the advertising layouts in our magazines and newspapers . 
These arts present in perceptual form images or models that objectify and exhibit the current fashion in what is desirable and repulsive . 
The popular arts of a people , whether they set out to do so or not , celebrate the values of that people . 
When these values are put into song and story they evoke feelings that become stylised and serve to educate the young and the old alike . 
Advertisers use art media to make the public yearn for their products ; governments can , if they put their minds to it shape the feelings of their people with respect to leaders and their policies . 
But to reiterate , this use of art demands no formal training on the part of the young . 
Living in the group they will be controlled by the arts forms of that group . 
The teaching of art in the schools makes sense only if there is an art to which ordinary daily experience does not give the pupil access ; if access to it will give him something not to be found in ordinary transactions with popular art , and if this requires formal training . 
Is there an art to which ordinary routines of life do not give the pupil adequate access ? 
In one sense the answer is no , because anyone , if he tries hard enough , can visit museums and libraries ; listen to concerts and recordings . 
We are justly proud of the accessibility of all types of art objects and the techniques of the mass media deserve much of the credit for it . 
In another sense , however , certain realms of art are effectively closed off from many people . 
When considerable facility or acquaintance with the methods of making or viewing an art object are required for appreciation , ignorance is as effective a bar as a wall . 
Poor readers can not do much with Proust 's novels and a lack of familiarity with Greek mythology makes for a frustrating experience with Milton 's Paradise Lost . 
That is one reason for the irritation of the untutored viewer { 6vis a vis abstract painting . 
He looks for what is not there and he does not know what to do with what is there . 
This irritation is sometimes relieved by suggesting that the painting be viewed as a piece of wall paper or floor covering . 
Hard as this is on the soul of the artist , it does , however , halt the viewer 's frantic search for familiar themes and objects . 
Serious art , by and large , does make demands that popular art does not : sensitive discrimination , awareness of form , some familiarity with technique , and , above all , an active and concentrated attention . 
In so far as this is the case , serious art is not easily accessible to the untutored . 
Because facility with serious art requires skill and knowledge not acquired incidentally , it makes sense for the school to offer a programme of art education . 
But because such training entails effort that the child may be reluctant to exert , to require it of everyone calls for a promise to the child and to society . 
To the child must be promised enjoyment and satisfaction above and beyond those afforded by the popular arts ; to society must be promised a strengthening of the people 's commitment to its ideals and aspirations , and what may be even more important , a constant examination and evaluation of them . 
There are two lines of argument that we can follow to justify these promises . 
One is that in the experience of the race , epoch after epoch has produced men who testify to the power and value of serious art . 
Why one can not predict that some of our children and perhaps all of them will experience the same sort of reaction after similar training is hard to understand , yet so convinced are educators that aesthetic experience is no more than a capricious and individual matter of taste that they find this sort of evidence unconvincing . 
The other line of argument consists in putting forward a theory that tries to show how art in general and serious art in particular functions in man 's attempt to achieve the good life . 
From the days of Plato to our own times many have tried to interpret what art does . 
For Plato himself , art by embodying harmony and order in delightfully sensuous forms induced harmony and order into the individual soul . 
So potent did he believe art to be that he insisted on having the stories and poems taught to the young censored . 
He was afraid lest certain types of music make boys effeminate . 
Nor did he believe that stories depicting gods and heroes in immoral escapades would do much for character education . 
Susanne K. Langer speaks of art as shaping our inner life . 
Art introduces order into the chaotic realm of our emotions by holding up before us images of shaped feelings . 
Freud and Sir Herbert Read , among others , see art as stemming from man 's struggle with his submerged animal impulses to love and destruction . 
Art on this view somehow plumbs the nether region of the unconscious and performs for us the rite of ennobling our unconscious transactions with our primordial lusts . 
The artist , so to speak , is our substitute for neurosis . 
Gyorgy Kepes notes that we respond to the images of the artist because their forms and harmonies touch us at various levels of our being : sensational , rational , and emotional . 
As the industrial revolution swept into high gear William Morris warned that the rhythmic joy of work had been destroyed . 
Repeatedly we have been told that everyday life in our times no longer provides us with the models of wholeness and harmony that were once vouchsafed to the peasant in his natural setting . 
Art is more and more relied upon to restore the wholeness of human experience . 
Summing it up , the theoretical justification for education in serious art lies in the claim that it trains the feeling side of life just as other studies train the intellectual side and still others perfect bodily skills , and that it does so in a way that goes beyond the educative effects of popular art . 
Two problems seem to emerge if we take this line of persuasion with school boards and parents . 
First , whether even with respect to serious art the school need do more than provide an environment in which the child 's natural expressive impulses are allowed to manifest themselves in paint , clay , etc. , with a maximum of freedom and a minimum of technical requirements . 
If this is the case , then it need not require much more than time in the programme , a wide variety of materials , and an encouraging teacher . 
The upsurge of Sunday painting indicates that perhaps not even this much is a prerequisite for adult artistic activity . 
Casting doubt on this approach is the well-nigh universal testimony of artists and connoisseurs in all fields that their achievements do not come naturally . 
On the contrary , they complain with almost tedious uniformity about the hard work their artistic endeavours entail . 
Serious art on the producing or the appreciating side is not for the lazy , nor presumably for the untrained . 
If , however , there is nothing systematic to teach , no special way of teaching it , and no effort required in learning it , the fuss about the art programme is much ado about nothing . 
The second point is that a programme of art education which proposes to train pupils for the appreciation of serious art is not innocuous ; it can be dangerous . 
Serious art presents us with models of feeling that are neither so familiar nor so safe as those presented by the popular arts . 
Popular art gives aesthetic form to the values that most of the people are enjoying or would like to enjoy in a manner approved by the social order . 
Just as there are standard ways of feeling about love , war , marriage , death , home , etc . 
In the popular song , picture , photograph , movie , and story the average man recognises his everyday problems and the standard solutions . 
Serious art , on the other hand , tries to disclose modes of feelings that in our ordinary life we rarely experience , and would probably prefer not to experience at all . 
Most of us do not want to engage in heroic episodes of love , war , or politics , but in every epoch a few works of art depict mankind in such heroic and convincing roles that we see in them our species at its best . 
These works become certified as " great " works of art , but not always by their contemporary publics . 
Contemporary art , when serious , criticises the values of its culture . 
Sometimes this criticism is in the form of a protest ; at others , it simply experiments freely with emotions and their expression in unusual forms . 
Serious art , whether in its classical or contemporaneous form , whether freely experimental or definitely idealistic , confronts the child with models of experience and feeling that are not typical of the life going on around him . 
The images it offers the child are not mirrors of life but projections of what life might feel like . 
All of these images are distortions . 
Some are interesting and important ; some border on the insane , and a few disclose visions of feeling that haul mankind up another rung on the ladder of civilisation . 
All of which means that when the school takes serious art seriously it can not expose the immature pupil to anything and everything , and this in turn presupposes a high order of aesthetic sophistication and competence on the part of all teachers who have a part in the programme . 
So conceived and defended a case can be made out for art education as an integral part of general education . 
That school boards and other appropriating agencies will be convinced is not so certain . 
They represent the tension between the conventional and the experimental that is never absent from a changing society . 
The artistic experience is intermittent and celebrative ; it gives meaning and glow to life but it neither creates life nor sustains it . 
The school must pay attention to all aspects of living — economic , intellectual , moral , and social — and if it must make a choice between preserving and sustaining life , on one hand , and making it glow , on the other , there is no question as to what it will have to choose . 
But we no longer face such a hard choice . 
If we did , we would not be discussing art education at all . 
FROM MYTH TO FAIRY-TALE AND FOLK LORE by J. M. GRANT 
As far as it is possible for me to do so I have acknowledged my indebtedness to particular authors for particular information . 
Where I may inadvertently have omitted to do so I hope that the authors concerned will accept my general acknowledgment of the interest I have sustained in their writings and for the help I have gained from them in the fascinating study of mythology , fairy tale , and folk-lore . 
MYFANWY PIPER on art 
" Henri Rousseau 's art was born and formed on Sundays . 
Free from work he could , with a cheerful heart , compose images while listening to the songs of the Faubourg . " 
The little book by the Frenchman Roch Grey from which these simple words are taken was published in the early twenties : my copy was published and , I suspect , translated in Rome . 
Written in a mixture of intellectual sententiousness and poetic sentimentalism peculiar to some French writing about art , it is more often than not reduced to fantasy by the literal translation — " product of the tendencies of nature working outside every heritage on the part of some paradisical superfluity treating of universal harmony , Henri lived a life without malice . " 
And yet , its earnest appreciation of his spirit , mingled with the absurdity of its phrases , especially those used to describe a visit to the deceased painter 's studio , is an inextricable part of my knowledge of the Douanier . 
Even today I can not believe that " ugly , silent dogs played in the middle of the street ... " is not the title of one of his pictures : and when , describing the climax of his hostile reception in the Rue Perrel , M. Grey says , " another person was visibly preparing to take part in the fray ; striped like a mattress he cried ... " 
I visualize in the dusty summer street another version of The Footballers . 
It is obviously a book to be enjoyed at intervals . 
It came out this time because I had heard casually that there was to be an exhibition of Rousseau 's pictures in Paris , at the Gallerie Charpentier in March and because I had recently seen the two fine ones in the Hay Whitney collection . 
One of them , The Happy Quartet , looks back in an odd way to Blake , not so much because of a nai " ve belief in felicity as because Rousseau obviously derived inspiration for the poses and for the cherubic child from looking , as Blake did , at engravings of old masters . 
Thinking about Rousseau leads one to ask why nai " ve painting has such a hold upon our imagination today . 
In the painting of a sophisticated artist there is always a discrepancy , a margin of unattainable perfection , of rapture , between the intention and the result . 
Although it is true to say that the greater the artist the smaller that discrepancy — indeed , it often seems non-existent to the spectator — it is also true that the greater the painter , the greater , inevitably , the discrepancy , because of the soaring quality of his vision . 
But no one today knows what kind of vision , or belief , or intention even , lies in that region beyond the bounds of execution . 
When artists painted for the church , or when they painted man the perfectible being , the nature of the paradise they had lost , but could through grace regain , was imaginable ; at least its spiritual values were known . 
Now they are not . 
For the true nai " ve painter , on the other hand , there is no margin between his intention and his result : he paints to the exact limit of his vision . 
It is exactly in his humble capacity to be satisfied with this that his nai " vete2 or lack of sophistication lies . 
It is exactly in this that his appeal lies . 
Rousseau once wrote to the mayor of his home town Laval , offering to sell { La Bohe2mienne Endormie . 
He sent a description of the picture : " A wandering negress , playing her mandolin , with her jar beside her ( a vase containing water ) , sleeps deeply , worn out by fatigue . 
A lion wanders by , detects her and does not devour her . 
There 's an effect of moonlight , very poetic . 
The scene takes place in a completely arid desert . 
The gypsy is dressed in oriental fashion . " 
The simple exactitude of his words matches the clarity and finality of the picture . 
The confidence and satisfaction of the painter shines out , as it does in these words from a biographical note that he wrote upon himself : " He perfected himself more and more in the original manner which he has adopted and he is in the process of becoming one of the best realist painters . " 
This absence of anxiety in a person who is simple enough for it not to be a fault is a source of repose and strength . 
Picasso , Braque , Max Jacob , Appollinaire and many others in his lifetime were entertained by his absurdities , took advantage of his susceptibility to hoaxes , loved his good temper and dogged persistence in his work — and accepted his paintings as manna . 
The blessing of an unassailable , because unquestioned , calm . 
MYFANWY PIPER on art 
Things that are over are not always done with too , according to timetable . 
Pictures and personalities that ought to be tidied away after their airing occupy one 's mind with images and questions and memories . 
Toulouse-Lautrec is a particular sticker . 
Partly because he can never finally be pinned down . 
Confronted with the variety and the vitality of the subjects , the daring and the ingenuity of the colour , the boldness and the total take-it-or-leave-it quality of the compositions for the first time { 6en masse at the Museum at Albi some years ago , I felt as if he was an artist I had never seen before . 
Reading Henri Perruchot 's thorough and imaginative biography ( out last year ) I feel , in spite of the picture books and the Moulin Rouge film and the legends and the lithographs , that here is a man that I have never known before . 
And then the memory of Albi , rosy but fierce , dominating a countryside that can have changed very little since medieval times and of that extraordinary collection of pictures by a son of one of its most medieval minded families , took on a marvellous new sharpness . 
It was good to be able to see many of the works again at the Tate Gallery last month . 
The most persistent question raised by M. Perruchot 's book is how far the artist Lautrec was the product of his crippled state . 
There is only one record of a meeting between him and that other classic example of the invalid whose disability turned him into an artist , Marcel Proust . 
Someone at a restaurant described how Lautrec 's father , Count Alphonse , had watched an unknown woman admiring a ring in a shop window , had marched into the shop , bought it for 5,000 francs ( £800 today ) and handed it to her with a flourish . 
" And they accuse me of extravagance , " said Lautrec . 
A young man , who was Proust , said that such gestures were not stupid , they even had a certain usefulness for they asserted caste . 
Whereupon Lautrec muttered something about middle-class stupidity , which was always prepared to " admire an absurd gesture or a sunset . " 
Proust and Lautrec belonged to different worlds and it was precisely the difference in their worlds that made Proust what he was . 
He was the woman outside the window , able by the intensity of his desire and his curiosity to possess the ring . 
To Count Alphonse it was a jewel worth 5,000 francs , to Proust it was the history of the Crusades , the Jockey Club , eccentricity of the nobility , himself watching it , even Lautrec 's cutting comment , all epitomized in one little glittering symbol . 
And something he could not possess except by being outside it . 
For him the practice of observing and writing was not a substitute for life and truth , it was the only life and truth he could know . 
If he had not been ill he would have had to invent illness so as to keep himself outside the window . 
Not so Toulouse-Lautrec : he was a man of action , a French aristocrat with a taste , developed in his family to the extent of mania , for hunting , shooting , riding , falconry , racing . 
He loved it , and had he been strong he would have embraced that life naturally and violently . 
He would have drawn , as the rest of his family did , for relaxation . 
The Counts of Toulouse-Lautrec Monfa had another characteristic : absolute unselfconscious belief in themselves and , therefore , a complete detachment . 
The energy that in so many people is used up in doubt and insecurity was free in them to do exactly what they wanted , how they wanted . 
This energy , coupled with an inherited talent , the accident of Lautrec 's deformity and weakness left him free to use for art . 
But that does not explain why he was moved to tears by a word of praise from De2gas . 
MYFANWY PIPER on art THE ARTIST IN ROME 
INTELLECTUAL clarity and the pure , forward-looking passions aroused by it are always being betrayed by memory . 
Nowhere does this show itself more clearly than in art . 
And nowhere more than in Italy were artists more vociferous in their fierce desire to cut themselves off from the past , to get rid of it : not merely to tease it with incongruities like the moustache on the Mona Lisa , but to destroy it and to reject it and so to free themselves from the insinuations of memory and of association . 
Marinetti 's Futurist Manifesto was more than an anarchist lark , it was a serious bid by the artists for freedom , a serious proposal to blow up the sun-warmed golden prison of walls and towers that threatened to be a barrier between them and living , and to escape forever its benign warders : painted angels , prophets , heroes , philosophers and Holy ones . 
This pious act of rejection , though like a bloodless sacrifice it destroyed nothing , did , by magic and belief set them free to participate in all the modern movements of Europe , and later of America . 
The most consistent centre of this freedom has always been Milan where a group of artists has continued expanding and experimenting , looking to an imagined future , which , faster and faster has become a material present , leaving less and less than one foot on the ground , soaring into space , moving or static , enveloping or enveloped , carved up , pierced , martyred in four dimensions like modern art everywhere . 
Rome has no such violent centre of activity . 
As a capital city it offers what capital cities do : a temporary collection of Picassos , the Henry Moore show that is travelling Europe , an exhibition of French 18th and 19th century landscapes , luring one with its poster of Corot 's urn and view from the Pincio to abandon once and for all our fragmentary age and to dwell in that arch of pellucid golden light where a column is not a symbol of destruction , but of eternity . 
Then , in the small commercial galleries , a desultory collection , out of the tourist season , of Roman and other Italian artists fighting their battle against what is expected of them or giving themselves up to an illusory affair with some faded beauty-spot , and coming out of it rather worse than such ill-advised lovers elsewhere . 
What is instructive is to see the three aspects of modern art — realist , abstract , and that curious cabalistic art of symbolism and fantasy mixed that has no tidy name — in a new setting and a new light . 
Certain things become very clear . 
The realism of Guttuso and his followers , who have found their way out of the past by a different route from the inheritors of futurism , bears much more directly on the collective habits , needs and passions of the Italian people than the idea of realistic painting produced by artists in other countries ever could . 
In England , for instance , the dustpan , the baby or the workman portrayed have a tendency to get confused with The Solitary Reaper or The Idiot Boy : they are isolated for notice , a poetic conception . 
But to watch those black Sunday suits converging into a tight passionate black shadow on the warm cobbled square while the high vertical lines of the buildings slice down into them , to see a bar shaken by its frenzied customers or an old woman on the steps of a church , taking upon herself , in her overwhelming exhaustion , the motherhood of the whole working world , is to realise how Italy is possessed by those swarming people and to see what it is that an artist of Guttuso 's convictions must express . 
Then there is a collection of " abstract-concrete " work : the fashionable all black canvas : or a Fontana slit into slithers of darkness like a medieval castle . 
Discoveries The Other Side of the Curtain 
THE train pulled into the platform at Leningrad at 22.31 . 
The Autumn leaves on the Finnish landscape on the journey from Helsinki had been a memorable sight . 
Now , here in the dark of a Russian night , the cold nip of approaching winter smacked the face . 
On the platform , waiting for me , were three men . 
I immediately recognised the tough face with the friendly smile . 
It was Vladimir Vengherov , one of the Lenfilm directors , whose acquaintance I had first made as we splashed together in the Adriatic during the Venice festival a few months previously . 
With him was a slight , fair-haired man ( looking , I thought , typically North Country ) . 
He was introduced to me as Alexei Gorin , a scriptwriter for scientific films , the local representative of the Soviet Film-Makers ' Association — my hosts together with the editorial board of Cinema Arts magazine — and a man with a surprising knowledge of England as a result of a short visit during an international congress of technical and scientific film-makers in London a couple of years ago . 
The third was a slender , dark haired youngster in an American-cut pin stripe suit . 
He introduced himself as Vadim , Vadim Sazonov , languages student at the Moscow University , who was to be my interpreter during the next two weeks . 
We drove in a comfortable , American-style taxi to the Europe hotel and there , in an office-cum-bedroom ( nothing could have been more suitably arranged for my purpose ) we sat far into the early hours discussing what I wanted to see and who I wanted to meet in Leningrad . 
Morning Cinemas 
I said I wanted to see many Soviet films under typical cinema conditions . 
And I was a little shaken to be told I could start next morning ( or rather , that morning ) at nine , when the cinemas opened for the benefit of workers on night shift . 
So that morning , Vadim , Gorin and myself set out on foot to discover a typical Soviet cinema . 
I would have found it difficult to find any cinema . 
All of them looked from the outside like a Manchester Methodist church ; but on closer inspection one could see a small poster in a solo display frame announcing the programme details and the times of performance . 
And a few cinemas added to the display with one or two stills ; but this was an exception . 
The first cinema was typically Soviet ... but the programme was Great Expectations ( a back-handed compliment to British Cinema because during our trek we found three other theatres showing the same " great British picture " . 
I could n't help thinking it was not all that great . ) 
By the time we had found the cinema showing a new Soviet film , Man 's Blood is Thicker than Water , the programme had already begun ; and in a nearby cinema the programme would not start until eleven . 
There was one alternative . 
Sightseeing . 
We walked down the main shopping street ( not unlike a South London high street on a Monday morning ) , and plunged into a metro station which took my breath away with its chandeliered opulence ; like some grand palace in pre-revolution France it was the last thing one would expect to find in post-revolution Russia . 
The platform was clean enough for a picnic . 
Gorin said such luxury had a beneficial effect on the working man on his way to , and from , the factory . 
If a Billingsgate porter found this at Monument , he 'd probably get on his knees and pray ! 
The sun burst through the blue-grey clouds above the river and splashed on the golden spire of the Peter-Paul fortress , the most ancient symbol of this most ancient of Russian cities . 
For a moment it was a reminder of former glories of St. Petersburg . 
Then past a naval training school , using the very ship from which a gun was fired to signal the start of the Revolution , past the Committee headquarters seen in so many Eisenstein and other " classics " ( Potemkin , Strike , October ) and then into a taxi for the Institute of Arts . 
At the Institute I was received by the secretary , Nina Volman and by the head of the film branch , Nicholas Yemov . 
With them were a number of students and a distinguished critic , Dr. Dobin , who is shortly to publish a book on the poetry and prose of Cinema . 
Promote Study 
Mr. Yemov explained that the Institute has only been functioning for two years . 
Its aims are to promote the serious study of Cinema in and around the Leningrad area and it does not duplicate the work of the larger Institute and archives in Moscow . 
At present the Institute is completing a book dealing with the work of the younger school of Soviet directors . 
Such men as Kozintsev , who made the wonderful version of Don Quixote and who is now planning to film Hamlet in colour and wide screen at the Lenfilm studios early in 1961 . 
I was interested to learn what British films have most impressed the members of the Institute . 
They are familiar with Richard 3 , Oliver Twist , The Horse 's Mouth , Woman in a Dressing Gown , Geordie , Genevieve , Room at the Top ... and , of course , Great Expectations . 
We debated the advantages and disadvantages of filming famous classics and works originally intended for the theatre . 
The Russians , I found , have an obsession for this , even though they have found that when they film a novel it reduces rather than promotes the sale of the book , which , I explained , is opposite to our experiences in the West . 
And they seemed to accept my point that it is more important for the Cinema that artists should concentrate on original work than transpositions , no matter how well they are engineered . 
I was anxious to find out what the Russians themselves regard as the most significant trends in Soviet film-making of recent years . 
Dr. Dobin summarised their views like this : 
" We agree with you when you say that films like Ballad of a Soldier , Destiny of a Man and Don Quixote have been important new styles in Soviet film-making . 
We are living now through an interesting period in the history of our Cinema . 
The whole pattern of film-making is being changed . 
You see , the men who made the classics of Soviet Cinema are no longer living — Eisenstein , Pudovkin , Dovzhenko . 
Their tradition is carried on by directors like Kozintsev , Romm and Heifetz . 
" But it is the young men who are profoundly changing all our old ideas . 
The pattern began to emerge when Chukhrai made The Forty First , and it was consolidated in his more recent film , Ballad of a Soldier . 
Although he has made only two films , he almost shows himself more talented than the old gang . 
It is a very significant fact . 
" Sergei Bondarchuk , although he is not a young man is young among the ranks of directors , and his first film , Destiny of a Man , was recognised as an important contribution to Cinema in every country where it was shown . 
Another film of significance has been Serezha , made by Danelya and Talankin ( which won a major award at the Karlovy Vary festival ) . 
" These films usher a new trend . 
Our film producers are creating a new style that appeals to their audience without having to resort to the ingredients of Western " box-office " , such as strip-tease . 
They are searching for something good in the soul of Soviet man . 
" The new film-makers portray what they see without trying to improve people or embellish reality . 
This is important to realise . 
The main concern of these film-makers is to show the truth of life , even if it means showing the darker sides of life . 
Some time ago — in the 'forties and 'fifties — there was a period of Soviet film-making when the films were like posters , divorced from people and from reality . 
" Falls Among Thieves 
" Western audiences may find of particular interest a film by Heifetz , The Case of Roumantsyev . 
It is the story of an honest young man who , in all innocence falls among thieves . 
He is arrested by the Police and prosecuted for his part in crimes that he did not commit . 
All the circumstantial evidence is against him . 
The prosecutor is not concerned with him as an individual and is himself quite convinced of his guilt . 
But in the end a friend is able to prove the man 's innocence to the satisfaction of the court officials . 
" Many of our films now focus attention on the problems of individuals . 
Ballad of a Soldier was a simple story of a pure young boy and a pretty girl falling in love . 
It was something with which audiences liked to identify themselves . 
Another film about soldiers was called simply , Soldiers . 
It is the work of Ivanov and , instead of concentrating on the battle , the political consequences , it is a study of the every day life , the detail of how a soldier lives ; and the duty , the responsibility , forms the background . 
" So you see , our young directors are coming closer and closer to the realities of life . " 
The members of the Institute then took me to their small projection theatre to see a musical film made in Leningrad in 1941 by Alexander Ivanovski , Anton Ivanovich is Angry , which stars a distinguished Soviet actor ( who lives in the city ) , Pavel Kadochnikov . 
It proved to be a Hollywood-style story , but instead of pop music the conflict between an old professor who doted over his opera-singing daughter and a young impressario was based on a natural conflict between the highbrows and the lowbrows in classical music . 
Characterisation was ingenious enough , but I could n't help feeling the director was ill served by his scenarist . 
Back at the Europe hotel we dined on caviar and baked sturgeon ( and if you think the Russians wallow in luxury you 're wrong , it 's as common in Leningrad as fish and chips ) . 
And during our conversation I began to realise that Vadim had a rather lop-sided view of British history . 
I realised some of the snags inherent in communication with the East during an interval at the concert that evening by the Leningrad symphony ( Haydn , Barber and Shostakovitch performed as well as you would hear anywhere in the world , perhaps better ) . 
I asked Vadim if he regretted the fact that he was not allowed to travel to countries in the West when and as he wanted to do so : and he reminded me of Nina , the little Russian visitor to London who found herself at Bow Street . 
" No , " he said , " it is not that we are not allowed to visit the West , it is that we are protected from this kind of thing being done to us . " 
The next day , on time , an Intourist car left us at a building reminiscent of the Albert Hall . 
This was the Velika cinema . 
We were to see a children 's matinee of The Green Coach , a production of the Odessa studios , directed by Gennardy Gabay . 
There were hundreds of children , mostly boys in their grey military-style school hats , clambering to buy ice cream beneath a white statue of a large man with a dove in his left hand and a slogan behind : " The World Wants Peace . " 
As we waited for the film to begin a stout lady with a jovial face , who I understood to be the manageress , said the building was no longer to be a cinema but would shortly become a theatre . 
I asked if this was because television was causing fewer people to go to the cinema and she replied no , it was because in Leningrad they had already fulfilled their cinema attendance target so there was no need for the building any longer to function as a cinema . 
I wanted to ask for a fuller explanation of this cryptic statement , but we were suddenly plunged into darkness and the film began . 
Boy Sherlock 
It was an adventure yarn about the Revolution , with Red Russians fighting White Russians , and gangs of criminals ( also Russians ) in between . 
A small boy plays Sherlock Holmes . 
The gangs of horse-stealers and illicit vodka distillers are brought to justice and the Red Russians make life better for everyone . 
The Scores of " { La Fille Mal Garde2e " 2 — HEROLD 'S SCORE JOHN LANCHBERY and IVOR GUEST 
THE score for the 1828 revival of { La Fille mal Garde2e at the Paris Ope2ra was described on the playbills for the first performance ( see Fig. 1 ) as being " newly arranged by M. Herold " . 
Presumably , when the question arose of producing this long-popular ballet at the Ope2ra , the original music , which still accompanied performances of it at the Porte-Saint-Martin and other theatres , was considered too light . 
The chorus-master , Ferdinand Herold ( 1791-1833 ) , who had already composed the music for three ballets , was accordingly given the task of refurbishing the score . 
Since the ballet was no doubt too well-known for the original music to be discarded altogether , several of the best numbers were retained , but Herold wrote a considerable amount of new music and inserted several numbers borrowed from familiar sources . 
Borrowings of this kind were common in ballet composition at this time . 
The ballet composer regarded his task as part of his day 's work rather than as a serious artistic creation , and this practice greatly lightened his burden . 
It was also considered that the interpolation of a melody which the public would associate with the line of a song appropriate to the action it accompanied was an aid to understanding the situation . 
Our knowledge of Herold 's music for { La Fille mal Garde2e is based on the full score preserved in the Library of the Paris Ope2ra , which was used by John Lanchbery as the principal source in arranging the music played today for the Royal Ballet . 
This score is too clean to be the score used by the conductor , and it was probably the fair-copy prepared by one of the Ope2ra 's copyists from Herold 's original draft and perhaps used as the master for copying the orchestral parts . 
It bears the inscription : { La Fille mal Garde2e Ballet en 2 actes de Dauberval mis en scene par Mr Aumer , musique nouvellement arrange2e par Mr Herold / represente2 sur le the2a5tre de l'acade2mie Royale de musique le lundi 8 de2cembre 1828 . 
Why the score bears this date , which is that of the seventh performance , instead of the date of the first performance , November 17th , 1828 is a mystery . 
Did Herold only have part of his score completed by November 17th , the complete revised score not being ready until December 8th ? 
As is to be expected , the score is written for a typical orchestra of the period . 
The music is mostly scored for two flutes , the second usually playing piccolo , two oboes , two clarinets , two bassoons , two pairs of horns , and strings . 
For the number " { Pas de Mr Albert " in Act 1 ( No. 17 ) , however , the orchestra is augmented by harp , trumpets , trombones , drums and percussion ( triangle , bass drum and cymbals ) , while the Finales to Act 2 ( Nos. 36 and 36a ) and an occasional number here and there have parts written for trumpets , trombones and drums . 
Further , there are various places in the score where trombones and/or drums have been added in another hand in a stave at the bottom of the page . 
Judging from the orchestration , which is markedly inferior to that of Herold 's operas , his score of { La Fille mal Garde2e was hurriedly composed , and this perhaps lends support to the conjecture made earlier that it may not have been quite finished in time for the first performance . 
In it the strings play throughout , resting for only ten out of the thousands of bars in this hour and a half of music . 
Many of the numbers display great economy of effort by doubling some instruments with others , a common practice of that period . 
This method of scoring , of course , made it possible to orchestrate a number in a fraction of the time that would be needed in ballet-composing today , although it is still very much in use in the field of commercial arrangement . 
An example of this is to be found on page 381 of the full score ( see Fig. 2 ) . 
Reading from the top , the first two staves are the horns ; then follow two staves for the oboes , which double the violins ; the next two staves are the bassoons , which double the cellos ; then come the first and second violins , the violas which also double the cellos , the cellos , and finally the double basses which again double the cellos . 
Thus , in eleven separate staves , there are only five different voices . 
Herold made no attempt to produce a modernized version of the score in the way that Hertel was to do in 1864 . 
He retained a considerable amount of folky music in the Bordeaux score , to which he added numbers of his own composition with an essentially French melodic content , and several borrowings which one must allow are excellently suited for their purpose . 
In fact , from the point of view of orchestration , the borrowed numbers , in which the orchestration has been left unchanged , are among the most effective parts of the score . 
Herold fulfilled his task in a much more self-effacing and effective way than Hertel . 
Herold 's numbers are generally longer and more developed than the equivalent numbers of the Bordeaux score , but his score has less continuity than the original , in which one number occasionally runs into the next without pause . 
Herold gave the music greater characterization , wisely retaining note for note one or two of the more pointed numbers in the Bordeaux score : an outstanding example of this is the spinning number in Act 2 , retained by Herold , but discarded by Hertel in favour of a much less suitable number of his own composition . 
This greater characterization which Herold injected into the score was marked by a much more heightened dramatic content in the music . 
In Herold 's score there is a stronger predilection for 6/8 than in the Bordeaux score , where the preference is for fast 2/4 . 
As was the case with the Bordeaux version , there is a frustrating lack of " landmarks " in the Herold score . 
Our only aids in fitting the music to the scenario are the division of the score into the two acts and a few written indications : " { lever du rideau " in Act 1 , Scene 1 ; " { Pas des Moissonneurs " , " { Pas de Mr Albert " , " { Apre3s le divertissement " and " Orage " as titles to four numbers in Act 1 , Scene 2 ; and " Finale " as the only title indication in the whole of Act 2 . 
Again , as with the Bordeaux score , it is much easier to wed the music to the action in Act 2 than either scene of Act 1 , the second scene of which is particularly difficult because of two weaknesses inherent in the score as a whole : a lack of any kind of thematic continuity , and the absence of obvious mime scenes . 
It would have been difficult to write an overture which better set the scene than the number which Herold borrowed ( No. 1 ) . 
This was the overture from Giovanni Paolo Martini 's comic opera { Le Droit du Seigneur , in which it serves to describe a French countryside scene at dawn . 
This was the very atmosphere needed for the opening of { La Fille mal Garde2e , and Herold therefore inserted it down to the last note of scoring , with its bird calls imitated on the woodwind , and the slow legato melody played by the first violins against a monotonous Alberti type of accompaniment from the second violins . 
The curtain having risen during No. 1 , there follows ( No. 2 ) another borrowing for Lise 's entrance : the opening chorus from Rossini 's { Il Barbiere di Siviglia ( " { 6Piano , pianissimo " ) chosen no doubt to illustrate an entrance on tip-toe so that Lise 's mother will not be awakened . 
The orchestration has not been touched , and no attempt has been made to supply the chorus parts of the original , which are of no musical content any way . 
At one point , however , where sufficient music has been supplied for the purpose , there is an abrupt termination , followed by a three-bar link of the most primitive kind to give some kind of continuity . 
Nos. 3 and 4 have their equivalent in Bordeaux No. 3 . 
The former is a very long allegretto number in 6/8 , intended undoubtedly to accompany Colas 's entrance with the harvesters . 
So far the music has been growing progressively louder : No. 2 brought in two trumpets , and No. 4 — a short , loud , dramatic and fast-moving number , presumably for Simone 's entrance — introduces three trombones , and is scored throughout with every instrument playing except drums , and marked fortissimo . 
No. 5 , to which Colas discovers Lise 's ribbon , is identical with Bordeaux No. 4 , but transposed down a tone to make it fit . 
For No. 6 , which closely approximates Bordeaux No. 5 , Herold has composed a new tune which follows the original to the extent of having not only the same time signature but even the same note values . 
By present-day standards , this is rather feeble music for the scene which it probably accompanies , Simone telling Colas to be off . 
Herold also wrote a new number ( No. 7 ) for the entrance of the villagers , with the same time signature and speed as Bordeaux No. 6 . 
After a marking " { plus vite " , there is a sudden silent bar , followed by four soft chords and a loud chord played in a slow tempo , serving as a link to No. 8 , which is exactly the same as Bordeaux No. 7 with a few bars of tasteful coda added at the end . 
This latter number is scored for strings alone , trumpets and trombones having been silent since No. 4 . 
Not surprisingly , No. 9 , the " playing at horses " number , used most probably for the lovers ' meeting , is precisely the same as Bordeaux No. 8 , even to the extent of reproducing a bowing indication — a great rarity in the Herold score . 
At the end of this number there is a pencilled sign which is still used today by some continental conductors to indicate the imminent entrance of drums . 
Drums do indeed appear in the first bar of No. 10 , a jolly 6/8 tune which in its context must be a continuation of the love scene . 
It is of considerable length , and its lilt suggests a flirtation with coy and playful exchanges . 
Its counterpart in the Bordeaux score was cut considerably . 
At the end , however , there is no distant echo of the melody heralding the approach of the village girls , as in the original , but instead , the following number ( No. 11 ) , which follows straight on without a break , opens with a sudden sforzando chord . 
This is a surprisingly effective piece of orchestration : a chord of the diminished seventh with three trombones high up and close together and two oboes and two clarinets in their low reedy register , while all the strings play tremolo . 
This number , written for Colas 's flight , begins in a bustling manner and then eases off in a relaxation of the tension . 
No. 12 , a folky number in 6/8 written in simple four-part harmony , with flutes strengthening the tune , accompanies the entrance of the village girls who urge Lise to accompany them to the harvest . 
Simone then appears to prevent Lise 's departure to No. 13 , in which her anger is depicted by a striking piece of dramatic scoring for strings only , in which much play is made of unison , fast-moving phrases in the minor , syncopation , quick scales , crushed notes , and a strong dotted rhythm . 
The final number of the first scene , No. 14 , introduces Thomas and his half-witted son Alain , whom Simone plans to marry to her daughter . 
A loud , majestic , march-like theme is undoubtedly the accompaniment for the entrance of father and son . 
Then follows an effective passage of soft staccato minor chords on strings and clarinets only , which is probably the theme for the stumbling Alain . 
A return to the major , with a joyous , animated 6/8 theme , and with Alain 's theme repeated , ends the scene with the proposed marriage arranged and the departure of everyone to the harvest . 
The absence of a clear break in the score at this point is undoubtedly explained by the next number ( No. 15 ) being intended to accompany a { changement a3 vue to the harvest scene . 
Nor are there any linguistic barriers to this pastime ; the same bird is called perdix in French , and one writer stated that it was thus called because it regularly perdit — "loses " its brood . 
Even the great are not exempt ; Swift is said to have analysed apothecary as from " a pot he carries . " 
But who shall blame them overmuch when we discover that a verb such as atone , with its noun atonement — so obviously Latinate in appearance — is in fact a compound of at and one . 
Children are particularly and naturally prone to this kind of etymologising . 
Continually coming across strange words , they strive to make sense of them in terms of the vocabulary they already possess . 
There was the child who thought that Wilhelmina was so called because she was mean . 
A little boy , whose room overlooked a cemetery , was overheard imitating part of the service with his teddy-bear — " in the name of the Father , the Son , and in the hole 'e goes . " 
There was a little girl , wise perhaps beyond her years , who interpreted the wedded state as " wholly a matter o' money . " 
It is a sobering thought that , although different in degree , some of the etymologies which even our great dictionaries give may be popular etymologies ; for when information about early forms and meanings of words is scarce , we can not always be sure that our etymologies are valid . 
We still do not know the origin of the word curmudgeon . 
An early nineteenth century dictionary-maker 's surmise that it is from French { coeur me2chant , " wicked heart , " is rightly suspect . 
For the most part , this pastime has no permanent effect on the language , but occasionally , so strong is the desire to make familiar that which is strange , that a word is changed — either in whole or in part — in accordance with the fancied etymology , and the changed form is henceforth accepted . 
It is a change of this kind which is often specifically intended by the use of the term " folk etymology . " 
A good example is a plant , proverbial for its bitter taste , namely wormwood . 
Its Latin name is { artemesia absinthium , hence the name absinthe , borrowed from French , for a liqueur distilled from wine and wormwood . 
Few of us would immediately connect this Latin word with another , also taken by us from French , namely vermouth , the aperitif consisting of white wine flavoured with wormwood and other aromatic herbs . 
Both wormwood and vermouth are from the same root , a Germanic word . 
The French borrowed theirs , with but little adaptation , from the Old High German word wermuth , a close relative of which became Old English wermod . 
During the Middle Ages the latter was altered , the first part to worm and the second to wood . 
It matters little to the unlettered that neither worms nor wood appear to have anything to do with the plant . 
The main object , assimilation to that which is familiar , has been achieved . 
Popular etymology shows , in fact , the operation of a widespread and powerful linguistic process , analogy . 
We learn , recollect , and become adept at using language by analogy , that is by recalling likenesses of meaning , grammatical context , form or sound . 
We know that cool , coolness , and even cold , are related to each other . 
It is not surprising , therefore , that our ancestors , knowing that oecern ( modern acorn ) referred to the fruit of the ac " oaktree , " should assume a connection between the two and believe that -cern should be changed to -corn . 
In fact , the word oecern is related to oecer " a field " ( modern acre , which has , however , become specialised in meaning ) , and originally referred to the produce of the fields in general . 
It is not the observation of likenesses which is at fault in popular etymology , it is the fact that conclusions about the relationships of words , drawn from comparisons , happen to be erroneous . 
It is not , however , necessary for a whole word to be transformed in order to satisfy the popular etymologist . 
The amateurs , the unsophisticated , have been less exacting in this respect than learned dilettantes . 
It is often sufficient for the former that one part of a strange word should be given a comfortingly familiar form , e.g. -room in mushroom , from French mousseron , or -fish in crayfish , from French crevice ( like vermouth , a borrowing from Old High German , from crebig , related to our crab ) . 
It is not even necessary that the altered word should be obviously meaningful in English , provided that it fits a familiar pattern ; for example , admiral — by analogy with the many Latin loanwords in English beginning with ad — has been altered from Arabic amiral ( via French ) , which in turn is from amir , " prince , lord , " more familiar to us in the form Emir . 
Similarly an ending has been transformed in syllable , from French syllabe ( ultimately from Greek ) , by analogy with the many Latin loanwords ending in -able . 
At this point it may be asked what dictates that one word should be altered and another passed over ? 
It is not enough to say " unfamiliarity " and leave it at that ; familiarity and unfamiliarity are relative terms . 
Many of the constituent elements of our vocabulary are terms which we use every day . 
They are intimately bound up with ordinary existence ; we accept them automatically , without enquiry . 
We rarely ask ourselves why a house is so called — or a boy or a tree or a bird . 
As our education and experience grow we accept other words , most of which we fit into a linguistic pattern which we accept as belonging to our language . 
We go even further and come to regard the patterns which our own language has assumed as somehow normal , and consequently view words entering from a foreign language with grave suspicion . 
The importance of folk etymology in the development of the language stems largely from the influence it exercises on foreign words when they are first introduced . 
It is not surprising that a great many of these changes appear to have taken place between the fourteenth and seventeenth centuries , a period which saw the assimilation of the spate of French loanwords , the floodtide of Latin loanwords and the beginning of a flow of words from the more exotic languages of the world , either directly into English or via other European countries , which had trading and colonial interests in many parts of the world . 
English has no monopoly of folk or popular etymology , but the phenomenon appears to have been particularly widespread in our language . 
Our insularity may account for it in part , but there is another possible explanation . 
Our ancestors , like the Germans to-day , had a predilection for compound words ; although many of these disappeared in the course of time , the expectation that the elements of a polysyllabic word could and should be capable of resolution into meaningful elements may have survived . 
Men of learning have also made free with words , particularly those of Latin origin . 
Abominable was from Latin abominabilis , " deserving imprecation , " which was a compound of ab and omen and referred to the deprecation of an unfavourable omen . 
From the time of Wycliffe up to the seventeenth century , however , it was spelt abhominable , as if from { ab homine , " away from man , " i.e. " inhuman . " 
Modern scholarship has caused restitution to be made here , but not in the case of arbour , a word which goes back through Old French to Latin herbarium , " a green retreat . " 
In Middle English it was spelt herber , with the h probably already lost in pronunciation in French . 
By a regular sound change in Middle English , -er came to be pronounced -ar . 
The way was now open for an erroneous association of the word with Latin arbor , " a tree . " 
The spelling was first affected , but latterly the meaning also . 
It is now a shady retreat with climbing plants on a framework of wood — the two ideas have been amalgamated . 
The mass of the people , unlettered and knowing no language but their own , were also busy in their way , wrestling with the outlandish forms of foreign words , quite oblivious of the fact that the meanings of most foreign words could not possibly be made to yield satisfactory sense on the basis of English roots . 
But it was generally sufficient that a word be given English dress , even if this was not appropriate . 
An apposite example is the word farthingale , denoting the framework of hoops used for extending women 's skirts . 
Here is a word which has been subjected twice to the alterations of popular etymologists , both in French and in English . 
The kernel of the word is Latin viridis , " green , " which is to be found in Spanish verdugo , a young , pliable green twig ; a framework of such twigs was called a verdugado . 
Borrowed by the French , it became verdugale . 
It was suggested that it was a safeguard of virtue , as it was impossible to approach the lady except at arm 's length . 
The French form would become fartugale in Middle English as a result of the change of -er to -ar referred to above . 
But no-one knows what ingenious associations led to the first element being transformed to farthing . 
Many words are thus changed so as to convey a meaning which , however inappropriate , sounds familiarly upon the ear . 
Jerked beef , flesh dried in the sun , is a corruption of Peruvian charqui ; compound , meaning " enclosure , " is from Malayan kampung ; Charterhouse from French Chartreuse , a Carthusian monastery ; kichshaws from French { quelques choses ; battledore , a beetle used for beating washing , is probably from Spanish batidor , " a beater . " 
Ember days have nothing to do with the ashes of repentance ; the word is from Old English ymbren , a compound word formed from ymb , " about , around , " and ryne , " a recurring period . " 
In a fifteenth century homily folk etymology can already be seen at work on this word . 
Standard English is far from having a monopoly of this linguistic phenomenon , which is to be found also in the dialects . 
A Hampshire farmer had fowls of different breeds , including Dorkings ; he discriminated ingeniously between the " dark 'uns " and the " white 'uns . " 
The bird name fieldfare may go back to an Old English form feldfare , deduced from an early twelfth century form feldware ; but the first element may originally have been fealu , denoting the yellowish colour of its back , an element changed in early Middle English to felde . 
But in Cumberland , folk etymology certainly seems to have taken place in its dialect name , fell-faw , which is interpreted as " mountain gypsy . " 
More than irony is involved in the colloquial description of a place which many of us have , a glory-hole . 
The first element of the word is probably related to Scottish glaury , " muddy , untidy . " 
In Scotland and Northern England a three-legged stool was sometimes known as a creepie , a corruption of French tripied , " three feet . " 
This interchange between the sound groups [ tr ] and [ kr ] is not uncommon ; cf. English crane , Danish trane , and English huckleberry and hurtleberry . 
Hackberry is a corruption of hag-heg- berry , i.e. hedge berry , a Northern name for the bird-cherry , { prunus radus . 
An ingenious rationalisation of hegberry emanated from Cumberland children who explained , " we caw them hegberries because they heg ( i.e. set on edge ) our teeth . " 
There is the Lancashire corruption barley-men ( also birley-and burley- ) from byrlawmen , the petty officers of the manorial courts in medieval times ; a byrlaw , cognate with our bye-law , was made by a local court . 
Terms for marbles such as all-plaister , yallow-plaister , alablaster and { 2alley blaster are corruptions of alabaster . 
An interesting expression for a lean-faced person is chittyfaced , a corruption of Old French Chichevache ( literally " starving cow " ) , a medieval monster fabled to devour only patient wives ; being therefore in a chronic state of starvation , it was made a by-word for leanness . 
It is referred to in the closing stanzas of Chaucer 's Clerk 's Tale of patient Griselda . 
It appears later to have been confused with chit , chitty , " a young child , " a dialect form of kitty , and to have taken on the meaning " baby-faced . " 
Popular etymology , therefore , can result in change of meaning as well as in change of form , as was also the case with arbour . 
A delightful adaptation of a Latin word occurs in the Lancashire goose-on-ten-toes , a goose claimed by husbandmen on the 16th Sunday after Trinity , when the collect ended : " { ac bonis operibus jugiter praestet esse intentos . " 
In many areas , particularly in India and Burma , the basic problems to be solved before development can begin is that of land reform , involving the break-up of feudal ownership and the establishment of co-operatives . 
Only by these means can there be any hope of getting communities on the move . 
We can do no better than turn back to India again to illustrate these points . 
It is perhaps natural that I should gather together the threads of the discussion by talking of this massive nation of over 400 million people . 
Its size and geographical position set it at the centre of world politics . 
By the allegiance of its rulers to socialism it provides a test case for Conservative principles . 
Above all , it provides a perfect cross-section of all the stages of development and their accompanying problems upon which we have touched in this essay . 
Some areas and sectors are already far advanced and are overripe for private domestic and foreign investment . 
Other areas , mostly agricultural , remain in virtual stagnation , still awaiting the application of knowledge and resources , and the reforms and organisation which we have described . 
Across the whole economy there is a lack of roads , drainage , education and health services , and in the towns , even of telephones . 
The Indian planners have been criticised for the rigidity of their plans and the emphasis which has been given to Government investment in urban and already industrialised sectors . 
They have been blamed for neglect of the rural sector and for the resulting permanent food shortages and inflation of food prices which this imbalance between agriculture and industry creates . 
Whatever the truth in these accusations , as Conservatives we would like to see the Indian Government pursue three lines of development policy with far greater vigour than at present . 
First , encroachment into the private sector should be replaced by withdrawal and more overt encouragement to private domestic and overseas enterprise . 
Secondly , the application of finance and supervision to smallholders ' agriculture , preceded where necessary by land reforms , should be tackled with greater dynamism , and , thirdly , these two policies should be combined with greater diligence in carrying out the basic services and providing the facilities ( which will certainly require considerable Government expenditure ) which we regard as being rightly within the sphere of government . 
That we can hope to see such policies pursued in India is doubtful . 
But it is possible that we can have , over a period of time , some marginal influence on the pattern of progress . 
To withhold aid is not the way to exert this influence . 
On the contrary , more aid , better administered , offers the best hope of success . 
Aid is essentially a part of foreign policy . 
But it should be seen as a contracting and not a permanent element of foreign policy , for its aim should be to return predominantly to the sphere of private initiative both the processes of economic development which it is trying to assist and the processes of capital investment for which it stands as a partial substitute . 
This must be the general objective . 
To deny it makes the dispensation of all aid purposeless and wasteful . 
While development gathers momentum we shall have to condone a variety of deviations from the principles which we support and would see established . 
But if , amidst the many changes and expedients , we can both provide aid and bring to bear some influence in line with our general aim , then we stand a good chance of seeing thriving economies growing up in the underdeveloped world , based on free enterprise and a fine sense of friendship and unity with the already industrialised countries . 
If not , then we run the risk of divorcing the poor half of the world from the rich and of creating opportunities for all the subversion , disruption and tyranny which that state of affairs can bring . 
JAMES LEMKIN Commonwealth approaches 9 Conservatism in a post-imperial age 
In the second half of the twentieth century , amidst revolution and turmoil , the British Commonwealth survives . 
Its continued existence is of itself proof positive to Conservatives that the institution works . 
But is there too much complacency about this ? 
Is interracial partnership , which is the hub of Commonwealth development , possible today ? 
The evidence of Africa in 1960 is that numbers matter more than the quality of things . 
But the needs of Africa in 1970 show that European , Asian and African must cooperate to sustain an expanding economy , based on a representative system of government . 
That the needs of 1970 are desirable political ends will be denied by few British politicians . 
The hub of the argument — and this affects the Commonwealth , and not merely British Africa — is that Conservative principle will result in methods being applied that would differ substantially from those of the Liberals who would maximise freedom at the expense of order , and greatly from those of the Labour Party which would prefer rapid , perhaps revolutionary , social change to organic growth . 
Conservatives , however , do not in their approach to the Commonwealth , start with a clean plate . 
Their record is very much of the species of the curate 's egg . 
Some economic neglect , some administrative tyranny has been shameful . 
But in other places , the broad progress under a Conservative government has been startling , not merely to indigenous Commonwealth peoples fed on the idea of Tory bogeymen , but to Conservatives who found a good deal of practical sense planted amongst those who have cooperated with them in Asia and Africa . 
Conservatives today are cast in a liberalising mantle , however much some of them may wish the garment to be thrown off . 
In their approach to the Commonwealth , Conservatives bring three political principles to bear . 
First they see the Commonwealth as a whole . 
This needs a good deal of Tory self-reconciliation as the reciprocity of material interests of Commonwealth countries declines . 
Secondly , they accept that effective power which has passed can not be successfully recalled . 
This leads Tories sometimes to credit non- , or not wholly , self-governing European communities with greater authority than in fact such groups have . 
Thirdly , Conservatives accept the value of an objective law free from administrative meddling — the rule of Law . 
Now given these three working Conservative approaches a keen supporter of the Government may well meet himself coming the other way . 
He believes in the Statute of Westminster as a symbol of equal power . 
But he also knows that racial discrimination will destroy the unity of the Commonwealth . 
The translation of one nation abroad , as has been spoken of by Mr Iain Macleod , is meaningless unless a stand is made on racial discrimination ( in whichever direction it operates ) . 
The Conservative speaks up for impartial law but what of Hola ? 
And because he starts from this standpoint few speeches made in the House of Commons during the previous Secretaryship of the Colonies were in fact more effective than Mr Enoch Powell on Hola to an unvigilant House of Commons at half past one in the morning . 
To stand for the rule of law enables the colonial regime in its closing days to help purge itself of its paternalist past . 
But when a newly independent regime rejects the common law and substitutes rule by executive , do some Conservatives wonder whether these political principles are the playthings of academics rather than the medicine of good government ? 
Conservatives in government are of course being carried forward by the e2lan of the nationalism of others and this overshadows their concern for order which at best means a balanced advance , putting emphasis on economic as well as political development . 
But to define balance is to defy politics . 
Sometimes bread is more important than votes , sometimes both are necessary . 
In some territories votes can be given , but bread can not be provided . 
The Conservative properly brings an undogmatic approach to these problems . 
In being pragmatic about his priorities he will rightly emphasise on the one hand , for example , the political advance of Somalia , while arguing on the other that a more complex set of constitutional checks and balances is required in Northern Rhodesia . 
The jibe of Mr Mboya in attacking the Lancaster House Conference that what Somalia required were settlers was double-edged . 
Settlers might have retarded Somalia 's political progress , but they would have given it a much better standard of living . 
No Conservative in looking at the Commonwealth will underestimate Britain 's interests in preserving the Commonwealth as an institution . 
To say this is not to suggest that Commonwealth relations are merely an extension of foreign policy . 
Britain must analyse her interests hard before she can determine in what way her contribution to the Commonwealth may be effective and acceptable . 
The Commonwealth today is largely a new institution . 
Sharpeville , the passing of responsibility to the new coloured territories , the tremendous drive to give economic aid to under-developed countries , the willingness of Great Britain to prefer Commonwealth under-developed countries to foreign under-developed countries as a priority for aid , and the need of new Commonwealth countries for administrative and technical assistance — all these have shifted the balance of subjects for discussion amongst Commonwealth Prime Ministers from defence of the free world and from inter-Commonwealth trade — as were the principal subjects before the Second World War — to this new gamut of subjects bound up as they are with a new psychological relationship between Britain and the new members of the Commonwealth . 
Now Britain 's interests in the Commonwealth are four-fold . 
First , in a world of large units , Britain is striving to maintain an existing large institution , being enlarged as each year goes by , without committing it strategically to Russia or America . 
Britain has a double role to play in this respect . 
Some of the members of the Commonwealth — Canada , Great Britain , Australia and New Zealand — are bound up in defence pacts with the United States , which are devised as a protection against the Sino-Soviet block . 
Britain nevertheless can maintain , through the Commonwealth , peculiarly friendly relations with countries that would not wish to be aligned in such a struggle . 
Britain 's second interest is to harness the power , both the political power and the administrative skill , that lies in the Commonwealth to the task of healing divisions in parts of the world — first , of course , putting the house of the Commonwealth in order , and secondly in assisting to maintain peace in countries adjacent to Commonwealth countries . 
Thirdly , Britain 's interest , although it may in truth be said now to be a declining interest relative to Europe , is to expand the trade of the sterling Commonwealth . 
It is a declining interest because it must be recognised that the purchasing power of the under-developed countries in the Commonwealth will rise slowly compared with that of Europe . 
These areas , which are areas of primary producing , will not show the most dramatic changes in consumption during the next decade or so . 
For the dramatic expansion of its trade , Britain will do better out of trade of manufactured made-up goods with Europe and with some of the big countries of South East Asia before it will see any great improvement in its trade with the Commonwealth sterling area . 
But Britain 's last interest is to assist the countries of the Commonwealth to modernise rapidly by speeding technical progress through an acceptable educational system . 
These are not selfish aims , although they will rebound to the benefit of the people of Britain in two ways . 
First , we shall have friends in the world , at a time when negotiations of international problems are resolved by larger and larger groups of nations . 
Friends are necessary for the safe conduct of our affairs abroad . 
Secondly , through the medium of the English language , through the influence of our teachers and administrators , Britain 's word can still be of value in some parts of the world . 
It would be arrogant to think only of Britain 's role in the Commonwealth . 
For some time the idea of the mother country has been dwindling as the coloured races came to power in the new territories , and the idea of London as being the centre of activities has shifted from the American continent to Asia , and now , for the time being , to Africa . 
He has undoubtedly helped to fortify its already substantial reputation for fairness and efficiency . 
The position can , however , best be assessed by my readers for themselves through my giving them some instances of the Danish Ombudsman 's activities in the sphere of his individual grievance work . 
In its summer issue of 1959 the journal " Public Law " published an article by Miss I. M. Pedersen , a Danish civil servant , in which a detailed analysis of this aspect of the Ombudsman 's work is attempted . 
The picture which this article gives is so clear and convincing that I am inserting it as an Appendix . 
I shall confine myself here to describing one or two outstanding cases . 
One of these was a complaint addressed to the Ombudsman by a bookseller , who held that he had been penalized by publicity given by the police to a charge brought against him for defrauding his creditors . 
On investigation , it proved that his wife from whom he was separated had been summoned to give evidence against him and that she had been sent copies of the summons , which revealed the nature of the alleged offence , to relations who thereupon stopped giving him financial assistance . 
The Ombudsman recommended that in future summonses to witnesses should not show the nature of the offence about to be tried and this recommendation has been embodied in law . 
In the course of another inquiry the Ombudsman revealed that the Danish Ministry of Agriculture had been acting { 6ultra vires in a certain matter for some twenty years . 
His activities have likewise embraced such varying subjects as the right of certified mental patients to have their consent asked before a leucotomy is performed on them and a complaint against the Copenhagen police for alleged aggressive action over a car licensing offence . 
Equally , various other matters , such as the calculation of damages in cases of disablement , have been found to be beyond his practical competence . 
There is no doubt that much of the success of the institution of Ombudsman has derived from the skill and high reputation of Professor Hurwitz , Denmark 's first Ombudsman . 
In a country where academic qualifications are highly valued , his distinction as a professor of criminal science has stood him in good stead . 
In Britain , where high academic appointments are not normally regarded as proof of administrative or judicial wisdom , and where even the existence of criminal science is a matter of dispute , Professor Hurwitz' success might have been less outstanding . 
Here we should look to a judge or a retired and senior Treasury official , or to Parliament , to provide such services if they are required . 
What matters is that Denmark appears to have found a way of satisfying what is { 6prima facie a legitimate public demand for protection against administrative abuse without either paralysing administration or diminishing the dignity and independence of the judicature . 
This , to say the least , is a constitutional example worthy of scrutiny in the context of other political and social circumstances which , however , include the tendency towards ever-increasing administration noted by the advocates of the Ombudsman in post-war Denmark . 
Already , however , words have been used in this exposition which demand much closer analysis . 
The respective spheres of justice and administration , the precise difference between judicial and executive acts , the relationship of the legislature to these other two branches of government , and in particular the implications of the doctrine of Parliamentary sovereignty cherished in Britain , are all matters which must be examined more thoroughly before the relevance of the Danish institution of the Ombudsman for this country 's affairs can begin to be judged . 
CHAPTER TWO LEGALITY OR JUSTICE 
IT IS OFTEN said that in England at the beginning of the seventeenth century there were three competitors to sovereignty , King , Parliament and the judges . 
After a while , the judges withdrew from the contest and King and Parliament were left to fight it out between themselves . 
The withdrawal of the judges was a crucial event , for it imparted to the British system of government what has ever since remained , at any rate in form , its dominant characteristic , the institution of Parliamentary sovereignty . 
The doctrine that Parliament is legally entitled to do whatever it chooses , that it is the final authority before which all others must bow , now has general acceptance here . 
It is not so elsewhere . 
Other countries , in particular the United States of America , have sought to guarantee liberty by laying down a fundamental law and entrusting its guardianship to a Supreme Court . 
They have sought still further to guarantee this system of law by a strict separation and balance of powers between the executive and the legislature . 
In Britain , on the other hand , it has been assumed that the welfare of society demands the unquestioning and habitual acceptance of the supremacy of Parliament , a Parliament which can not limit its own competence and can not bind its successors . 
No doubt it was in the seventeenth century that the decisive steps in this direction were taken , but it would be a mistake to read into the constitutional debates of those days the modern conception of Parliamentary sovereignty which grew out of them . 
The truth is that all three participants in the constitutional conflicts of Stuart times in some degree accepted the notion of fundamental law and were largely ignorant of the notion of sovereignty as it was later formulated . 
King , judges and Parliament , in debating such matters as who had the right to impose taxes , all appealed to an ill-defined system of customs and principles which they assumed to constitute the immemorial law of the land . 
The notion that Government existed to safeguard and interpret this law was common to all of them . 
There was indeed no clear distinction between legislation and adjudication . 
Officially , Parliament , though it is normally regarded as the legislator today , is still designated as a " High Court " . 
Its procedure still bears many of the marks of its origin as a place where private grievances are aired and remedied . 
The very word " enact " strictly means "interpret " , and the notion of law making as a creative process is something very novel indeed . 
Down to the nineteenth century , the idea of the House of Commons as an institution existing mainly for the defence and adjustment of private rights was dominant . 
The great part of the business of the eighteenth-century House of Commons concerned private and indeed intimate affairs . 
If a man wanted to enclose a piece of common land he could do so only by virtue of a private Act of Parliament ; if a man wanted a divorce he could get it only by means of such an Act . 
The procedure for Private Bills still had an important place in the business of Parliament down to the beginning of this century . 
Much of what is now done by administrative act used to be accomplished in this way . 
For instance , compulsory acquisition of land for such purposes as the building of railways in the last century was brought about by private Acts of Parliament . 
A Bill would be prepared by a Member and , when it came up for Parliamentary consideration , interested parties would send their lawyers to the Bar of the House to plead their cause . 
No branch of the Bar was more profitable or a quicker highroad to success until quite recent times than this Parliamentary work . 
The most characteristic defence of the complicated and irrational franchise on which the Commons was elected before 1832 was that , for all its irregularities , it produced an assembly well fitted to discharge the essential business of Parliament as it was then conceived , the guaranteeing of private rights . 
It was an assembly , the argument ran , where a man might plead his grievance in the knowledge that it would be listened to by representatives of every considerable interest in the land , and in the hope that the conclusion which would emerge would represent something like the national view of commonsense in the matter . 
From 1832 onwards , however , this character has been radically changed . 
The procedure for Private Bills is virtually extinct , though there are some instances of its use , as in the recent case of the Esso Petroleum Bill , when a private company sought powers of compulsory purchase . 
It may now be safely said , with certain qualifications regarding Question Time and Adjournment Debates , that the primary business of the Commons has ceased to be the rectification of private grievances and has become the enactment of public legislation . 
Large and highly disciplined Parties emerged with organised followings in the country , so that it is only on a minority of issues that the House of Commons can formulate an independent view . 
Indeed , the best contemporary exponents of the constitution , like Sir Ivor Jennings , have no hesitation in holding that the real business of Parliament is to sustain government in office . 
Public interest has largely shifted away from Westminster to the Party conferences and the private conclaves of Parliamentary Parties , each of which is supported by a highly developed bureaucracy . 
It is at these places , after all , that things really happen , that general plans of future legislation are formulated , subsequently to be embodied in election programmes . 
A victorious Party at an election tends to assume , often with little justification , that it has been authorised to carry out in detail the measures listed in its programme , measures conceived by Party bureaucrats , born at Party conferences and designed less to reflect the will of Members of Parliament or even that of the country at large than to appease the Party zealots . 
These changes in the functioning of Parliament have of course been accompanied by similar changes in constitutional theory . 
The constitution is no longer conceived as a system of private rights and legislation is now regarded as a dynamic , not an interpretative , process . 
The legislator 's task is conceived as being that of formulating general laws for the good of society rather than that of adjusting private interests . 
Inevitably , of course , highly organised interests within society have a great and , some would say , a growing influence on law , but , even in the case of the trade unions with their substantial representation in the Commons , it is an influence which is commonly exercised outside Parliament . 
The delicate balances between different religious denominations embodied in the Butler Education Act , for instance , were the result of prolonged diplomacy exercised by the Minister before the Bill was prepared . 
Almost all Acts of Parliament today are preceded by negotiations of this kind , but the theory of the legislative process takes no account of these pressures . 
The doctrine is that a Parliament representing the general will formulates general rules for society at large . 
The generality of the rules is indeed inevitable as a result of the complexity of the matters with which contemporary legislation deals and the numbers of those affected by it , but it is also increasingly assumed to be a necessary consequence of the rule of law . 
If the legislator addresses himself with particularity to the interests of this or that man or group his perception of the social good , it is believed , will perforce be corrupted . 
Obviously , however , nothing could be further removed from the tradition of Parliamentary government which had been handed down to our early Victorian ancestors than the principle of the necessary generality of the process of lawmaking . 
Now , in whatever way government may be theoretically conceived , it is in practice a matter of the adjustment of a multiplicity of private interests . 
If the function of an Act of Parliament is to establish general principles and rules , the details must be filled in by someone , and it is to the civil service that the task of filling in these gaps has fallen in modern times . 
Over the last half-century Parliament has perforce delegated to Ministers and to subordinate organs of the executive the task of devising the measures needed to achieve the objects of its legislation , and the measures thus devised , although they have lacked the direct consent of Parliament , have been endowed with all the force of statutes . 
Some of these decrees have themselves been very general in character , and the machinery for reviewing them in Parliament has often been highly inadequate . 
The market for this type of piece , bubbling with Mediterranean { 6joie de vivre , and redolent of bougainvillaea and pizza , remains pretty constant . 
In many countries , even the daily papers devote columns to this kind of thing , and still come back for more . 
The Germans in particular will take an indefinite wordage about the land where the lemon blooms . 
German correspondents can survey their public on St. Peter 's Square every Easter . 
They stand in pouring rain amid the puddles , dressed in thin cambric blouses and astonishingly short shorts . 
Between their chattering teeth they emit little cries of Wunderscho " n ! and Fantastisch ! as they empty the water out of their camera shutters . 
The journalistic dog-days from May to September are a cruel problem for the professionisti , who are expected to offer their employers something more substantial than the latest old-world customs thought up by the Italian National Tourist Board . 
Not for them the fragrant piece about wine running from fountains at some village festa . 
But certain hardy perennials have been evolved to meet this recurring crisis , though it is regarded as bad form to use most of them before July . 
Safest , perhaps , is the one that comes in from Pisa about 30th June each year : LEANING TOWER TOTTERING ! 
JAPANESE EXPERT INJECTS PLASTIC INTO FOUNDATIONS . 
This story , in its numerous variants , is usually good for at least ten lines on an inside page . 
It can be followed with another ten lines the following day , about the de2menti issued by the Mayor of Pisa . 
A little later , Venice comes in with a similarly useful item : PALACES SINK INTO GRAND CANAL : BRIDGE OF SIGHS SUBSIDING . 
Even if it should be decided to let this standby lie fallow for a season , there is always a handy substitute about a strike of gondoliers . 
Bits about gondoliers are always printed . 
There has been some jealousy about these stories in recent years , and Florence has retorted strongly with the White Ant Peril . 
This has the advantage that it can be applied to almost any well-known building : TERMITES UNDERMINE PITTI PALACE is perhaps the favourite version . 
Floods in the Po Valley and eruptions of Etna and Vesuvius are usually well received , but snowfalls in the Alps are the safest weather-stories any date after 15th May . 
They can be telephoned or cabled with special confidence if they involve blocking of well-known passes , particularly the St. Bernard . 
In the latter case , mention should also be made of the Hospice and its dogs . 
It is customary to state that all the latter are about to be destroyed , because ( a ) they have gone raving mad and attacked travellers in distress , or ( b ) are so enfeebled by inbreeding that they can hardly stand up . 
Should snow occur anywhere within a hundred miles of Rome , it can be reported that packs of famished wolves have been driven down from the Abruzzi and have decimated flocks of sheep within sight of the Colosseum . 
But this item is rarely printed much before Christmas . 
However , an inspired variant of the Bitter Weather story recently almost reached the heights of the Love-mad Major . 
It ran in several papers simultaneously . 
A postman named Giancarlo Peppino Dante Tagliabue had been delivering letters for thirty years in a rural district near Aquila , it seemed , and was proud of never having missed a day . 
Heavy snowfalls had covered the rugged district with a deep , thick mantle , interspersed with occasional drifts . 
Giancarlo strapped on his skis nevertheless , and set off on his round . 
At seven-thirty in the morning he was seen by a shepherd , gamely negotiating a particularly tricky section of the mountain road to San Doloroso . 
At about ten o'clock , linesmen working on a power cable four kilometres from Monte Callifugo thought they heard howls and a deep-throated baying . 
At four , when it was already growing dark , a patrol of carabinieri found Tagliabue 's official cap halfway down a snow-covered hillside . 
On the road above , half-buried in drifts , were scattered twenty or thirty letters , five copies of the { Corriere dell' Aquila and an official receipt-book for registered mail . 
Of Giancarlo nothing was left .... 
Several papers ran banner headlines : DEVOTED POSTMAN EATEN BY WOLVES . 
A left-wing organ recalled that only the previous year Tagliabue had received a scroll from the Postal Workers ' Union . 
Two agencies circulated smudgy photographs of his unattractive wife and seven children . 
The { Voce di Trastevere opened a nation-wide subscription fund . 
It was not until several weeks later that Tagliabue was detained by the Foggia police for simulating an offence . 
He had been sweating up that snow-covered hillside , he explained , reflecting that he would not be pensioned for another fifteen years . 
He thought of his nagging wife and appalling brats , and it was just too much for him . 
He threw down his letters and his hat into the snow and took the first train to Foggia . 
He had been living there ever since with a waitress from a local trattoria . 
The only wolf he had ever seen , he said , was in a travelling zoo . 
However , I should not like to convey the impression that no authentic news is transmitted from Italy . 
Many Rome reports are based on the most solid facts — as witness the affair of the twenty-six Yemeni concubines . 
The Alban Hills south-east of Rome have been celebrated since pre-classical days for the beauty of their countryside , and the picturesque town of Frascati has been successively the headquarters of Etruscan kings , Saracen pirates , Renaissance princes and German field-marshals . 
But it is rare for buildings there to fly large red flags emblazoned with scimitars and five-pointed stars . 
When a rash of these exotic banners broke out in Frascati one recent June , residents at first suspected another foreign occupation . 
They were quickly reassured ; the flags were in honour of sixty-five year-old Imam Ahmed , King of the Yemen and self-proclaimed Suzerain of Aden , who had arrived to undergo treatment at a local clinic . 
The Royal Yemeni Embassy had originally rented merely an entire hotel for the monarch and his suite , but at the last moment it was learnt that the Imam himself would have to remain in the clinic for medical attention . 
The second floor of the hospital was therefore cleared of other patients , and additional flags were hung from the windows . 
The arrival of the royal caravan from Ciampino Airport created a certain stir . 
Some twenty Cadillacs disgorging nearly a hundred persons gave the impression that a successful fancy-dress party must be in progress . 
After the Imam himself had been helped to his apartments , a succession of wizened brown tribesmen , about five feet tall and clad in bizarre mauve and orange suitings , emerged from the vehicles . 
Lastly thirty-seven muffled figures , swathed in veils and wrappings and attended by men with scimitars and muskets , scuttled from the hindmost cars and vanished into the hotel . 
The two principal members of the suite were brothers of the Imam . 
Two young sons of the Ruler and numerous nephews made up the male section of the family party . 
The female side was more extensive . 
It was headed by three of the Imam 's wives , twenty-six representative concubines , and eight women slaves . 
In addition , there were the Imam 's aides-de-camp , senior officers of his personal escort , an adequate bodyguard armed with scimitars , daggers and an assortment of firearms , a number of eunuchs and male slaves , and four European doctors who practised at the Yemeni court . 
Three of these were described as Italians , and the fourth as Franco-Rumanian . 
There was marked reluctance on the part of the ruler 's attendants to establish contact with the outside world , possibly because they were anxious to retain the use of their extremities . 
Apart from syphilis , the most noteworthy form of indisposition in the Yemen is lack of hands or feet , of which it is customary to deprive those who fall under official displeasure . 
The complaints from which the Imam himself was suffering were difficult to establish , despite a guarded statement that he was a martyr to arthritis . 
Apart from his own physicians and the staff of the clinic , the Ruler was visited by a continual stream of eminent Rome specialists , including Professor Gozzano , Dean of the Faculty of Neurology and Psychiatry , and Professor Bietti , a distinguished eye consultant . 
The Imam 's section of the clinic was heavily curtained , and those who caught a glimpse of the corridor beyond could report only the presence of two sentries armed to the teeth and carrying drawn swords , a number of parcels wrapped in newspaper , and a heavy odour of mutton fat . 
On the night of his arrival , the Imam had slept on the floor of his room on a pile of fifty pillows . 
At the clinic , a procession of porters removed all beds from the royal apartments , and mattresses were distributed on the floors . 
The wives , concubines and slaves quickly introduced a shift system to enable them to satisfy the Imam 's every want . 
Some of them , possibly the ruler 's favourites , seemed to put in a good deal of overtime . 
At the hotel , the management was wringing its hands ; its catering system had been gravely disorganized , and the rows of white-jacketed waiters were forbidden to approach either the harem ladies or the eight female slaves . 
The three wives and five senior concubines took their meals in their rooms , but the other twenty-one , heavily disguised with hoods and yashmaks , ate in a corner of the restaurant , which had also been hung with curtains for the purpose . 
The barefoot slave-girls shuffled back and forth with the dishes . 
By this time , the Italian Press was sitting up and taking notice . 
Relatively little interest attached to the health of the Imam , but photographers from the illustrated weeklies were wild about the concubines . 
Every tree in Frascati seemed to contain an active little man from Catania or Palermo , armed with an eighteen-inch telescopic lens . 
Meanwhile , there was near-mutiny in the respective kitchens of the hotel and the clinic , where local experts had been hovering lovingly over { Fettucine Tuscolo , Saltimbocca alla Romana , and { Cassata alla Siciliana . 
True , these delicacies were duly consumed by the distinguished guests , or at any rate they were not returned to the kitchens . 
But there was a distinct suggestion that the ruler 's court was being underfed . 
The little men in mauve and orange suits , tailored no doubt in the emporia of Steamer Point , flitted in and out with newspaper-packets of strange vegetables , larger parcels stained with blood and apparently containing lumps of goat , and earthenware cooking-pots . 
Other ingredients were carried through the austere hall of the clinic in large baskets , and at the end of a corridor two Negro slaves were found constructing a spit over a bonfire of dry twigs . 
It was , I believe , at about this stage that some of the photographers fell foul of the bodyguard , while insinuating themselves into favourable positions for a series of exclusive shots of harem life . 
The photographers apparently came off worst in the encounters , and retired complaining of blows with the flats of swords and damage to their cameras . 
They left at once for police headquarters , to bring charges of assault . 
Meanwhile , odd rumours were coming in from the Imam 's capital at Taiz . 
No sooner had the ailing monarch departed for Italy , it was learnt , than would-be modernizers had begun to loosen the bonds of theocratic absolutism . 
The name of Crown Prince Mohammed al-Badr was bandied about , though it was far from clear whether he was an active modernizer or not . 
The word " reform " in the Yemen is more or less equated with " revolution " . 
Messengers were moving unobtrusively over the jet-black mountain ranges , bearing confidential tidings from sheikhdom to sheikhdom . 
According to exultant enemies of the ruler , he was unlikely ever to set foot in his kingdom again . 
They had , however , reckoned insufficiently with the therapeutic qualities of a stay in Frascati . 
One day , after a short but bracing trip to the seaside west of Rome , the ruler pronounced himself fighting fit . 
Leaving behind trusted agents to contest the naturally considerable bills and fight any possible lawsuits , the Imam drove to Rome airport . 
Embarking his wives , slaves , viziers , eunuchs , aides-de-camp and concubines in a couple of airliners , he descended like a thunderbolt on Arabia Felix . 
He might receive another lecture at midnight , a third one at 2 a.m. and even a fourth later . 
If , in class , a man objected to some statement he considered serious enough to justify this action , the entire class was made to stand until he abandoned his objection . 
Next day he had to apologize both to the class and to the instructor , and for four or five days afterwards to repeat his self-criticism . 
The class , ordered to criticize him , obeyed : then he had to criticize his classmates . 
This was one of the principal methods of deliberately causing chaos in a group 's relations . 
Dr Edgar H. Schein 's article " The Chinese Indoctrination Process for Prisoners of War " gives a generalized picture of what happened to the average soldier from capture to repatriation . 
Cruelty deliberately imposed on civilians was on the whole far less severe in the case of soldiers . 
In camp , prisoners were segregated by race , nationality and rank . 
No formal organization was permitted : some squad-leaders were appointed without consideration of rank , a method of " getting at " the individual . 
Young or inept prisoners were put in charge of the squads , to remind everyone that former bases of organization had been destroyed . 
All friendships , emotional bonds and group activities were persistently undermined : all forms of religious expression prohibited . 
Chaplains or others who tried to organize or conduct religious services were ruthlessly persecuted . 
There is no evidence that the Chinese used drugs or hypnotic methods , or offered sexual objects to elicit information , confessions or collaboration . 
Some cases of severe physical torture were reported , but their incidence is difficult to estimate . 
Schein 's conclusion is judicious : 
" those who are attempting to understand " brainwashing " must look at the facts objectively , and not be carried away by hysteria when another country with a different ideology and with different ultimate ends succeeds in eliciting from a small group of Americans behaviour that is not consonant with the democratic ideology . " 
In November 1956 , the American Group for the Advancement of Psychiatry met " to clarify the differences between Orwell 's fantastic account and the real processes actually used in authentic cases " . 
Dr Lifton said : " Brain-washing for our purpose no longer means anything specific , particularly in view of the manner in which it has been used in this country . " 
Among all the people he interviewed in Korea and Hong Kong no one who had been through the experience ever used the term , unless he had first heard it from a Western source . 
But the process of szuhsiang-kai-tsao , translated as " ideological remoulding " , " ideological reform " or " thought reform " , is very much a reality . 
There were three stages of " thought reform " : 
( 1 ) The " Great Togetherness " . 
The individual soldier was helped to identify himself with a group . 
To his astonishment the newcomer was often welcomed warmly , with proffered handshakes and cigarettes . 
The aim was to give the impression of a climate of { 6esprit de corps and optimism . 
To " mobilize " his thought , lectures , followed by discussions , were given . 
( Since the lectures lasted from two to six hours , a non-Chinese university teacher , accustomed to a fifty minutes ' limit , may wonder how much the average listener absorbed . 
Sheer fatigue might increase suggestibility . ) 
There was , in the Chinese manner , much repetition . 
Only about 5 per cent of the American army captives had received any college education , one aim of which is the formation and examination of concepts . 
At this stage , the prisoner was led to suppose that coercive manipulations of his thinking were morally uplifting and mentally harmonizing experiences . 
( 2 ) The Closing-in of the Milieu ( particularly the mental milieu ) . 
In ( 1 ) the prisoner 's intellectual processes have been worked upon ; now comes the turn of the emotions . 
The object of study is now the learner , not the Communist doctrine . 
He is made increasingly aware that his chief activities must be criticism — of others and of himself — and " confessions " : 
" Not only his ideas , but his underlying motivations , are carefully scrutinized . 
Failure to achieve the " correct " " materialistic " viewpoint , " proletarian standpoint " and " dialectical methodology " is pointed out , and the causes for this deficiency carefully analysed . " 
In time , students are infected by the compulsion to confess , " vie to outdo each other in the frankness , completeness and luridness of their individual confessions " . 
An advisory cadre helps the emotionally-disturbed student , by talking over his " thought problems " . 
The diagnosis of bodily troubles is apt to be " reform-oriented " and " psychosomatically sophisticated " ; " You will feel better when you have solved your problems and completed your reform . " 
And most students would need relief from inner tension and conflict . 
( 3 ) " Submission and Rebirth " . 
Group discussion produces a thought-summary or final confession . 
It is to be a life-history , including a detailed analysis of the personal effects of thought reform , and of the confessor 's class origin . 
Nearly always the father is denounced , both as a symbol of the exploiting classes and as an individual . 
With the fair-mindedness of a good psychiatrist , Lifton comments that in our own milieu-manipulations we should do well to retain a certain degree of humility and to keep in mind the dangers of imposing our own values and prejudices too forcibly . 
In Britain and America , assertions are still made that the psychiatrist 's aim is the patient 's social adjustment ; even sometimes that non-adjusters can be shown up , by tests , to be neurotic , or worse . 
A report by the Rockefeller Brothers ' Fund ( News Chronicle , June 25 , 1958 ) arraigns " the public lassitude that has accepted without question an educational system dedicated mainly to turning out good little conformist Americans who , as Stringfellow Barr puts it , even when they have graduated from college ( famous institutions ) are unfamiliar with the ideas that are the stock-in-trade of Western culture " . 
The report warns of " the dangers of an age of conformity " and calls for the development of more creative individuals . 
We have seen that an important aim of working on the prisoner 's mind is to stir up guilt and shame , which help him to prepare a formal confession . 
Guilt-anxiety , says Lifton , consists of feelings of evil and sinfulness with expectation of punishment : of shame-anxiety , feelings of humiliation and failure to live up to the standards of one 's peers or of one 's internalized ego-ideal , with the expectation of abandonment . 
He suggests that we too might profitably examine some of our own concepts of guilt and shame . 
Examples come readily to mind . 
Diminution in the extent of clothing worn by both sexes in sports reduces the shame which fifty years ago would have been " normal " . 
Since Hiroshima and the Nuremberg trials , " war-guilt " , which about 1922 weighed down many Germans too young to have fought in World War 1 , has now become the subject of cynical jokes . 
In this connection Lifton discusses the relation between language theory and behaviour . 
Terms used in " thought reform " are morally charged — either very good or very bad — and take on a mystic quality . 
To psychologists attracted by the concept of " patterns of culture " the above account of thought reform is impressive because it shows that in all social orders its elements are present in varying degrees . 
At the conference , Professor Edgar H. Schein spoke on " Patterns of Reactions to Severe Chronic Stress in American Army Prisoners of War of the Chinese " . 
He selected observations throwing light on collaboration with the enemy . 
Typical experiences of an American army prisoner of war were : 
" The first phase , lasting one to six months , was capture , an exhausting march to North Korea , and severe privation in inadequately equipped temporary camps . 
The second was imprisonment for two or more years in a permanent camp . 
Here , instead of the physical pressures in the first phase , chronic " persuasion " was applied to make the soldiers collaborate and to exchange existing group loyalties for new ones . 
" The men reacted with the feeling that for these experiences of capture they had been inadequately prepared , both physically and mentally . 
They were not clearly aware of the kind of enemy up against them or , indeed , what they were fighting for . 
Expecting death , torture or non-patriation , they were taken completely by surprise and felt that inadequate leadership of the UN command was to blame . 
Understandably , therefore , a prisoner was inclined to listen without much scepticism to the Communist "explanation " that , since the UN was an aggressor , having entered the war illegally , all UN military personnel were in fact criminals and could be summarily shot . 
The Chinese , however , considered the prisoner to be a student , capable of learning the " truth " . 
Yet if he did not co-operate he could just be reverted to war-criminal status and shot . 
So a chronic cycle of fear-relief-new-fear was set in motion . 
" The one-two week marches caused increasing apathy , facilitating systematical destruction of the prisoner 's formal and informal group-structure . 
Knowing that his own ranks contained spies and actual or potential informers , a man might eventually feel that he could trust nobody . " 
Dr Schein considers that very few actual conversions to Communism occurred , but that success in producing collaboration was greater . 
Some collaborators perhaps believed — subsequent affirmation of this belief may have been rationalization — that they were infiltrating the Chinese ranks and obtaining information which , if they were released , would be useful to the US Army . 
It is interesting and valuable to compare with the above accounts of army prisoners-of-war , a report by Professor Louis West on prisoners from the US Air Force . 
These were even less prepared for captivity , and their literal descent from the heavens into enemy hands must have given unusual possibilities of shock and astonishment . 
Often they were injured before capture . 
The Chinese considered these as a distinct group , to be handled in ways differing from those regarded as suitable for soldiers ; e.g. after February 21 , 1952 , responsibility for germ warfare was placed on airmen . 
It is important to note that of the Air Force " returnees " , 53 per cent had received some college education , compared with 5 per cent of army captives . 
As with the latter , the techniques employed produced " debility , despondency and dread " . 
But many airmen tried to incorporate in their " confessions " implausible material : details of weapons , speeds , altitudes , etc , which the interrogator , whose ignorance of technicalities they had estimated , would not detect but which , to any informed person , would appear palpably false . 
Many people are inclined to speak of all " public relations " as ballyhoo or propaganda , perhaps overlooking the early meaning of the latter word ; even the significance , in England , of the second initial in " S.P.G. " . 
They are invited to consider the facts that when a prisoner 's " confession " , or even his letter home , contained " Commies " , it was " suggested " that " Chinese People 's Volunteers " should be substituted , and the only address to which any prisoner 's relatives could send letters was " c/o the Chinese People 's Committee for World Peace " . 
Dr Lawrence E. Hinkle , in this symposium , suggests on the basis of extensive study that these conclusions can be accepted : " The methods of the Russian and satellite State-Police are derived from age-old police methods , many of which were known to the Czarist Okhrana , and to its sister organizations in other countries . 
Communist techniques , when their background is studied , remain police methods . 
They are not dependent on drugs , hypnotism , or any other special procedure designed by scientists . 
No scientist took part in their design , nor do scientists participate in their operation . 
The goal of the KGB — the present designation for the Russian State police — is a satisfactory protocol on which a so-called " trial " may be based . 
The Chinese have an additional goal ; the production of long-lasting changes in the prisoner 's basic attitudes and behaviour . " 
How could a prisoner-of-war resist such pressures ? 
Hinkle offers the following hints . 
Since an important factor of indoctrination is the pupil 's belief that his captor 's control is omnipotent , he should try to maintain a secret private sense of psychological superiority . 
Inside his group , he should develop communication methods excluding the captors and demonstrating their fallibility , e.g. by using code words which appear complimentary — only to the guards ; by teaching them Western games — with absurd twists of the rules and methods of play , and by inventing petty annoyances to guards forbidden to inflict physical punishment . 
( It seems fair comment that for complete success this assumes high intelligence in the prisoner and obliging dimness in the guard . ) 
While he was expounding on this subject he explains how the first idea of the Celestial Bed came into his mind . 
When he was in Philadelphia he " speedily insulated a common bedstead and filled it with copious streams of electrical fire conveyed by metal rods enclosed in glass tubes through the partition , from the adjacent room where the great globes were wrought ... 
I recommended the trial of this , then whimsical bed , to several of my medical , philosophical and gay friends ... " 
Later he states that after he had put them at ease by means of a few drinks he went so far as to ask them for their opinion of the bed . 
Delightedly he states that " they talked not as other men might have done of the critical moment — no , they talked comparatively of the critical hour . " 
Graham 's audience obviously wanted information on aphrodisiacs . 
He was dead against the popular Spanish Fly preparations . 
Cantharides poisoning obviously occurred in the 18th as well as in the 20th century . 
Graham 's advice on the subject was to the point if rather crude . 
Modern psychiatrists , including Dr Kinsey , talk of voyeurism . 
This term merely means that sexual stimulation can occur quite frequently as a result of visual stimulation . 
Graham recounts the tale of how a hairdresser , who found himself impotent was suddenly filled with sexual desire while he was dressing a particularly lovely woman 's hair . 
Imprudently , he downed tools and ran home to make his wife happy . 
Such was the power of voyeurism in this case . 
Another Graham anecdote on this subject is about an old debauched woman who still desired masculine attention but who could not arouse a lover 's interest . 
Her cure , he says , was to take a lovely young woman to bed with her . 
If her lover 's ardour flagged the presence of his mistress 's companion was sufficient to restore the { 6status quo . 
This is about as far as Graham goes with regard to obscenity . 
A great many of his contemporaries would have left him standing . 
For the most part the lectures were good sound stuff . 
For instance , he was keen on washing the body frequently . 
This was not a particularly popular habit in the 18th century . 
Graham states , rather poetically , that it is necessary to " tune body and mind for the most cordial and perfect enjoyment of prolific love . " 
To do this he said it was necessary that the lovers should possess " the sweetest , freshest , and most personal cleanliness from the top of the head , to the end of the most distant toe — at all times and under every circumstance . " 
Graham was also very much against double beds . 
He stated that there was " nothing more unnatural , nothing more indecent , than man and wife continually pigging together in one and the same bed ... and to sleep and snore and steam and do everything else indelicate together 365 times every year ! " 
Sleeping in double beds was , according to Graham , a state of " matrimonial whoredom . " 
He was also a great advocate of fresh air , which must have been pretty startling at the time . 
Sea voyages , an active and useful life , taking exercise daily in free open air , were all recommended as adjuncts to good health . 
His attitude towards alcohol was dogmatic . 
Particularly he refers to " that poisonous composition of sloes , tartar , logwood , watery cider and brandy which is called port wine . " 
Graham realised , nearly two hundred years ago , that alcohol diminished physical , and more important to his audience , perhaps , sexual performance . 
Some of Graham 's ideas seemed to sow the seeds of Victorianism as far as sex was concerned . 
Masturbation and fornication he abhorred . 
" I must speak plainly , gentlemen , every act of self-pollution , every repetition of natural venery , with even the loveliest of the sex , to which appalled and exhausted nature is whipped and spurred by lust ... is an earthquake , a blast , a deadly paralytic stroke to all the faculties of both soul and body . 
Blasting beauty , chilling , contracting and enfeebling the body , mind and the memory ! " 
And yet in other ways he was right up-to-date . 
Writing on the encouragement of matrimony he advocated that the first step would be to " suppress all public prostitution , " as it "destroys the vigour of the genital parts , necessity tempting them to too frequent acts of venery . " 
Some 180 years later , an Act of Parliament finally drove the majority of prostitutes off the streets of Britain . 
Another of Graham 's ideas for encouraging matrimony was to " give certain rewards to the lower and middling class of people , and tax those proportionate to their circumstances who did not marry . " 
He also advised that parents should " receive a small premium on the birth of every child . " 
He thus foresaw modern income tax laws and the National Insurance and the Social Security system operating in this country . 
He advocated the control of certain hereditary diseases by practical eugenics . 
" Persons of certain descriptions , whose constitutions are infected with inherent diseases , ought not to marry ... they ought to be tied back to old women ... that are past child-bearing . " 
Public opinion in this country has never really supported ideas along these lines , but 28 States in America have laws that permit or direct sterilisation for various causes . 
Since these laws have been enforced , over 27,000 people have been sterilised in the United States . 
The year 1783 was the turning point in Graham 's career . 
Until that time everything he touched had gone right . 
But now it was obvious that the Pall Mall establishment was losing money . 
Graham attempted to increase his profits by lowering prices , always a dangerous practice , especially for a Quack . 
Eventually creditors pressed and the Temple was closed , its treasures , electrical machines and even the Celestial Bed being sold up to pay bad debts . 
Graham returned to his native land and was soon in trouble with the magistrates of Edinburgh for giving a lecture " deemed improper for public discussions . " 
Apparently Scottish public opinion was not as broadminded as its English counterpart for Graham repeatedly fell foul of the law and was even imprisoned in the Tollbooth for " his late injurious publications in this City . " 
During the years 1784 and 1785 , Graham may have had some ideas of becoming a regular physician for he attended lectures in Chemistry , Anatomy , the practice and theory of Medicine and { Materia Medica at Edinburgh University . 
He never qualified , however . 
A little later he showed signs that his former eccentricities were leading him along a path that was to end in insanity . 
In 1788 he was sent off from Whitehaven to Edinburgh , "in the custody of two constables as this unfortunate man had , for some days past , discovered such marks of insanity as made it advisable to remove him . " 
Graham had for some years been devoting more of his time to an obsessional type of religious activity . 
His pamphlets and tracts at this time demonstrate characteristics suggestive of schizophrenia , and it has been put forward that Graham became a drug addict . 
In view of the strong ideas that he held with reference to drugs , and there is good evidence in his writing that he practised what he preached to his dying day , this would seem to be unlikely . 
Whatever the precise diagnosis , it is evident that Graham suffered from some form of mental derangement which steadily and progressively dominated him . 
And yet he had relatively lucid intervals . 
During his more sensible periods James was up to all his old tricks again . 
Before he had left London , after the Temple of Health closed , he introduced a new craze in an exhibition in Panton Street , Haymarket . 
Henry Angelo 's description of this is worth while quoting in full . 
" I was present at one of his evening lectures on the benefits arising from earth-bathing ( as Graham called it ) , and in addition to a crowded audience of men , many ladies were there to listen to his delicate lectures . 
In the centre of the room was a pile of earth in the middle of which was a pit where a stool was placed : we waited for some time when much impatience was manifested , and after repeated calls of " Doctor , Doctor ! " he actually made his appearance " { en chemise . " 
After making his bow he seated himself on the stool . 
Then two men with shovels began to place the mould in the cavity : as it approached to the pit of his stomach he kept lifting up his shirt and at last took it entirely off , the earth being up to his chin and the doctor being left in { puris naturalibus . 
He then began his lecture , expatiating on the excellent qualities of the earth bath , how invigorating it was , etc . 
Quite enough to call up the chaste blushes of the modest ladies . 
Whether it was the men felt for the chastity of the female audience , or that they had had quite enough of this imposing information , which lasted above an hour , either the hearers got tired or some wished to make themselves merry at the Doctor 's expense and there was a cry of " Doctor , a song ! " 
The Doctor nodded assent and after a few preparatory Hems , he sang or rather repeated , 
The fair married dames who so often deplore , 
That a lover once lost is a lover no more . " 
He gave various similar exhibitions about the country until 1790 . 
During the last few years of his life there is ample evidence that Graham 's mind was obsessed with religious mania and that he was becoming , eventually , a victim of his own tomfoolery . 
In his last pamphlet he signed an affidavit dated 3rd April , 1793 , " that from the last day of December , 1792 to the 15th day of January , 1793 he neither ate , drank , nor took anything but cold water , sustaining life by wearing cut up turves against his naked body , and rubbing his limbs with his own nervous ethereal balsam . " 
The latter was one of his famous quack medicines originally dispensed at the Temple of Health . 
This was a feeble attempt to get back into the public eye . 
His health failed rapidly and he died at his house opposite the Archer 's Hall in Edinburgh on 26th June , 1794 from a sudden haemorrhage . 
Getting such a flamboyant character as Graham into perspective is not easy . 
That he was an out and out Quack is of course fairly established . 
But he had qualities that distinguished him from the majority of his brethren . 
First of all he had great personal courage . 
There is the evidence that he went as far afield as America to make his fortune in times when travel was a hazardous adventure . 
He also had the courage to gamble everything he had on what must have been a hunch when he established his Temples of Health . 
Graham also had a first-class brain . 
He could judge people and handle them adroitly . 
In London anyway his judgement seldom failed him . 
Scottish public opinion , incredibly enough he misjudged badly . 
Probably he had become too anglicised by 1783 to be sound in his assessment of the minds of his countrymen . 
Originality and foresight were well developed in Graham 's personality and his ideas and teaching on hygienic and social problems were years ahead of his Age . 
The opinion of orthodox medical practitioners on Quacks is always interesting . 
Apparently Graham , although dubbed a charlatan by most of the doctors , was much sought after for cures by members of the profession itself . 
One example is the case of Dr Glen . 
This Edinburgh character was a man not noted for his generosity . 
One of his few actions of public spirit was to present a bell for the local orphanage . 
( His fame was said thus to be sounded throughout the City . ) 
Dr Glen was rather at a loss to know what to give Dr Graham in the way of a professional fee after he had cured him of an eye complaint . 
Some members of the Edinburgh Faculty suggested asking the " good doctor " to dine at a fashionable tavern and presenting him with a purse containing 30 guineas . 
Dr Glen was privately assured that Graham would decline the gift . 
To his chagrin Graham at once accepted it " with a very low bow and graciously thanked him kindly . " 
THE REVEREND D. SHERWIN BAILEY , Ph.D . 
Public Morality and the Criminal Law 
WHEN THE WOLFENDEN ( Homosexual Offences and Prostitution ) Report appeared in 1957 , interest was focussed mainly upon its proposals for revision of the law , and especially that relating to certain forms of criminal homosexualism . 
In subsequent discussion , Parliamentary debate , and legislation ( the Street Offences Act , 1958 ) , legal reform of one kind or another has continued to be the dominant issue . 
Recently , however , attention has been directed to a question of greater ultimate importance , namely , the juridical principle stated in Chapter 2 of the Report , and emphasized from time to time in the chapters which followed . 
Some of the implications of this principle are considered in a valuable essay contributed to the Church of England Moral Welfare Council 's current series of pamphlets , a review of which affords an occasion to survey the course of the discussion to date . 
Expressed in the simplest terms , the " Wolfenden principle " asserts that for legal purposes crime can not be equated with sin — that moral and legal wrongdoing are not necessarily one and the same , and that consequently there is a realm of private morality in which the operative sanctions are ethical , and the determinant of right behaviour is personal responsibility and not fear of criminal penalties — a realm , therefore , into which it is not the law 's business to intrude . 
It was inevitable that such a principle should arouse criticism . 
It has been objected that the implied distinction between crime and sin is superficial , that private morality can not be isolated from public , that the delimitation of a realm of private morality exempt from the sanctions of the criminal law deprives the law of its preceptive function and its power of moral restraint — and so on . 
Such criticism showed the need for a thorough examination of the principle itself , and of the relation which it implied between law and morality . 
Is there any connection between sin and crime ; and should the criminal law attempt to define or enforce morality , and punish immorality ? 
These were some of the questions which Sir Patrick ( now Lord Justice ) Devlin set out to consider in his Maccabaean Lecture delivered in March 1959 . 
Lord Devlin recognized that the criminal law can not now justify itself simply by reference to a moral law ; since the State leaves religion to the private judgement and does not enforce any particular , or indeed any , belief , it has forfeited its right to enforce a morality founded on religious doctrine . 
What then must provide the basis for the criminal law ? 
In order to answer this question , three others must be asked : Has society the right to pass moral judgements ? 
If it has , may it enforce its judgements by law ? 
And if so , may the law be invoked in all cases , or may exceptions be made — and on what grounds ? 
Lord Devlin replies on the following lines : 
Society has a right to pass moral judgements because the very notion of society implies a community of ideas and , therefore , a common morality founded upon general agreement as to what is good and what is evil ; and the individual must submit to the bondage of this common morality as part of the price which he must pay for the society which he needs . 
It follows that society has the right also to legislate against anything that constitutes a breach of the common morality and , therefore , a threat to the common good . 
To this right no theoretical limit can be set ; the attempt of the Wolfenden Committee to set such a limit by introducing the qualifying idea of exploitation of human weakness as a special circumstance warranting the intervention of the law , is vitiated by the simple fact that all wrong-doing involves exploitation of some kind . 
None the less , flexibility is necessary in practice . 
Morality embraces both public and private interests , and they must be reconciled in such a way as to permit the maximum individual freedom consistent with the integrity of society ; but the limit of toleration is reached when a " real feeling of reprobation " is aroused . 
Society 's standard of moral judgement is that of the " reasonable man " — " the man on the Clapham omnibus , " and when anything excites him to emotions of " intolerance , indignation , and disgust , " it is an indication of the presence of immorality demanding the intervention of the law . 
It is true , of course , that the limits of tolerance shift ; but the law reacts slowly to such changes , and the tendency is to avoid any alterations or concessions which might convey an impression of weakened moral judgement . 
Thus the right of the law to enforce morality is explained and defended . 
Finally , the claim is advanced that there is a definite and proper relation between crime and sin . 
Morality is necessary to society , but it must be taught ( which is the office of religion ) as well as enforced ( which is the office of law ) ; religion , therefore ( which in a Western context means the Christian religion ) is the ultimate basis of the public morality expressed in the standards of conduct approved by the " reasonable man , " even though the law can not enforce that morality on doctrinal grounds , but only on grounds of general acceptance by society . 
Lord Devlin 's argument , in effect , amounts to a repudiation of the liberal principal that the only justification for coercion of the individual by the community is to prevent harm to others — for this is the principle implicit in the postulation by the Wolfenden Committee of a realm of private morality into which it is not the law 's business to intrude . 
In a broadcast criticism of The Enforcement of Morals , the Professor of Jurisprudence in the University of Oxford observes that the novel feature of Lord Devlin 's lecture is his view of the nature of morality — that while earlier opponents of the liberal view have rejected it on the ground that morality is in fact self-evident , being based on divine commands or the rational conclusions of human reason , he founds it rather upon something primarily subjective : the feeling of the " man on the Clapham omnibus . " 
The latter is the type of that legal fiction , the " reasonable man " — and " reasonable , " as Lord Devlin points out , does not mean "rational . " 
The attitude of this " reasonable man " may be nothing but a bundle of emotional prejudices ; but if the majority in a society shares his feelings , a common morality is established , and according to Lord Devlin 's theory , may be enforced by law . 
Professor Hart subjects this view to a searching scrutiny . 
Its fatal weakness , of course , lies in the fact that if a general attitude of intolerance , indignation , and disgust may in some instances be well-founded , in others it may equally be due to prejudice , superstition , ignorance , or misunderstanding . 
It would be disastrous if the law had no firmer basis than the emotions of the majority — if dispassionate reason , knowledge , and common-sense were not also allowed a voice in its determination . 
Yet this is precisely what has happened in the realm of private morality which is concerned with sexual relation . 
Homosexual practices between men in private are deemed to be criminal ( but not lesbianism , fornication , or adultery ) simply because such practices arouse in the " reasonable man " feelings of reprobation so strong as to demand expression in repressive statutes . 
It is not difficult to explain why the emotions of the " reasonable man " are excited by the thought of homosexualism and not by the thought of fornication or adultery ; but to explain such emotions does not make them right or rational . 
Lord Devlin 's conception of public morality could be invoked to defend our persecution of witches in the past , or the various forms of racial discrimination with which we are only too familiar to-day . 
Before legal effect is given to the judgements of a public morality based on feeling , it is necessary to ask whether behaviour which is emotionally offensive to the majority ( or which the majority can be induced to regard as emotionally offensive ) is harmful , either in itself or in its repercussion upon the general moral code . 
In Professor Hart 's view , Lord Devlin does not satisfactorily consider and answer this question . 
He recognizes that a morality based upon the consensus of a majority , even if that consensus is one mainly of feeling , is essentially a democratic notion , and that democracy means the running of risks which are inseparable from majority rule . 
But he insists that loyalty to democratic principles does not require us to maximize these risks , "yet this is what we shall do if we mount the man in the street on top of the Clapham omnibus and tell him that if only he feels sick enough about what other people do in private to demand its suppression by law , no theoretical criticism can be made of his demand " . 
And in this connection it is well to remember the adventitious and irrelevant means by which such sickness can be induced — the propaganda and pressures of many dubious kinds which can build up artificial emotions of reprobation to the point where they have to find expression , and may do so through the law . 
On the other hand , it is good and necessary that society should be able to give authoritative expression to its genuine and well-founded moral judgements . 
This is most appropriately done , in Lord Devlin 's view , by means of legal sanctions — a method which Professor Hart clearly repudiates , though he suggests no alternative ; in fact , this is a matter with which he is not directly concerned . 
For consideration of such an alternative , we must turn to the essay by Mr. Quentin Edwards to which reference has already been made . 
More precisely than the other two authors he distinguishes between moral codes and criminal codes , and between sin , crime , and immorality . 
As to the first division , moral codes are mainly hortative and must be flexible enough to bring under condemnation even those offences , the culpability of which can only be measured subjectively ; while criminal codes are almost entirely prohibitive , and must be rigid enough to define offences so exactly as to reduce to a minimum the degree of discretion vested in the magistracy . 
As to the second : sin is commonly defined as the contravention of God 's will by thought , word , deed , or the omission to do what is enjoined , and must not be confused with crime ( behaviour which is declared to be punishable by the law ) or with immorality ( behaviour which is below , or contrary to , the standards of current public morality ) ; nor must crime and immorality be treated as necessarily synonymous , for not all declensions from public moral standards are regarded as meriting criminal penalties . 
From these distinctions it is apparent that there is a group of wrongs or offences which are sinful or immoral ( or both ) but not criminal , and are also public in the sense that they may involve others than the agent , and are capable of disturbing the harmony of society . 
Into this intermediate category come offences such as slander , and also acts of venereal wrongdoing . 
Although they are not criminal , they are for all that unlawful , either in the strict sense of lacking the express approval or protection of the law , or in the broad sense that they are contrary to the accepted standards of good morals or the implications of the common law . 
This conception of the " unlawful , " as Mr. Edwards admits , is necessarily somewhat imprecise , especially in the sexual realm , where " the law 's sexual morality is the highest common moral factor of the mass of the people " — a definition which does not seem to differ greatly in substance from Lord Devlin 's idea of public morality , and is open to the criticisms made by Professor Hart . 
None the less it has practical value because , among other things , it would enable the law to register and declare in the least objectionable way the current moral judgements of society . 
At present , such judgements can only be expressed through the sanctions of the criminal law ; whether or not they are so expressed depends , as we have seen , upon the emotional attitude of the community to the behaviour upon which its verdict is being passed . 
Further he has been given a spacious environment in which to develop these intellectual powers , and the atmosphere of discovery and inquiry with which he has been surrounded has been intended to stimulate his curiosity and capacity for independent judgement . 
Given then , these two types of institution — the broadly general non-vocational university and the specialist vocational college — as the existing pattern of higher education , how do we see it in the future ? 
If the experience of the Robbins Committee resembles that of the Crowther Committee , it is pretty certain to find — at least , I shall be surprised if it does not find — that there is far greater scope and far greater need for higher education than we are at present providing in this country . 
If , as I suspect , there are many missing it for one reason or another who ought in their own , and in the public interest , to be having full-time education after the age of 18 ; and if we are determined , as we ought to be , that they shall have a more adequate opportunity , we could add the extra numbers to the universities and to the specialist colleges in a proportion similar to that already existing between them . 
By another choice , we could alter the existing balance and send a disproportionate number of the increase into either the universities or into the specialist colleges . 
Thirdly , we could invent new types of institution and find a suitable method of determining how the total of young people qualified for higher education should distribute themselves in the most appropriate way between the different types of institution . 
I am inclined to suspect that any attempt to determine { 6a priori the proper proportions of young people who should go to different types of institution would be of very doubtful value . 
It is , of course , true that the number of places — especially science places — in a university or a college is , in the short run , fixed by physical conditions . 
But it is also true that , in the long run , the numerical relationship between the young people in different kinds of institution will be determined by the choices of the young people themselves and by what their parents and their school-masters think they will get out of one kind of place rather than another . 
Prediction about how these choices will be made is , at best , a mere guess . 
We do not know how much the attraction of students towards universities is the result of their monopoly of the degree-giving power . 
Suppose , for example , that other types of institution than universities were given permission to award degrees , how would this affect the candidates ' choices ? 
It is impossible to say and only experience could decide . 
The moral , which it seems to me we ought to draw from these considerations , is that we should make as clear to ourselves as possible what the ro5le of the different types of institution is : what each offers : what does each conceive its task to be ; if we do this , then the choice of the young and the advice of their parents and their schools , will be as well-informed as it can be , and those who seek to take the university road , or the other possible roads , will be self-chosen on the best information that is open to them . 
My subject is the universities ; and so I come to the question of what the university does or should do for the young . 
I want to spend a little time in seeking some answers to this question . 
Of course , first of all , the university prepares them for their job in life — but not , as I have already said , by giving them a know-how which is restricted to any particular type of occupation . 
It does not nowadays prepare them only for the learned professions as it tended to do as recently as even fifty years ago . 
The function of the university is to bring the young people entrusted to it to the height of their intellectual powers by setting them to do a very exacting academic task . 
I emphasize the word " academic " because the practice of our universities has been based upon the assumption that young men destined for one of a great variety of tasks in life — in public life , in the schools , in law or in the Church , in the public services , in industry and commerce — will be better prepared if for three or four formative and very important years of their lives they undertake at the university courses of study in common with those who are going to be scholars . 
There can be no doubt that this tradition has left its mark indelibly upon the social , political , educational and industrial fabric of this country . 
It has given the universities public responsibility and prevented them from being what are called " ivory towers " . 
Thus , the effect upon them has been profound ; they , in their turn , have deeply affected , through those whom they have taught , the course of public life and of our affairs in general . 
The Member of Parliament who has read his history at the university in friendly rivalry with the future historian , inevitably reflects in his parliamentary behaviour the academic experience through which he has passed . 
The fact that Mr. Gladstone could have been a professor was profoundly important both for the university which missed his services and for the party and public life which gained them . 
The second thing which the university does is to give to its students a special experience in which they gain an abiding insight into a university 's perspective . 
Judged by the standards of ordinary daily life , university life is , in some senses , an odd one and university people seem , perhaps , to the layman outside , rather odd people . 
I need not try to explain at length why this should be so ; I will just say this : on the one hand , normal daily life is largely concerned with the problems of the present or those of the quite near future , with the hopes and anxieties of day-to-day existence ; on the other hand , the universities live in a world with a quite different time-scale , and the problems which exercise the academic mind belong to that world . 
For instance , they are interested in the past — not only of yesterday but of fifty , a hundred , even millions of years ago . 
They are interested , too , in the future , but they are as likely to be interested in the problems of many centuries ahead as in those of only fifty years from now . 
They are interested less in the day-to-day behaviour of men or things than in the laws that govern that behaviour or explain it . 
They are concerned less with the appearance of things than with the underlying nature of which that appearance is a reflection . 
I have perhaps said enough to indicate why the practical workaday man thinks that university people , are , as he would put it , " out of this world " . 
Of course , they are . 
Rightly regarded , the academic is indispensable to civilization only so long as he remains academic in the sense I have described . 
For his part , he is entirely right to be indifferent to the charge of belonging to a world of his own , in which the practical man of affairs would be ill-at-ease . 
One hopes , therefore , for the young man or woman who is to spend three or four years at the university that they will take something of this spirit out into the world with them . 
Some , indeed , will be captured by the spirit of the place and will be at home with academic values and wish to spend their lives cultivating them . 
Among these will be found the professors and university teachers of the next generation . 
Others will fall under its influence only for a time and will then return to the world outside ; but not , one hopes , to be ever quite the same again . 
For we , in the universities , hope that they will see the problems of here-and-now — whether they are the problems of personal conduct , of public affairs , of art and literature , of science and its applications — illuminated by the studies of their university years . 
In other words , what the student needs from the university is not just a little ( or even just a great deal ) more competence in the subjects he has studied at school ; not just to have a few rough edges knocked off his mind ; not just to learn more elaborate intellectual skills ; not what , in the modern idiom , is called " know-how " . 
He is going to be a member for three or four years of a society which has its own characteristic way of life . 
From it , he can learn much that will enrich both his personal life and the service which he can give to his own day and generation . 
Of course , the student must leave the university a master of the field he has chosen for his own , whether it be chemistry or history , Oriental languages , or engineering science ; but in helping him to find that mastery the university must also help him to catch a glimpse and to acquire a taste for the "other worldliness " of which I have spoken . 
The third thing the university does for its young people is to give them their education and the experience of which I have talked , in a special kind of environment . 
It is , of course , a protected and , in some ways , an artifical kind of environment . 
But it is not , for that reason , without great power to impress itself upon their minds and to retain its impression upon them for the rest of their lives . 
The society to which I myself belonged in my own College at Oxford was , as I well recall , of this latter sort . 
From the day of our entry we were taught by the ethos of the place , rather than by any formal instruction , to feel that its strength lay in the diversity of experience which its members brought to the common stock . 
When we were joined by a new kind of undergraduate of a different nationality , race or colour from a part of the world which had never supplied a member before we felt that it was a stronger and better place . 
The first time that an extra-mural scholar arrived , fresh from his job as a 'bus driver in Bristol , we were prone to believe that the College had , in some way , been strengthened . 
When a German Rhodes scholar first returned to the College after the First World War we felt that it was a better place . 
We were taught in other words , that the ideal society was one in which every single member made his own unique contribution to the diversity of gifts which we disposed of in common . 
And , by implication , we learnt that uniformity and the repetition of identical experiences were a weakness and something to be avoided . 
We were , of course , free to accept or reject this philosophy which underlay our common life ; but looking back on it I feel that the young men of the '30s , the successors of my generation , were , in fact , prepared in the most positive possible way to know their mind when the challenge of the dictatorships fell across Europe . 
For this part of our education there was no formal , overt teaching . 
What we learned cut across the boundaries of social groups , of religions , of nationality and of race ; it was a lesson equally on offer to arts men and scientists ; it was among the most effective teaching that I have ever known . 
Another thing that a university should try to do for its undergraduates is to help them to become their own masters . 
As my experience of universities has widened , I have become more than ever convinced of the importance of this function . 
The university years , though primarily for the training of the intellect , have never been thought to be without their importance in the training of character . 
Indeed , in some quarters it has been made a subject of reproach that our universities have laid too great an emphasis on the training of character . 
( It is curious to recall that it is not very long since the main complaint of the critics of the Monarchy was that it exercised too much hidden authority : this was certainly the complaint made , until recently , of George 5 's behaviour during the constitutional crisis of 1931 . ) 
The fact is that the evidence available to us makes it clear that the Sovereign still exercises considerable power , even if this power commonly takes the form only of personal influence , is an expression only of the constitutional right to be consulted , to advise , and to warn . 
There are several examples of the exercise of this personal influence in Sir Harold Nicolson 's Life of King George 5 , and the little evidence available to us about the use of his position of influence by King George 6 suggests that tradition and habit — to say nothing of hereditary streaks of character — combine strongly to ensure that the right to advise and to warn is not something which either the Sovereign or his Ministers take lightly . 
If anything , the present reign is likely to see a steady increase in the influence of the Sovereign . 
Mr. Muggeridge bashfully claims that he has no knowledge of the present members of the Royal Family . 
But I am sure that he does know that the present Queen is reputed to be a very strong-willed young woman , able and ready to make her views known and heeded , that she has , at worst , a strong streak of Hanoverian pig-headedness , and , at best , an unusual strength of character and clarity of purpose . 
This is of no little importance : even Lytton Strachey was , in the end , no match for the character of Queen Victoria , and this may well be the reason why Mr. Muggeridge chooses to ignore the known character of her great-great-granddaughter . 
Of no less importance is the fact that the present Queen is likely to reign for a very long time : longer , perhaps , even than Queen Victoria . 
The length of Queen Victoria 's reign , her accumulated experience , her growing personal ascendancy over Ministers who naturally stood in awe of so formidable an historical figure , her ascendancy even over the heads of foreign powers , even when they were not her own children or grandchildren : all these were an important reason for the exceptional influence which she came to exercise . 
There seems every possibility that the present Queen will increasingly come to occupy something of the same position . 
However much the facts of power may change , the influence of an experienced and knowing old woman , who had been at the head of her State for fifty years while heads of the U.S.A. or the U.S.S.R. or even the Chinese Republic had come and gone , could not count for nothing — even in the world which Mr. Muggeridge sometimes fearfully imagines will exist in 2002 . 
How do we expect this exceptional position of influence , which confers real personal power , to be used ? 
Much , and the answer , again , is best given in personal terms , as George 5 interpreted his duties and , so far as we know , George 6 also . 
George 5 had a strict and unerring understanding of the important conventions of the constitution : this proved to be of untold value during the crisis of January , 1924 , when he resisted the most powerful pressures which were put on him to keep the Labour Party out of office . 
To his instinctive behaviour on that occasion we can , in part , attribute the development of the Labour Party within the Parliamentary system instead of outside it , at a time when Left-wing movements throughout Europe became e2migre2 groups within their own countries . 
Holding the ring — for this is what such conduct is — is not confined to strict constitutional questions . 
In Sir Harold Nicolson 's biography , there are many examples of George 5 's anxiety that the dominant party or even interest should not , so far as it was within his power to influence decisions , ride roughshod over the rights of any of his people . 
Twice during the General Strike , for example , he spontaneously and effectively intervened to prevent the more extreme elements in the Conservative Government from unjustly or cruelly treating the strikers . 
Interventions of this kind can not be ignored , and neither can their importance . 
It is no small thing , in an age of strong party government , to have excesses of party spirit rebuked by one to whom Ministers are constitutionally bound to listen ; and that they do listen is apparent from all that we know of the Labour Governments of 1945-51 , and the little that we know of the history of the Conservative Governments which have held office since then . 
It is apt to make people uncomfortable to-day to talk of duty , especially of duty in high places . 
But no one can read the biographies of George 5 and George 6 , which are not sycophantic , without realising that it was a simple , almost nai " ve , conception of their duty to their subjects , all their subjects , for it affected even George 5 's attitude to the Indian question , which inspired most of their actions , and certainly their actions at all critical moments . 
I state this as a cold fact , which no one who is not blinded by preconception can fail to recognise in the available evidence . 
It is equally apparent , from the available evidence that the very simplicity of this conception of duty has normally had , and can not fail normally to have , a softening and civilising influence on those engaged in the embittering struggle for power . 
There are ideas and conceptions , as Professor Butterfield has reminded us , which are none the less real merely because it is only thinking which has made them so . 
MARC BLOCH 'S ACCOUNT of the collapse of France in 1940 is , for the comparisons it affords , not irrelevant to the point I am trying to make . 
He there accuses the rulers and seducers of the French people before 1940 of showing " complete ignorance of the high nobility which lies unexpressed in the hearts of a people which , like ours , has behind it a long history of political action . " 
It is not a sentimental , but a precise point which he makes : it is the length of a people 's political tradition to which he draws our attention , and the failure of the inherent nobility of the French political tradition to find worthy expression before and during 1940 . 
A similar nobility , inherent in the British political tradition , did find expression in 1940 . 
It is a foolhardy man , surely , who believes that the contrast had nothing to do with the expression of the tradition through , not only the Monarchy as an institution , but also the personal characters and examples set by George 5 and George 6 . 
The ingraining of this tradition in the British Royal Family — and I can not see how it could more surely be accomplished than by the passing on of a tradition within a family — seems to me of real value to the country . 
It is for this reason that most of the sentimental talk about the education of a modern Sovereign is so alarmingly irrelevant . 
Day by day , week by week , year by year , the Queen is invited , by her self-appointed advisers , to send her eldest child to a State school , to " bring him up like other children " : advice which may be relevant to the education of a citizen , but not to the education of a constitutional Sovereign . 
There seems to be little doubt that the inculcation of the habits of mind and behaviour of a constitutional Sovereign has been successfully achieved in the cases of George 5 , George 6 , and the present Queen . 
I see no reason why we should be prepared to barter the prospect of a first-class Sovereign for the certainty of yet another second-class citizen . 
It seems a mean exchange . 
IT IS CURIOUS that Mr. Muggeridge , who is rightly anxious that people should adapt themselves to the realities of their changed positions , does not understand the role of the Monarchy in helping to make the uncomfortable facts of life acceptable . 
It is easy to laugh at the sight of the Labour Ministers of 1924 , attired , a little ridiculously , in Court dress . 
But , except to a few irreconcilables of the Left , the pomp and the display were a small price to pay for the visible evidence that the Sovereign , the known repository of the nation 's political experience , had accepted the Labour Party as his advisers , and had accepted them in the same manner and with the same marks of respect , given and received , as the representatives of either of the two established , middle-class , parties . 
Nor do I understand how Mr. Muggeridge , and those who argue like him , can deny the value of the Monarchy in making even more difficult changes , not only popularly acceptable , but acceptable even to those most likely not to be reconciled to them . 
The transference of power in British territories since 1945 has been made considerably easier by the presence and actions , even by the courtesy , of the two reigning monarchs . 
Again , one may smile at the speed with which Mr. Nehru or even Archbishop Makarios is transformed from being one of Her Majesty 's guests-in-prison into one of Her Majesty 's guests at Buckingham Palace . 
But he seems to me someone ill-qualified to observe or comment on public affairs who denies the importance of such things . 
Those pictures of " The Queen and her Ministers , " which are reproduced on the back page of The Times at every Commonwealth conference , are worth contemplating . 
One may , like Mr. Muggeridge , sometimes wryly observe that the number of Prime Ministers seems to increase in direct proportion as the number of territories directly subject to Her Majesty declines . 
But in the end , one must , if one is not jaundiced , admit that they are a notable tribute to the capacity of the British for accepting inevitable change . 
The acceptance of reality in Algeria might have been considerably easier for the colons and the Army , if there had been the symbol of an accepted Sovereign to emphasise the continuity which exists in all established societies in spite of actual change . 
It becomes less necessary to cry { Algerie Franc6aise , or something like it , when the fiction of the headship of the Commonwealth makes visible the abiding connections which unite one society to another . 
THE SYMBOLIC MEANING of the Monarchy is the most important and at the same time the most difficult and confusing of all its many aspects . 
What does the Monarchy mean to those who cherish it ? 
This question must be answered with more than a little care for other people 's needs and feelings . 
It may well be that the Monarchy is less necessary to the articulate than the inarticulate , to Mr. Muggeridge than Mrs. Mop . 
But I am not so sure of this . 
As I have said , Mr. Muggeridge seems to me to betray just as foolish an obsession with the Monarchy as the most bedazzled reader of Woman and Woman 's Own . 
The value of the Monarchy to me , personally , seems to me to be of much the same order as its value to those less inclined to examine their own attitudes and their own motives . 
" We smile at the Court Circular ; but remember how many people read the Court Circular ! " says Bagehot in one of his more offensively , intellectually arrogant sentences . 
" Its use is not in what it says , but in those to whom it speaks . " 
I do not deny that the Monarchy speaks directly and intelligibly to me . 
If we are to believe Mr. Muggeridge , the Monarchy symbolises obsequiousness ; sycophancy ; snobbishness ; class-consciousness ; social mountaineering ; dreamland ; earthly pretensions ; and circuses . 
It is obvious that all of these are commingled in the popular conception of the Monarchy , but I find this neither surprising nor , in itself , alarming . 
Obsequiousness , sycophancy , snobbishness , and the like , seem to me , unhappily , to be inevitable components of all human societies — I am not sure they are not their lubrication ; an oily mixture , I agree — and I object to them only when they corrupt or seriously interfere with the legitimate exercise of real power . 
Social Philosophy in Britain and America By DOROTHY EMMET 
I should like to start this talk by asking what is meant by " Social Philosophy " ? 
An unkind critic looking at the programmes of the Social Philosophy Section might suggest it seems to mean any topic of interest bearing on contemporary society ; while in a recent talk to this Section the term was used to mean something like a coherent body of thought about society related to a definite social programme . 
I am prepared to defend the eclectic character of the Section 's programme against an exclusively monolithic view of what social philosophy must be ; though I think that these various topics of social interest need to be treated not just descriptively , but in ways which produce criticism and reflection of a reasonably general kind if we are to call them a form of social philosophy . 
The view that we need a social philosophy related to a social purpose was developed by contrasting our " malaise " and lack of direction in this country with the conviction and sense of direction seen in Communist countries . 
But I am not at all sure that the answer is that we should produce something else of the same kind in democratic terms . 
My difficulty about the notion of " social purpose " is that if we think of this in the singular and particularize , it would mean that the whole national effort would have to be directed to a gigantic programme . 
This may be possible in wartime , and it may be possible when a collective economy is being built up as in the Communist countries , but does it not suggest a great deal more regimenting and pressure than we believe right in democratic countries ? 
On the other hand , if we do not use the term to mean a single specific programme , the notion of social purpose turns into something we put vaguely in phrases such as " achieving social justice " , or "persons in community " , or , even more vaguely , " living the good life " . 
I do not want to say that these notions are just vacuous , but I do not think they can be cashed in terms of a single programme , nor that we are all likely to agree on the phrase we should use , nor that we should all be thinking about it most of the time . 
If we are asked what the policy of this country should be directed towards , we could say , e.g. , to the maintenance of world peace ; to working towards a multi-racial Commonwealth ; to educational expansion at various levels ; to maintaining the social services ; and presumably to maintaining the level of production to pay for all this . 
In this way , we may hope to maintain a tolerable way of living together , so that people can pursue a number of purposes they themselves think worth while in their own work and private lives . 
But does this add up to a " social philosophy " in the comprehensive sense geared to a single Social Purpose ? 
And if not , is this a sign that we are growing up , or is it due to the difficulty of seeing general ideas relevant to this pragmatic stage of our development ? 
I turn now to America , where I think the notion of social philosophy is more congenial , perhaps because the Americans may be a more ideological nation than we are . 
Edward Shils and Daniel Bell both write about the " End of Ideology " , but not very convincingly . 
What they really mean is the end of the appeal of communist ideas to the intellectuals . 
I believe that we can still see pervasive influences of certain kinds of ideology in American thinking . 
First of all there is the liberal individualism of the Founding Fathers . 
I found it genuinely moving to stand inside the Lincoln Monument in Washington and read the passages from the Gettysburg address on the wall , " Fourscore and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation , conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal " . 
Of course one can be cynical about it , and instance discrimination against all sorts of people . 
But nevertheless it is there to disturb consciences , and it is an ideology which found its way into the Constitution , and so can give a backing of legitimacy to people struggling against certain kinds of discrimination , for instance in the struggle over integration in the Southern States . 
I was interested to find recently , in teaching an undergraduate course in political theory in an American university , how much Locke seemed to them to talk obvious sense . 
I doubt whether this would be true of our students here . 
But these American undergraduates talked easily about natural rights , and produced Lockean notions of checks and balances and aversion to strong government as self-evidently sensible . 
I think this political ideology produces a real problem for thinking realistically about their contemporary political philosophy . 
For it does not deal adequately with the very great power of the President , especially in foreign relations , and with all the trends making for strong government at the centre . 
In spite of the official political philosophy of " checks and balances " we also hear demands for " a strong lead " from the President , and this demand is all the more apparent when the Administration is not giving it , as was thought to be the case with the recent Eisenhower Administration . 
So there seems to be a need to re-think the official political philosophy in terms of the realities of power and the demands for strong government . 
A second dominant ideology is the Dewey philosophy of experimental problem-solving . 
This assumed a union of intelligence and goodwill , so that democratic social ends could be taken for granted and attention concentrated on means of achieving them . 
This was an explicit pragmatic democratic philosophy of an older generation , but now it is taking the form of a positivist political science which holds that ends can not be rationally discussed , while scientific ingenuity can be devoted to working out efficient means of getting whatever it is that you happen to want . 
This is the ideological background of a good deal of their political sociology . 
The muck-raking investigations of an older generation have been replaced by studies of the dynamics of pressure groups . 
There are also writings about politics as " a science of power " , taking for granted that people want power and trying to show how they " manipulate " beliefs and symbols in order to get it . 
C. Wright Mills writes best sellers partly in this vein , but also with a note of passionate idealism running through them . 
I find it difficult to see just how the idealism and the tough power politics note are brought together in his thinking . 
Reinhold Niebuhr continues his well-known attack on complacencies over problems of power , and on the simplifications both of cynicism and idealism . 
He seems to me to be gaining in stature all the time and to have become a political analyst of practical importance . 
Turning from political to social criticism , there is the extensive literature on " pressures to conformity " , of which Whyte 's Organization Man and Reisman 's Lonely Crowd are the best-known examples . 
These illustrate how quickly a trend of criticism can catch on . 
People , at any rate those represented by the more intellectual weeklies and by conversation in Eastern cities , are getting highly sophisticated about this notion of conformity , and they crack jokes about " peer groups " . 
But I do not think that we know the answer to the problem underneath this literature , namely , the distinction between the kinds of pressures that are necessary and right if people are to learn to live together and get trained to do things well , and the kinds of pressures which make people conventional and afraid of adventuring . 
The notion that one can live without need for any kind of conformity is shown up even by the Beats , who set out to be non-conformist , and then find themselves becoming a fashion , pursued by social success , and even get opportunities to read their poetry at $300 a time . 
And of course they also establish their own particular conventions of unconventionality . 
These seem to me to be some of the trends in what one might call social philosophy in a rather vague sense in contemporary America . 
How does the new Kennedy Administration look against this background ? 
It may well catch a national mood which is prepared for tough-minded energy along with idealism . 
I heard Professor J. K. Galbraith address a campaign meeting of students of Columbia University , in which he said that the important distinction of outlook as he saw it nowadays was not so much between liberals and conservatives as between " the complacent and the concerned " . 
People who call themselves liberals or conservatives could be found on both sides . 
He then gave a masterly satire of the last Administration as examples of the " complacent " , and he looked forward to Kennedy and those associated with him as people who would be " concerned " in the sense of deeply and compassionately aware that there are problems , international , social and domestic , which need to be met . 
Perhaps this does not add up to a social philosophy . 
But I could not help being impressed in America by the energy and interest in social ideas . 
The appeal of a person like Galbraith himself is symptomatic . 
A book like his The Affluent Society , for all the criticisms that economists and others can make of it , is perhaps more influential than anything of the kind which is being written here . 
Do we want intelligently-written books on particular social trends , rather than a monolithic social philosophy ? 
If we like to call recognizing the need for intelligence and goodwill in achieving tolerable ways of living together a social philosophy , well and good . 
But this needs to go beyond generalities to particular studies of particular social trends , presented in a readable form . 
The energy , concern and intelligence to do this kind of thing are more in evidence in America than over here . 
This does not mean that these fires are not burning over here , but they are damped down . 
The test whether damped fires are really alight is to see whether they can burn up when poked . 
But I doubt whether we want them to be burning out in a continual conflagration of propaganda for social ideologies . 
Peaks of Medical History By LORD COHEN OF BIRKENHEAD 
The history of medicine runs parallel to the history of Man . 
It takes its roots in pre-history when man , coping with hostile forces , felt a primal sympathy for his fellow man and sought to relieve his suffering . 
Since then the practice of medicine has reflected the philosophy of its time though earlier ideas have often tended to persist despite their scientific disproof . 
Though we tend to associate great discoveries in medicine with one man , as I indeed shall often do in this lecture , we must not accept blindly Carlyle 's dictum that " history is biography " but recognise that many have added bricks to the building before it presents as a completed edifice . 
The earliest records of medicine date back over 6,000 years . 
They stem from the valley of the Nile where may yet be seen the royal tomb of Zoser designed by a physician of his reign , Imhotep , who was later deified and associated with the famous temple of Edfu . 
Contemporaneously , or possibly a little later , there developed a great Sumerian civilisation but our records of this are incomplete . 
Yet there are recorded , in the famous code Hammurabi ( 1948-1905 B.C. ) , Babylonian laws relating to medical practice . 
It is however from the Egyptian papyri , especially of Edwin Smith and Ebers found at Thebes and dating from about the sixteenth century B.C. that we find the first records of the practice of medicine . 
These papyri show that the Egyptians shared with the most primitive medical folklore the concept of animism viz. that disease is caused by the evil influence of enemy , demon , god or even animal and that this evil spirit might be warded off by amulets , propitiated by sacrifice , and expelled by incantations . 
Oxford and Cambridge have the best teaching system in the world — in some colleges . 
Oxford and Cambridge are so incompetent in teaching that in spite of intense competition for entry nearly half the students leave with 3rd class degrees and worse . 
The standard of an Oxford 3rd only an Oxford examiner like myself could credit : there are some colleges which seem to specialize in producing them . 
Or to take the matter which most affects the schools . 
Oxford and Cambridge by their competitive system of entry set standards to the schools which distinguish English education from all other systems except the French : only in France and England is it necessary for success to be in hard competitive training from the age of 8 or 9 and to be a mature and polished intellectual at 16 . 
" Treat them mean and keep them keen . " 
Or ( as a Bishop wrote in 1889 ) " the English do everything by way of racing " . 
The results for the successful are almost miraculous . 
" The war horse saith among the trumpets Ha , ha ; and he smelleth the battle afar off , the thunder of the captains and the shouting . " 
It is really very pleasant indeed to be an examinee if you are a good one , and it is just as pleasant to coach good examinees . 
But how much harm is done to bad examinees ? 
How far have A level , S level , now the new U level ( or whatever it is to be called ) been affected by Oxbridge scholarship examinations , and by the need to give the rest something to do while the competitors are groomed ? 
So often in the provinces one has to face the problem of rescuing a boy , basically very able , who did well at O level , quite well at A level after two years in the sixth , went back for a third year as a potential competitor , and in fact did worse . 
There could be all sorts of reasons for this : the effect is that he arrives in a university stale and defeated , and it is often impossible ever to recover the boy as he existed at 15 . 
There is another contrast . 
In England it is only Oxford and Cambridge which set standards of prestige for universities . 
Men come and go easily between Cabinets , Embassies , Chairmanships of Boards and the Oxford and Cambridge colleges . 
The Colleges are " inside " ; their lawns , their mahogany , their herbaceous borders ( not — alas — any longer their buildings ) are the real thing . 
We envy , but aspire ; the existence of these things in Oxbridge is the sole basis of our dream that they might exist in Manchester , Coventry , or Colchester . 
The English intellectual till the 19th century lived in Grub Street or in Nonconformist rigour ; from this Oxbridge rescued him in the days of its great reforms . 
No wonder his dream is to be commensalis and socius in a great foundation , a freeholder in the inheritance of scholarship . 
His wife may not of course agree ; the cold collations of North Oxford on the evenings of College feasts have their place in the folklore . 
There are in Oxbridge as many " outs " as " ins " ; the democracy of the Fellows is a little like the democracy of the Athenians , among their womenfolk , their metics , and their slaves . 
The Whigs still rule ; democratic principles , a practice of oligarchy and conservatism . 
Who would not choose to be a Whig ? 
One ought not to propose remedies except for admitted evils ; and I find it hard to say that the popularity of Oxford and Cambridge is an evil . 
It is not exactly an evil , it is just a " thing " , an element in the extremely odd flavour of English society . 
Clearly English society is changing : { ducunt volentem fata , nolentem trahunt — things are moving , we had better move gracefully , rather than perforce . 
A few points about the future ( very few ) are clear in the clouded statistical ball . 
The proportion of Oxbridge students in the whole system ( apart from London , about one in two in 1938/9 , one in three in 1956 ) is dropping sharply . 
This drop is marked even in the traditional Arts subjects ; but in these ( so far as one can make out from the U.G.C. statistics , which one would call amateurish but that they conceal some things which it is convenient to conceal ) the 1958/9 figures for Arts graduates were Oxbridge 2,740 , London 1,377 , the rest 3,436 . 
In other subjects the relative decline is precipitate ; in ten years ' time the Oxbridge mathematicians , scientists , and engineers ( though doubtless of high quality ) will not be much more significant numerically than the Oxbridge medical schools are now . 
To put the same facts in another way ; the more boys and girls reach university entrance standard the smaller the proportion of them who can enter Oxbridge . 
This is ineluctable ; Oxbridge could expand proportionately only at the cost of self-destruction . 
This is the situation to which we must adjust ourselves . 
The mechanics of a clearing house are probably essential to tide us over the transition . 
But the transition can only be achieved by a modification of the " image " , the simplified picture which governs action . 
We need image builders who will take the Oxbridge myth and weave it into a pattern with other English myths . 
There are plenty of myths to hand ; the myth of London , the great city , the myth of the North , which by its hardness made the modern world , the myths of the Cathedral towns , the leftish myths of Sandy Lindsay and John Fulton , Keele and Brighton . 
Of course , if we were I.C.I. or the steel industry we could have our myths built for us by a good firm of public relations men , at so much per cubic foot of cloudcapped tower . 
We are not thus endowed ; can we get on with the job ourselves ? 
Two points about this , in conclusion . 
First , we have to face a quick transition in a matter where the natural pace of change is slow . 
It is not easy for universities to explain directly to young people in schools what they have to offer ( though of course we should try ) . 
The natural mentors are parents and teachers , on the whole those between 45 and 55 , who learnt what they know about post-school education in a world very different from that of the 1970 's and 1980's , which is quite close to our students . 
Parents perhaps fall into three sections ; those who were glad to finish formal education at 14 or earlier , those who obtained a professional qualification " the hard way " under the traditional English system , and those who remember their own University — and for most this would be Oxford , Cambridge or a London Medical School . 
The teachers in public schools and grammar schools will have a strong bias to Arts and pure science , a bias towards Oxbridge , which diminishes as one goes down the long ladder of social status , which is not necessarily a ladder of ability or even of success . 
It is to these " customers " , the advisors of students , the creators of ambition , that we have to sell a new picture of the system , as it will be , a system in which Oxbridge will have a special but not predominant place . 
My last point is that to me , as a professor in a civic university , interested in the growth and government of cities , with a young family growing up in a city , the civic situation seems a peculiarly advantageous one . 
There is of course a place for York , Canterbury and the rest : but the English picture of a university system can only be changed quickly by the universities with which the English live . 
Leeds University , Manchester University , Liverpool University and others are part of the re-building of cities ; new cities and new universities are being created together , and must in the process learn to live together . 
There has never been any doubt about this in Scotland ; there is some cause for uneasiness about the state of Scottish universities , but not on the grounds discussed here . 
Scottish people know about the Scottish universities ; they are familiar things , they fit easily into Scottish society , as English universities do not . 
A large responsibility rests on the civic universities for creating this ease of relationship which has existed in England hitherto only for the charmed circle of hereditary Oxbridge men . 
2b . 
A PYRAMID OF PRESTIGE A. H. HALSEY Senior Lecturer in Sociology , University of Birmingham 
SIR CHARLES MORRIS is a splendid utopian . 
He believes that universities exist primarily for educational purposes and are attended by students for primarily educational motives . 
He finds weaknesses in Oxford and Cambridge as educational organizations and deduces the possibility of a relatively increasing future popularity for what he calls " the modern universities " . 
My own more melancholy assessment of the prospect for Redbrick is based on a view of universities more as antechambers to the economy than as centres of higher learning . 
The key to popularity lies in the Appointments Board , not in the tutor 's study . 
My fear is that the outcome of expansion in the sixties and seventies will be an academic hierarchy more securely supported by scholastic selection , more firmly maintained by occupational connections and more clearly recognized by public and participants than ever before . 
In an English context the evolution of education as a meritocratic selection and training ground for the ranks of the expanding army of professional , scientific and technical manpower seems peculiarly likely to result in a graded system of schools and colleges which reflects the power and prestige pyramid of the wider society . 
This is not necessarily to deny Sir Charles ' thesis that the Redbrick universities stand for a pedagogical philosophy which derives teaching from scholarship and which is fundamentally different from the Balliol faith that scholarship will accompany well-organized undergraduate teaching . 
Many will agree that the excellence of the tutorial system is not proven . 
The English have a penchant for living on untested myths which they call the lessons of experience . 
We simply do not know what are the best methods of educating different kinds of student for different branches of learning . 
It may be that the short weekly duet of essay and criticism is inappropriate as well as uneconomical in modern circumstances : perhaps it is more conducive to producing the amateur gentleman than the professional scholar . 
It may be that the irritated American description of public school and Oxford graduates as " not the chosen people but the frozen people " , is at bottom a criticism of the " finishing school " theory of higher learning . 
It may even be that as a distinguishing mark of Oxford and Cambridge , the tutorial system is no longer valid . 
Enquiry might show that the student of physics at Manchester or Cambridge is more similar in his education , style of life and outlook than either is to a man reading classics on the same Cambridge staircase . 
It may very well be too that a B.Com . 
undergraduate in Birmingham is better taught tutorially than a Cambridge college scholar who is sent out to an ageing , impoverished tutor clinging to a squalid gentility by supervising economics for 30 hours a week . 
The point is , however , that all this has nothing to do with the popularity of Oxford and Cambridge . 
In the minds of schoolmasters , parents and sixth-formers , the image of Liverpool and Leicester by comparison with that of New College or Newnham is such that ancient and modern do not begin to compete . 
Sir Charles is right to use the complimentary label " modern " to describe Redbrick . 
He knows that the old provincial universities have been nationalized — that , for example , whereas in 1908 the proportion of his students at Leeds who were drawn from within thirty miles was 78 per cent , it was , by 1955 , reduced to 40 per cent . 
But the distinction between ancient and modern applies for most Englishmen only to hymn books . 
Places of higher learning other than Oxford and Cambridge are " provincial " — a word conveying , in England as in France , the sense of inferiority , outsideness and rejection of those who belong to but are not accepted by the metropolitan culture . 
" She may not get in to Oxford or Cambridge . " 
A TOUR OF RUSSIAN FARMS Sir Geoffrey Haworth 
MANY years ago I had heard that the Russians were breeding a very large cow which was giving a great deal of milk and also being used for beef . 
A Swedish friend led me to believe that this cow might be found at Karavayevo , some 200 miles north-east of Moscow . 
This farm turned out to be outside the scope of Intourist , but largely through the good offices of SCR we were able to arrange a visit last June . 
Kostroma , the nearest town , can only be reached by rail , and the only train leaves Moscow at the rather inconvenient hour of 1.20 a.m . 
As soon as we arrived any doubts about our welcome were quickly dispelled . 
We were met by a large delegation , and after my wife had been presented with three bouquets we proceeded to our hotel . 
Here we were given an enormous breakfast ( we had already unwisely had one on the train ) , and after many toasts we set out for the farm . 
After examining some more-than-life-size busts of farm workers who had distinguished themselves ( several of whom were in our party ) , we went to see some of the Kostroma cows . 
I can say at once that they fully came up to our expectations . 
We asked if one or two could come out of the cowshed to be photographed , and later we found ourselves seated behind a table covered with a red velvet cloth while a full parade of bulls and cows was led past us by white-coated attendants of both sexes . 
About 50 years ago some Swiss cows were imported into the district and crossed with the native Yaroslav . 
In 1920 some of the best hybrids were brought to Karavayevo . 
A process of selection for milking and butter-fat qualities was continued for 20 years , and finally in 1944 the Kostroma breed was officially recognised and registered . 
In 1951 the herd average was 14,093lb. and in 1953 over 160 cows gave 14,200lb. or over . 
The highest individual yield comes from a cow called Grosa . 
In her fifth lactation she gave 36,304lb. of milk at 3.7 per cent butter fat ( 1,343lb. fat ) . 
Another outstanding record came from Poslushnitza 2nd — 35,776lb. at 3.92 per cent ( 1,402lb. fat ) . 
Although both herd and individual yields have now been surpassed by Friesian cows in this country , it would be hard to find so many cows of uniform excellence anywhere else . 
Their weight is from 1,200 to 1,600 pounds and they have good beef qualities . 
We were accompanied round the farm by a very charming man called Steiman . 
Now in his 70s , he was responsible for selecting much of the foundation stock for the herd . 
He also started the " cold house " method of calf rearing , which is still in use . 
Calves are taken from their dams at birth and kept in an unheated house where the temperature from December to March is usually below freezing point . 
It is claimed that at these temperatures bacteria are rendered harmless and that hardy , healthy calves are produced . 
Scours and pneumonia are unknown . 
In the summer young calves are housed in large airy kennels in the fields , where they are fed on milk , hay and concentrates . 
After a look at the older young stock , which live outside with an open shelter all the year round , we were taken to the office building and given another gigantic meal , accompanied by vodka , cognac and wine . 
Farm hospitality on a colossal scale became quite an important item in our lives on the whole tour . 
( We were assured that such meals were not the everyday farm practice ! ) 
It was essential to know that the vast spread of cold meats , salads , fish , eggs and cheese on the table was but an appetiser , and that soup , perhaps two hot dishes and sweet were to follow . 
It was also wise to decide on vodka or cognac at the beginning of the meal and to stick to one for the innumerable toasts that were drunk throughout . 
We usually started with " { 11Mir i druzhba " ( Peace and friendship ) and later , for variety , passed on to such things as " Better silage " or "Higher butter fat " . 
Nearly always at one point in the proceedings came the question : " And now tell us what you think of our farm . " 
There followed complete silence , with all eyes and ears on me . 
I was able to give sincere praise for many things we saw , and luckily the criticisms I made were usually met with nodding of heads and murmurs of " Yes , we know . " 
Perhaps I should say here that , in addition to Karavayevo , we visited state and collective farms in Krasnodar , Piatigorsk and the Sigulda district of Latvia . 
The first thing that strikes one is the large scale of everything — acreages from 7,854 at Karavayevo , which is mainly a stock farm , to 40,000 at Krasnodar , which is mainly arable . 
At the latter the growing of wheat , barley , maize and sugar beet is highly mechanised . 
Gone are the days when Cossacks galloped across the grassy steppe on superb horses . 
Instead , we drove in jeeps round fields of 490 acres bordered with shelter belts of fruit trees . 
The average yield of wheat is 29cwt. per acre . 
All the farms we visited sold cream and butter and fed the skim to pigs . 
Their aim , therefore , was to breed and feed for high butter fat . 
Every farm aimed at being self-contained : they had their own machine stations , vets , zootechnicians ( we should perhaps say livestock specialists ) , crop specialists and accountants ; and often their own schools , hospitals , savings banks and cinemas . 
A very important development is the building of research stations on the farms instead of in neighbouring towns . 
We saw blocks of flats for farm workers and many more under construction , but we also went into two-roomed wooden houses of a very primitive nature , where cooking in summer was done in a home-made mud stove in the garden . 
Both collective and state farm directors seem agreed that the pattern of the future is for even larger-scale organisation , with the housing of workers in large villages or even towns . 
Already some collective farms have abandoned the annual shareout in favour of a guaranteed monthly cash wage . 
State farms emphasise that their well-being depends on the year 's results . 
The state will keep them going however badly they do , but on their annual results depends the amount of money they may spend on amenities such as " Palaces of Culture " , cinemas , sending workers free to the Black Sea resorts , and so on . 
Thus each type of farm tries to adopt the better points of the others ' systems , and already there is a growing similarity between them . 
It is not easy to make comparisons between the farming systems of Russia and this country . 
We both have the same sort of technical problems to deal with and I did not find any new solutions on the farms we visited . 
Moreover , their use of manpower per beast or per acre is very high . 
What is impressive is the enthusiasm and thoroughness with which they carry out their systems : grooming of cows , attention to their feet , feeding of calves , detailed keeping of farm records . 
But I should like to end by saying that what impressed us most was the warmth of our welcome . 
As far as we could learn , we were , in every case , the first English people to visit the farm . 
The director , with half a dozen experts , was always willing to give up a whole day to show us round and entertain us . 
Each member of the staff had a formidable array of facts and figures at his or her finger-tips . 
I am afraid my inability to produce similar figures for this country or even for my own farm must have created a bad impression . 
I do wish there could be more exchange visits between the farmers of our two countries . 
We are far too ignorant of each other 's lives . 
Surveys and Reviews RECENT BOOKS ON TOLSTOY IN ENGLISH J. S. Spink 
IT MUST be admitted that none of the books on Tolstoy , in English , which have appeared in the last decade is worthy of his greatness . 
Most of them belong to a literary genre which is peculiarly Anglo-Saxon , namely the intimate life-story told for its own sake , and can not but tend , by their very nature , to belittle the object of their attentions , in essence the same as those lavished by the Sunday press on its victims . 
Biography becomes trivial when its sole object is to introduce us , like prying tourists , into the intimacy of the great . 
One could call such intimate life-stories " stately homes literature " . 
Their authors do not seek , as did Sainte-Beuve , the master of biographical criticism , to present a full-length psychological portrait of a man . 
They do not study the genesis and development of works of art . 
They are not critical studies at all . 
Nor is there anything of the epic , the tragedy or the comedy in their technique ; they resemble the popular novel . 
Lady Cynthia Asquith 's Married to Tolstoy ( Hutchinson , 1960 ) is very U in tone , and sometimes the U language is that used in the women 's magazines : " Fortunately the Czar , who was giving another audience , was unable to receive Sonya for a quarter of an hour , so it may be hoped that before she was summoned she had time to readjust her stay-laces and recover her breath " ( p. 149 ) . 
However , the book , which is drawn from the obvious sources , is not pretentious and can be accepted on its own terms . 
It begins with the words " Marriage to a genius can seldom be easy " and may be read with a certain amount of pleasure on that level . 
M. Hofmann and A. Pierre 's By Deeds of Truth : the Life of Leo Tolstoy ( Hanison , 1959 ) is similar . 
It is a translation of a book published in French in 1934 and its reissue in English ( printed in the USA , bound in London ) was doubtless motivated commercially by the 50th anniversary of Tolstoy 's death , though it must be noted that the story of Tolstoy 's love affairs , courtship and marriage has been told every few years in books published in English , with apparently no other aim that the retailing of private lives to the public . 
Tikhon Polner 's Tolstoy and his Wife ( Jonathan Cape , 1946 ) , first published in French in 1928 , belongs to this category . 
One of the strangest items in the collection is the preface to the English translation of Tolstoy 's daughter 's My Father ( Harpers , New York , 1953 ) . 
The Russian original was published by a semi-official US agency in 1953 . 
It is a rehash of The Tragedy of Tolstoy ( 1933 ) , written in Moscow but published in the States , after its author 's arrival there . 
The preface to the English translation of My Father is written in a recriminatory style evidently intended to do its bit in the cold war : "I could not spare all the time I wanted and had to work mainly during my so-called free days . " 
This tone is absent from Alexandra Tolstoy 's own Russian preface , which betrays , on the contrary , a real modesty , a disposition of mind which , alas , does not save her from the expression of class sentiments none the less repellent for being nai " ve : " Though sometimes the house-servants were severely flogged in the stables , many of them became part of the family to the extent of forgetting they were serfs . " 
This serves as background painting , the only kind of historical perspective attempted by writers of intimate biographies , and dating , as a literary technique , from the time of Walter Scott 's historical novels . 
There is a similar avoidance of historical perspective in Professor E. J. Simmons 's Leo Tolstoy ( 1946 ) , reprinted as a Vintage paper-back ( New York , 1960 ) , and this book , for all its wealth of factual information , is therefore merely another version of "the Tolstoy story " . 
There is this to be said for T. Redpath 's short study entitled Tolstoy ( Bowes and Bowes , 1960 ) : that its author does not seek to reduce Tolstoy 's doctrines to the level of "views " , to be explained away by psychological biography . 
Where this is not possible one has to rely heavily on a stock of past experience plus inferences based thereon , and if there is any carelessness in the marshalling and handling of such material it inevitably shows up in the judgment made about what one is doing . 
Once again we find ourselves discussing the situation in terms of contemplative or speculative knowledge , and it appears that so-called practical knowledge is so successfully hidden behind contemplative knowledge that it can not even poke its head out to claim its own separate existence . 
Of course there remains the capacity itself — the " know-how " — and , as I have already suggested , one may call this practical knowledge if one likes , but it would be extremely misleading to call this a case of knowledge without observation . 
This is most definitely not a case where I know without observation what others can only know by observation ( or by being informed ) ; having the knack of doing something does not put me in a position to make , without observation , true statements which others can only make with observation . 
Simply knowing how to write " I am a fool " on the blackboard , for instance , can not ever put me in a position to say that I am writing " I am a fool " on the blackboard ( pace Miss Anscombe , Intention , pp. 81-2 ) . 
If the line of argument pursued hitherto is correct then it is clear that when I do state that I am writing something on the blackboard my statement will stand or fall with the relevant observational evidence . 
3 
So far I have been much concerned to rebut the strong suggestion that what might be described as the carrying out of an intention could be known without observation , but now I want to return to a weaker suggestion which was shelved at an earlier stage . 
This is the suggestion that what we know without observation are our intentions . 
One might perhaps concede that neither the driver in my example , nor the man writing on the blackboard in Miss Anscombe 's , could know without observation that their respective intentions were actually being carried out , but one might also claim that in both cases the persons concerned would know what they intended to do and would know this without observation and quite independently of what actually happened . 
It might be held that to know that we intend a certain action is one thing but to know that we have carried it out quite another . 
Miss Anscombe is loth to let intention and action drift apart in her discussion , and it is certainly true that traditional discussions have given the concepts a false independence . 
It indeed needs to be emphasized that actions in the primary sense of the word are necessarily intentional . 
Making a telephone call , for instance , would not be an action under that description unless the performance were intentional , and this means that there is no such act as telephoning which can be conceptually isolated from the intention of telephoning . 
There are of course some descriptions under which something we do can be unintentional , but their use is derivative . 
For example , there would be no such thing as unintentional offence unless we had the concept of intended offence in the first place . 
We should also be wary of the traditional tendency to regard intentions as causal starting points of action , or as being themselves mysterious mental actions . 
Action and intention are certainly not distinct in this sense and it is well to bear in mind the fact that the conceptual inter-relation between them is intimate , but I think we can , without betraying that fact , consider as an independent question whether , and how , we know our own intentions . 
Even though descriptions of actions are normally such that the actions under those descriptions must be intentional , those same descriptions can also be used to refer to performances which are not actions except in a secondary sense . 
This use of such descriptions is more or less the same as the use we make of them when we humanize natural phenomena in our language . 
There is no reason why we should not describe the performance of a clever monkey in the appropriate circumstances as " telephoning " even though we do not regard the performance as constituting an intentional action . 
This would be " telephoning " in a secondary sense of the word — " telephoning " in inverted commas if we like ; we should then be using the word to refer to what was merely the performatory skeleton as it were of the fully-fledged action . 
Now it seems to me that intention is clearly distinguishable from mere performance of this kind , and that there can be cases of the one which are not cases of the other . 
Furthermore it seems to me that we can only speak of an intentional action under a description like "telephoning " for instance in a case where we have both intention and performance . 
The bulk of my discussion so far could be regarded as an attempt to stress the importance of performance in action , but now I want to consider intention . 
I have argued that knowledge of performance , and hence of action , involves observation and inference ; now I want to consider if observation and inference are necessary for us to know that we intend something . 
Consider the difference between saying " I do n't know " in answer to the question , " Do you , on an average , take longer steps left foot forward than right foot forward ? " , and the same answer given to the question " Do you intend to come on this cruise next month ? " 
There is a correct " yes " or "no " answer to the first question whether you know that answer or not , but it is otherwise in the second case . 
In the first case the fact is there waiting to be discovered as it were , but there is no intention of which one is ignorant in the second case . 
There would be something very odd about saying , " Perhaps I do indeed intend ... but I do n't know if I do " , or saying " He certainly intends , but does n't know it . " 
It seems that if you do intend , then you must know that you intend , or if you definitely do not intend then you must know that you do n't . 
This may seem to carry the implication that the knowledge in question is acquired without observation . 
The fact , if it be a fact , that I take longer steps left foot forward would not have any bearing on the care with which I might investigate the matter ; I might make my measurements carelessly and get the wrong answer . 
But where I intend something it seems to be guaranteed that I could not get a wrong answer , so it seems as though we must know our own intentions independently of observation . 
Where a fact , about the length of our strides for example , is only known by observation , others may know the fact before we do and may be in a position to correct our knowledge claims , but this does not seem to be the case with regard to the fact of intention . 
The point appears to come out very clearly in those cases where we make a decision . 
Here , it seems , I know as soon as I decide on an action that I intend to carry it out , but others could only know this by asking me or watching my subsequent behaviour very carefully ; our sources of information seem clearly different and the difference would seem to be that theirs is derived from my report , or from observation , whereas mine is not . 
So we have on our hands a very puzzling statement of fact indeed — a statement which one person ( the one who intends ) can know to be true without observation but which another ( others generally ) can only know by observation or from my report . 
At this point one may begin to doubt if to state one 's intention is to state a fact of any kind , and there certainly are cases where expressions of intention should be regarded as performatives rather than statements of fact . 
Suppose the organiser of a cruise asks me if I intend to come and explains that he must know now since there are others who would like my place if I do n't go . 
To answer "Yes " in such a situation would be to give my word — to undertake to be one of the party . 
But if I am sincere in my undertaking then it will also be a fact that I intend to go unless , or until , I give up the intention . 
Suppose another member of the party hears of a sudden change in my circumstances and asks me "Is it true that you still intend to come ? " 
Then in giving an affirmative answer I should be reassuring him on a question of fact . 
The interesting point now is that I seem to know what I intend without asking anyone or conducting an observational research , whereas my friend can never be as sure about it as I am without asking me . 
To dismiss the matter at this stage with the peremptory conclusion that this is the sort of concept intention is would simply be to abandon our philosophical post , so I must sketch in , albeit very briefly , an account in terms of which there is some hope of seeing how the concept of knowledge , applies in cases of intention . 
Intention , I would suggest to begin with , is a term which is applicable when a certain roughly specifiable complex of conditions hold . 
The concept of intention is in some ways like that of being in debt , for instance . 
One is not describing a person as doing anything when one says that he intends , or that he owes , something ; we say these things when a number of conditions hold , none of which are themselves described in the respective statements . 
I owe you if I have bought ( on my own behalf ) something from you not having paid , or finished paying for it , and if the debt has not been otherwise abrogated . 
The conditions under which one may be said to intend something are not as simple as this , and no doubt the concepts of owing and intending are very different in many other respects . 
Both are similar in that to know that one is in debt is to know that such conditions as I have just mentioned hold , while to know that one intends something is also to know that certain specifiable conditions hold in the case of the intending person . 
There are two main conditions that must hold if we are to ascribe intention to a person . 
In the first place he must want something . 
I am using the word " want " here in a very wide sense , the breadth of which is indicated by the following selection of instances : " I want cake , — to get on , — to win , — to be fair , — to be straightforward , — to be honourable , — to do my duty , — to lead a good life , — to do God 's will , — to get my revenge , — to hurt so-and-so " , to give but a sample . 
Controlled desires , wishes , or hopes are not enough , neither is the type of want that is relevant here to be defined in terms of what brings satisfaction . 
It must be a want such that if a person does want something in the required sense he will , provided one further condition be fulfilled , try to get it . 
The further , second condition is that he should believe that there is a way of getting what he wants and should have some opinions about what to do in order to succeed . 
Thus , there are two types of explanatory answers that one may give to the question : Do you intend ? 
One may , on the one hand , say something like " I want to , but I doubt if I can " , in which case it is clear that the first of our conditions holds whereas there is uncertainty about the second . 
On the other hand , one sometimes says " I could go , but I do n't really want to . " 
Here one is sure of the means but lacks the want . 
The gathering C. P. Snowstorm by John Wren-Lewis 
THE FOLLOWING STORY is popular in educational circles : In a university when a lecturer enters and says " Good morning " no-one looks up from his newspaper . 
In a College of Advanced Technology when a lecturer enters and says " Good morning " , everyone writes it down . 
A few years ago I heard this story told to illustrate the difference within a university between the undergraduates reading humanities and those reading science . 
There has been a subtle shift in the frontier of educational snobbery . 
Science , as such , was once considered the preserve of dull , unsophisticated people ; but the scientists staged a successful protest against this . 
Men like Dr Bronowski and Sir Charles Snow showed they could perfectly well compete with the literary men on their own ground . 
One Oxford scientist , the late Sir Francis Simon , went so far as to say that if a scientist was as ignorant of history as most humanities men today are of science , he would have to believe that Napoleon preceded Julius Caesar . 
Since then we have heard little about uncultured scientists in the Universities . 
It is admitted that the search for scientific truth may be a genuine aspect of culture , and the current fashion is to praise scientists for their broadmindedness rather than call them illiterate . 
Today it is the technologist who is the object of humorous deprecation . 
This shows that we have not really begun to solve the problem of " the two cultures " . 
For the technologist , the applied scientist whose aim is to find " know how " for making things or working things , is actually more in tune with the spirit of science as we use the term today than the " dedicated seeker after truth " who works on " pure research " . 
I do not mean there is anything wrong with pure research : I mean science works because it has abandoned the classical idea that seeking truth means grasping theoretical principles " underlying " experience . 
The point was very well made a few years ago in the BBC Reith Lectures by the American scientist Robert Oppenheimer . 
A scientist who discovers some new physical effect , he said , is often far more concerned with how he can use it to measure other things than he is with understanding the effect itself . 
In other words , modern science finds " truth " , not in theories as such , but in the act of testing theories against experience . 
This is the essence of the experimental method . 
The common idea of science is still that it uses experiment to prove theories , but this has been shown long ago by the philosophers to be a logical impossibility . 
There is always the chance that some result may turn up tomorrow which disproves the same theory — and modern science is built on the acceptance of this fact . 
The whole reason why modern science is inherently progressive , where classical natural philosophy was not , is that the scientific revolution abandoned treating theory as " truth " and regarded it merely as a tentative formula for doing things — with the implication ( utterly alien from classical culture ) that it is by handling the world that we live and know . 
This is of immense importance for the whole problem of scientific education . 
Educators continually bewail the fact that science students have to absorb so much that they have no time left over to gain any insight at all into other subjects . 
It is often suggested that industry is demanding the creation of a race of technical robots , who have to know so much in a specialised field that they are forced to drop learning anything else from sixteen or earlier . 
This is a gross libel on technology , however : the real reason for the overcrowding of science curricula lies elsewhere . 
The narrow man , the man who knows little outside his own field of science and nothing at all outside science itself , is virtually useless in industry — not just because he finds it hard to communicate with or manage other people ( which is important enough ) but also because he is a bad technologist . 
To give an example from my own recent experience : a recent British invention in the field of scientific instruments was made because a scientist interested in crystallography was also a yachtsman , and saw an analogy which no one had seen before between the crystal-measuring instrument and the sailor 's sextant . 
Again , a technique for identifying chemicals was neglected for decades until a chemist who was also a lawyer got down to presenting it to the chemical world as if he were presenting a brief . 
This sort of thing is happening all the time in applied sciences , and on the negative side , inventions are held up time and again because scientists are not sufficiently " men of the world " — silicones and penicillin are examples . 
The scientists whom industry needs are not people ground down into a narrow specialism : they are people trained in certain basic methods , who apart from this have as broad an outlook and as much flexibility of mind as possible . 
The main reason why scientists are not being trained like this , in my view , is that the British educational system is still geared to the classical idea of truth . 
It has been said , rather unkindly , that a teacher of classics is like the curator of a provincial museum — his only job is to rearrange the exhibits . 
No doubt this is a libel , but the classical outlook in education certainly assumes that learning means the mastery of an intellectual system . 
In other words , because our educational system is still dominated by the classical outlook , for all its acceptance of the sciences , it is not adapted to the teaching of inherently progressive subjects . 
Hence curricula inevitably become overcrowded . 
Our error is not in training scientists who are unaware of the classical outlook : it is in training them in all sorts of assumptions which are still unconsciously derived from it . 
What we need , to produce scientists who are also human , is something far more fundamental than a Departmental Committee on Syllabus Revision on which schoolmasters and industrialists as well as university dons are represented ( although that would be a practical first step which is already long overdue ) . 
We need a radical revolution in our whole outlook . 
We need to recognise that what happened to our civilisation in the scientific revolution was something which has implications far beyond the realm of technics . 
Scientists themselves often do not understand this , because their training has so often been dominated by "classical " assumptions . 
Hence when they try to make bridges across the gulf between the two cultures by starting from their side by writing histories of scientific thought , they often lose their readers in masses of anecdotes without giving any real feel of science at all . 
It is a common characteristic of historians of science , for example , that they never treat Galileo 's ecclesiastical detractors as anything more than frightened obscurantists whereas in truth it was perfectly reasonable to refuse to look through his telescope if you assumed — as mankind has almost universally done until the scientific revolution — that experience is probably unreliable . 
Galileo was actually making a choice of interest with very practical consequences , as Brecht 's play brought out , and our whole civilisation is the heir to that choice . 
Understanding science means understanding that choice — understanding that once it has been decided to manipulate the world instead of just contemplating it , your basic concepts are bound to be " matter " and " energy " , since your concern is with " stuff " and " pushing stuff about " — yet there is no ultimate distinction between the two , so that matter and energy must prove ultimately interconvertible . 
At the same time there will be two primary practical results of science — the discovery of how materials produce their effects on us and how energy can be stored and controlled . 
An approach to understanding science along these lines would put applied science in its proper perspective and it might even go some way towards providing a simplified basis for teaching science to scientists themselves . 
But the most important point to be grasped is that the revolution in interest which Galileo made is one which can and should spread to the whole of culture , and until it does our civilisation will remain schizoid . 
Defenders of classical culture are apt to argue that science and technology , which are concerned with means , ought properly always to be subordinate to the arts , the humanities and religion , which are concerned with ends . 
But this misses the most vital thing about the issue between the two cultures . 
So long as the artistic and humanitarian aspects of our culture are dominated by the classical outlook , with its radical distrust of experience , they are bound to seem static and powerless in comparison with science and technology , which derive their authority from reference to experience , or enhancement of it . 
So it is useless trying to humanise scientific education merely by grafting on a few " arts " or " humanities " to school or university science curricula , for the atmospheres of " the two cultures " are even less easily mixed than oil and water . 
We need a revolution in outlook in the arts and humanities themselves . 
This is the real point , I believe , that people like Snow are getting at when they ask for scientists to have more part in Government . 
This is not only a matter of the Government being able to appreciate technical issues : it is much more fundamentally a matter of attitude of mind . 
Those who have absorbed the atmosphere of scientific culture find those outside it alarming because they appear to be willing to attach more validity to their fundamental myths than to evidence . 
What the new men want — and will have , sooner or later — is a public system which bases authority always on declared evidence that the good of persons is demonstrably being served . 
The World and the Church by Phyllis Graham Learning to be a parent 
CONSIDERING the publicity given to the problem of juvenile delinquency , it is astonishing that so little has been done to remedy its chief cause — the bad home . 
One would have thought that common sense , let alone Christianity , would have shown it was impossible to teach a mother to care properly for her children by removing them from her and sending her to prison ; but this is still the most usual way of dealing with women accused of persistent neglect . 
Even on economic grounds this method of treatment stands condemned . 
The average cost of keeping a mother in prison is £7 a week , and of a child in a Local Authority Home £7 10s . 
Contrast this with the fees of £4 for the mother and £2 10s for each child charged at St Mary 's Mothercraft Training Centre , Dundee . 
Thus a family of a mother and four children will cost the country £37 a week when separated , and only £14 if kept together at St Mary 's . 
But there is more to it than this . 
Efforts have been made by the Royal Scottish Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children to secure training in mothercraft in Greenock Prison . 
This may sound excellent in theory but to those who have intimate experience of the type of mother usually brought before the court on a charge of child neglect it is mockery . 
A survey of cases admitted to English training homes showed that 27 per cent were feeble-minded or worse . 
These mothers can not be taught in a vacuum . 
Only by the most patient showing from hour to hour how to meet the needs of their own children can they be expected to learn anything . 
Sheriff Christie of Dundee wrote in 1957 : 
" It is , I think , the universal experience that mothers who neglect their children do so , in the main , not through wickedness but through incapacity and inefficiency . 
The foundation of St Mary 's opened a new chapter in dealing with these unfortunate families ; it has brought new hope to many for whom adversity has been too much and it has taken the whole problem out of the province of the criminal law where no satisfactory solution was possible . " 
Social services 
Progress in the social services in recent years is reflected in the demand for increased expenditure ; advance in this field will be even more marked than under the Second Plan . 
It is hoped that compulsory primary education will cover all children in the 6 to 11 group . 
The number of registered doctors is expected to grow from 84,000 at the end of the Second Plan to 103,000 at the end of the Third ; hospital beds will increase from 160,000 to 190,000 ; hospitals and dispensaries from 12,600 to 14,600 ; primary health centres from 2,800 to 5,000 ; and family planning clinics from 1,800 to 2,000 . 
The Third Plan envisages a substantial expansion in the programme of building houses for the low-income groups and industrial workers , slum clearance and acquisition of land for building purposes . 
There is also an extensive programme of local development works to enable rural areas to provide themselves with certain minimum amenities , such as an adequate supply of drinking water , roads linking each village to the nearest main road or railway station and the provision of a village school building which could serve as a community centre and library . 
Financing the plan 
The Third Plan envisages a total investment of Rs.10,200 crores , of which Rs.6,200 crores will be in the public sector and Rs.4,000 crores in the private sector . 
Including the current outlay of Rs.1,050 crores , the total outlay in the public sector will thus be of the tune of Rs.7,250 crores . 
The State is basically concerned with covering basic capital investments and also current expenditure , such as salaries , subsidies , etc . 
Yet , the private sector still contributes about 90 per cent of India 's total national income . 
The Third Plan looks for an increase of about 51 per cent in total investments , of about 70 per cent and 58 per cent respectively in public investment and current expenditure and about 29 per cent in private investment . 
The following table gives some indication of percentage allocation of investments : External resources 
It is in the field of external resources that the greatest difficulty arises in estimating the budget of the Third Plan . 
Considering foreign trade trends , the Draft Outline estimated that the total export earnings over the Third Plan period would be Rs.3,450 crores — an average of Rs.690 crores per year , as compared to Rs.576 crores in 1958-59 and Rs.645 crores in 1959-60 . 
The balance left for financing imports would be Rs.3,070 crores . 
As against this , imports of raw materials , intermediate products , food-grains , capital goods etc. would amount to Rs.3,570 crores . 
Thus , there would be a deficit of Rs.500 crores , which is about equal to the repayments on loans falling due in the plan period . 
The gap in India 's external resources would , therefore , be particularly large in the initial years of the Plan because of heavy repayments falling due in these years . 
This gap is expected to narrow in subsequent years as output from large-scale projects now in hand become available . 
In addition machinery , equipment and other capital goods to be imported as the foreign exchange component of the Third Plan will be in the order of Rs.1,900 crores . 
Further essential imports of components and semi-manufactures will amount to about Rs.200 crores . 
The total requirements of external assistance for the Third Plan would thus amount to Rs.2,600 crores . 
Foreign aid 
The following foreign assistance was already promised or under-written before the launching of the Third Plan : 
Ever since the Draft Outline was published , the Indian Government had been conducting negotiations with the " Aid to India Consortium " ( World Bank , U.S.A. , U.K. , Canada , France , Japan and West Germany ) for assistance ; an agreement was announced in Washington at the beginning of June , 1961 , by which the Consortium undertook to furnish a maximum of Rs.1,060 crores to cover the first two years of the Third Plan , that is almost half of the total foreign exchange requirements for the Plan . 
With her national income and indigenous resources still in the under-developed stage , India 's foreign exchange difficulties and consequent dependence on foreign aid are bound to continue for some time . 
However , given timely assistance , she faces the future with confidence . 
As the Draft Outline of the Third Plan declared : 
" The balance of payments difficulties the country is facing are not a temporary or fortuitous phenomenon . 
They are part and parcel of the process of development . 
For a period , the excess import requirements have to be met from external assistance . 
But it is important to aim at a progressive reduction in the imbalance , so as to eliminate it within a foreseeable period . 
Reliance on special foreign aid programmes has to be steadily reduced and after a period of years dispensed with " . 
THE SOCIAL IMPLICATIONS OF PLANNING 
In the last analysis , planning is not an end in itself : it is a means to an end . 
A brief review has already been made of the progress expected under the Third Plan in education , which is the first essential of any social progress . 
Another important aspect of social advance is improvement in housing and sanitation , especially in the rural areas . 
The Third Plan provides for an outlay of Rs.25 crores for social welfare . 
A prominent role is played by the Central and State Social Welfare Boards . 
The Central Board itself has assisted more than 4,500 voluntary social welfare organizations during the last seven years . 
Some of the priorities recommended under the Third Plan include : ( 1 ) Intensified measures for the prevention and treatment of juvenile delinquency ; ( 2 ) Moral and social hygiene programmes under the Suppression of Immoral Traffic Act ; ( 3 ) Aftercare Services ; ( 4 ) Prevention of beggary and vagrancy ; ( 5 ) Prison welfare services and ( 6 ) Welfare of physically and mentally handicapped persons . 
Prohibition forms an important item on the programme of the State Governments ; several of them took intensive measures during the Second Plan to restrict drinking in public places and to extend "dry " areas ; these measures may be further intensified under the Third Plan . 
The rehabilitation of refugees from West Pakistan has now been more or less completed . 
However , rehabilitation of refugees from East Pakistan still remains to be accomplished . 
The Third Plan provides for programmes for this purpose ; including the provision of housing , development of industries , education , training and other schemes . 
Work continues on the Dandakaranya Area Project , which is intended to rehabilitate displaced persons from East Pakistan and the local tribal population . 
The Community Development Movement 
No account of the social and economic achievement of planning in India would be complete without a mention of the Community Development Movement and the National Extension Service . 
Starting in 1948-49 as a project for the development of a group ( " block " ) of villages in the Nilokheri area of the Punjab , primarily for the resettlement of refugees from West Pakistan , the Community Development Movement was firmly entrenched in the rural life by the end of 1951 . 
On 22nd October ( Mahatma Gandhi 's Birthday ) , 1952 , the Movement was officially launched as a national undertaking in 55 selected projects , each covering 300 villages — about 500 square miles and a population of about 200,000 . 
By the beginning of 1959 , the programme covered 2,548 blocks , that is , 339,518 villages ( out of a total of 558,000 villages in India ) , with a population of 173 million , that is nearly two-thirds of the rural population of India . 
As has already been mentioned , by October , 1963 , the whole of the country will be covered by Community Projects . 
Under the First Plan , there was a provision of Rs.52.4 crores for expenditure on Community Projects ; the amount allocated under the Second Plan was Rs.200 crores and under the Third Plan Rs.400 crores . 
The Community Development Programme is defined as a "programme of aided self-help , to be planned and implemented by the villagers themselves , the state offering technical guidance and financial assistance " . 
Its primary objective is to develop self-reliance in the individual and initiative in the village community . 
Agriculture naturally receives highest priority in the Community Development programme , as it is still the mainstay of 70 per cent of the rural population . 
Among other notable activities undertaken in the programme are the provision of means of communications , improvement in health and sanitation , better housing , mass education , especially the adult literacy campaign , women 's and children 's welfare and the development of cottage and small-scale industries . 
However , an even more important aspect of this unique movement is the speeding up of the process of democratic decentralization ; in 1959 the Government decided to delegate , by progressive stages , responsibility for using power and resources for planning and execution of development projects to the people 's elected representatives . 
Village self-rule has thus become the accepted principle of democracy in India . 
A U.N . 
Technical Mission which visited India recently has declared that it is " the most significant experiment in economic development and social improvement in Asia at the present time " . 
ACHIEVEMENTS AND PROSPECTS 
India is still not self-sufficient in several respects such as food or the production of heavy machinery . 
Poverty , unemployment and illiteracy have yet to be mastered completely ; and the common man can not , in general , feel relaxed under the umbrella of the welfare state . 
Nevertheless what is surprising is not that planning has achieved so little in its first ten years , but that it has achieved so much in so short a time in a country which inherited problems created by centuries of foreign rule . 
Before the war , India was almost completely dependent on foreign countries for the most elementary articles of consumption — from needles to locomotives , and from tooth paste to heavy chemicals . 
Today , the Indian people have attained virtual self-sufficiency in most articles of daily consumption . 
A start has been made with health schemes and sickness insurance in different occupations ; for instance , every civil servant is entitled to state-aided medical care ; the Railways have their own medical scheme , so have the Banks and large undertakings in the private sector . 
It must always be realized that 80 per cent of the Indian people still live in villages and 70 per cent of the Indian population still depend on agriculture and rural industries for their living . 
By 1965 , the proportion of the population dependent on agriculture will go down to 60 per cent and urbanization will increase accordingly ; so that , in the long run , a balance ought to be established between the agrarian and industrial labour force . 
In the meantime , the peasant derives many benefits from the management of the economy — he is to a certain degree cushioned against the natural calamities which made life so difficult in the past . 
Above all , he is being given the means of improving his social and economic lot . 
The peasant can get credit from the local co-operative society and most important of all , if he needs assistance for the purchase or training for the use of implements , seeds , fertilizers , etc. , the Community Development organization can be relied upon to help him . 
Above all , he has become increasingly conscious that his future depends not on his moneylender or landlord or even the administrative officer , but on himself and a democratic system which extends from his village to New Delhi . 
BRITAIN 'S ROLE 
Of course , the centuries of British rule have been blamed for many of the shortcomings of the Indian economy in this day and age . 
No doubt , much of this criticism is well founded . 
Nevertheless it should always be remembered that the British created the framework within which the development of a democratic India has become possible . 
The legacy of the Indian Civil Service forms much of the foundation of the relative efficiency of the Indian machinery of government without which no plans could be implemented . 
The respect for law and the existence of an independent judiciary are safeguards which make certain that in India centralized planning and political liberty go hand in hand . 
Today British money continues to play an important part in the Indian economy . 
There has been a relative decrease in the proportion of private British investment ; this was partly because investors from other countries , especially the U.S.A. and Western Germany are coming into the Indian field on an increasing scale . 
The net flow of capital from the U.S.A. amounted to Rs.22 crores in 1959 , that is three-fifths of the total net inflow of Rs.38 crores during that year . 
Prague 1961 WILLIAM W. SIMPSON 
PRAGUE IS STILL one of the loveliest cities of Europe , and one of the few still unspoiled by the ravages of modern warfare . 
But it is also — or so it seemed to me — a very sad city ; a city whose scars are those of a " cold " rather than a " hot " war . 
I was very much aware of this as I stood , a few weeks ago , in the " Ring , " the Market Place of the Old City . 
The temptation to find " sermons in stones " was almost irresistible . 
There , in the centre of the " Ring , " stands a magnificent statue of Jan Hus , the Bohemian reformer and martyr who , in 1406 , went to the stake rather than renounce what the Council of Constance had judged to be his heresies . 
On his left is the Tyn Church , austerely Gothic , and a symbol of the Hussite reform movement of which it was the spiritual centre in the fifteenth century . 
On the other side of the " Ring , " stands one of the many Baroque Churches , which in Prague bear witness to the Catholic revival of the seventeenth century . 
But that is not all . 
Linking the "Ring " with the south bank of the Ultava river is a splendid modern thoroughfare cut towards the end of the nineteenth century through the heart of what was formerly the Prague Ghetto . 
And at the far end , high on the north bank of the river , stands a colossal figure of Joseph Stalin , forever looking down towards the Market Place where the figure of Jan Hus forever turns its back towards this twentieth-century exponent of an ideology which denies the very foundations of Judaism and of Christianity , Protestant and Catholic alike ! 
Not much of the Ghetto remains . 
Most of its buildings were pulled down a generation ago by town planners . 
It remained for the Nazis to destroy its inhabitants . 
On the walls of one of its five surviving Synagogues , the Pinhas , the visitor may read the names of 70,000 men , women and children whose end was part of Hitler 's attempt to implement the " final solution of the Jewish problem . " 
Of a community which in 1933 numbered some 357,000 there remain today only 18,000 , and of these many are almost completely assimilated . 
A few only of an older generation strive to keep alive the traditions of the fathers . 
They have become virtually the custodians of a museum ; paradoxically , one of the finest Jewish museums in the world . 
For here , in Prague , the Nazis collected together ritual objects of all kinds from Jewish homes and Synagogues throughout Central and Eastern Europe . 
" The monthly war-time return-sheets " wrote Hana Volavkova in a article on the State Jewish Museum published in a volume of Prague Jewish Studies , " show how the stores grew , and the museum spaces filled up : 2,000 Torah curtains , 4,000 Torah mantles , 6,000 Silver Crowns , Shields and pointers , 40,000 archivalia from provincial towns . 
The bare figures will show the numeric growth of the collections , these foundation stones for the later systematic work , whose initial stages were quite modest . " 
Already by the end of 1954 the inventory contained 120,000 numbers . 
But I had come to Prague , not merely to visit the representatives of the Jewish community , by whom I was most warmly received , but to attend , as an observer in a purely private and unofficial capacity , the First All-Christian Peace Assembly . 
The outcome of three years of preparatory work in which the initiative had been taken by the Protestant and Orthodox Churches of Eastern and South-eastern Europe , this Assembly brought together more than 600 Christians from all parts of the world and from almost every section of the Christian family , save one : the Roman Catholic . 
Threat of self-extermination 
" The Assembly is being held , " to quote one of the preliminary papers , at a time when " mankind is being threatened with self-extermination , since war in the atomic age no longer presents a responsible and sensible possibility for solving international problems . " 
Its main purpose was to consider " what is the particular contribution of Christians in this situation , and on what is this contribution founded ? 
How are we both to hear and to communicate God 's word in this situation ? " 
These were , and are , very pertinent questions — far beyond the scope of so large a gathering to answer in so short a time . 
For the 600 members of the Assembly spent only five days together : two in plenary session , two in group discussion , and a fifth in greeting and taking leave of each other . 
When to the limitations imposed by this manifest shortage of time are added the problems arising from diversities of language and the need at times for a double and even a triple process of interpretation , it will be readily appreciated that the Assembly was more in the nature of a demonstration than a conference from which it would be reasonable to expect definitive results . 
But a demonstration of what ? 
Certainly not of any claim to a superficial unity based on the ignoring or minimising of important , and at times fundamental differences between members of the various Churches and traditions represented in the Assembly . 
There was no intention , declared Professor Hromadka , Dean of the Comenius Theological Faculty in Prague , in his opening address to the Conference , " to level the organisational differences , the diversity and riches of the heritage and legacy possessed by the individual Churches and their members ... 
On the contrary , it is here , among us , that our multiformity assumes a deeper meaning ... 
We can not labour for a new atmosphere in the world , in international relations , unless we form here among ourselves an internal partnership of trust and willingness to learn from one another . " 
Criticism of Vatican 
The principle was clear — and unexceptionable . 
Its application , however , was far from easy . 
It very soon became evident , for example , that those coming from countries on the other side of " the Curtain " were determined that whatever else the Assembly might say or do , it should condemn " colonialism " and " the Roman Catholic Church . " 
Already foreshadowed by Professor Hromadka in his opening address , this was strongly reinforced by Archbishop Nikodem , the leader of the Russian Orthodox delegation , who in his opening address declared that " the Roman curia , hypnotised by the prospect of the absolute power of the Papacy , has by its wordly interest and connections become rooted in an old mode of life , has irreally ( sic ! the quotation is from the translation distributed at the Conference ) tied itself up with imperialist designs and is still vulgar and often hostile to the moral and social demands of the masses who are fighting for the ideals of freedom , equality and brotherhood . " 
Not surprisingly , this kind of scathing and one-sided attack produced a strong resistance on the part of many of the " Western " representatives : a resistance which there is reason to believe was not altogether without effect , for although the " Message " of the Assembly contained certain critical references to the Vatican they were set in a context of declared intention "to pray that God may hold us and our Roman Catholic brethren firmly in His love and may guide us all to the recognition of His will and to the obedience to His command of love and peace . " 
For the rest , however , there was a wide area of shared concern and substantial agreement on such issues as the banning of nuclear tests , the abolition of nuclear weapons , the dangers of the " cold war , " and the need " to fix our eyes on the co-existence and constructive co-operation of nations and groups of nations which are living in different economic , political and cultural systems and traditions . " 
" Mutual condemnation , " declared the Assembly , " should give place to a friendly co-operation . " 
Personal contacts 
But the value of such an Assembly lies not merely in its formal pronouncements , important though the Message of this Assembly was in indicating a wider range of agreement on a larger number of issues than many might have thought possible , but rather in the personal meeting between people from so many and such widely differing situations . 
Those meetings took place in discussion groups , where , in spite of the tendency of representatives of certain Churches to read prepared statements , the beginnings of a real dialogue were noticeable . 
They took place also over meal tables , in the coaches which transported members to and from the Conference Hall , and in many other informal ways . 
There was a great deal of ignorance to be dispelled : I vividly remember a meal-time conversation with the Pastor of an Eastern European Church who told what a great surprise it had been to him to discover that Churches in one of the Western European countries had any interest or played any active part in relation to the social problems of the community . 
There were suspicions also to be overcome : the mutual suspicion that each was motivated by political rather than religious considerations . 
If there are Christians in the West who assume all too readily that their fellow Christians in the East have " sold the pass " in coming to terms with " communism , " there are many in the East who suspect that their brethren in the West are knowingly or unknowingly largely under the control of " imperialist capitalism . " 
It would be foolish to pretend that these suspicions are altogether without foundation on either side . 
Under whatever political or economic system they are living at the present time , Christians both East and West of " the Curtain " face the same basic problem of deciding how far they can , in conscience , travel with the State . 
This , of course , is no new problem . 
Nor is it a specifically Christian one . 
It is as old as the Maccabean resistance to Antiochus Epiphanes — and older . 
Moreover , in the world of today it is a problem confronting Jews no less than Christians . 
And if the difficulties at present seem greater in the East , where the apostles of the Marxist-Leninist form of dialectical materialism openly attack what they regard as religious or superstitious survivals , the situation is hardly less serious in the West where more practical forms of materialism are in danger of undermining the very foundations of the Judeo-Christian way of life . 
It is , I believe , the fact that Christians ( and Jews ) on both sides of " the Curtain " face similar if not identical problems that gives special importance to this " First All-Christian Peace Assembly , " and to all that went to its making and that will , it is hoped , flow from it . 
That there are dangers and difficulties to be encountered is inevitable . 
But I came away from Prague deeply convinced of the value of the experience and firmly persuaded that Christians in the West must take this Eastern initiative much more seriously , and at the same time prepare themselves more effectively both to take advantage of the opportunities it affords and to guard against any dangers to which it might give rise . 
" Better than being at school ! " 
An account of a recent educational project and its results 
IN HIS BOOK " Race , Prejudice and Education , " Dr. Cyril Bibby throws some doubt on the popular view that young children are free from prejudice , and adds that " this attractive picture of childhood innocence scarcely corresponds with the facts . 
From the very earliest days infants are imbibing the implicit assumptions of the society in which they live . " 
It is just because of this liability on the part of young people to pick up the prejudices of their environment that the Council of Christians and Jews has always regarded the broadening of their minds and sympathies through contacts with different religious , racial and cultural groups as an essential part of its educational programme . 
Here is a description of a most valuable piece of work on these lines carried out by the Leeds Branch of the Council as part of their programme and some of the reactions to which it gave rise . 
On Wednesday , July 12th , forty boys and girls from a local Primary school , accompanied by two teachers , were shown over a Synagogue by one of the Branch 's secretaries . 
He gave them half-an-hour 's talk on the Synagogue , its symbols and ceremonial , and there followed a period for questions and answers . 
DEMON OF THE CONCRETE A NOTE ON MAX WEBER AND CONTEMPORARY SOCIOLOGY BY NORMAN BIRBAUM 
MAX WEBER , born in 1864 and died in 1920 , is generally regarded as the greatest of modern sociologists . 
This received opinion is piously affirmed , even by those whose command of the original texts and their sources in intellectual and social history is limited . 
But Weber 's work has exerted little influence on the social sciences in this country . 
( The situation in the USA is different . ) 
Piety , apparently , has served as a substitute for comprehension . 
There is little point in re-animating those hobgobblins so familiar to all right-thinking left-wing social scientists : the lamentable ( if recent ) isolation of the British from Continental thought , the philistine complacency of those for whom complex ideas constitute the moral equivalent of greasy cooking , the nervous patrol mounted on academic boundaries by minds of pop-gun calibre . 
The reasons for the deficiency are far more profound . 
They affect men of honesty , talent , and vision no less than that minority of pedants whose chief activity is the celebration of their own short-sightedness as a new form of omniscience . 
Max Weber 's life work may be understood as a desperate encounter with Marxism , a system of values and explanation from which Weber dissented — and which he treated with the utmost seriousness and respect . 
In opposition to the Marxist theory of ideology , Weber insisted on the independent role of ideas in history . 
Contradicting the Marxist notion of social classes , he held that status groupings were often more important . 
Challenging the Marxist view of the state , he developed an original conception of bureaucracy . 
He studied the inter-relationship of society and religion in the Protestant west , India , China , and Ancient Judaism ; and brought a vast historical perspective to the analysis of the crisis of capitalist society . 
Master of a thousand historical particulars , he used his immense learning to seek generalisation . 
Endowed with a profound capacity for abstraction , he never used abstraction to annihilate the uniqueness of any specific historical situation . 
He moved with bewildering rapidity from methodological prescription , through the analysis of the language of the social sciences , into specific empirical studies , towards sociological generalisation , and — finally — transcended this to construct a philosophy of history . 
Upon his death , a contemporary said : " With Max Weber , our sciences reached their highest peak — and promptly fell from it . " 
Weber attempted , indeed , a synthesis of the abstract and the concrete by juxtaposing the one and the other . 
Trapped within the antitheses of a science resolutely positivistic , he sought to break out by showing the evaluative bias intrinsic to any approach to fact , and by insisting upon the inadequacy of any metaphysics when it confronted the irreducible data of history : power , conflict and anguish . 
It is now , perhaps , somewhat clearer why Weber is so difficult of assimilation to British social thought . 
His life work is not alone the product of genius , but of genius in a particular historical crisis : he united methodological scruple , and spiritual self-awareness with a pessimistic conviction of the political impotence of social science . 
The dilemmas of a self-consciously " academic " science , of political liberalism , of modern Protestantism afflicted him in their German form . 
His work gave them a more universal expression . 
Nothing like this coalescence of crises has occurred here — yet . 
We still await an end to " empiricism " . 
It can come only when ( as happened to Weber and his contemporaries ) the usual categories of analysis dissolve because the institutions to which they refer disintegrate . 
But we may understand Weber 's work as a supreme instance of an intellectual effort to master a reality that seemed to defy practical human alteration . 
The understanding of Max Weber is not easy for someone raised in the English-speaking countries . 
His style is tortuous , and some of his most important works were until recently not available in translation . 
The secondary literature in English has tended to emphasize his methodological writings , and has at times treated these out of context . 
With the publication of Reinhard Bendix 's admirable book on Weber 's general sociology , however , we do have a reliable and ample guide to the full scope of his thought . 
Professor Bendix has grasped what is essential in Weber 's work , the internal reasons for its alternation between abstraction and concrete description . 
Given the depth , complexity , and sheer scope of Weber 's writings , Professor Bendix can only be congratulated upon a remarkable feat of compression and synthesis . 
He has brought to the surface , further , much that is latent in the texts and he is everywhere , faithful to them . 
We might have hoped for a more systematic account of the relationship between the work and its political setting , but not everything can be done in one book . 
( Meanwhile , a young German scholar , Wolfgang Mommsen of Tuebingen , has given us just such an account in his { Max Weber und die Deutsche Politik 1890-1920 ; a translation is much to be desired . ) 
Theory vs . 
Research 
The appearance of the Bendix volume , however , gives rise to some melancholy reflections on the present state of British sociology . 
I do n't refer to the plight of the subject in terms of university politics , to its difficulties of recruitment and expansion . 
I do refer to the curious intellectual atmosphere many of its practitioners breathe , to their penchant for universalising minor differences of emphasis and to their equally prominent aptitude for ignoring major ones . 
Theory has been opposed to research , comparative and historical studies have been set against investigations of contemporary British social structure , pure science has been invoked against the applied sort . 
No formulation is too crude , no argument too tiresome , when these embattled knights arm themselves with cliches for their ( paper ) Armageddon . 
It would appear , to the mere outsider interested in knowledge of society , to be pointless — but an insider can tell him that it has a point , namely , it is all prophylactic — it prevents a rigorous and sustained criticism of the protagonists ' assumptions . 
The contending approaches I 've just cited ( I could add some more , extending to scholastic disputes about which techniques ought to be applied in — entirely hypothetical — investigations ) of course contend mainly in the minds of the disputants . 
What makes so many of these debates so sterile is that the participants either can not or will not see that they occupy vantage points of a very restricted sort ; they seem to think that , like so many intellectual collossues , they straddle the globe . 
The more one looks at this , the more one feels that the thing which British sociologists need is to consider the implications of Weber 's work for their own . 
One Historical Actuality 
They might begin by noting that Weber was fascinated by what we may term the demon of the concrete . 
In every event , he saw the point at which many historical possibilities were transformed into one historical actuality — which in turn led to new possibilities . 
Every event , further , was susceptible of interpretation in a variety of theoretical contexts . 
The interpretation chosen by the sociologists , then , depends upon his prior assumptions as much as upon the unique properties of the event . 
But only those unique properties were capable of altering theoretical assumptions , by suggesting new ones . 
Put in this way , Weber 's procedure sounds too much like the crude scientism advocated by many who see in the social sciences only a substitute for the ( alleged ) straight-forwardness of the natural sciences : hypothesis , deduction , induction , new hypothesis and so on { 6ad infinitum . 
That is not what Weber meant . 
In the first place , he held that interpretation depended upon understanding — a seizure of the essentially human components of evaluation and motivation in social action . 
( In this sense , Weber at times came close to the Marxist analysis of practise . 
) More importantly , perhaps , Weber held that the manifold meaning attached to the event by the social scientist could alter his definition of the concrete event itself . 
Weber saw sociology and the social sciences in general as dialectically related to reality — even if he did not use the term , and even if the substance of his own sociology represented a challenge to historical materialism . 
And , in the last resort , Weber 's efforts were directed to mastering concrete reality in all its fullness — a fullness which was demonic because of the human situation itself . 
Exhausting Reality 
The placid and complacent way in which the ordinary British social investigator supposes that what he sees exhausts reality , is a striking commentary on his own deficiencies of imagination . 
The deficiency is no less painful because it happens to be common amongst a group of sociologists whose own social ideals are , on the whole , admirable . 
The new book by Young and Wilmott , written not for purposes of market research , but with a genuinely ameliorative bias , is a case in point . 
The book is , to begin with , curiously non-critical . 
It takes at face value , or very nearly so , the statements of the informants . 
By doing so ( by capitulating to one face of the concrete , in other words ) it tacitly conveys the impression , not alone that the subjects interviewed lack depth — but that their reactions , such as they are , exhaust the range of human possibilities in this society . 
This may be so — but then it ought to be stated as a judgement about this society , positive or negative . 
There is , further , an irreducible sentimentalism about the book — as if the authors suffered from guilt at possessing different values , different experiences , different horizons from both their middle-class and working-class subjects . 
Yet that difference of perspective between authors and subjects is of course the pre-condition of their work , the point of departure for such social criticism as the book contains . 
In refusing to deal , explicitly , with the problem of their own perspectives the authors do lose their chance to criticise that of their subjects . 
For instance , they equate middle-class " friendliness " in the suburb to " friendliness " amongst the working-class , whereas their own data make it clear that we have to deal with two radically distinct psychological phenomena . 
As for their conclusion , that an informant 's banalities about home and fireside represented no dangerous dissatisfaction with the social structure , it is difficult to see in it anything but an effort to give a restricted view of one aspect of contemporary Britain some long-term significance . 
Not having worried explicitly about the significance of their findings , they do seem to accept highly conventional notions about it . 
( When writing casually about the many householders who , partly as a refuge from the monotony of their own work , did a good deal of artisan work about the home they missed a serious opening for probing deeply into some of the hidden relationships and deprivations that affect us . ) 
For saying something like this some years ago about Family and Kinship in East London , I was relegated to outer darkness as a critic of the Institute of Community Studies . 
I hope these remarks will not be taken as evidence of rejection of their enterprise , nor indeed of any lack of sympathy for a group of colleagues who are doing useful and challenging work . 
It does suggest that , like Max Weber , they might begin to use their heads . 
notebook THE NEW FRONTIER by Stuart Hall 
THERE IS now considerable discontent brewing about education . 
It arises from many different quarters — among teachers and administrators ( Cf. the recent controversy in The Observer between Mr. Amis and his colleagues and Dr. Petersen ) , academic authorities ( Cf. the reports of several recent conferences ) , parents ( Cf. the recent PEP pamphlet , Parents ' Views On Education , 3s. 6d. ) and students ( see Oxford Opinions below ) . 
Only the Labour Party remains sweetly oblivious . 
The common thread which link these different aspects is the continuing existence of a two-tiered , two-class structure . 
Luck , sweat , scholarships and grants may all provide ladders or switch-points , by means of which young men and women may , at some point in their education , shift from one stream to another . 
But these ameliorative measures can not disguise the central fact that , in secondary as in further education , there is a " high-road " and a " back-door " ; and the standards which apply or the resources which are set aside differ , depending upon which stream you are in , as sharply as they do in , say , our provision in old age . 
Kenya 's Frustrated Election 
THE Lancaster House Conference on Kenya , held in January and February 1960 , opened the way to an African Government . 
Although there was no provision for a Chief Minister in the new Constitution , it did concede an effective African majority in the Legislative Council by the establishment of the first open seats on a wide common roll franchise : there were to be thirty-three of them , against twenty seats reserved for the minorities , Europeans , Asians , and Arabs . 
Besides this , Africans would form for the first time the largest unofficial group in the Council of Ministers . 
Rumour had it then in Nairobi that Africans were being granted independence ; from then on Uhuru ( Swahili : freedom ) became the slogan of African politics . 
Later , 1 March 1961 , the day subsequently fixed for the announcement of the poll in the forthcoming elections , was regarded by many as the day on which this would come . 
In consequence , the twelve months following the Lancaster House Conference was a period of excitement mounting into the election campaign of early 1961 and culminating in the elections which took place between 20 and 27 February . 
For the European settler community , on the other hand , Lancaster House was the final shattering of the dream of the " white colony " to which they had been encouraged to come from the beginning of the century by successive British Governments and Governors of Kenya . 
To them the Conference was a betrayal of hopes , as also of their constructive work in Kenya . 
Thus one settler cast thirty pieces of silver before the European leader Michael Blundell on his return from the Conference , though this provoked Africans to cry : " Mr Blundell , we will vote for you , if necessary . " 
Could Africans now exploit their success ? 
For this , as many saw , unity was essential . 
In May 1960 the Kenya African National Union ( KANU ) was established , proclaiming by its title both descent from the proscribed Kenya African Union which Kenyatta had led , and also comparison with the Tanganyika African National Union ; it set out to be the monolithic structure seen as essential in the fight for independence , from India to Ghana . 
Curiously , in Kenya , where there was the struggle not only against colonial rule but also against settler domination , this unity soon dissolved . 
There were three main reasons for this . 
The new party was soon regarded as the construction of two tribes , the Kikuyu and the Luo , the largest and most densely populated of the agricultural tribes . 
Cain 's actions aroused the fears of Abel : the tribes of pastoralist tradition drew together to defend themselves , forming first the Masai United Front and the Kalenjin Political Alliance . 
Then these two bodies came together with associations of some of the smaller agricultural tribes to form the Kenya African Democratic Union ( KADU ) . 
The third word of its title indicated a rejection of the monolithic structure of the nationalist party and an assertion that this would be a party considering and accommodating diverse interests . 
Inherent in the party 's formation was , too , a dislike of many of its leaders for Tom Mboya , the Kenya African leader best known — apart from Kenyatta — in Britain and America . 
However , the financial support he had raised there for scholarships to send students to America and for his trade union activities had roused fears and jealousies among other leaders . 
These found expression at the end of the Lancaster House Conference : Ngala and Muliro , later the two leading figures in KADU , expressed in a press conference their disapproval of the way in which Mboya had been accepted by the British press and television as the leader of the African delegation when he was only its secretary . 
After the return to Kenya , a deliberate attempt was made by some of the African leaders to shut Mboya completely out of the formation of new parties . 
Whilst this African political activity went on , the minorities were considering their position . 
Sir Ferdinand Cavendish-Bentinck resigned as Speaker of the Legislative Council to defend , as he said , the interests of those whom he had encouraged over the years to settle in Kenya in reliance on the promises of successive British Governments . 
He formed the " Kenya Coalition " , a " movement " , as he called it , to appeal first to the Europeans but then to the " minorities " generally . 
Unfortunately for this , Sir Ferdinand , the leader of European opinion in the 'thirties and 'forties , was regarded by the Asians as an old opponent . 
He and the Coalition made no appeal to them or to the smaller African tribes , who preferred to form their own Union , KADU , and to work in the new framework of African politics . 
They were ready to contest the new open seats , in the formation of which they had certainly been favoured . 
The new constituencies were drawn up by a Kenya Government Working Party composed of the Chief Secretary and the Attorney-General . 
Although the pastoralists formed only 10 per cent of the population , six of the thirty-three seats were allotted to their areas , and fifteen to the 60 per cent of the population represented by " KANU-tribes " ( Kikuyu , Embu , Meru , Luo , Kamba , and Kisii ) . 
The disproportion is most starkly seen in the allocation of two seats to the Masai and four to the Kikuyu , with populations respectively of 60,288 and 1,026,341 ( 1948 census , the latest available ) ; was this the traditional administrator 's favouring of the noble Masai and another punishment of the rebellious Kikuyu ? 
If the latter , it may be observed that the Luo , with 757,043 ( 1948 ) , received only three seats , one more than the Masai . 
Yet when the Working Party Report was debated in the Legislative Council the African elected members made little comment . 
Indeed the Chief Secretary , in introducing the Report , placed them on the defensive by saying that if more seats were claimed in any one area they would have to be taken away from another . 
Tribal jealousies prevented any effective reply . 
As 1960 went on , the events of the Congo increased profoundly the fears among the minorities of Kenya for their future under an independent African Government . 
The flight of capital , at the rate of £1 million a month since the Lancaster House Conference , continued so steadily that in September KANU leaders — the president , Gichuru , and secretary , Mboya — sought to reassure foreign investors by moderate statements in Britain and elsewhere in Europe . 
Even there they remained firm on one point : Kenyatta , regarded by Kenya Africans as the father of their nationalism , must be released . 
To Europeans , Government officials and settlers alike , Kenyatta was , as the Governor described him , " a leader to darkness and death " . 
Here there was no basis for a meeting between the Governor and KANU , a situation which became worse in the pressures of the election campaign . 
The original moderation of KANU 's election manifesto , particularly with regard to land , was overthrown under the pressure of a more extreme nationalist opinion . 
Gichuru was reported as saying to a KANU meeting in November : " After Uhuru Europeans and Asians will kneel to us . " 
Moderation may be possible for Kenya leaders in Britain but not in Kenya ; this was now no less true of Africans than it had been of Europeans in the past . 
Effective leadership in KANU was passing to the more extreme Oginga Odinga , the Luo who , since 1958 , had taken the lead in the acceptance of Kenyatta and in the demand for his release . 
Odinga became even less popular with the administration when in August-September 1960 he went off on a visit behind the Iron Curtain , returning with favourable impressions of Chinese methods . 
Whether he had become a Communist rather than a Luo tribal nationalist is debatable , but certainly he had much money which made him a formidable figure in the coming election campaign , though he told the Legislative Council he had received this from friends in Britain . 
His return imported the politics of the cold war into KANU , for Odinga and Mboya were soon being attacked as stooges of , respectively , Sino-Soviet and American imperialism . 
It was not long before the leaders ' quarrels reached down to infect and divide the branches of KANU across the country . 
The party resembled in no respect the monolithic organization it had set out to be . 
These quarrels , the apparent link of Odinga with Communism , and the naturally outspoken remarks of an election campaign served in no way to allay European fears . 
Indeed they made more difficult the task of Michael Blundell 's New Kenya Party , which sought to persuade the Europeans that it was possible to work with Africans , that there was a future for them in co-operation in an independent Kenya . 
The party had originated in the Legislative Council in 1959 as the New Kenya Group , with a multi-racial membership . 
Now , faced with the need to appeal to their own communities , the Group 's Asian and African members had refused to stand under such a multi-racial banner . 
The Europeans of the Group found themselves left alone to appeal to their own electorate under the name of the New Kenya Party . 
At Lancaster House the Europeans had insisted that they would not have the system of common roll elections adopted in Tanganyika , but that candidates should first show some basis of support in their own community by a primary election . 
The Working Party fixed 25 per cent of the votes as the qualifying figure to be obtained before proceeding to the common roll . 
The Europeans clearly showed what they thought of the possibilities of racial co-operation : three of the N.K.P. 's candidates failed to obtain the necessary 25 per cent , whilst their leader only scraped through with 26.7 per cent . 
Blundell 's image had been successfully projected by the Coalition as that of " A man of many voices ... a politician " , whom it was not possible to trust . 
On the announcement of the primary results Sir Ferdinand Cavendish-Bentinck could justifiably claim an outstanding triumph , but this was only the first stage of the election . 
The principle of Kenya 's new Constitution established at Lancaster House was the common roll , so it would be the mass African vote that would prove decisive . 
Would Sir Ferdinand 's be a Pyrrhic victory ? 
Any doubts appeared to be set at rest when leaders of both KANU and KADU refused to meet him when he invited them for discussions saying they should respect European wishes to build confidence . 
Instead , his approaches were rejected with contumely , Cavendish-Bentinck being called for his pains " a European tribalist " . 
Then began the most interesting stage of the election as the two European leaders , Blundell and Cavendish-Bentinck , competed for African votes . 
Both the African parties proclaimed support for Blundell , and KANU 's president , Gichuru , spoke on his behalf . 
Yet the division in KANU became evident here too . 
Odinga announced that KANU 's Governing Council had not been consulted and that he would support Cavendish-Bentinck , saying : " At least with Sir Ferdinand Cavendish-Bentinck we know where we stand . 
Mr Blundell gets his support from the Colonial Office ... 
Better the enemy you know than the one you do not . " 
In the end the intervention of Odinga 's supporters had little effect ; Blundell was returned with overwhelming African support . 
Back went with him into the Legislative Council , on the support of the African vote , all his surviving candidates from the primary stage , except one who appears to have been so discouraged by only narrowly scraping by ( with 28.01 per cent ) that he had ceased to campaign . 
The European feeling against Blundell was such that he almost went into hiding for some days after the election , not daring to visit leading European clubs ; in one of them a leading supporter was then assaulted , as he himself had been during the campaign . 
In the open seats there were few real surprises . 
The pattern of Kenya African politics was that of " one-party tribes " . 
Since individual tribes were committed to either KANU or KADU , all that remained of any real interest was whether the official party candidates or the " party-independents " would win . 
As these latter were allowed by their respective parties to join their parliamentary groups after the election , the relationship of party to seats which had been forecast was almost exactly fulfilled : 19 KANU , 11 KADU , and 3 Independents . 
THE NEW DIVINITY Sir Julian Huxley 
"WHY ARE these strange souls born everywhere today , with hearts that Christianity can not satisfy ? " , asked W. B. Yeats . 
It is certainly a fact that Christianity does not , and I would add can not , satisfy an increasing number of people throughout the West ; and it does not and can not do so because it is a particular brand of religion which is no longer related or relevant to the facts of existence as revealed by the march of events and the growth of knowledge . 
But first of all we must ask what we mean by a religion . 
A religion is an organ of man in society which helps him to cope with the problems of nature and his destiny — his place and role in the universe . 
It always involves the sense of sacredness or mystery and of participation in a continuing enterprise ; it is always concerned with the problem of good and evil and with what transcends the individual self and the immediate and present facts of every day . 
It always has some framework of beliefs , some code of ethics , and some system of expression — what are usually called a theology , a morality , and a ritual . 
When we look closely we find that the beliefs largely determine both the nature of the moral code and the form of the ritual . 
The theological framework on which Christianity is supported includes as its centre the basic belief of all theistic religions — belief in the supernatural and in the existence of a god or gods , supernatural beings endowed with properties of knowing , feeling and willing akin to those of a human personality . 
In Christian theology , God is a being who created the world and man at a definite date in the past ( until recently specified as 4004 B.C. ) and in essentially the same form they have today ; a ruler capable of producing miracles and of influencing natural events , including events in human minds , and conversely of being influenced by man 's prayers and responding to them . 
Christianity believes in a last judgment by God at a definite but unspecified future date . 
It believes in an eternal life after death in a supernatural realm , and makes salvation through belief its central aim . 
It believes in the fall of man and original sin , that its code of morals has been commanded by God , and that all mankind is descended from a single couple . 
It asserts a partial polytheism in the doctrine of the Trinity , and gives full rein to what the students of comparative religion call polydaimonism by its belief in angels , saints and the Virgin , and their power to grant human prayers . 
Officially it still believes in hell and in the Devil and other evil supernatural beings , though these beliefs are rapidly fading . 
It is based on a belief in divine revelation and in the historical reality of supernatural events such as the incarnation and resurrection of Jesus as the son of the first person of the Trinity . 
It claims or assumes that all other religions are false and that only Christianity ( or only one brand of Christianity ) is true . 
It assumes that the earth occupies a central position in the divine scheme of things and that , though God is believed to be omnipotent , omniscient and omnibenevolent , he has a special concern with man 's salvation . 
This system of beliefs is quite unacceptable in the world of today . 
It is contradicted , as a whole and in detail , by our extended knowledge of the cosmos , of the solar system , of our own planet , of our own species , and of our individual selves . 
Christianity is dogmatic , dualistic and essentially geocentric . 
It is based on a vision of reality which sees the universe as static , short-lived , small , and ruled by a supernatural personal being . 
The vision we now possess , thanks to the patient and imaginative labours of thousands of physicists , chemists , biologists , psychologists , anthropologists , archaeologists , historians and humanists , is incommensurable with it . 
In the light of this new vision , our picture of reality becomes unitary , temporally and spatially of almost inconceivable vastness , dynamic , and constantly transforming itself through the operation of its own inherent properties . 
It is also scientific , in the sense of being based on established knowledge , and accordingly non-dogmatic , basically self-correcting , and itself evolving . 
Its keynote , the central concept to which all its details are related , is evolution . 
Let me try to outline this new vision as briefly as possible . 
On the basis of our present understanding , all reality is in a perfectly valid sense one universal process of evolution . 
The single process occurs in three phases — first , the inorganic or cosmic , operating by physical and to a limited extent chemical interaction , and leading to the production of such organizations of matter as nebulae , stars , and solar systems ; in our galaxy this phase has been going on for at least six billion years . 
In the rare places where matter has become self-reproducing , the inorganic has been succeeded by the organic or biological phase ; this operates primarily by the ordering agency we call natural selection , and leads to the production of increasingly varied and increasingly higher organizations of matter , such as flowers , insects , cuttlefish , and vertebrates , and to the emergence of mind and increasingly higher organizations of awareness . 
On our planet this has been operating for rather under three billion years . 
Finally , in what must be the extremely rare places ( we only know for certain of one ) where , to put it epigrammatically , mind has become self-reproducing through man 's capacity to transmit experience and its products cumulatively , we have the human or psychosocial phase . 
This operates by the self-perpetuating but self-varying and ( within limits ) self-correcting process of cumulative learning and cumulative transmission , and leads to the evolution of increasingly varied and increasingly higher psychosocial products , such as religions , scientific concepts , labour-saving machinery , legal systems , and works of art . 
Our pre-human ancestors arrived at the threshold of the critical step to this phase around a million years ago ; but they became fully human , and psychosocial evolution began to work really effectively , only within the last few tens of millennia . 
During that short span of evolutionary time , man has not changed genetically in any significant way , and his evolution has been predominantly cultural , manifested in the evolution of his social systems , his ideas , and his technological and artistic creations . 
The new vision enlarges our future as much as our past . 
Advance in biological evolution took place through a succession of so-called dominant types — in the last four hundred million years from jawless , limbless vertebrates to fish , then through amphibians to reptiles , from reptiles to mammals , and finally to man . 
Each new dominant type is in some important way biologically more efficient than the last , so that when it breaks through to evolutionary success it multiplies and spreads at the expense of its predecessors . 
Man is the latest dominant type to arise in the evolution of this earth . 
There is no possibility of his dominant position in evolution being challenged by any existing type of creature , whether rat or ape or insect . 
All that could happen to man ( if he does not blow himself up with nuclear bombs or convert himself into a cancer of his planet by over-multiplication ) is that he could transform himself as a whole species into something new . 
He has nearly three billion years of evolution behind him , from his first pre-cellular beginnings : barring accidents , he has at least as much time before him to pursue his evolutionary course . 
Yeats implied , or indeed affirmed , that if the Christian God were rejected , a Savage God would take his place . 
This certainly could happen , but it need not happen , and we can be pretty sure that in the long run it will not happen . 
The new framework of ideas on which any new dominant religion will be based is at once evolutionary and humanist . 
For evolutionary humanism , gods are creations of man , not { 6vice versa . 
Gods begin as hypotheses serving to account for certain phenomena of outer nature and inner experience : they develop into more unified theories , which purport to explain the phenomena and make them comprehensible ; and they end up by being hypostasized as supernatural personal beings capable of influencing the phenomena . 
As theology develops , the range of phenomena accounted for by the god-hypothesis is extended to cover the entire universe , and the gods become merged in God . 
However , with the development of human science and learning , this universal or absolute God becomes removed further and further back from phenomena and any control of them . 
As interpreted by the more desperately " liberal " brands of Christianity today , he appears to the humanist as little more than the smile of a cosmic Cheshire cat , but one which is irreversibly disappearing . 
But though I believe that gods and God in any meaningful non-Pickwickian sense are destined to disappear , the stuff of divinity out of which they have grown and developed remains and will provide much of the raw material from which any new religions will be fashioned . 
This religious raw material consists in those aspects of nature and elements in experience which are usually described as divine . 
The term divine did not originally imply the existence of gods : on the contrary , gods were constructed to interpret man 's experiences of this quality in phenomena . 
Some events and some phenomena of outer nature transcend ordinary explanation and ordinary experience . 
They inspire awe and seem mysterious , explicable only in terms of something beyond or above ordinary nature — " super-natural " power , a " super-human " element at work in the universe . 
Such magical , mysterious , awe-inspiring , divinity-suggesting facts have included wholly outer phenomena like volcanic eruptions , thunder , and hurricanes ; biological phenomena such as sex and reproduction , birth , disease and death ; and also phenomena of man 's inner life such as intoxication , possession , speaking with tongues , inspiration , insanity , and mystic vision . 
With the growth of knowledge most of these phenomena have ceased to be mysterious so far as rational or scientific inexplicability is concerned . 
But there remains the fundamental mystery of existence , and in particular the existence of mind . 
Our knowledge of physics and chemistry , physiology and neurology does not account for the basic fact of subjective experience , though it helps us to understand its workings . 
The stark fact of mind sticks in the throat of pure rationalism and reductionist materialism . 
However , it remains true that many phenomena are charged with a magic quality of transcendent and even compulsive power , and introduce us to a realm beyond ordinary experience . 
Such events and such experiences merit a special designation . 
For want of a better , I use the term divine , though this quality of divinity is not truly supernatural but transnatural — it grows out of ordinary nature , but transcends it . 
The divine is what man finds worthy of adoration , that which compels his worship : and during history it evolves like everything else . 
Much of every religion is aimed at the discovery and safeguarding of divinity , and seeks contact and communion with what is regarded as divine . 
A humanist-based religion must re-define divinity , strip the divine of the theistic qualities which man has anthropomorphically projected into it , search for its habitations in every aspect of existence , elicit it , and establish fruitful contact with its manifestations . 
Divinity is the chief raw material out of which gods have been fashioned . 
Today we must melt down the gods and refashion the material into new and effective agencies , enabling man to exist freely and fully on the spiritual level as well as on the material level . 
The character of all religions depends primarily on the pattern of its supporting framework of ideas , its theology in an extended sense ; and this in its turn depends on the extent and organization of human knowledge at the time . 
I feel sure that the world will see the birth of a new religion based on what I have called evolutionary humanism . 
Just how it will develop and flower no one knows — but some of its underlying beliefs are beginning to emerge , and in any case it is clear that a humanism of this sort can provide powerful religious , moral and practical motivation for life . 
Free Fiction ? — Why Not Free Films ? 
ARE books out of date ? 
Is reading an old-fashioned hobby , like archery ; or a Tory vice , like golf ? 
Some of our great national newspapers seem to think so : but the figures are against them . 
My favourite Sundays record that on a previous day 600,000 people attended the Football League matches in England and Wales . 
On a fine Saturday in January ( with Cup Ties ) I made it 800,000 . 
But on every working day in the week 1 million , or more , citizens borrow books from a public library . 
The total figure — for the year , for the United Kingdom — is about 400 million — 7 1/2 million every week . 
Bar "radio , " the book may still be the most popular pleasure : and the public library , though a tiny buyer , is much the biggest book-provider in terms of readership . 
In its inception — and for a long time later — it was a great institution . 
Today , I fear , it is merely a large institution . 
It has , like one of those frogs , puffed itself out in the wrong places , and has assumed a shape which is both unnatural and inefficient . 
It is now under fire from three points : ( 1 ) its customers , the readers ; ( 2 ) its servants , the librarians ; and ( 3 ) its suppliers , the book-producers , authors and publishers . 
The complaint of its customers — and of conscientious head librarians — is that the public library does not buy enough books . 
The sum expended on the purchase of books is about one quarter of the libraries ' total expenditure . 
In 1959 the Roberts committee laid down , as a rough " test of efficiency , " an expenditure of at least 2s. per head of the population served . 
( The Library Association wanted to make it 3s . ) 
Some of the best libraries are well ahead of the 2s. mark : but in 1960 , out of 559 public libraries in the United Kingdom only 137 hit the two-shillings target . 
The total shortage , I reckon , was about £600,000 . 
The librarians complain that they have to squeeze , almost by prayer , any addition to their " book fund " out of the reluctant councillors . 
The complaint of its staff is that the public library does not pay librarians enough . 
Far back in 1927 the Kenyon committee recommended that " the trained librarian should be paid not less than the trained teacher , and the one profession should not be less attractive than the other . " 
The Roberts committee , in 1959 , said : "There was a short period between 1946 and 1955 when this parity was in sight , but recent improvements in teachers ' salaries have put them ahead again . " 
( And now , I see , the teachers are asking for more . ) 
The chief librarian of St Pancras ( a go-ahead library ) writes in his 1958-59 report about "the difficulty of recruiting , and more particularly of retaining , suitable junior staff ... 
We have lost several junior assistants to the teaching profession in recent years . " 
I do not know exactly what the librarians want , but there are 14,000 of them ; and a rise of the order of £100 all round would mean £1,400,000 a year . 
The complaint of authors and publishers is that the public library is not paying the book-producers enough . 
I shall not argue the authors ' and publishers ' case here : but we believe that our demands are just , and are sure that , in one way or another , they will , in the end , prevail . 
They will cost between £1 million and £1,500,000 a year — a very modest addition to "the paltry five million now spent upon books " ( Mr W. Hanley Snape , lecturer in librarianship at Liverpool ) . 
NOW , if a public institution , created by Parliament , is failing to satisfy its customers , its servants , and its suppliers : and if its paymasters are not sufficiently interested to pay for efficiency , Parliament should sit up and take notice . 
Failing real reform , the public library , of which so many are traditionally proud , will remain in fact an inefficient , unjust and , here and there , discreditable institution , precariously existing on the reluctant doles of local authorities and the abused good will of librarians and book-producers . 
Reform , in fact , is , rather feebly , on the wing . 
The Roberts committee recommended this and that ; the Minister of Education has talked about a Bill ; and now he has appointed two working parties to study some " technical implications of the Roberts report . " 
But that report was vague about the librarians and did not mention the book-producers at all . 
All this , then , is merely fiddling . 
The statesman , at this point , should see the public library as a whole and consider the three demands I have set out together . 
They all mean money — perhaps £4 million a year in all . 
But who is going to provide the money ? 
The Government wo n't — I have heard the Minister say so . 
( Why literature should not rank with the fine arts for some assistance I do not know — but there it is . ) 
At the moment the only possible source is the rates . 
Well , £4 million may be a mere flea-bite on the vast body of the ratepayer , who suffers about £500 million a year already . 
But there are new flea-bites everywhere ( the police , for example ) , and every flea-bite hurts . 
Moreover , there are millions of ratepayers who do not use the public library at all , never borrow a book . 
If the ratepayer wants to have a properly conducted public library , he must accept the responsibility . 
But he can easily be relieved . 
There is an enormous untapped source of income , other than the rates , which only Parliament can make available . 
Section 11 of the Public Libraries Act 1892 said that " no charge shall be made ( 1 ) for admission to a public library or ( 2 ) in the case of a lending library , for the use thereof by the inhabitants ... " 
I would not interfere with ( 1 ) — with free admissions . 
What is done and enjoyed on the premises — the proper functions of a library — should remain perfectly free . 
But the vast modern book distribution — the 400 million loans { 6per annum — never imagined by the founders , or Parliament — should now be made revenue-producing . 
I — and my committee of authors and publishers — would give each local authority the option of " charging the borrower . " 
High-minded authorities could stick to the rates , if they liked ; all could excuse old age pensioners , or whom they wished . 
The average borrower takes out 30 books a year — but in the Metropolitan boroughs the average is 40 ( St Pancras 45 , and Finsbury 55 ) . 
Twopence a book ( on 400 million " lending issues " ) would gross , in theory , £3,300,000 a year . 
Threepence a book ( some of the little tobacconist-libraries charge 4d. ) would yield £5 million . 
Deduct 10 per cent for possible diminution of readers , etc. , and we have £4,500,000 — £1,500,000 each for ( a ) purchase of books and general library purposes ; ( b ) increase of staff and salaries ; ( c ) the book-producers . 
Pennies-in-the-slot would be one way to collect . 
But I should prefer a charge of 5s. ( or 7s. 6d. ) on the " ticket " issued to the registered reader at the beginning of the year . 
After paying this modest entrance fee he would be as free as he was before — and could borrow 30 , 50 , 60 books a year without putting his hand in his pocket again . 
Five shillings , I believe , is the average weekly investment in the pools . 
Well , why not ? 
Because , at present , the scotfree library is a sacred cow to which most Members of Parliament , without much thought , bow down . 
But it is out of date and illogical . 
It was designed , a hundred years ago , for the education of " labourer and artisan . " 
It has become a free book-shop for all and sundry . 
At St Pancras 66 per cent of the issues are fiction ; at Shoreditch 68 per cent ; at Stepney 69 per cent ; at Stoke Newington 70 per cent ; at Hackney 76 per cent . 
Well , some "fiction " can educate , especially mine : but so can some films . 
Why not free films ? 
The sacred cow has been betrayed already . 
The Roberts report recommends that charges should be permitted for " admission to meetings and other functions , " for " retention " of books , and for " notifications . " 
The Holborn library in 1958-59 charged " reservation fees " of 4d. to 22,301 readers . 
The Westminster library netted £8,991 from " library receipts " ( fines , catalogues , etc . ) . 
You have to pay for municipal concerts and plays . 
Why should borrowed novels — or any other books — be free ? 
Anyone who objects " on principle " to charging the borrower must stop complaining about a charge on the rates . 
For , one way or another , these reforms must come ; and there is no good reason why authors and librarians should be butchered to make a public library . 
Here , at least , is a practical , constructive line of thought ; and no minister , librarian or councillor has offered any other . 
LATIN AMERICAN FUTURE REVOLUTION OF RISING EXPECTATIONS 
BUFFON , two centuries ago , put forward the theory of the " immaturity " of the New World . 
This theory he based on the absence there of the greater mammals and on the fact that , as he believed himself to have ascertained , animals transplanted from Europe or common to both sides of the Atlantic " without exception " showed in America a falling-off from European standards . 
Whatever its scientific validity , Buffon 's theory coincides closely enough with the view of Latin American human affairs generally held in this country and in the United States . 
Anglo-Saxons do not doubt that the twenty Latin American republics are immature ; and they are ever ready to detect fallings-off from the best European political and economic standards . 
It may be that this attitude owes less to Buffon than to persistent underestimation , not to say misrepresentation , of the American empires of Spain and Portugal . 
Yet , after all , the English may find it worth while to remember that Columbus set out on his first voyage when they were barely through with the Wars of the Roses . 
Corte2s was busy subduing the Aztecs a year before the Field of the Cloth of Gold . 
Considerable churches , with services fully supported by choir and organ , were to be found in Spanish America ( and they stand today ) many years before the sailing of the Mayflower , for before the end of the 16th century there were 200,000 Spaniards ( to say nothing of the many Portuguese ) established in the New World . 
Yet , much more than the chance that the Spaniards arrived first , the fact that they had come with different motives and a different concept of settlement was to have results that are still working themselves out in the Latin America of today . 
Spain , if not Portugal in Brazil , certainly did not conquer and occupy America from California to Cape Horn in a fit of absence of mind . 
Once the Spaniards had digested the fact of Columbus 's original miscalculation , they set about the subjugation and occupation of their new territories with care and method . 
In contrast with the later Anglo-Saxon settlers farther north , the conquistadores were animated both by a desire for wealth and a zeal for the propagation of their faith ; and their empire-building was on something of the pattern set by the Romans . 
Each expedition usually set out only after it had been officially sanctioned . 
Each new colony was founded with due deliberation and ceremony , and was eventually incorporated in a system of kingdoms , all of equal status in their relation to the Spanish crown . 
It followed that Spain should seek to govern America as Spain itself was governed . 
Yet , being bereft equally of any religious or intellectual tolerance , of the spirit of compromise , and of any conception of government as the art of teaching men to govern themselves , Spain was not in a position to transplant these qualities to the New World . 
In the economic sphere no less than in the political , the Spaniards regarded their American lands as part of Spain itself . 
They utilised and spread through Europe the precious metals and other products of the Americas , just as if these derived from Castile or Andalusia . 
Similarly , they insisted that their American possessions , no less than the Spanish home provinces , should supply their needs from or through Spanish sources . 
Here , in these parallel political and economic attitudes , lay the reasons why Spain strove to preserve the frontiers of Spanish America inviolate from foreign penetration as if they were Spain 's own . 
THE ULTIMATE CHOICE ARNOLD TOYNBEE 
"To dwell together in unity " has not been coming easy to the human race . 
We may agree that this is " good and pleasant " for " brethren " , but few human communities , so far , have been prepared to take all other human beings to their bosoms as their brothers . 
They have usually found some excuse for treating the majority of their fellow-men as " lesser breeds without the law " . 
If one stigma wears off , we invent another . 
When our neighbour ceases to be an infidel , we still stigmatise him as a foreigner , and , if he ceases to be a foreigner , we still ostracise him as a Negro or an albino . 
This widespread passion for being a " chosen people " evidently has deep psychological roots . 
We human beings have gone on indulging in it at the price of bringing endless disasters on ourselves . 
We have gone on till we have now been overtaken by the Atomic Age . 
In this age the price of disunity is evidently going to be prohibitive . 
This has been recognized quickly and widely , so today we have a stronger motive than we have ever had before for trying to get rid of our self-inflicted divisions . 
Our choice now lies between co-existence and non-existence . 
The removal of the main present hindrances to co-existence has therefore become the most urgent item on mankind 's agenda . 
Three outstanding present hindrances are ideologies , nationalism , and race-feeling . 
We have to get rid of them all , and we have not left ourselves much time for that . 
This raises a practical question of priorities . 
Which of these three evils is going to be the most difficult to eradicate ? 
Whichever it is , we ought to concentrate our efforts on combating this one first . 
One answer to this question about priorities was implied in the foundation of the Institute of Race Relations . 
This answer was made explicit in a paper addressed to Chatham House in 1950 by one of the moving spirits in the launching of the Institute , Mr. Harry Hodson . 
" There are two problems in world politics today which transcend all others , " Mr. Hodson said in this context . 
" They are the struggle between Communism and Liberal Democracy and the problem of race relations . 
Of the two , I am prepared to argue that the problem of race relations is the more important , since , for one thing , it would remain with us in its full complexity even if Communism were to settle down to peaceful neighbourliness with Democracy in a world partitioned between them . " 
Mr. Hodson is surely right in holding that ideological differences can be overcome more easily than racial differences can . 
An ideology can be put into cold storage . 
The more awkward and obnoxious of its tenets can be reduced to dead letters . 
More than that , there is the possibility of conversion from one ideology to another . 
In the past , this process of conversion has sometimes gone with a run . 
Racial differences , too , can be overcome by conversion , but the process in this field is a physical , not an intellectual , one . 
The other name for it is intermarriage . 
Happily for mankind 's prospects , intermarriage between geographically intermingled populations of different physique has been normal hitherto , whereas racial segregation has been exceptional . 
In our present-day world , the normal way of overcoming race-differences is exemplified in two large and important constituents of the human race : the Muslim community and the Spanish and Portuguese-speaking Roman Catholic community . 
In Mexico and Brazil today , most people have at least three different racial strains in their physique : the European , the pre-Columbian American , and the African ; but domestic injustices and dissensions in these and other Latin American countries do not , on the whole , run on racial lines . 
Latin Americans are not race-conscious , and Muslims are not either . 
Visit , for instance , the American University of Beirut and watch the students on the campus there . 
You will observe a great variety of race , but no tendency towards antipathy or segregation on account of this . 
In fact , race-feeling seems to be an exceptional failing . 
In the present-day world it is virtually confined to three minorities : the Teutonic-speaking peoples , the high-caste Hindus , and the Jews . 
In the Atomic Age the prejudice for which these three minorities stand has no future . 
" The wave of the future " — supposing that the human race is going to allow itself a future — is the comparative freedom from race-prejudice that is exhibited by the Latin Americans and the Muslims . 
The third of mankind 's present three apples of discord is one that is not mentioned by Mr. Hodson in the passage that I have quoted from a paper of his . 
It is nationalism ; and perhaps the only good thing that nationalism has to be said for it is that , as some offset to the havoc that it works , it does at least cut across the alternative division of mankind into conflicting races . 
Nationalism in its present-day form originated among the West European peoples . 
Unhappily it has now infected most of the rest of the world , but it is still rampant in its birth-place , and this has had at least one fortunate result . 
It has saved the majority of the human race from falling under the lasting domination of the minority that has an unusually small amount of pigment in its skin . 
If this bleached minority had chosen to gang up together , it might have been able to dominate the majority for quite a long time , on the strength of the temporary lead that it has gained in technological progress . 
But the bleached race has halved or quartered its potential strength by expending this on domestic national rivalries , and this makes it unlikely that the present division of the world between two ideological camps will ever be matched by a world-wide racial division between the bleached and the tanned . 
Try to imagine a race-war between Russia and America lined up together on one side and India and Pakistan lined up together on the other . 
This imaginary alignment of forces seems most unlikely ever to become actual . 
It is true that one can imagine Russia and America getting together against China . 
They did get together against Japan during the Second World War , and China is likely to become more formidable than Japan ever has been or ever could be . 
If China were to acquire the bomb , it seems safe to prophesy that Russia and America would become allies again within the next five years . 
In that situation , a series of half-a-dozen leading articles in the press of either country could effectively change the climate of their ideological relations with each other . 
But , if this did happen , it would be just another instance of the familiar working of the age-old balance of power . 
The coincidence of a power-politics line-up with a race-difference would be accidental . 
And , as a matter of fact , the two opposing alliances would not pan out neatly on racial lines . 
Russia 's present East European satellites would be in China 's camp , while the South-East Asian peoples would be in Russia 's and America 's . 
It looks , then , as if the evil of racialism can be localised , thanks to the counteracting effects of the evil of nationalism . 
Probably we need not fear that there will be a world-war raged on racial lines . 
Yet , even if we succeed in localising the evil of race-feeling , it will still be so much tinder ready to flare into flame at the touch of the first spark . 
And , besides being dangerous , race-feeling is odious in itself . 
It is therefore not enough just to localise it . 
We have also to try to eradicate it wherever we find it . 
This will be easier in some continents than in others . 
The segregation of Jews from Gentiles will , it may be hoped , be broken down rather rapidly by intermarriage all over the world except , perhaps , in Israel . 
We may look forward to seeing the Jewish diaspora transform itself from a closed racial community into an open religious community . 
If this were to happen , Judaism would at last have achieved its manifest destiny of becoming one of the world-wide religions . 
Again , we may hope to see the end of the segregation of citizens of different colours in the United States and of citizens of different castes in India . 
In both India and the United States the segregationists seem now to be fighting a losing battle . 
The harder of the two battles is , of course , the one in India , since here the institution of caste has the momentum of three thousand years of history behind it . 
But in India , as in the United States , it looks now as if the victory of integration were in sight . 
If and when racialism has been overcome in these two sub-continents , it will have been more or less confined to Palestine and to those parts of Africa where , as in Palestine , there is an immigrant minority from Europe . 
Here we touch the hard core of the race problem . 
Racial minorities that have been dominant have to reconcile themselves to accepting equality with the majority of their fellow-citizens . 
And emancipated racial majorities that have recently been denied their human rights have to reconcile themselves , on their side , to accepting equality with their former overlords without abusing the power of numbers under a democratic re2gime . 
These requirements call for almost superhuman self-restraint and magnanimity on both sides , and that will be hard to achieve if the physical segregation of the two races continues . 
The position of being a precariously dominant minority seems to be almost too difficult for human nature to cope with . 
This is illustrated by the present temper of the French colons in Algeria . 
In North America the French have had a better record than the English and the Dutch in their dealings with the pre-Columbian natives of the continent . 
Yet in Africa today they are behaving no better than their English and Dutch opposite numbers . 
If the situation in Africa is to be saved , the geographically intermingled races there will have to follow the example of Latin America and the Islamic World . 
In those two regions , intermarriage has brought with it a happy solution of racial problems . 
" { Bella gerant alii , tu , felix Austria , nube . " 
This famous line can be made to point a moral for the present-day European colonist in Africa by making a small change of words at the end . 
" { Tu felix nube colone . " 
For the European colonist in Africa , intermarriage offers a happy way out , and perhaps the only happy way that can be found for him . 
If he replies that he can not bear the prospect , it can be answered that he is being asked to do no more than has been done already , long ago , by his fellow-European colonist in Latin America . 
He can also be asked to face the alternative . 
" Intermarry or get out " is probably the ultimate choice that destiny is offering to the European minorities in Africa in our day . 
COMMENT ON CORFIELD F. B. WELBOURN " 
" We have no proof it was Sammy " , Robin pointed out . 
" We have no proof of anything . 
In fact truth itself seems to be an exotic . " " 
— Elspeth Huxley , The Flame Trees of Thika. 1 : IMPARTIALITY 
Mr. Corfield has a distinguished record in the Sudan Political Service ; and from September 1954 until 1956 he was a member of the Secretariat of the War Council of the Council of Ministers in Kenya — the body which , more than any other , was concerned with direction of the offensive against Mau Mau . 
It is as well to ask from the start whether , in a situation which aroused — and still arouses — such high emotions on both sides , it was wise to appoint , for the purposes of "an historical survey " , one who was so intimately involved in the opposite camp . 
He criticises government and Europeans in general ; but he manages to imply that , if they made mistakes , " Kenyatta and his associates " were deliberately bad . 
At certain points his documentary sources are demonstrably wrong , not only in detail but in interpretation , and the reader who spots these faults is bound to ask how many others he has not spotted . 
THE WHITE PAPER X-RAYED The Future of Technical Education 
" These will represent one of the biggest reforms in technical education that we have ever made " . 
Thus Sir David Eccles speaking in the House on November 7th , 1960 . 
Unless you belonged to the cynical who thought that reforms in technical education could not have been very great and so could easily be surpassed you were doubtless looking forward to some radical advance . 
If so a reading of the White Paper " Better Opportunities in Technical Education " ( Cmnd. 1254 ) and " Technical Education in Scotland : The Pattern for the Future " ( Cmnd. 1245 ) will come as a severe disappointment . 
As there is considerable common ground references below will be in general to Cmnd. 1254 ; where there are differences in the Scottish proposals they are dealt with later . 
" Better Opportunities in Technical Education " is a serious but modest set of proposals to reorganise and rationalise the existing system of technical courses . 
Three reasons , all valid , are presented for the proposals ; the present system has not kept pace with changes taking place in industry and particularly with the need for technicians ; there is often a gap between school and further education ; there is too much " wastage " on existing courses , i.e. too many students are failing to pass the examinations at the end of the courses . 
The White Paper stresses the need for continuing general education after leaving school , a need which is widely recognised . 
Boys and girls " should be encouraged " to stay on until they are 16 to complete a five year secondary course but it is suggested that it would be more suitable in some cases to spend the fifth year in a technical college . 
At whatever age a student leaves school " he should go direct into a technical college course " and not on to an evening course alone . 
This proposal is long overdue . 
But having argued its validity the White Paper goes on to point out that those who can not get day release must not be deprived of the opportunity of taking evening courses . 
So we are back where we were . 
Day Release for Operatives 
The proposals cover three grades ; operatives , craftsmen and technicians . 
Operatives are the greatest proportion of young people at work . 
Only 34 per cent . 
of boys and 7 per cent . 
of girls leaving school enter apprenticeships or learnerships in skilled operations and they are the overwhelming majority of those receiving day release at present . 
And yet there is need for technical training for those in semi-skilled jobs and there are many who , in the words of the White Paper , "would be better fitted for industrial life if they were able to take suitable courses of a more general character , " for , as the Industrial Training Council pointed out recently , with increasing mobility of labour , work-people " will require a mental flexibility which can only be developed by further education after the end of full-time schooling . " 
But when we arrive at the proposals for action we read that " the government are sure that local education authorities and technical colleges will co-operate with both sides of industry in meeting the need for suitable courses for all levels of operatives on a rapidly increasing scale . " 
Judging by the numbers on such courses at present and the rate of development very few people outside the Government will be sure that there will be provision on a rapidly increasing scale without compulsory day release . 
Craftsmen and Technicians Needed 
Craft courses are being continuously modified and new ones developed : the White Paper rightly points out the need for the broadening of these courses . 
Some of the City and Guilds of London Institute courses have already taken steps in this direction but the major problem is that of time . 
The White Paper accepts the proposal of the Crowther Committee that the length of course should be extended from the 220 hours now common ( 280 where a student attends one evening a week ) to 330 hours , the length of the " County College year " laid down in the Education Act 1944 . 
A similar suggestion is made for courses for technicians . 
Since the White Paper on Technical Education in 1956 there have been growing complaints of the shortage of technicians . 
Various estimates of need have been made and it is generally held that about six technicians are needed to each technologist , although it varies from industry to industry . 
At present there are only two courses designed specifically for technicians — for electrical and telecommunication technicians . 
Most are trained in craft courses which end at technician level or take a special course after a craft course ( e.g. in building and printing ) or take a National Certificate Course . 
The White Paper recognises the need for more courses designed for technicians . 
The Crowther Committee recommended that the technician 's part-time courses should be replaced by sandwich courses and the White Paper says the government would welcome widespread experiments of this nature . 
The National Certificate Courses at Ordinary and Higher levels have provided the training for many technicians and an avenue to full professional status for many students . 
It is in these courses that the high rate of failures has attracted most attention . 
The White Paper proposes that the Ordinary National Certificate course , at present a three year course , should become a two year course i.e. the length required now of students who are exempt from the first year because they have the appropriate passes at Ordinary level in the General Certificate of Education . 
Entry will be confined to those who have four appropriate passes at O level in G.C.E. or who have completed a new general course which is to be started and who show a good prospect of obtaining an Ordinary National Certificate . 
Those who show exceptional academic promise after completing a three year craft course will also be admitted . 
The new general courses ( which do not apply in Scotland ) are intended to cater for school leavers of 15 and 16 who show promise of being able to become technicians . 
They will last one or two years and will be based on part-time day release or block release . 
They are intended to provide an opportunity to decide whether a student is better fitted for a technician 's course or an O.N.C . 
The examinations will be externally administered but devised and controlled by teachers . 
Their success again will of course depend on the willingness of employers to grant day release . 
The crying need in National Certificate courses is for more time . 
It is suggested that 240 hours is necessary to cover the technical subjects ( including maths and science ) and that 90 hours should be devoted to general subjects ( including English and P.T. ) If the lengthening of courses is not to lengthen the college year and worsen the conditions of teachers it means extending day release to at least 1 1/2 days . 
But this is most unlikely to happen on a voluntary basis . 
It will also demand a big increase in staff . 
This problem has received scant attention from the Ministry . 
It is unlikely that sufficient teachers will be found for even these limited proposals unless there is a substantial improvement in salaries and conditions of service . 
Scottish Proposals 
The Scottish White Paper runs along similar lines but there are some modifications arising from the differences in the educational set up . 
Although the number of students getting day release has risen in Scotland from 28,118 in 1955-56 to 35,609 in 1959-60 the White Paper says that it falls far short of requirements . 
Day release for those under 18 is almost stationary and in any case covers only 10 per cent . 
of those in insured employment . 
At the technologist level the Government look forward to an increase in the range of Associateships and other advanced courses in the central institutions and have asked them to review their entry requirements with a view to decreasing wastage . 
A minimum period of 2,000 hours in the 3 year course for the Higher National Diploma will be prescribed to enable a broadening of the courses . 
For the Ordinary National Diploma , a full-time two year course , the entry requirement will be four passes at the Ordinary grade of the Scottish Certificate of Education . 
For the Ordinary National Certificate definite entrance requirements will be made : normally 3 passes at the ordinary grade in appropriate subjects , but there is a possibility of entry for those who have completed the intermediate stage of a City and Guilds course . 
There will be no general course of the kind envisaged for England and Wales , but those who have not got the necessary requirements will have an opportunity to get them in part-time day or evening classes in further education centres . 
It is also proposed to set up a Working Party to consider means of improving the links between schools and further education , especially for junior secondary pupils . 
Education authorities will be encouraged to provide full-time courses for first-year apprentices . 
What it All Amounts to 
The sting is , as often , in the tail . 
In Para 64 of Cmnd. 1254 cost is touched on and it is pointed out that no figures of additional cost can be given . 
If the total number of students is not affected it will be only the cost of staffing for the extra time in courses and this " relatively to the total expenditure on technical education should be small . " 
The cost will be greater if " as the Government hope " the White Paper leads to an increase in the number of students . 
The brave words of a revolution affecting half a million students boil down to a rationalisation of courses covering existing numbers of students . 
In themselves they will not increase the number of students at all . 
This is the answer of the Minister of Education to the Crowther proposals to raise the school leaving age to 16 and to introduce compulsory part-time day release from 15-18 . 
What is in the White Paper is useful : what is left out is vital . 
The chairman of the British Association for Commercial and Industrial Education is quoted in The Observer ( 8.1.61 ) as saying : " This White Paper is merely an administrative caper . 
By rationalisation it produces better value for money , but it avoids the peril of a new idea and the cost of major reform . 
Nothing can be achieved without compulsory day release . " 
That accurately sums up the value and the deficiency of the two White Papers . 
POLISHING UP FURNITURE 
Furniture wears its rue with a difference . 
For one thing , unlike the motor industry , it has not had an opportunity for six years to prove its productive potential . 
For another , its whole manpower is less than the vehicle sector gains or loses as the economic cycle turns . 
It is , in organisation , nearer to the pre-automated era than most of the other consumer durable industries , though it has also among its producing units the most up-to-date exemplars of flow production , allied with styling , in the United Kingdom today . 
It always will have the two crafts — one the craftsman using tools and the other the craftsman using mass production and flow methods . 
But there is a steady falling out of smaller manufacturers ; a thousand have gone out of business in the last ten years . 
Less than 2,000 now remain . 
Ten years ago firms with an annual turnover of £1/2 m. each accounted for only a quarter of the output . 
Now the proportion is two-fifths . 
This development has had two effects . 
It has increased the productivity of the workers in the highly mechanised units , indeed set up two standards of productivity . 
The medium sized firms are squeezed between the two methods . 
And it has increased the status and bargaining power of the larger units . 
For furniture has suffered from the twin facts that ( 1 ) the distribution firms acquired greater power as against the manufacturers by mergers and expansion and channelled sales into H.P. ; they could knock smaller shops because they could get higher discounts and afford to carry stocks ; ( 2 ) it has been the victim of the large timber supply units . 
The rising surplus that was made from higher productivity was either passed on to the retailer or snatched by the material suppliers . 
How to Transfer Authority SIR IVOR JENNINGS discusses problems of newly formed nations 
NEARLY twenty years ago , when D. S. Senanayake asked me to prepare a Draft Constitution for consideration by the Ceylonese Ministers , I asked him what sort of Constitution he wanted . 
He replied that he was not very concerned with the details , because what he wanted was a transfer of power from British to Ceylonese Ministers . 
I have heard that sort of remark several times since . 
As Dr. Hastings Banda said not long ago , it is a question of power . 
I think this attitude is short-sighted . 
First , nobody can transfer power , except in a purely legal sense . 
What is transferred is legal authority , and legal authority does not necessarily confer power . 
If you have legal authority to knock a man down , you still have to knock him down ; and he may prefer to knock you down . 
Similarly , if a group of nationalists have legal authority to govern , it does not follow that they have the power or capacity to govern . 
We have a classic example in the Congo . 
The Belgian King and Parliament transferred legal authority to the President and Parliament of the Congo ; but within a few weeks there was such anarchy that the United Nations had to step in . 
The machinery of government is complicated and sensitive because it is composed of people , and because it requires the collaboration of people . 
A host of public servants , civil and military , have to obey orders ; even then , government will not be efficient unless the people as a whole accept leadership loyally and enthusiastically . 
That is why the transfer of legal authority from British to Asian or African hands has been done as slowly and as cautiously as political conditions make possible . 
Long before the example of the Congo , we learned in India in 1947 that it is possible to move too quickly ; and in India there was no question of the public services breaking down because of the failure to obey orders . 
It was due to the fact that ordinary people felt a sense of insecurity under the new Government . 
In Africa the danger is even greater . 
Few African leaders have the vast political experience which Nehru and Jinnah had in 1947 . 
India had been integrated under British rule for nearly 200 years , whereas in Africa political entities are still very young . 
India had a much larger educated class than Africa has . 
The Indian public services were by 1947 almost wholly composed of Indians . 
Nationalists are nearly always impatient , and they often think that the British Government is being deliberately slow and evasive . 
But what the Colonial Office really tries to do is to glide so gently from colonial rule to independence that the machinery of government will go on ticking over as if no fundamental change had taken place . 
Some of the Nigerian leaders came to London in 1953 with the slogan " independence in 1956 " . 
The British Government refused to fix a date . 
There was a gradual transfer of authority , first in the Regions , then in the Federation ; and Nigeria became independent , without fuss or bother , on October 1 , 1960 . 
My second criticism of Mr. Senanayake 's formula about powers is even more important . 
He overlooked the fact that Ceylon had to be governed not only in the first few years after independence but for all time ; and this raises several questions . 
There was no doubt that , for at least as long as anybody could foresee , Ceylon would have a revenue sufficient to maintain an efficient government . 
That revenue came from the export of tea , rubber , and coconuts , and there was no reason to suppose that these industries would disappear . 
Its economy would have to be diversified as its population grew , and capital would be needed to maintain the income from the three plantation crops . 
Even so , it began with the advantage of flourishing industries . 
There are places in Africa of which this can not be said . 
I doubt if anybody would have suggested independence for Sierra Leone if diamonds had not been discovered , because diamonds and iron ore make up 70 per cent . 
of its exports . 
I suppose that Northern Rhodesia could keep going so long as its mining industry was efficiently run . 
But nobody has yet discovered sufficient natural resources in Nyasaland to enable it to stand on its own feet . 
There are resources , but they can not in present conditions be exploited , because they are too far from their markets . 
I know that some politicians think that they can get subsidies from elsewhere . 
But subsidies which are given out of pure generosity are rare : they are normally given to secure political advantages ; and whether the motive is generous or political there is always a risk of their being withdrawn . 
What is more , the economic problem raises the political problem . 
To exploit natural resources , even with well-established industries like the tea plantations of Ceylon , a constant supply of new capital is required . 
In fact , the coconut industry in Ceylon is going downhill because the trees are growing old and not enough are being replaced with young trees . 
If there is the slightest fear of political instability the owners , whether local or otherwise , will go on taking as much out of the industry as they can and putting into it as little as they can . 
In short , political instability leads to economic instability . 
We have seen that in South Africa , which has ample natural resources . 
After Sharpeville , in 1960 , investors thought that there was a risk of political instability , with the result that there was a large-scale selling of gold shares in London . 
They were bought in South Africa , but this involved a large flow of capital out of South Africa which will have serious effects on the economy of the country . 
Nevertheless , the economic problem is part only of the political problem . 
There is the danger of the fragmentation of parties , so that no party may be able to govern . 
There is the danger of intrigue or corruption among the politicians . 
Above all , there is the danger that sectional differences may become acute and that politicians will deliberately play on them in order to win votes . 
These difficulties can be foreseen and they ought to be guarded against . 
My main criticism of Mr. Senanayake 's remark is that the constitutional provisions which foresee and guard against these difficulties are fundamentally important . 
Actually , I did not take his remark too seriously ; it seemed to put responsibility on me for suggesting what the difficulties might be and how they might be met . 
For the next three months we spent a good deal of time on those problems and eventually produced a Draft Constitution which was approved , with some modifications , by the Ceylonese Ministers and the British Government . 
It has not been a complete success ; and if I knew then as much about the problems of Ceylon as I do now some of the provisions would have been different . 
That is a common experience ; but a good deal of knowledge has been accumulated over the past twenty years . 
What I am sure about is that all the problems which can reasonably be foreseen ought to be solved — in so far as they ever can be solved — before the transfer of authority takes place . 
In other words , a detailed and permanent Constitution ought to be carefully worked out beforehand . 
Each territory has its own problems , but experience does suggest some generalizations . 
So far , the most successful of the comparatively new members of the Commonwealth has been India . 
It had several advantages which most other countries do not possess : but one of them ought to be specially mentioned . 
The Indian National Congress was a large and well-organized party even in 1947 . 
It was not just an assembly of politicians hoping for jobs . 
It had its roots deep in the villages . 
Its strength has carried India through since 1947 . 
It may break up within the next decade ; but there is a reasonable chance that it will have put democratic government on a firm footing for all time . 
It has had an experienced and broad-minded leader in Mr. Nehru . 
He has been able to keep down sectional loyalties while at the same time recognizing cultural differences . 
He has not sought to integrate the different communities : in the conditions of India that would be impossible . 
He has not even tried to produce a partnership , which is the word generally used in Africa . 
He has sought , with considerable success , to enable every person , without distinction of race , caste , or creed , to take as large a part in the process of government as his abilities and his interests allowed . 
I will not say that the government of India has been a model ; but certainly it is the best example so far provided . 
It is the example to be followed in Africa , and in fact it gives us something of a recipe . 
First , we must have a Constitution which gives full protection to the various interests in the country , however diverse they may be , so as to ensure that they can play a full part in the life of the country . 
Secondly , we must have broad-minded and patriotic leaders who remember that , though they are mortal , the nation is immortal . 
They have to establish such precedents and to create such conditions that their work can go on long after they are dead . 
Indeed , they have to remember that their successors may have entirely different views on many of the problems that arise . 
In constitutional terms they have to ask themselves whether the machinery of government will work just as well when their political opponents are in office as it does now , while they are in office . 
Thirdly , we must have a good educational system which gives the young men and women a sense of mission , so that they will spurn the pettinesses of political rivalry and keep in view the larger patriotism . 
It can be done , but it needs goodwill and hard work . 
Nationalist politics , like every other kind of politics , works itself into slogans , whose repetition pleases those who use them , but which gradually become empty of meaning . 
Mr. Senanayake 's formula " transfer of power " had become a slogan , though in fact he did work hard to get a united people behind him on a scheme which was a reasonable compromise of competing interests . 
The transfer of authority in 1948 was smooth and peaceful and the Constitution worked well until he died in 1952 and for a few years afterwards . 
— General Overseas Service Patterns of Government in the New Africa Is a Party System Possible in Africa ? 
SIR IVOR JENNINGS considers some constitutional problems 
EVERY country in the Commonwealth has adopted , at least at the beginning , the principle of responsible government with adult franchise . 
Provided that the transition from British rule has been well prepared there is a good chance of stable government for the first eight or ten years . 
Experience not only in Asia but also , in the early years , in Canada and Australia , has shown that there may be difficulties . 
Politicians find it easy to agree when the main object is self-government or independence . 
They find it less easy when independence has been attained . 
The disagreement may be about policies and it may be about personalities ; often it is about both . 
There are plenty of disagreements in United Kingdom governments ; but the United Kingdom system differs from that in a newly independent country because the strength of the government rests on the support of a huge party organization . 
It is virtually impossible to break away and form a new party unless there is a major split right down through the party , and that can happen only over an issue of fundamental importance . 
On any smaller issue , a dissenting Minister has either to acquiesce and carry on as Minister , or step outside the Cabinet and remain in the party as a candid but friendly critic of the administration . 
In a newly independent country this sort of party organization in depth , bound together by ancient loyalties , can hardly exist . 
MILITARY POWER IN POLITICS 
THE man who chooses in these days to speak on this subject need take no special pains to time his remarks so that they are topical ; the matter is one which current affairs bring almost continuously to our notice . 
In particular , two of the most prominent political problems of our time invite us to consider this subject . 
First , there is the problem of defence policy and that of foreign policy from which it is inseparable . 
One does not have to be a pacifist or a unilateralist to feel some anxiety concerning the fateful decisions which have to be taken by our governments . 
And one question is persistent : in Washington , in Moscow , in London and above all perhaps in N.A.T.O . 
H.Q. , how great is the impact of military advice in the formulation of policy ? 
In the bleakest moments of gloom , many people are fearful , convinced that political leaders are swayed by the formidable demands of belligerent generals for newer , bigger , more deadly weapons , and that they are swayed because the scientific and technological advances in weapons have made it impossible for lay politicians to resist or even begin to argue against such demands . 
Caught in a pincer movement between their own fears and the incomprehensible and therefore unanswerable claims of the military technologists , the political leaders send defence budgets soaring . 
We know that we pay a terrible price here and now , but we are left wondering if this will save us from a far more terrible price later . 
The second problem is that of the spread of military regimes of one kind or another — the astonishing succession of military take-over bids which we have witnessed in recent times . 
This is not simply undue military influence in the policy discussions of civil governments but the complete replacement of political leaders by military men in the very seats of supreme power . 
Although these two problems seem perfectly and entirely modern , I want to suggest that we should try to see them as two facets of the one fundamental problem of civil-military relations , and further that we should recognise this problem as not wholly new . 
" True political sagacity " , as Burke remarked , " manifests itself in distinguishing that complaint which only characterizes the general infirmity of human nature from those which are symptoms of the particular distemperature of our own air and season " . 
In this matter of military power in politics there are large elements of both kinds . 
It may be useful to approach the two problems indirectly — through a consideration of the problem . 
The growing frequency and apparent success of the military { 6coup d'e2tat may no longer surprise us and we may have grown accustomed to asking only — where is it this time ? which service ? what rank of officer ? and have they taken over the radio station ? 
The Times greeted recent Vietnam events in a tone of weary disapproval : " Once again a paratroop officer has struck before dawn and set off the familiar sequence of a South East Asian { 6coup d'e2tat . " 
If there is what the same paper has called a "British obsession about soldiers in politics " , then many parts of the world have been giving us plenty to be obsessed about . 
In the same week that saw the S. Vietnam coup there occurred the purge of colonels in Turkey and the amazingly provocative and subversive statements by at least two retired Generals of the French Army dissociating themselves from the supposed policy of President de Gaulle . 
Before that but still within the autumn season Col. Mobuto in the Congo emerged , not in charge of affairs but at least in possession of a central area of that country 's strange and unhappy political stage . 
Before that again , last summer , the established government of Turkey found itself under arrest and its own army leaders sitting in the place of supreme control . 
In the space of little more than eight years soldiers have taken political power in as many countries : Neguib and then Nasser in Egypt , Kassim in Iraq , Ayub in Pakistan , Abboud in Sudan , de Gaulle in France and the gentlemanly interlude of General Ne Win in Burma — cases from Asia , Africa , Europe . 
Political epidemiologists may still be justified in regarding S. America and the Middle East as peculiarly vulnerable areas — especially if Sudan , Pakistan , Algeria and ( some would add ) Spain are counted as extensions of the Middle East — but evidently no region has a monopoly of this trend . 
The men on horseback have been riding hard and people of liberal outlook do feel some concern . 
This is so even when certain acts of military regimes — such as a ruthless drive against black-marketeers — secure our approval . 
But how is this general feature of modern politics to be explained ? 
How far is one justified in referring to it as the spread of a disease ? 
Is there a case for concern , or is concern indeed no more than a sign of unreasonable obsession ? 
Before glancing at what historical experience may have to tell us , one or two general considerations may be suggested . 
What is the character of the military profession ? 
It must of course be admitted at once that not all societies have been marked by the existence of any such separate profession . 
In simple societies , there is not a great deal of specialization or division of labour . 
Today 's warrior is tomorrow 's cultivator and the time for wars is when the harvest has been got in . 
Anthropologists tell us that this is the case with many tribal societies . 
It was the case with most of the fairly developed feudal polities of Medieval Europe . 
Even the leaders of armed forces in battle are in such societies men who assume this role only as one among many . 
Military leadership is not clearly distinguished from social and political leadership . 
However , in most large and developed states — and even in some of the relatively small states of the ancient world — the forms of power , civil and military , do come to be separate . 
When this happens the type ( or types ) of military man emerges . 
His features were described already by the first of all political philosophers . 
Compared with other men , said Plato , the military man is " more self-willed and rather less well-read " , " ready to listen but quite incapable of expressing himself " ; " he will be harsh to his slaves ... polite to his equals and will obey his superiors readily " ; " he will be ambitious to hold office himself " . 
And in a military regime there will be , thought Plato , great respect for authority but " a fear of admitting intelligent people to office " , a preference for " simple and hearty types who prefer war to peace " . 
The sketch may be a caricature but the image of the military man has changed remarkably little in over 2,000 years . 
De Tocqueville writing a mere 120 years ago understood well the political importance of this question . 
" Whatever taste democratic nations may have for peace they must hold themselves in readiness to repel aggression , or , in other words they must have an army ... 
Their armies always exercise a powerful influence ... 
It is therefore of singular importance to inquire what are the natural propensities of the men of whom these armies are composed " . 
He distinguished types of military men and contrasted the professional military man of a democracy with that of an aristocracy . 
In an aristocracy — and the description is true of most of Europe in the eighteenth century — the social top layer becomes the military top layer , the ranks of the army reflect the ranks of society . 
On the whole men accept their places . 
The officer in particular has little ambition because military rank is but an appendage to his social status . 
Moreover , the military profession is held in high esteem . 
All this alters when egalitarian and democratic ideas come with social change . 
The best part of the nation shuns the military profession because it is no longer honoured , and it is not honoured because the best part of the nation has ceased to follow it . 
Increasingly isolated from civil society the professional army "eventually forms a small nation by itself , where the mind is less enlarged and habits are more rude than in the nation at large " . 
The officers do not get military rank from social status but rather owe what social status they may have to their military rank . 
Ambition and competition for promotion thus become intense and out of all proportion to the peacetime opportunities . 
The army is ready to be restless , dissatisfied . 
And against whom will it vent its anger if not on the politicians ? 
Is this one more unfair caricature ? 
The memoirs and biographies of military men perhaps suggest that there is at least enough truth in the picture to enable us to understand why civil-military relations — which necessarily arise whenever the roles are distinct — have seldom been easy . 
The military profession finds it has to operate in close proximity to and as an instrument of last resort for civil authority ; yet the training and disposition of its leaders make them as far removed as possible in spirit and mood from the politician or statesman . 
A military operation is conducted on the basis of orders expressed in simple and direct language ; political operations are usually effected through understandings which are ill-defined in nature . 
These differences belong to the character of the jobs and are underlined through training and experience . 
The political man has to move tentatively towards a goal which can not from its very nature be defined with precision in advance . 
Means and ends are hopelessly mixed . 
It is not simply a matter of choosing means x to a given goal y ; it is also that the goal is the outcome of pursuing a given means . 
The politician 's work is to secure social co-operation through compromise : where this will take him he can not fully know except by starting and feeling his way through the variety of interests and opinions . 
Only in the most general terms has he an objective already defined . 
And excessive precision will only make movement difficult . 
The soldier works differently . 
He must be given his objective in the clearest possible fashion ; he will then state his requirements and dispose his forces in such a way as to gain the object . 
In military arrangements flexibility is a necessary evil and ambiguity may easily cost lives ; in politics flexibility is the first rule and ambiguity an essential instrument . 
Put thus shortly , such considerations may nevertheless make us willing to regard military incursions into politics as { 6prima facie matters for concern and the use of the medical term disease as { 6prima facie fitting . 
The skills and ways of thought required for the transaction of polity business are so different from those needed for military operations that any transfer of one to the other is normally to be regarded as inappropriate , unhealthy for the body politic . 
( It is necessary to stress " normally " because it must be conceded that in some situations military rule may be advantageous . 
But these are situations of bodies politic already in bad shape . ) 
Yet , however inappropriate and unhealthy may be the entry of military men into politics , a little reflection may well prompt us to ask not why it happens when it does but why it does not happen more often . 
They are after all in control of the awful weapons of last resort ; why are they not regularly tempted to use them to achieve supreme power in the state ? 
To say that they usually recognize that this is a job they can not do or that the people usually would not stand for it is not enough — for how in turn are such attitudes brought about ? 
Briefly , the answer is two-fold : political vigilance and military professionalism . 
It is the imperfectly professional army and the careless statesmen or power vacuum which constitute the ingredients of military intervention . 
But the successful containment of military power within its proper sphere has never been achieved without difficulty . 
Even the fortunate British should know this . 
Consider how much of our constitutional history has turned on the issue of the standing army . 
Thoughts on the 50-Megaton Bomb BERTRAND RUSSELL 
All friends of peace have been profoundly shocked and discouraged by the Soviet government 's resumption of tests culminating in the explosion of the 50-megaton bomb . 
Mr Krushchev maintains that all this is done with a view to preserving peace . 
This , of course , is nonsense . 
But it is much to be feared that the West will react by very similar nonsense . 
On 22 October , four members of the Committee of 100 , of whom I was one , delivered a statement signed by the Rev. Michael Scott and myself at the Soviet embassy protesting against the explosion of the most powerful nuclear weapon yet tested . 
Somewhat to my surprise , I received a long answer to this statement from Mr Krushchev , very similar to the letter from him to certain Labour MPs which was published on 31 October . 
The statement to me contains the usual mixture of the truth and falsehood which we have learnt to expect from statesmen of either side . 
Its criticisms of the West are , to a considerable extent , justified . 
Its defence of the Soviet government is almost entirely unjustified . 
Mr Krushchev deplores , I think rightly , the West 's tardiness in agreeing to negotiations about Berlin . 
He omits to mention that the Russian proposals for solving the Berlin question would involve so great a gain to the Russian side that the West could not be expected to agree . 
He omits , also , to emphasise that , from the first , the Russian proposals have been backed by military threats . 
He points out , I think truly , that in a nuclear war Britain would suffer more than either America or Russia , but he is wrong in thinking that this sort of argument promotes pacifism in Britain . 
He says : " We are carrying out experimental blasts and improving our weapons so that mankind may never experience the horrors of nuclear war . " 
Exactly the same sort of thing is being said in America . 
It is scarcely possible to believe that such sentiments are sincere on either side . 
Each side proceeds on the assumption that itself loves peace , but the other side consists of warmongers . 
Each side proceeds on the assumption that itself possesses infinite courage , but that the other side consists of poltroons who can be frightened by bluster . 
Each side 's bluster , in fact , produces bluster on the other side , and brings war nearer . 
If Mr Krushchev really believes that the explosion of his 50-megaton bomb is going to cause a love of peace in the West , he must possess a far smaller knowledge of human nature than it is easy to suppose credible . 
All those of us in the West who are working to prevent a nuclear war are reduced almost to despair by the recent atrocious actions of the Soviet government , while , on the contrary , those in the West who desire a nuclear war are encouraged by every crime and folly of which the Soviet government is guilty . 
Mr Krushchev says : " The source of international tension and the arms race is the policy of the western powers . " 
This is only half the truth . 
If the matters in dispute between East and West are to be settled without war , they must be settled by negotiation , and in the present temper of both sides negotiation can not be successful if conducted by the threat of war . 
When Mr Krushchev professes that he wishes to avoid " the horrors of nuclear war " , he is only half sincere . 
There is something else that he wishes much more , namely the avoidance of the tiniest concession on the part of the Soviet government . 
There is some reason to fear that a correlative feeling exists in the West . 
It can not , therefore , be said honestly by either side that it considers nuclear war the worst possible disaster . 
The last paragraph of Mr Krushchev 's letter advocates general and complete disarmament . 
The United States Information Service has issued a pamphlet called Freedom from War with a foreword by President Kennedy . 
The proposals contained in this pamphlet are admirable . 
So are Mr Krushchev 's proposals for general and complete disarmament . 
Since both sides advocate the same thing , it might be thought that it would be brought about , but no one supposes that it will be , because no one supposes that either side sincerely desires it . 
Certainly the explosion of 50-megaton bombs is not the way to bring it about . 
There is a simple test which I should suggest to the statesmen of both East and West : " When you feel inclined to make a pronouncement , ask yourself whether it differs in any way from a pronouncement by the other side . 
You are in the habit of saying that the pronouncements of the other side tend to promote war and , if they seem not to , that is only because they are insincere and hypocritical . 
If your pronouncements and theirs are indistinguishable , can you wonder that they do not find yours convincing ? " 
If war is to be avoided , both sides will have to cease from finding fault with each other , even when the fault-finding is justified , and will have to abandon the language of threats . 
We shall not be driven to mend our ways by Soviet threats . 
Nor will Russia be driven to mend her ways by threats from our side . 
Threat and counter-threat is not the way to peace . 
At one time Mr Krushchev seemed to be aware of this . 
He has forgotten it , and all friends of Man must be saddened by his decision to march along the road of folly . 
But I have been speaking of what we in the West regard as Mr Krushchev 's mistakes . 
We are much less aware of the mistakes made on our own side , though it would be easy to make a formidable list weighing in the total not much less than 50 megatons . 
The United States Air Force Association recently published a statement of its policy which is the most terrifying document I have ever read . 
It leads up to a noble peroration : " Soviet aims are both evil and implacable . 
The people [ i.e. the American people ] are willing to work towards , and fight for if necessary , the elimination of Communism from the world scene . 
Let the issue be joined . " 
This gives the tone of the whole ferocious document , which amounts to a sentence of death on the human race . 
It presents the aims of the enormous economic power of the armament industry and the warlike ardour of generals and admirals — the aims , in short , of the armament lobby , one of the most powerful of the lobbies that largely determine the actions of Congress . 
The greatest danger that we must face now , in this time of very imminent disaster , is that we should give in to these warmongers of the West as the Russians have shown by their recent actions they have succumbed to the warmongers of the East . 
We must continue to oppose both , to remember that both are guilty of leading us to our present dangerous pass , that both now seem to have the bit in their teeth . 
We must continue to urge the West — since we can influence only the West — to insist upon negotiation with determination to arrive at a peaceful issue , to refuse to answer provocative acts with provocative acts , to refuse , in fact , to go to war . 
Assumptions of American Defence KINGSLEY MARTIN 
In this article I want to assess , as far as I can , after talks in the White House , the Pentagon and the State Department , the assumptions that lie behind American defence policy . 
On the surface at least , the present regime differs from its predecessor in not thinking about " containing Communism " or " rolling back " or " fighting a crusade " , but in tough , realistic terms about the power struggle between the Soviet Union and the US . 
Whether this makes much real difference in policy I am not sure . 
It may be no more than a change in presentation . 
But it means that ideology comes into conversation only as an element of defence . 
The argument is no longer about a world divided into angels and devils , with " unmoral " neutrals dithering on the edge of hell . 
Another difference is that in the Kennedy era the generals do not talk about policy in public . 
There is still to be a fight about this which may be important before long , but for the moment military chiefs protest only in private . 
The very impressive Secretary of Defence , Mr McNamara , has everything very firmly under control , and the Pentagon concentrates on making military sense of the troika of France , Germany and Britain which the US is now attempting to drive in harness . 
The first assumption was stated in precise military terms the other day by Mr Gilpatric , the Deputy Secretary of Defence , whose speech , the press was informed , was " cleared at the highest level " , i.e. vetted by the President . 
The US is stated to be much superior today to the USSR in both nuclear power and the means of delivery . 
In Mr Gilpatric 's words , Americans " have a second strike capability as extensive as what the Soviets can deliver by striking first . 
Therefore we are confident that the Soviets will not provoke a major nuclear conflict . " 
The second assumption is that a private enterprise shelter policy supported by the administration can so limit the number of civilian deaths in a nuclear war that America would be able to rebuild a civilised and democratic society after it . 
The third assumption is that by building up conventional forces , America can minimise the danger that a nuclear war might begin by accident or misunderstanding or from Soviet failure to realise America 's determination to use her nuclear weapons . 
The fourth assumption is that West Germany must at all cost be kept as a permanent ally . 
It is essential to have her agreement about the Berlin settlement , her alliance in a war and her participation in that integrated organisation of the West , which is thought the best hope for western civilisation whether there is a war or not . 
Let me consider these assumptions in order . 
Mr Gilpatric states that America will be able to maintain progressively larger arms expenditure until Russia is " eventually forced to participate with us in a step-by-step programme to guarantee the peace which so many nations earnestly desire " . 
The present defence budget has reached the colossal figure of $47,000 million . 
Gilpatric did not mention the possibility that one of the motives for Russia 's inexcusable and horrifying series of tests is that she intends to continue poisoning the atmosphere until America is forced to accept Russia 's programme for " complete and general disarmament " . 
Whether his estimate of Russia 's inferior striking power is correct , I can not of course say ; one hopes that it is better based than the appreciation that led to the Cuban invasion . 
According to American intelligence reports the number of Soviet intercontinental missiles is not large . 
The Russians , we are told , mainly rely on those of intermediate range , so that America 's huge and elaborate system of bomber planes , plus her growing fleet of Polaris submarines , would bring Russia down before she could destroy America 's nuclear bases . 
It is a matter of doubt whether this alleged inferiority of striking power or the conflicts within the Communist world , so vividly displayed in the Moscow Communist conference , is responsible for Krushchev 's postponement of a date for making a treaty with East Germany . 
Shelter policy is a matter of acute controversy here . 
The administration does not suggest that shelters can prevent huge casualties from blast and fire , though it flatly contradicts the estimate of some experts who hold that the inevitable fires following a nuclear explosion would destroy all life above and below ground for many times the distance of the blast . 
As to the inevitable struggle to crowd the shelters if missiles fall , the only solution appears to be that everyone should have a shelter — which is clearly impossible even if the government stops the supply of bogus shelters , now commercially advertised , and insists on the production of cheap and adequate shelters against nuclear rain . 
THE LOOKER-ON 
THE new American President takes office during January , so the awkward interval during which United States policy tends to mark time for want of leadership is already nearly over . 
It can sometimes be a very awkward interval indeed , especially when the change of President also means a change of the ruling party . 
When a Democratic President last succeeded a Republican in 1933 , it was during the same interim period that Hitler came to power in Germany and the Japanese delegation withdrew from the League of Nations . 
In those days , to make matters worse , the interim was nearly five months — a relic of the early times of the Republic when a newly elected President had to be given time to ride on horseback to his farm and put his affairs in order , before riding back to Washington . 
The inevitable pause in policy-making is no doubt one of the reasons why a change of President is so often said to mark the end of an era , or the beginning of a new one . 
Coincidence also sometimes contributes to the same idea . 
Just as Roosevelt 's assumption of office coincided , within a few weeks , with the triumph of Nazism in Germany and the disruption of the League of Nations by Japan , so Eisenhower 's election eight years ago was very closely succeeded by the death of Stalin and the signature of an armistice in Korea . 
The portents facing the new President are still not clear , but such as they are , it is in the United States ' own policy rather than in the rest of the world that the changes are likely to come , if at all . 
Senator Kennedy has not been a man for dramatic or extreme commitments . 
The same was true of Vice-President Nixon , and Kennedy was even called " a Democratic Nixon . " 
This non-committal attitude in his past career had been held against him during the election campaign , but it will certainly be an asset now that he has become President ; for the Democratic Party even more than the Republican is a coalition of many diverse and even conflicting interests , some of which would have to be sacrificed by any President . 
Apart from the contention that American prestige has suffered abroad in the last few years , the President-elect has refrained from attacking the policies of his predecessor , so that the implication is that the change , if any , in foreign policy will consist rather of a freshness of approach than a revision of objectives . 
Senator Kennedy 's statements about nuclear disarmament during the campaign are a case in point . 
He insisted that the Western Powers must not despair of reaching an agreement with the Soviet Government on the manufacture and testing of nuclear weapons , but must make one more determined attempt to break through the obstacles , though without abandoning the " position of strength " which has been built up . 
It is almost inconceivable that any new President could have taken any other line . 
On the other hand , Kennedy went a good deal further in his undertakings about what is probably , for Americans , the most difficult and controversial of all matters of foreign policy , the relation with Communist China . 
While insisting that there should be no change affecting Formosa , he was explicitly in favour of a withdrawal of the Nationalist Chinese forces from the offshore islands , Quemoy and Matsu . 
It will be an extraordinarily painful step to negotiate . 
It seems likely also to be a step leading in the direction of recognising the Communist Chinese Government and trying to give its representative a seat at the United Nations , though perhaps without depriving Chiang Kai-shek 's representative of a seat on behalf of Formosa . 
Probably only a newly elected Democratic President could take so far-reaching a step , and it would be better to take it sooner rather than later ( like President Roosevelt 's decision to recognise the Soviet Government in 1933 ) . 
If so , then the new presidency might indeed mark the beginning of a new era , for it is certain that a comprehensive settlement of great-power relations and general disarmament will only be possible , if at all , when the Chinese Communists are included within the circle of settlement , by whatever means that is achieved . 
It is interesting to see how the new President 's thoughts have shifted on this subject . 
In January 1949 he spoke of " the disaster that has befallen China and the United States , " and urged the government to " assume the responsibility of preventing the onrushing tide of Communism from engulfing all of Asia . " 
Within the last year , he has spoken privately of indicating " our willingness to talk with them [ the Red Chinese ] when they desire to do so , and to set forth conditions of recognition which seem responsible to a watching world . " 
Both quotations are taken from the recent biographical work by an American professor , James MacGregor Burns , which was published in the U.S.A. in anticipation of Mr Kennedy 's election . 
The author has worked with the new President , along with many other intellectuals of the same generation , and he respects and admires him , but safely " this side idolatry . " 
The book is largely intended to dispel common illusions about the new President — for instance , that he is unduly influenced by his father , who was one of the least successful American Ambassadors ever sent to this country , or by the Roman Catholic Church . 
Professor Burns makes the point that Kennedy 's education was almost entirely secular and that he was never made to feel a second-class citizen in his boyhood , as can apparently still happen to American Catholics , especially those of Irish descent . 
But he does not hide the fact that the new President has in the past been sometimes ambiguous or evasive on matters in which religion could affect his judgment , such as civil rights or the condemnation of Senator McCarthy . 
Clearly he has still to reach his full stature ; but lesser men have made great Presidents before . 
One of the first problems confronting the new President in the field of foreign affairs will be that of the United States ' future relation with Cuba . 
Whatever steps he may take , whether in the direction of reconciliation or of intensified hostility , will have a far-reaching significance beyond their immediate context , because Fidel Castro has by this time become a kind of symbol of independence and social change in Latin America , much as President Nasser became a few years ago in the Middle East . 
The parallel is reinforced by a further coincidence : one of the most important international interests guarded , or threatened , by the rising dictator 's territory is a canal . 
And one of the chief purposes of the American base at Guantanamo Bay in Cuba is to cover the approaches to the Panama Canal , just as one of the chief purposes of the British base in the Suez Canal Zone until 1954 was to guard our Middle Eastern artery . 
The American people are now learning the hard way how difficult it is to act in accordance with cool and rational principles when a supposedly vital national interest is threatened by a dictator with a highly charged weight of public emotion driving him forward . 
The experience is all the more alarming for the Americans because the threat is so near home . 
Hitherto the American hemisphere , though liable to constant revolutions , has been immune from ideological movements showing close affinities with Communism . 
The only similar threats in recent years have been those of Dr Jagan 's government in British Guiana in 1953 and President Arbenz 's government in Guatemala in 1954 ; and both were fairly easily disposed of , nor did ( nor perhaps could ) the Soviet Government lift a finger to succour them . 
With Fidel Castro in Cuba it could conceivably be different . 
Unfortunately the Cuban situation was allowed to become a contentious issue in the U.S. presidential election . 
Senator Kennedy accused Vice-President Nixon of having " presided over the communisation of Cuba . " 
He pledged himself to strengthen and support the democratic anti-Castro forces inside and outside Cuba . 
Those outside Cuba include , of course , substantial numbers of vocal would-be counter-revolutionaries on American soil , alleged to be organising forces to invade Cuba from Florida . 
Senator Kennedy no doubt meant only moral support , but as American citizens have already been caught and executed in Cuba for rebellious activities , and as a contingent of U.S. marines was recently added temporarily to the strength of the garrison at Guantanamo Bay , his words could easily be misinterpreted and misused . 
Vice-President Nixon , on the other hand , spoke of Cuba as having been put " in quarantine " by the measures of economic blockade taken against Castro 's government after they had seized most of the American assets in the country . 
The principal reprisal taken by the U.S.A. was to cut the importation of Cuban sugar on the technical ground of Cuban discrimination against American goods . 
Given that over sixty per cent of cultivated land in the island is devoted to sugar , that the U.S.A. is by far the largest importer of Cuban sugar , and that two-thirds of all Cuba 's exports go to the U.S.A. , the severity of the reprisal is obvious . 
The presumption that it is politically motivated was corroborated by Vice-President Nixon 's further statement during the campaign , comparing the action taken against Cuba with the process which unseated Arbenz in Guatemala in 1954 . 
But the Latin Americans will not have forgotten that that process included an armed invasion from Nicaragua , with U.S. blessing if without U.S. troops . 
In the ugly situation that has developed , it was inevitable that Castro should have looked to the Soviet bloc for support . 
Patriotic Americans would argue that the order of events was the other way round : the " quarantine " was imposed because he had already showed Communist tendencies . 
In any case , it does not seem that Castro received much practical comfort from the U.S.S.R. or China . 
Crude oil came in Russian tankers to supply the Cuban refineries , but apparently only in token quantities . 
Soviet technicians came to replace American and British , but not in great numbers . 
And although Mr Khrushchev ostentatiously wooed and embraced Castro at the U.N . 
General Assembly , and ebulliently promised to supply rockets for the protection of Cuba against American aggression , he later explained that : " I want that declaration to be , in effect , symbolic . " 
No doubt neither of the great powers is willing to let Cuba become a { 6casus belli . 
But the present tension can hardly just go on indefinitely . 
The basic questions for the new American administration are two : need the quarrel with Cuba ever have happened , and , can it be put into reverse ? 
The first question can be broken down into two further questions : do Cuban and American interests necessarily conflict , and is Castro really a Communist ? 
To the first the answer is clearly , No . 
With Cuba normally receiving three-quarters of its imports from the U.S.A. and sending two-thirds of its exports to the U.S.A. , their interests are reciprocal . 
That Castro is really a Communist can also be denied in the sense of an obedient satellite of Moscow . 
Many well-informed Americans welcomed his rising against President Batista , and consider that he only turned towards Moscow when he was rebuffed during his visit to the U.S.A. in 1959 , perhaps chiefly because the American companies with investments in Cuba disliked his proposals for land reform . 
It may already be impossible for American policy to take a new direction in dealing with Cuba , but the advent of a new administration certainly provides a new opportunity . 
Senator Kennedy campaigned in support of a sympathetic policy towards under-developed countries . 
He now has the chance to recognise ( if he can eat his own words ) that charity begins at home , or at least on one 's own doorstep . 
The only alternatives seem to be the use of force ( even if not American forces ) or a state of chaos in Cuba from which an even worse dictatorship might emerge . 
When General de Gaulle came back to power two and a half years ago , there was a general wave of optimism about his chances of bringing the tragic problem of Algeria to a settlement . 
Algeria was in the forefront of every Frenchman 's mind at that time , because it was a crisis in Algiers that brought about the appeal to de Gaulle to return . 
The Uses of Pornography 
Pornography — if for the moment we stick to the etymological implication of writing — is an aspect of literacy . 
To the best of my knowledge , there is no record of a society which has used literacy for profane and imaginative purposes and which has not produced books dealing with sexual topics ; of these books some have been considered unsuitable for general reading , their circulation has been more or less clandestine , and where laws have been concerned with private morals , have been interdicted by the law . 
As far as I know , there is no surviving pornography from Mesopotamia , Pharaonic Egypt or Crete ; but there is so little written matter surviving from these civilizations which is not concerned with religion , law or business transactions that no argument can be based on these omissions . 
Further , we know nothing about the literatures of the high pre-Columbian civilizations of Central and South America ; Peru had a copious industry of pots decorated with realistic portrayals of perverse and complex sexual activities . 
But all the literate societies of Europe and Asia from the time of the ancient Greeks have had pornography as one aspect of their literature . 
In very many cases the texts have not survived ; but references to them occur in more seemly authors , usually in a context of reprobation . 
Since pornography is an aspect of literacy , it is confined to the higher civilizations ; it is not a human universal , found in societies of every stage of development , as is obscenity . 
All recorded societies , however simple their technology and unelaborated their social organization , have rules of seemliness ; certain actions must only be performed , certain words only be uttered , in defined contexts ; if the actions be performed , or the words uttered , in unsuitable contexts or before unsuitable audiences , then the rules of seemliness have been broken , and these infractions are obscenities . 
In the etymological meaning of the word actions have been performed , or words spoken , on the stage which should only have been performed or spoken off the stage ( that is in a suitable context ) ; and this metaphor is valid for all definitions of obscenity in all societies , if any situation where two or three are gathered together in one place is considered to have some of the components of a theatrical scene . 
Obscenity is a human universal , and I do not think that one can imagine a society without rules of seemliness and obscenity . 
Furthermore the responses to obscenity witnessed or recounted seem to vary very little from society to society . 
When witnessed , there is shocked silence and embarrassment on the part of the audience , confusion and shame on the part of the perpetrator , either openly manifested by such physical responses as blushing or giggling , or masked by bluster and defiance . 
When however obscenities are recounted in a suitable group , typically a one-sex group more or less of an age , the topic is enthralling and the climax of an anecdote is greeted with a peculiar , and easily recognizable , type of laughter . 
In different societies , laughter has a varying number of forms and functions ; and until one knows quite a lot about a society one can not interpret the significance that laughter has within it . 
But laughter at obscene jokes has ( it would appear ) the same sound the world over . 
You may know nothing at all about a society ; but you can not fail to recognize this specific type of hilarity . 
Obscenity impinges on pornography because in many societies ( including of course our own ) some aspects or actions of sexuality are regarded as obscene . 
This is however not universal ; societies with phallic or fertility cults may place sexuality very literally on the stage , as part of a sacred mime . 
Nor do I know of any society in which obscenity is exclusively sexual . 
Defecation , by one or both sexes , is frequently treated as obscene ; at least in the Trobriands ( according to Malinowski ) the public eating of solid food is an obscenity . 
Other societies surround death , either natural or violent or both , with the aura and circumspection of obscenity ; and in many societies the use of personal names , either in public or before specified kinfolk , has all the horror of an obscene utterance . 
In societies with elevated ideas of the sacred , obscenity and blasphemy shade off into one another . 
The misuse of sacred words , the abuse of sacred figures , have all the overtones and responses customary to obscenity , except that blasphemy is much more rarely a subject for hilarity . 
In swearing and abuse both the obscene and the blasphemous vocabularies are frequently combined as forms of aggression against God and man ; this is typically horrifying to the believer , amusing to the sceptic . 
These digressions have seemed necessary because , despite the title of the Obscene Publications Bill , the connections between obscenity and pornography are both tenuous and intermittent . 
In Latin literature such writers as Juvenal and Martial used the complete obscene vocabulary without apparently being considered pornographic ; we do not know what vocabulary Elephantis and her colleagues employed , but for her contemporaries it was the subject matter , not the language , which made her books reprehensible . 
Conversely , to the best of my recollection , The Memoirs of Fanny Hill ( one of the few masterpieces of English pornography ) does not use a single obscene term . 
When obscene words are used in pornography , it is customarily due to the poverty of the writer 's vocabulary ; occasionally , as in some of the Victorian works , it is to enhance the law-breaking , blasphemous aspects of the actions or conversations described . 
But pornography is in no way dependent on obscene language ; and , as it is customarily defined , it does not deal with more than a small portion of the subjects and situations considered obscene by the society at the time it was written . 
2 
Pornography is defined by its subject matter and its attitude thereto . 
The subject matter is sexual activity of any overt kind , which is depicted as inherently desirable and exciting . 
In its original meaning — writings of or about prostitutes — pornography consisted either in manuals of sexual technique ( The Ananga-Ranga , { I Ragionamenti of Aretino ) or in the extolling of the charms and skills of identified prostitutes ( The Ladies ' Directory and its very numerous predecessors ) ; but in its most usual form it is a fiction , in prose or verse , narrative or dialogue , mainly or entirely concerned with the sexual activities of the imagined characters . 
As far as my knowledge goes , Asian pornography , from Arabia to China and Japan , has sexual interludes embedded in narratives of which they only form a small section . 
The Chinese , and those who were influenced by Chinese culture and ideas , apparently considered all fiction reprehensible , frivolous , and subject to censorship . 
A writer engaging in a work of fiction was already going beyond the bounds of seemliness ; once this step was taken , there were , it would seem , no conventions limiting the situations which could be depicted ; and as a consequence you have a masterpiece like { Chin P'ing Mei ( The Golden Lotus ) with numerous sections which , in 1939 , Colonel Egerton had to veil in the decent obscurity of dog-latin , and which , by themselves , would certainly be considered pornographic in any literate society . 
They however become valid as literature because they serve to illumine the characters who are also described in a great number of other situations . 
With very few exceptions European pornography does not have any characters . 
The drama and novel are respected literary forms in which characters can be portrayed in nearly all situations except the overtly sexual ; all that was left for pornography was genital activity . 
And even that has become more and more circumscribed . 
The manuals of sexual technique , as far as heterosexual coitus is concerned , have been taken away from the pornographers by high-minded writers of books on marriage guidance ; the existence of sexual perversions , whose naming fifty years ago would have made a book suspect , is now common currency , thanks to the diffusion of various diluted versions of psycho-analysis ; pornography is left with little but the description of the activities of various sets of genitals . 
As such it apparently commands a steady sale . 
The graphic equivalent of pornographic writing — the depiction of single figures ready for sexual activity or of pairs or groups of figures engaged in sexual activity — has likewise been an aspect of the painting , drawing or sculpture of every society in which these arts have been developed for aesthetic pleasure ; in Hinduism they have on occasion been incorporated into sacred architecture . 
When mechanical means of reproducing works of art have been developed — woodcuts , engravings , etchings , pottery moulds — they have reproduced these works as well as the more conventional . 
Such pornographic art ranges all the way from masterpieces produced by the greatest artists of the period ( for example , many Japanese woodcuts ) to the most summary and feeble daubs . 
Except for the medium , they do not seem to be different in intention or effect to the literature ; and I shall not further refer to them separately in this essay . 
During the last century mechanical means of reproducing pictures and sounds — photographs , films , gramophone records and the like — have also been put to pornographic ends , " feelthy " pictures , " blue " films and so on . 
Some of those few I have had occasion to see have struck me as unintentionally fairly comic ; but their intention is serious enough . 
They are not able to achieve the idealization — perfect beauty , health , vigour — which is so general a feature of pornographic art and literature . 
Otherwise , they do not seem to me different in intention or effect from pornography in other media ; and I have not heard of any which have non-pornographic merits . 
These too , it would appear , command a ready sale , probably today from a bigger public than the literature . 
The greatest amount of pornography in all media is produced by hacks with no pretension to aesthetic skill or competence . 
Some however has been produced by writers and painters of repute ; and it is likely that , in such cases , the greater amount has been destroyed either immediately or after very limited circulation among friends . 
Some however has survived . 
There have also been a few European artists and painters whose main talent or output has been pornographic : Giulio Romano , Fuseli , Rowlandson among painters , Andre2a de Nerciat , John Cleland , Pierre Louys among writers . 
When pornography is produced by writers or artists of talent it is usually dubbed " erotica " ; but I see no value in maintaining that distinction when the aesthetic qualities are not the major consideration . 
I know of no study of the reasons which impel writers or artists to produce pornographic works ; it is obviously an extremely difficult genre , and the technical problems of maintaining interest or variety with such an extremely limited subject matter may have been an attraction for some . 
In the mid-nineteenth and earlier twentieth century realistic and lyrical writers almost certainly felt thwarted by the strict conventions ( to a great extent imposed by Mudie 's lending library in Britain ) limiting the subjects and situations with which they were allowed to treat ; and the production of pornography may have been a sign of private revolt . 
Some of the nineteenth century English works are ascribed to the most austere Victorian characters , though with what justice I would not be prepared to say . 
It is possible also that willing creators of pornography get much the same satisfaction out of their activity as do willing consumers of it . 
3 
The object of pornography is hallucination . 
The reader is meant to identify either with the narrator ( the " I " character ) or with the general situation to a sufficient extent to produce at least the physical concomitants of sexual excitement ; if the work is successful , it should produce orgasm . 
The reader should have the emotional and physical sensations , at least in a diminished form , that he would have were he taking part in the activities described . 
The literature of hallucination is a vast one , perhaps particularly in English , and deals with a considerable number of emotions and situations besides the sexual . 
Perhaps the nearest analogy is the literature of fear , the ghost story , the horror story , the thriller .