£>tate CoUesf of Agriculture 
 
 9t Cornell ^niberisitp 
 
 3t!)aca, M- S- 
 
 Hibrarp 
 
Cornell University Library 
 HN 389.B825 
 
 Our social inheritance, 
 
 3 1924 014 100 436 
 
The original of tliis book is in 
 tine Cornell University Library. 
 
 There are no known copyright restrictions in 
 the United States on the use of the text. 
 
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THE MAKING OF THE 
 FUTURE 
 
 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
THE MAKING OF THE 
 FUTURE 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 Patrick Geddes and Victor Branford. 
 
 THE COMING POLITY. Second Edition, 
 Revised and Enlarged. By the Editors. 6/6 net. 
 
 IDEAS AT WAR. By Prof. Geddes and 
 Dr. Gilbert Slater. 6/- net. 
 
 HUMAN GEOGRAPHY IN WESTERN 
 EUROPE. Second Impression. - By Prof. 
 H. J. Fleure. 61- net. 
 
 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE. By the 
 Editors: 6/- net. 
 
 PROVINCES OF ENGLAND. By C. B. 
 Fawcett. 6/6 net. 
 
 Oiker Volumes in Preparation 
 
 GE,NERAL WORKS BY THE EDITORS 
 
 INTERPRETATIONS AND FORECASTS: 
 A Study of Survivals and Tendencies in Con- 
 temporary Socifety. By Victor Braneord. 
 (Duckworth & Co., 7j. 6d.) 
 
 CITIES IN EVOLUTION: An Introduction 
 to the Town Planning Movement and to the 
 Study of Civips.' By Prof. Geddes. Fully 
 illustrated. (Williams & Norgate, 8;. bd. net.) 
 
The Making of the Future 
 
 OUR SOCIAL 
 INHERITANCE 
 
 VICTOR BRANFORD, M.A. 
 
 MEMBER OF THE BOARD OP SOCIOLOGICAL STUDIES, UNIVERSITY OP LONDON 
 
 AND 
 
 PATRICK GEDDES 
 
 PROFESSOR OF BOTANY, UNIVERSITY OF ST. ANDREWS 
 DIRECTOR OF THE CITIES AND TOWN PLANNING EXHIBITION 
 
 LONDON 
 WILLIAMS & NORGATE 
 
 14 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.C. I 
 I919 
 

 Frintho in Grbat Britaim by 
 
 KlCKARD CCAY ,& SOWS, LlMPTEO, 
 BRUKSWICK ST., STAMFORD ST., 5.B. I. 
 AMD BUNQAY. SUFFOLK. 
 
 i^¥l^\ 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE 
 SERIES 
 
 Since the Industrial Revolution, there has 
 gone on an organized sacrifice of men to 
 things, a large-scale subordination of life to 
 machinery. During a still longer period, 
 there has been a growing tendency to value 
 personal worth in terms of wealth. To 
 the millionaire has, in effect, passed the 
 royal inheritance of " right divine." 
 
 Things have been in the saddle and ridden 
 mankind. The cult of forcfe in statecraft has 
 been brought to logical perfection in Prussian 
 ;." frightfulness." The cult of "profiteer- 
 ing " in business has had a similar goal in 
 the striving for monopoly by ruthless elimina- 
 tion of rivals. Prussianism and profiteering 
 are thus twin evils. Historically they have 
 risen together. Is it not possible they are 
 destined to~fall together before the rising 
 tide of a new vitalism ? 
 
 The reversal of all these teiidencies, mechan- 
 istic and venal, would be the preoccupation 
 
vi INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES 
 
 of a more vital era than that from which we 
 are escafring. Its educational aim would be 
 to , think out and prepare the needed tran- 
 sition from a machine and a money economy, 
 towards one of Life, Personality and Citizen- 
 ship. The war has been a gigantic Dance of 
 Death, for which modern business, with its 
 as'sociated politics, has been the prolonged 
 rehearsal. Is it not now the turn of Life to 
 take the floor and call the tune; and if so, 
 on a scale of corresponding magnificence? 
 For the war was not merely the poisonous fruit 
 of pitiless competition and machiavellian 
 diplomacy. It was also a spiritual protest 
 and rebound against the mammon of material- 
 ism. In its nobler aspects and finer issues, 
 its heroisms and self-sacrifices, did not the 
 war hold proof and promise of renewing Life 
 liberated from a long repression? vAnd may 
 not the pursuit of personal wealth grow less 
 exigent, as we gain a sense of social well-being 
 expressed in betterment of environment and 
 enrichmeht of life? May not the struggle 
 for existence within the nations, and even 
 across their frontiers, be increasingly replaced 
 by the orderly culture of life, in its full cycle 
 from infancy to age, and at all, its expand- 
 ing levels from home and neighbourhood 
 outwards? ' 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES vii 
 
 Those who foresee, in sequel to the war, a 
 social rebirth, with accompanying moral pur- 
 :gation, will furnish to all these questions, 
 answers coloured by their hopes. The fears 
 of the pessimists will dictate a contrary set 
 of replies. To substantiate those hopes, tp 
 arrest these fears is needed a doctrine that 
 not only goes beyond the Germanic Philo- 
 sophies, which before the war dominated our 
 u|iiversities, but also is corrective of their 
 defects. The, " idealisms " of these recently 
 fashionable philosophies were bastard off- 
 spring of arcl^aic thought detached from the' 
 living world. Such abstract idealisms must 
 be replaced by definite ideals, concrete and 
 human, if 4ll men of goodwill are to be brought 
 together for the making of a new and better 
 civilization. So may Inen inherit the ancient 
 promise of "peace on earth tomen of goodwill." 
 , It is the aim of this Series to gather to- 
 gether existing elements of reconstructive 
 doctrine, and present them as a body of truth 
 growing towards unity and already fruitful in 
 outlook and application. There are thr&e 
 schools of thought from which the Series will 
 mainly draw. One of them lays stress upon 
 family life,, contacts with nature, the signifi- 
 cance of labour, the interests of locality. 
 Elaborated into a doctrine this becomes the 
 
viii INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES 
 
 " regionalism " of France. Its scientific founda- 
 tions were laid two generations ago by Le- 
 Play. The influence of its many and diverse 
 groups is steadily growing in France, and 
 unobtrusively spreading to other countries; 
 as, for example, in England, through the 
 economic and social surveys of Charles Booth 
 and Seebohm Rowhtree; through the activi- 
 ties of the Regional Association and of the 
 Oxford School of Geography. 
 
 Another guiding outlook, which is rather a 
 tradition than a school, sees the progress of 
 mankind as an unfolding of ideas and ideajs. 
 Two thinkers of post-Revolutionary France 
 discerned this vision with compelling clear- 
 ness. Auguste Comte saw it as a procession 
 of great personalities, linked in apostolic 
 succession. Joseph de Maistre saw it as a 
 moviement and manifestation of religious life. 
 There have resulted two re-interpretations 
 of life, mind, morals and society. They are 
 divergent in appearance, but alike in essence. 
 Both present ?i view of life and the world, 
 inimical to the Prussian cult of force. The 
 twofold influence of this humanist tradition 
 is world-wide. "Witness the writings of William 
 . James, Madame Montessori, Prince Kropotkin 
 and F. W. Foerster of Munich — to name but 
 four among the many recent and contemporary 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES ix 
 
 humanists whose roots penetrate this fertile 
 soil. The vitalistic philosophy of Bergson is 
 manifestly racy of the same soil. 
 
 In the third place, there is the incipient 
 Civism, of independent origin and rapid recent 
 growth in Britain, in America and in Germany. 
 This incipient Civism has been the parent 
 of constructive Betterment and to no small 
 extent of Child Welfare also. It is inspiring 
 the repair and renewal of historic cities, the 
 tidying up of confused industrial towns, the 
 guidance and gardening of their suburban 
 growths. 
 
 The Hebraic ideal of adjusting cityHife to 
 the care and culture of child life was thus in 
 active renewal before the war. So also was 
 the Hellenic id^al of seeking the Good, the 
 True, the Beautiful through a citizenship, 
 active and contemplative. With the down- 
 fall, now achieved, of autocratic and over- 
 centralized states, this civic renascence will 
 certainly continue ; and not least splendidly in 
 the ancient citiefe of Burgher Germany, released 
 from their Prussic enchantment. From this 
 i source maybe will come even in the present 
 generation, a formative contribution towards 
 the ^hinx-riddle of politics : How to federate 
 Free Cities and their Regions ? Reflecting in 
 the tranquillity of peace, on the penalties of 
 
X INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES 
 
 imperial attachment to Berlin, will not these 
 once free cities seek deterniiilately for some 
 form of union without metropolitan subject 
 tion ? But that is the federal problem, whose 
 solution— save indeed in Switzerland — has 
 so long evaded the grasp of the; western 
 world. 
 
 Behind the rise and fall of states, nations 
 and empires, may be discerned the struggle 
 of cities for freedom to develop their own 
 regional life. And again, around and within 
 the civic drama is the play of the rustic 
 elements from which the city's life is peren- 
 nially renewed. Civic life is thus the crown 
 .and fulfilment of regional life. Their jpint 
 development makes a partnership of Man 
 and Nature in a ceaseless game of skill with 
 Interfering Circumstance. The stakes are cities 
 with their accumulated heritage of art, learn- 
 ing and wealth. When the twin partnership 
 is winning, civic life^fiourishes, as in Athens 
 and Jeirusalem of old, in -Florence of the middle 
 time, or in Louvain but yesterday. When 
 Interfering Circumstance is dominant, then 
 is the occasion for predatory empires to expand 
 like Assyria, Macedonia, or Prussia. 
 
 As correctives of predatory imperialism, 
 regional and ' humanist ideas naturally arise. 
 But regionalism and humanism are not 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES xi 
 
 mutually exclusive.. On the contrary, they 
 are, for the awakened and educated citizen, 
 the two necessary and complementary poles 
 of his civilization. The needle of the mariner's 
 compass gains stability by oscillating between 
 the two poles of the world of nature. So, 
 regionalism and humanism indicate the two 
 poles of man's world; and the art of civics is 
 his mariner's compass. TThrough the making 
 and the maintenance of cities, man is ever 
 seeking a bi-polar stability. On the one hand 
 he pbeys the call of family, of neighbourhood 
 and of region. On the other, he reaches out 
 to the widening appeal of nation and federa- 
 tion, of civilization and humanity. In the 
 measure that cities work efficiently on each 
 and all of these levels, the progress of t^e world 
 continues harmoniously. 
 
 The supreme triumphs of Art have been won 
 in these manifold services of the city. Pyramid 
 and Temple, Acropolis and Forum, Cathedral 
 and Town Hall, are peaks in the chequered 
 evolution of civic life. What of this evolution 
 to-day and to-niorrow ? It is significant that 
 in the development and decline of cities, 
 Beauty and Efficiency have come and gone 
 together. The cogent lesson ior our own 
 times is that Art and Industry, Education 
 and Health, Morals and Business, so generally 
 
xii INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES 
 
 severed in the passing age, must henceforth 
 advance in unison. But how in practice effect 
 the mutuahty of understanding and the unity 
 of purpose, requisite for concerted activity ? 
 Surely by experimental but deliberate and 
 continuous working together of aH for the 
 efficiency of city and ennoblement of citizen 
 on each plane, domestic and regional, national 
 and federal, international and humanist. 
 
 Behind the war "of armies is, a war of ideas. 
 In the latter warfare the fortr^ses' are Univer- 
 sities. They have in all countries, in the pass- 
 ing generation been strongholds of Germanic 
 Thought. Hence the boast of professors, that 
 Teutonic Kultur was destined to rule the 
 world, seemed not unreasonable. But the 
 eeumtering ideas, regional, civic and humanist, 
 have, also been fermenting in the universities. 
 Therefrom is emerging a doctrine deeper, 
 truer ,^ and more creative than the mechanical 
 and venal philosophy which has had its fulfil- 
 ment in Prussian Militarism and Competitive 
 Business. 
 
 The re-awakening movement of the univer- 
 sities has been slow, timid, blindfold, because 
 lacking in civic vision. Now, therefore, is 
 urgent an arousal of the universities to their 
 spiritual responsibilities for the fullness of life, 
 in all its phases, individual and social. In every 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES xiii 
 
 region is needed a comprehensive working 
 together of city and university on each 
 plane of the ascending spiral from home to 
 humanity. 
 
 In spite of a political system democratic 
 in form, the People have played but a passive 
 r6le in the departing age of raoney and machine 
 economy. In the coming age of life economy, 
 the activity of the People will be creative in 
 proportion as two conditions are -satisfied. 
 The inner life must be purified and enriched, 
 and opportunities without distinction of class, 
 rank, or sex, must be accorded for the develop- 
 ment of personality through citizenship. In 
 , the needed intellectual and moral transforma- 
 tion, the university -is "called upon to glay a 
 part, simultaneously redemptive for itself, 
 for the people, and for its city and region. It 
 must not only aid the birth of the new 
 doctrine, but also boldly suggest and even 
 plan the practicarapplications thereof. Thus 
 may unity of thought, and concert of purpose 
 develop together in a common citizenship. 
 
 A sound psychology, for instance, teaches 
 that the aggressive spirit which characterizes 
 Militarism may be transmuted, not eliminated. 
 Attempts at repression do but drive its mani- 
 festations into underground channels. Con- 
 structive outlets have, therefore, to be found 
 
xiv INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES 
 
 for the adventurous dispositions of Youths 
 the affirmative energies of Maturity, the 
 poUtical ambitions ^f Age. Towards this 
 ennoblement of mascuUne passion, William 
 James bequeathed to mankind the idea of 
 inventing " moral equivalents of war." For 
 example, consider how the Boy Scouts are 
 helping to tackle that growth of juvenile 
 crime w^ich is one of the evil results of the 
 war already visible. They transform the 
 young delinquent into a Temporary Scout, 
 and harness him to some sintiple constructive 
 endeavour. Here, then, is a mode of Re- 
 construction, which also, and at the same time, 
 exemplifies what the French call Re-education, 
 and what moral teachers call Renewal. Out 
 of the general principles here seen at work, 
 may be built up a social policy. Thus start- 
 ing from Regionalism, with its complement of 
 humanist teacljiing, aind proceeding through 
 civic applications of both, we reach a policy 
 of " the three R's," new style. 
 
 Through the redemptive quality^ of war, the 
 nation shed not a little of its competitive 
 individualism, and achieved a closer working 
 together of all for the common good. How 
 now to renew, maintain and advance the sense 
 "of community, the energy of collective effort, 
 the self-abnegation of individuals and families? 
 
INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES xv 
 
 Clearly, in tlie coming polity, tiiere must 
 be arousal among all classes of a personal sense- 
 of definite responsibilities, including and 
 transcending one's own life and work. There 
 must be some vision, clear yet moving, of a 
 better future. And knowledge and goodwill 
 towards its gradual realization must not be 
 lacking. AH these aims, the Series will en- 
 deavour to elucidate and advance, and not! 
 only through application of regionalist, civic 
 and humanist teaching, but also by culling 
 what is vital and essential from other schools 
 of social thought. 
 
 The design on the cover of the books is 
 adapted from a stained glass window in the 
 Outlook Tower, Edinburgh. The window is 
 a student's commemoration of teaching and 
 research devoted to an interpretation of the 
 Past and the Present for the foresight and 
 guidance of the Future. The symbolism of 
 this Arbor Saculorum is explained in the 
 companion volume : " Ideas at War," by 
 Professor Geddes a:nd Dr. Gilbert Slater. 
 
 It may be mentioned, for the sake of 
 inquiring students, that each of the two 
 Editors of the Series has elsewhere made an 
 endeavour towards the popular presentment 
 
 b 
 
xvi INTRODUCTION TO THE SERIES 
 
 of Qvism as a doctrine combining the regional 
 and humanist approaches. The two resulting 
 volwoaes axe Cities in Evolution, by Professor 
 Geddes, and Interpfetations and Forecasts, by 
 Mr. Branford. 
 
PREFACE 
 
 A conquering race is wpnt to emphasize its 
 common descenLfrom a " superior stock." Its 
 pride of>. tradition is in Heredity. These are 
 the "Barbarians" of Mathew Arnold. -His 
 "Philistines" — more usually termed bour- 
 geoisie — put their accent on wealth which they 
 conceive as property. For them the centre of 
 traditional interest is in the economic Heritage. 
 Beyond that regiment of Barbarians and this 
 multitude of Philistines is the noble company 
 of Poets, Prophets, Philosophers, the In- 
 heritance these value is the common endowment 
 of Imagery, Ideas, Vision. 
 
 The contrast and complement of Heredity, 
 Heritage and Inheritance may be viewed from 
 the standpoint of individual change and de- 
 velopment. In youth, the mind being open 
 and generous, .^trongest is the appeal of imagery, 
 ideas, vision. A certain touch of genius makes 
 every youth, at least for a moment, something 
 of poet, philosopher, and prophet. Then with 
 advancing years there comes, for most, a fixity 
 of habitual leaning towards property, and for 
 
 i xvii 
 
xviii TREFACE 
 
 many towards pride of race. To correct this 
 bias of the body and to restore the moral balance 
 is amongst the declared purposes of Education 
 and Religion. In pdfticuliir the exponents of 
 a" Liberal Education " c^aim success in main- 
 taining the supremacy of " spiritual values." 
 They profess to unroll the high record of our 
 whole social inheritance and lay it open for 
 freedom of choice by the eager soul of youths 
 But in practice these liberal educators ar-e seen 
 to be doing something very' different, y^hat 
 they offer to our students and young scholars is, 
 for the most-part, but a barbarian and philistine 
 rationing of their rightful inheritance in the 
 things of the spirit. That which passes for a 
 liberal education, even in the mOst humanist 
 of our schools of learning, is, in the main, a 
 cultfiral adaptation to the requirements of a 
 society predominantly barbarian and philistine. 
 A suitable dilution Of this " upper class cul- 
 ture " introduced into elementary ''schools has 
 up to the present been moderately successful in 
 orienting the minds of "the Populace " to the 
 existing social order. 
 
 But suppose now, that the realities of educa- 
 tion corresponded to its professions. Suppose 
 that youthful minds', throughout the community, 
 without distinction of class, rank, wealth or 
 sex, escaping what Victor Hugo called " the 
 
PREFACE 
 
 XIX 
 
 spiritual night of education," were given gener- 
 ous opportunity of advancing into the full light 
 of day. That would mean making good, in 
 terms of menfal habituation, their heirship in 
 the kingdom of the spirit. A community of 
 individuals thus educated would, of course, 
 he still exposed to lure of property, lud of 
 body, pride ' of race. But these temptations, 
 instead of falling on a seed-bed prepared- for 
 their growth, would meet and struggle with 
 countering mental habits. For the social in-? 
 heritance, which is claimed by youth at its best, 
 seeks expression in applying, material property 
 to noble use, in directing the body to high 
 endeavour , in turning pyide of race into, obliga- 
 tion of service. Yet it is a common fact of 
 experience that interest in the things of the 
 spirit, in order to determine action effectually, 
 must be deep-rooted in the routine of everyday 
 life and its labours of maintenance. In other 
 words, all education worth the name has bfien 
 and must be at once realistic and idealistic. 
 Hence our plea so often urged for associating, 
 elementary education with the productive work, 
 of field, fold and forest, of sea and river, as the 
 one sure and certain way of transmitting ^hat 
 rustic and proverbial wisdom which is the 
 unchanging foundation of right conduct, Out 
 of this immemorial tradition has sprung all 
 
XX 
 
 PkEFACE 
 
 enduring cMUzaUon of later times; so it 
 would seew to be a law of social inheritance 
 that from the same source each generation 
 must renew its moral vigour. The penalty of 
 failure to do so is written large in the diseases, 
 follies, crimes and vices of this and every other 
 age that has sacrificed country life to that of 
 towns. Yet since the upward and onward- path 
 of civilization runs through the refinements, 
 complexities, creative impulses of city life, 
 these must supply for higher education that 
 realism of first-hdnd experience, rising__into 
 mastery and idealism, which for elementary 
 education comes from participating in the 
 simple rustic occupations. What then are the 
 civic contacts and activities fitted for this high 
 initiation of the student.^ An education that 
 aims at full social inheritance must answer - 
 (he question— how to be at home first in ike 
 countryside, then in the city ."^ 
 
 Before replies can be given which are practic- 
 (ible in application as well as sound in theory, 
 great changes must without doubt take place 
 in the existing social and moral order. What 
 are these changes.^ How initiate and main- 
 tain the^m, and moreover in due correlation 
 with the corresponding readjustments in our 
 educational system ? Here, assuredly, are^vast 
 and complex problems, which our generation, 
 
PREFACE > xxi 
 
 ~^ - 
 perturbed by the troubles of transition, cannot 
 
 he expected to solve. But at' least we can try 
 in sincere and dispassionate mood, to state 
 these problems with growing clearness, more 
 and more with precision to define, the con- 
 ditions of solution and to work with increasing 
 co-operation at the implied tasks of experimen- 
 tation. 
 
 To the discussion of such underlying problems 
 the present volume is largely devoted, as also 
 was its antecedent in this Series, The Coming 
 Polity. But while that started from a stand- 
 point mainly rustic, this sets out from the civic 
 side. Hence the rustic conditions postulated 
 in The Coming Polity are here assumed 
 without further reference. In each case the 
 mode of, approach is the same, and as far as 
 may be by observation of the everyday life 
 around us, m<^de when possible in the open air, 
 and in face of what is to be seen and inter- 
 preted. While in the previous volume the 
 observations were mainly of country walks, here 
 they are actually or potentially of city walks. 
 
 It is necessary to say something further as 
 to the plan and purpose of the present volume, 
 if only in warning to readers what not to expect. 
 First, let it be clearly understood that no attempt 
 whatever is made to deal comprehensively, or 
 even systematically, with our social inheritance. 
 
xxii PREFACE 
 
 What this is, and where found, are indeed 
 questions that mu^t find some sort of answer 
 in any hook dealing with the subject. Still, 
 the main concern here is with the practical 
 uses of this wo;nderful endowment that comes 
 to us as a gift from the past. 
 
 Look hack down the long roll of human 
 achievement and. you see it as the waves of an 
 ehhing and flowing tide. The stuff of these 
 waves is emotion and thought. Their crests 
 break now and again into those outbursts of 
 uncustomary activity called creative epochs, 
 This occasional riot of genius issues in in- 
 vention, art, literature, religion, polity, philo- 
 sophy. The form and substance of all these, 
 though infinitely diversified through the ages, 
 are yet continuous as expressions of the human 
 spirit. Once realized in a moment of intense 
 life, each high achievement of the race goes to 
 enrich the birthright of subsequent generations. 
 In this unique privilege, of humanity may 
 perhaps be discerned the very purpose of life- 
 in-evolution. It is the ever-growing body of 
 traditional wisdom which at once differentiates 
 us in kind from the animal world, and furnishes 
 the warrant of hope towards an approximating 
 "perfectibility," if not of the individual; yet 
 of'the community, and so of personality through 
 communitary influences. 
 
PREFACE xxiii 
 
 A systematic treatment of our social in- 
 heritance would show the historic sequence of 
 these breaking wave-crests as each relevant to 
 its own time and place, yet nevertheless leaving 
 ever a crystalline deposit for all thereafter to 
 enjoy and use. But so far from such systematic 
 A treatment, this volume offers nothing hut merest 
 outlines of historic interpretation, and even 
 then, for the most part introduced into the text 
 almost incidentally, as pre-requisite to an under- 
 standing of practical issues, and their right 
 handling. 
 
 If, however, at the outset, the reader demand 
 a statement of the social inheritance as here 
 conceived, a rough working definition may he 
 offered ; hut with a warning. For the definition 
 runs not on the customary lines of reference to 
 institutions and their social products ; it is 
 in terms of life, its spiritual energizing, its 
 creative process. Let then our inheritance he 
 conceived as the common endowment of thought 
 and skill in its application, of imagery and 
 impulse to give it material form, of vision and 
 its quest of achievement. But these are qualities 
 of personality, it will he said in criticism. True, 
 yet let us not forget that every personality is 
 what it is mainly through the collective momen- 
 tum of countless other persor^alities, alive and 
 dead, around and hehind, even of those tq QQm6, 
 
xxiv PREFACE 
 
 Are not parents Made in no small measure by 
 planning for an imagined futptre for their 
 children ? statesmen by scheming for the future 
 of their country, citizens by building for their 
 successors? The urge and tMust and pull 
 exerted by this' far-ranging animated milieu 
 goes on all the time like an invisible demiurge 
 subtly, silently, ceaselessly striDing to Mndle the 
 soul and cultivate its growth in eath individual 
 body. Regard it as a single unity and this 
 cloud of witnesses becomes the voice of the past, 
 speaking through the present, commanding the 
 future in adaptation to our medley of hopeS' and 
 fears, our desires and ambitions, our lusts and 
 aspirations, our dreams and resolves. Its_ mode 
 of working is through language, gesture, sex, 
 dress, dance, song, music, architecture, ritual, 
 painting, sculpture. 
 
 Such is the nature of our social inheritance, 
 and the fundamental law of its transmission is 
 that each one of us is human just in so far as 
 he or she succeeds to this Great Estate of Man 
 and takes possession thereof. Here is a public 
 fortune that franseends all private ones, as 
 national history surpasses family records. The 
 abuses of this public fortune make the mounting 
 burden of evil under which dead cities, nations, 
 empires lie buried^ and living ones stagger to 
 their doom or struggle for mastery of their fate., 
 
PREFACE 
 
 XXV 
 
 Its uses are the concern of statesmen, education- 
 ists, priests, philosophers, seldom informed by 
 more than a Modest acquaintance with its 
 nature, laws, resources. 
 
 Of the three Parts into which this volume 
 is divided, the first treats mainly of our recent 
 inheritance; that of the Industrial Revolution 
 and its associated Burden of Evil. Here the 
 mode of treatments in large measure critical. 
 In Part II an endeavour is made to present 
 Westminster as a type of historic culture city 
 in which the social inheritance survives in 
 buildings, monuments, vistas, street scenes, 
 whose story may be read as in a living museum 
 of civilization. Here the treatment is mainly 
 descriptive and interpretative. It is more con- 
 structive in Part III, for there we offer sug- 
 gestions for the ampler and finer use by the 
 Universities of their privileges and traditions as 
 trustees of the social inheritance. The conten- 
 tion is that as the universities awaken to their 
 resources and opportunities they will increasingly 
 co-operate with their cities and regions in order 
 to equip the youth of each generation more fully 
 and nobly, not only for the struggle, but also for 
 the culture, of life, and this at all levels, ranging 
 from home and neighbourhood, city and country 
 up to the world and its envelope of human life. 
 
xxvi PREFACE 
 
 A wofd as. to the order of reading. Front 
 criticism through descriptive interpretation to 
 construction is perhaps for most a natural 
 ' sequence. But many doubtless think other- 
 wise. For them, nothing in the text forhids 
 a r^eversalof this order, or indeed such modifica- 
 tion as may he suggested by, inter est or inclina- 
 tion. Those who love the moving spectacle, 
 have some acquaintance with modern history 
 and a certain faculty of abstraction, will begin 
 with. Part I. Therein they will see the current 
 crisis of our Western civilization, presented in 
 historic setting, critically surveyed, and an 
 endeavour made to interpret it as a climax of 
 transition towards a society creative yet orderly. 
 The picture, needless to say, is painted but in 
 outline. It is, however, claimed for this picture 
 that its lines follow approxifnately the course of 
 facts and events and so yield. a description of 
 the current situation in. which the world finds 
 itself, that has the scientific qualities of objec- 
 tivity, detachment and, in certain degree, system. 
 For further details of the situation as analysed 
 by this method, the- reader may be referred to 
 Papers for the Present, No. 9, " The Drift 
 to Revolution " {Headleys). 
 
 AgUin there are th,ose who prefer to draw 
 their knowledge of the way the world works less 
 from history, memory and reflection than from 
 
PREFACE xxvH 
 
 direct observation of men and things in the 
 concrete. These will doubtless prefer to begin, 
 with our Westminster wqlks^ in Part II. For 
 those who prefer to start from the educational 
 approach there is Part III. 
 
 Running throughout the volume as one con- 
 tinuous thread is a constructive idea. The 
 Past, whether cherished with the traditionalists, 
 or scorned with the radicals, or ignored by the 
 " average sensual man," yet descends irrevoc- 
 ably upon all of us alike. To the passive 
 recipient it comes a$ a burden. But in mood 
 at once reverent, active and forelooking each- 
 one may deliberately select from the past in the 
 present, material for shaping his or -her future. 
 ^Similarly for the community, statesmen and 
 educationists who would plan in assurance of 
 "^harvesting much grain and few weeds, may 
 within limits, make the future by wise selection 
 from that surviving past which we call the 
 present. There is no other way than this. 
 How essential then the need to seek out and 
 utilize all the resources available for trans- 
 forming our social inheritance from burden to 
 momentum, fronir repression to inspiration ! 
 
 In a certain section of the volume an in- 
 cursion is made into the thorny field of currency 
 
xxviji PREFACE 
 
 and credit. A first proof of the chapter which 
 deals with this was submitted for criticism to 
 two of our friends amongst the Economists, 
 Mr. J. A. Hobson, and Mr. John Ross. Their 
 criticisms were of .much value in the preparation 
 of the final version: Our thanks are also due 
 and are now tendered to Mr. H. F. Fermor, 
 whose skilful pen has changed our rough sketches 
 into the clear and vivid diagrams which illustrate 
 Part I. 
 
 London, , 
 
 May 1919. , ' 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 
 THE PAST IN THE PRESENT 
 
 CHAP. I'AKE 
 
 I. THE CHOICE BEFORE US .... 3 
 
 II. THE MODERN TRANSITION . . . . 1 3 
 
 III. THE VALUE OF A MAN .... 26 
 
 IV. THE GOLDEN CALF ..... 35 
 V. THE NATURE OF ADVERTISEMENT ... 53 
 
 VI. REPRESSIONS AND REPRISALS ... 59 
 
 VII. THE REVOLUTIONARY TYPE . . . -75 
 
 VIII. EUTOPIA AND HOW TO PAY FOR IT . .86 
 
 IX. FROM POLITICS TO CIVICS . . . .112 
 
 PART II 
 
 WESTMINSTER : A CITY SURVEY FOR 
 DISORIENTED CITIZENS 
 
 I. INTRODUCTORY . . . . . -131 
 
 H. A GENERAL VIEW OF WESTMINSTER . . 148 
 
 III. THROUGH ST. JAMES's FAIR .... 169 
 
 , IV. MAYFAIR ....... 197 
 
 V. RENAISSANCE PHASES . . . . -232 
 
 VI. PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY . . 262 
 
XXX CONTENTS 
 
 , PART III 
 
 RE-EDUCATION, NATIONAL AND 
 INTERNATIONAL 
 
 CHAP, * ' 
 
 I. THE DISINHERITED 
 
 II. THE UNIVERSITIES ; AS THEY STAND 
 
 III. THE UNIVERSll'Y IN PROGRESS 
 
 IV. STUDIES AND POSSIBILITIES . . . 
 V. RECONSTRUCTION . . . _. 
 
 ENVOI . . . • . 
 
 297 
 308 
 
 352 
 
 378 
 
PART I 
 
 THE. PAST IN THE PRESENT 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 THE CHOICE BEFORE US 
 
 Each epoch contributes to the social in- 
 heritance of man some new vision of Hfe; 
 yet also adds its quota to the common burden 
 of evil. The ancient Hebrews (to go no 
 further back) enriched our civilization with 
 the ideal of righteousness, yet also set ex- 
 amples of Pharisaism of which the world 
 seldom fails to take exemplary advantage. 
 The ancient Greeks revealed the triumphs 
 of reason, but also the uses of sophistry in 
 the service of obscurantism. The Romans 
 showed how justice should be conceived and 
 how it may be attained; they also invented 
 forms of social parasitism, hardly improved 
 upon till our own times. Th,e Medievals 
 have left us in their cathedrals, visions of 
 life which testify to the creative deeds of a 
 spiritual power liberated from domination by 
 the temporal. Yet the same civilization de- 
 vised single-handed combinations of temporal 
 and spiritual power which to this day are 
 amongst the most seductive of temptations. 
 
 3 
 
4 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 The Renaissance has bequeathed us ideas of 
 piarvellous clarity and images of incompar- 
 able beauty, yet also legacies of unmatched 
 confusion and squalor. The Industrial Era 
 has furnished undreamed wealth and bound- 
 less power, and at the same time abject 
 poverty and the futilities of despair. 
 
 Awaiting each individual born into no 
 matter what rank or class, nation, creed or 
 race of our Western world, is this mingled 
 inheritance of the past. The good, the true, 
 the beautiful are presented in visions of life 
 that all who walk in cities may see. Their 
 record endures in the architecture of every 
 historic city. To feel the radiant impulse, - 
 and to hear the appealing voice of these 
 civic vistas is to make good our iieirship in 
 the glories of the past. For men and women 
 of the English-speaking race there is one city 
 above all others that speaks with peculiar 
 intimacy and fulness. No small part of our 
 volume will therefore be devoted to seeking 
 out and interpreting the civic vistas of 
 Westminster. From the dreams and the 
 deeds of its past inhabitants, the spirit of 
 the city created these ennobling- delights. 
 But Westminster is not only vibrant with 
 opulent visions of life; it is charged with 
 shattering legacies of evil. Like every other' 
 
THE CHOICE BEFORE US 5 
 
 grfeat city it harbours and transmits to each 
 on-coming generation of its citizens a virus 
 of diseases and poverties, ignorances and 
 follies, vices and crimes. Thus the child of 
 to-day, as he grows into the citizen of to- 
 morrow, inherits also a burden of evil compact 
 of all that is sordid, base, confused, morbid, 
 ugly. How to choose amidst this welter of 
 i:raditions, in which the pure and the poison- 
 ous, the redemptive and the satanic are all 
 interwoven to make the texture of our social 
 milieu ?' That choice before us is perhaps the 
 main issue of life and career. But already, 
 before the possibility of personal selection 
 by informed and considered judgment, the 
 mind of childhood and youth is equipped and 
 furnished with an assortment of survivals from 
 this -social milieu. How great, therefore, the 
 responsibility of all, from statesman and priest 
 to parent and teacher, who are the appointed 
 guardians of our social inheritance. 
 
 First in responsibility must come states- 
 men, since they claim and are allowed to 
 combine the influence of spiritual power with 
 the prestige of the temporal. Let us there- 
 fore scrutinize the outlook of our European 
 leaders in statecraft more definitely from the 
 standpoint of social inheritance. 
 
 The political like the moral choice before 
 
6 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 us presents itself in two contrasted forms. 
 Europe inherits two divergent political tradi- 
 tions from its ancient past. The first is of 
 free cities, uncentralized ; primarily those 
 of Hellas, but also in later history, of the 
 great cities of Italy, of Germany^ of the 
 Hanseatic League and of the Netherlands ; 
 and each and all with their cardinal con- 
 tributions to our common civilization. The 
 other tradition is that of Rome; that is 
 Rome centralized^ over its immense area, 
 from the Clyde, the Rhine and the Danube 
 to the Euphrates, and with its many, yet 
 kindred war-monuments, from the camps of 
 Northern Africa to those of the Caledonian 
 Wall, and thence again by the Rhine-Danube, 
 to the Roumanian Wall, and those of Con- 
 stantinople ' itself. 
 
 But the Mediterranean can never again be 
 a Roman lake, nor the Latin and British world 
 be under a single hand; while not only Ger- 
 many and Russia, but the Latin nations, the 
 two Americas, and Britain and the new 
 Britains beyond the seas, must each and 
 all retain their essential independence. Still, 
 under the tra,dition and dream of Roman 
 greatness, the name of Csesar was till the 
 other day worn by the two Kaisers, and, 
 by the Tsar, not to speak of him of Bulgaria ; 
 
THE CHOICE Before us ^ 
 
 while not the least valued title of the Turk 
 is the high-sounding " Sultan of Roum." 
 France, too, has had her veritable Emperors, 
 of whom Louis XIV and Napoleon were but 
 the greatest ; while our own king is " Kaisar- 
 i-Hind " as well. Madrid has had its day of 
 Imperial greatness; but Rome itself, after 
 being so long the capital of the real heir of 
 the Roman Empire — which is not the unholy 
 Germanic Empire^ but the Roman and Catholic 
 Church— has again come forward as the im- 
 perial centre of a new great power, first by 
 the unification of perhaps the most gifted of 
 all living peoples, in the generation of the 
 " Risorgimento," from 1848 to 1871, and now 
 more fully through the War. 
 
 Consider, then, the map of Europe, and 
 that of the recent war, and see its many 
 great Romes standing or fallen. These are 
 now not merely as of old, Rome and New 
 Rome {Constantinople) : note the next Romes 
 — also long rivals for the hegemony of 
 Europe — Paris and Vienna. Again, later 
 Romes, each also great, London and Petro- 
 grad. Last, in our own times, arose the 
 most formidable and ambitious of them all — 
 Berlin. Here, then, but the other day were 
 no less than seven Romes, and all in mortal 
 combat — ^four against three, or when Petro- 
 
8 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 grad fell out, three against three — ^yet each 
 of these with its own interests, difficultly — 
 all but impossibly — reconcilable. The United 
 States, too, had its imperial dream under 
 Theodore I, whose spirit may at any time 
 ^reawake, as many things show. 
 
 The dream ' of Roman unity has by turns 
 obsessed all the Great Powers, and, strange 
 though it be, most of all the Germanic peoples. 
 Why is this? Partly because of their im- 
 memorial intoxication by the greatness of 
 Rome, their idealization of Charlemaigne and 
 of their own later Kaisers, with theii" long- 
 continued dream-claims of a " Holy Roman 
 Empire," though this was one of the purest 
 illusions of history. And recent events have 
 shown how deeply this dream was appro- 
 priated and renewed by Prussia and by the 
 German people it prussicated. 
 
 Who is sufficient for these things? What 
 statesmanship, what diplomacy? There is 
 little promise in the records of either. Does 
 it not rather seem as if something were wrong 
 in this whole theory and practice of modern 
 orgEinization into great centralized states, 
 with their megalopolitan rivalry? Must we 
 not seek some better method of adjusting our 
 human lives, if we would plough in peace and 
 reap in safety again? If uni-centralization 
 
THE CHOICE BEFORE US 9 
 
 be obviously intolerable, and septem-centraliz- 
 ation be so instable and thus unpractical, 
 must we not look not merely to a League 
 of Nations, but to the decentralization 
 also of these, as the true road to European 
 peace and re-unity ? And if modern politics 
 and current diplomacy cannot give- us peace, 
 may it not be because peace needs more than 
 material elements? Must it not have in it 
 some fuller intellectual and emotional ele- 
 ments, to reach anything of that which men 
 of old called " the peace of God " ? Though 
 this pass complete understanding, that is no 
 reason why we should not again progress 
 tawards it, and not from it, as modern politi- 
 cians have so manifestly done. It is another 
 old saying, and not less true, that " what- 
 soever man soweth, that shall he also reap." 
 And though urban populations and their 
 preachers have commonly misinterpreted this, 
 and read it as essentially a curse, every rural 
 mind and- outlook must see this, though 
 warning indeed, as primarily and practically 
 an experience and assurance of harvest and 
 blessing. In our war-ward civilization, so 
 long concentrated on machinery, material 
 and political, on expansion and centraliza- 
 tion, on power and conquest, on paper and 
 on gold, the sowings have too long been of 
 
10 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE ' 
 
 dragons' teeth ; and there would be no order 
 in the universe if such sowings had not come 
 to our recent death-reapings. But with other 
 and peace-ward sowings, towards which a 
 re-awakening civihzation is turning innumer- 
 able anxious eyes, and even here and there 
 bompetent and strenuous young hands, the 
 appropriate reapings will come also — that of 
 true peace; not merely passive peace, of 
 internal safety and well-being, but also an 
 active peace, of external goodwill and joined 
 hands accordingly. The old peace was the 
 peace which was no peace, but only internal 
 and external war, latent when not patent. 
 The needed peace is the Sacred War, war 
 not with our fellows, but with the evils which 
 alike- beset us all. So recently were we at 
 death-grips with the t^o Kaisers and the 
 Sultan and the Bulgarian Caesar, that it is 
 hard to be thinking much of loving our 
 enemies, yet all history stands to show that 
 from the ashes of the past we shall see the 
 Phoenix rise. What majmer of fowl this 
 shall actuially be, again passes our under- 
 standing : but we cannot doubt that it will 
 be a nobler bird than any extant eagle among 
 the Powers. A.nd thus much to appreciate 
 our times, our neighbours, and to hope for 
 humanity is the beginning of goodwill. 
 
THE CHOICE BEFORE US ii 
 
 Returning to our map, or rather the actual 
 visualization of Europe, which this but stands 
 for, we see that Europe is not really seven- 
 hilled, but rather is a vaster Hellas, her truer 
 microcosm. She can thus flourish under no 
 single centralization, however Augustan or 
 would-be august, but in Neo-Hellenic freedom 
 as Amphictyony of free unities, regional and 
 civic, united to each other, and to all the 
 world by an ever-progressing culture, at once 
 universal in principle, yet admirably diversi- 
 fying in detail, and this throughout not only 
 seven capitals, but cities without number. 
 
 Concrete illustrations are here needed, lest 
 this seem a mere counsel of perfection. But 
 for this we should need a^ volume. Yet con- 
 sider, for instance, Trieste, so long the gage 
 of battle between Italy arid Austria. It is 
 predominantly Italian in its people, language 
 and culture ; but outlying from Italy, and 
 dependent for its economic existence in the 
 future, as in the past, on continuing as the 
 effective inlet and outlet port of the great 
 Germanic and Slavonic hinterlands, to which 
 it is really indispensable. It cannot live 
 without, the commerce of these, as a strictly 
 Italian city. Whereas, as a Free City, it 
 would have a limitless future, ahke in com- 
 
12 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 merce and in culture, and so might be the 
 jewelled link between these Mediterranean 
 and these inland peoples. And this is ever 
 the truest of Italian traditions. 
 
 Apply now the same reasoning to Strasljurg, 
 and t,o Luxemburg, for France and Ger- 
 many. To Dantzig for Prussia and Poland : 
 to Salonika and Constantinople, tb Fiume, 
 even to Genoa, Antwerp and Rotterdam, and 
 so on. 
 
 Great is the Empire of the United States, 
 and its best Presidents, Wilson above all, 
 will live in history with the greatest of " the 
 good Emperors " of Rome. But is it not 
 time for all who " seek peace and ensue it " 
 ■ to be looking also to the i example of the 
 Helvetian Cantons ? That little- Switzerland 
 — ^microcosm of commonwealth's politically 
 far ahead and abov6 all Great Ppwers, since 
 alone reconciling regions and peoples of German 
 and Austrian, French and Italian outlooks, 
 languages and sympathies; and developing 
 all their culture — cities, rural townlets and 
 villages — thanks to keeping clear of any 
 Imperial Metropolis, and so of Megalopolis, 
 Strategopolis, and Canceropolis together. 
 When the leaders of occidental statecraft come 
 to_see the political significance of this Swiss 
 example, they will be Peace-makers indeed ! 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE MODERN TRANSITION 
 
 The coining of a League-of-Nations Politics 
 may or may not mean a return to the Hellenic 
 tradition of Free Cities and their Regions, 
 accompanied by a more than Hellenic success 
 in amphictyonic (or in plain English, neigh- 
 bourly) federation. It certainly does mark a 
 turning away from the later Roman tradition 
 of imperial dominion. The present decom- 
 position (with inevitable attempts at recom- 
 position) of the three most Csesarist of recent 
 empires is the external and visible sign of 
 an inner fermentation that is world-wide. Its 
 outcome is even now being manifested in 
 destruction of the old and adaptations to the 
 new which call^ insistently for interpretative 
 study. Such study is indispensable if we of 
 this generation are to do our best in guiding 
 to a safer course the ship of humanity at 
 present seemingly adrift on a stormy opean. 
 
 Supremely needed are two prerequisites. 
 There must be a standpoint of wide, yet clear 
 orientation. There must also be available, 
 
 13 
 
14 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 some apparatus of research, whereby the direc- 
 tion of tendencies may be observed and their 
 civilization- values appraised.. Of the many 
 open approaches to these large issues, the one 
 from which this volume starts has been broadly 
 indicated in the previous chapter. Therein 
 was affirmed d mass movement of Western 
 civilization, along two diverging paths, which 
 might respectively be called Hellenic and 
 Romaic ; or in more personal terms, 'shall we 
 say, Socratic and Augustan? But within 
 this historic bifurcation there are, to be sure, 
 cross-tracks of inter-communication permit- 
 ting of mutual adjustments. 
 
 Most accommodating, perhaps, of all the 
 ways by which the modern mind has met the 
 pull of opposing tendencies has been through ■ 
 the formulation of Personal Liberty^ as an 
 ideal. Behind this ideal is a loriig line of an- 
 cestry, "but it was brought into full light of 
 day and added to the common stock of our 
 social inheritance by the French Revolution. 
 In that crisis of the Western mind, the old 
 law of dead Guild-limitations was replaced 
 by the new gospel of the Individual as a Law 
 unto himself. This Evangel of Personal 
 Liberty, as developed by the more social 
 spirits of the time, became expressed for the 
 GonunUnity as a doctrine of Fraternity. By 
 
THE MODERN TRANSITION 15 
 
 co-ordinating this communitary. ideal with 
 that of personal liberty, there necessarily 
 appears the third watchword of that revolu- 
 tionary faith, Equality. The later criticism 
 of Liberty, Equality, Fraternity, naturally 
 arose when the fruits of this compelling triad 
 failed to reach expectation. But this subse- 
 quent disappointment should not be allowed 
 to obscure the original fervour of the revolu- 
 tionary gospel and its consequent impulse to 
 "great defeds. It was the working faith by 
 which whole masses of the Western Peoples 
 lived while adjusting themselves spiritually 
 to the new world fermenting out froni decay- 
 ing survivals of medieval and renaissance 
 times. In the glow of contact between on- 
 coming ideals and the spirit of tradition, our 
 race guides its onward path and sustains 
 and renews its creative energies. 
 
 Among those who in that time of active 
 transition markedly exemplified the truth 
 that man does not live by bread alone, leader- 
 ship fell to the Calvinists of France and 
 Switzerland, and their rehgious descendants 
 in Scotland, England and America. Th^ 
 clear yet fervid expression of this revolu- 
 tionary faith by Rousseau, the Genevese, 
 Parisian Huguenot; and emancipated Protes- 
 tant, was naturally welcomed by progressive 
 
i6 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Presbyterians, Independents and similar non- 
 conforming groups everywhere. The idealiza- 
 tion of self as the central and essential interest 
 which is the individual strength and the moral 
 narrowness of Calvinism, reappears in the 
 Political and the Industrial Revolution alike. 
 It re-emerged under the idealized forms of 
 " Franchise," and " Vote," with correspond- 
 ing enhancement of political individuality 
 up to the rank of M.P. or even Minister. 
 Again, as regards economic success, the im- 
 pulse of "getting on" has its culminating 
 perfection of the individualist dispensation 
 in the Great Employer, and this is transcended 
 in the financial order by the Millionaire whose 
 radiance in the popular mind of to-day 
 approaches that of mystic sainthood in earlier 
 times. 
 
 The Christian man who is also the " success- 
 ful man " with his career blessed in basket and 
 in store from his well-invpsted talents, and 
 with his political and social status accordingly 
 exalted, becomes thus more simply intgiligible ; 
 and his liberalism and philanthropy are seen 
 as a unity in keeping witli his character and 
 not as mere mass-founding after a predatory 
 life, to which it has sometimes been compared. 
 The serenity of countenance and dignity of 
 bearing which you observe in the portraits 
 
THE MODERN TRANSITION 17 
 
 of the Victorian aristocracy of commerce 
 betoken that inner composure which goes with 
 an unquestioning conviction of rightness con- 
 cerning the relations of Ufe in this^ world, and 
 the next. ^ One of the political sources which 
 has fed this tranquillity of soul is in the smooth 
 working of the Party-system. Given the 
 Ballot-box as an organ for the expression of 
 Personality, there follows the method of 
 decision by Majority- voting. This again im- 
 plies the habitual giving -way of minorities 
 to majorities; a custom supported by the 
 idealization of the franchise and maintained 
 4)y the ritual of Elections, rising under a 
 highly organized system of party cornbat 
 •well-nigh to religious ecstasy. After tasting 
 this almost sacramental cup, electors of both 
 rival parties return tranquillized to their 
 daily avocations and resume the round of 
 routine. 
 
 How all these adaptations to an era of 
 revolution, though seemingly transitory, were 
 in reality deep-rooted in the nature of things, 
 is set forth abundantly in the theory of the 
 Constitution elaborated by reflective historians 
 and jurists of Britain, of America, and to a 
 less extent of France. 
 
 It may be that the roots of Liberalism, if 
 they do not penetrate quite so deeply as the 
 
i8 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 constitutional )iistorians and jurists have 
 affinned, yet ramify more broadly iand nourish 
 a larger growth. Liberty is assuredly a very 
 ferment, of change, whether for evolution or 
 dissolution. From uncovenanted liberty are 
 likely to issue movements of bewildering diver- 
 sity. The social resultant may seem a chaotic 
 phantasmagoria; but that Order is discover- 
 able therein, we are bound to assume on 
 pain of lapsing into a sterile pessimism. 
 
 Recall that the ideal of freedom for all, which 
 has characterized our revolutionary era had 
 for its preparation the prolonged struggle of 
 aristocracies and dynasties to break away 
 from the restraints and limitations of a Spirit- 
 ual Power, which, for all its qualities, was too 
 often a 'hindrance to real progress. Linking, 
 therefore, the Renaissance with the Revolution, 
 we may view the four to five centuries — ^a mere 
 spaa in the history of man — ^that have elapsed 
 since the medieval dissolution as a period of 
 Transition, througli troublous growth towards 
 a more purposive evolutionr Make this effort 
 of imaginative survey and you feach a per- 
 spective that is both steadying and luminous.^ 
 
 * For a fuller discussion of this concept of Transition 
 see Interpretations and Forecasts, by V. Branford, 
 Chapter VI, "The Present as a Transition." {Duck- 
 worth & Co.) / 
 
THE MODERN TRANSITION 19 
 
 The present «;isis of Western civilization 
 may thereby be seen as no mere tumult of 
 evils, but as a fevering patient, at the turning- 
 point of illness, convulsively making the 
 effort towards recovery that precedes and 
 even perhaps creates the " thrill into well." 
 If wars of transition, with their political revo- 
 lutions are, like organic inflammations, mani- 
 festations of the dan vital in distress, then may 
 our sorely tried generation be encouraged 
 to lift up its eyes in search of the light that 
 dawns at the outlet of a long evolutionary 
 tunnel. 
 
 Throughout this protracted modern tran- 
 sition, hopes of a human Elysium have alter- 
 nated with repeated lapses into a Hades of 
 inhumanity. These heights and depths of 
 experience have their uses as agencies of social 
 education. They tend to discipline that habit 
 of idealizing the future by which the spirit 
 pf the race stirs its lethargy into creative 
 impulse. The hard lesson to be learned is 
 in the choice of materials and means whereby 
 the ideal may be fashioned. Let the desires 
 of the heart play freely upon the unwinnowed 
 products of the imagination, then are the 
 objects of ambition and policy not less likely 
 to be base or futile than nobly realizable. 
 But choose from the treasury of the social 
 
20 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 inheritance, its tested and accredited resources 
 of spiritual 'energizing, then aspirations for 
 sell, group, and country acquire the qualities 
 of the ideal, without losing grip of the real. 
 This is no mere counsel of perfection or fine 
 maxim of the moral philosopher. It is a 
 return to the firm ground of earliest religion, 
 searched and purified by latest science. Man 
 created his initial gods by idealizing the life 
 around him, first domestic and rural, then 
 civic. But the recurrent efforts of priests 
 and moralists, continuing through long ages, 
 to purge the earlier heavens of grossness had 
 bad as well as good results. The Divine. 
 gf ew more and more tenuous of real Qontent, _ 
 and became at length utterly remote from the 
 here and now. In the sequel there opened an 
 abyss between the cakes and ale of the mun- 
 dane present, and the diaphanous glories of, 
 the theological future. 
 
 Throughout our modern transition, the 
 idealizing instincts of the race have laboured 
 with strenuous effort to bridge that abyss 
 between earth and heaven. Two kinds of 
 secular pontificate have marked this half 
 millennium of passage, through the debris of 
 the medieval synthesis towards the incipient 
 re-synthesis. First there was the era of 
 political Utopias which renewed the humanism 
 
THE MODERN TRANSITION 21 
 
 of the Greek tradition. But failing to idealize 
 the city, these early Utopists ignored the 
 crowning achievement of Hellenic culture, and 
 so doomed their too abstract ideals to practical 
 sterility. 
 
 In reaction from the disappointments of 
 the grand and culminating pohtiqal Utopia 
 of the French Revolution, there followed a 
 century of endeavours to rebuild Jerusalem 
 in each green and pleasant land, but without 
 general plan or design. It was tacitly 
 assumed thait if each earnest group of hodmen 
 built with their own bricks and mortar as 
 seemed good to them, an architect would not 
 be needed, and all would go well with the 
 general design. The outcome, however, was 
 not the new Jerusalem, but Armageddon. 
 
 Are we then to despair of these practising 
 pontificates of the everyday world ? Not at 
 all. The manifest course is to return upon the- 
 social inheritance and pick up the vital threads 
 that have been omitted in the political weav- 
 ing of the Transition, and try to introduce 
 these into the more comprehensive and har- 
 monious design of a new and better time. 
 Happily, contributions to this architectonic 
 endeavour are coming from many sources, 
 and those, moreover, most needed. They are 
 coming from the great traditions of literature 
 
22 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 and the broad interpretations of science, as 
 well as from a revitalizing of the high cere- 
 monies of religion. The classicists of to-day, 
 for instance, are repairing the spiritual rapine 
 of their predecessors by restoring^ to us the 
 gods and heroes of old Greece as idealizations 
 of human life, no less vital everi to organiq well- 
 being than are food and shelter. This Hellenic 
 habit of mind and its accompanying exalta- 
 tion are thus seen to be heeded for the lifting 
 up of sordid homes and so must be admitted 
 as integral to a realistic policy for the better 
 housing of the people. Similarly, for an effec- 
 "tive revival of the country-side, the anthropo- 
 logist is beginning to proclaim a recovery, if 
 not of the old rural deities, yet of the social 
 process whose expression and resultant they 
 were. In other fields — even in the Market 
 Place and the Forum — ^must increasingly 
 be felt the influence of all Such re-idealizations 
 of actual lives and particular labours in all 
 the vivid reality of the here and now. But 
 the very same lessons of return to the present 
 and the concrete, are being learned by those 
 traditionally charged with the sanctification 
 of bread and wine, and the ideahzation of 
 child and mother. 
 
 As these lost, broken or worn threads of 
 our social inheritance are recovered and re- 
 
THE MODERN TRANSITION 23 
 
 paired they become available to enrich the 
 pattern of civic and regional life again to-day 
 as of old, before the long sequence of central- 
 izing empires depressed aiid impoverished 
 the cities in their " provinces." The predic- 
 tion may be hazarded that those Imperial 
 States which have not been torn into their 
 national and natural fragments by the w?ir 
 and its sequel of revolutions will survive and 
 flourish in proportion as they adapt them- 
 selves to the growing renascence of their many 
 regional cities. This impending readjustment 
 as it becomes realized in fact, gradually and 
 doubtlessly intermittently, should mark at 
 once the close of the modern Transition/ and 
 the more definite opening of an era in which 
 vital, constructive and synthetic endeavours 
 will increasingly predominate over mechan- 
 istic, analytic, imperialistic and financial ones. 
 And the ideal of personal liberty so hardly 
 won, and fitfully held, during the transition, 
 will be maintained and strengthened in the 
 degree of its correlation with the complemen- 
 tary ideal of civic and regional freedom. 
 
 Not the least of the dangeirs ahead is the 
 customary vice of our pastors and masters 
 so easily to forget that enrichment of social 
 life must, as in all true progress, proceed from 
 within, and according to its own laws of 
 
24 OUR SOCIAL ' INHERITANCE 
 
 growth. Like flower and butterfly, city and 
 citizen are bound in an abiding partnership 
 of mutual aid. Both associations are indeed 
 but special cases of that interplay of organism 
 with environment, and environment with 
 organism which is the fount of life-in-evolu-. 
 tion. , Without the give and take that gener- 
 ates and moulds alike the individuality of 
 city and personality of citizen, the latter is 
 nothing more than a withering leaf on the 
 tree of humanity. Personal liberty not at 
 once thus limited and inspired is apt to be 
 either a mirage of license or a veneer of 
 slavery. The idealists of freedom for its' own 
 sake will doubtless take this generjalization 
 for empty metaphor. But that it has positive 
 content we next proceed to show by illustra- 
 tions chosen from current events or from 
 recent history. In the following chapters, will 
 accordingly be found numerous examples of 
 how impulses of liberation tend to work when 
 the social engine, as it were, runs free, through 
 failure to insert the civic clutch. Yet all 
 these illustrations of energies wasted or mis- 
 directed are adduced by no means merely to 
 exhibit the calamities of history, or the errors 
 of transition. They are instanced essentially 
 for a more constructive purpose. They neces- 
 sarily go to fill in the framework of that 
 
THE MODERN TRANSITION 25 
 
 analysis of the recent and contemporary r6- 
 gime, in politics, industry and society, which 
 must prepare for the synthesis of the coming 
 reconstruction. To such attempt at an out- 
 line of analysis we now turn ; with the proviso 
 that neither analysis nor synthesis are here 
 taken as ends in themselves but as aids in 
 the choice before us. Both to be sure are 
 valueless unless pursued in a spirit of detach- 
 ment. But given such resources, it should 
 be possible to unmask the repressions, 
 reversions, perversions which block the way 
 to that more creative epoch of which the 
 modern Transition holds promise. From the 
 same source we may perhaps learn where to 
 seek for the lever and its fulcrum, which, re- 
 versing the dominant tendency to imperialize 
 our social inheritance, will rather hellenize 
 it. These two tendencies to-day have their 
 clearest and sharpest expression respectively 
 in the Balkans and in Switzerland, and 
 current events would seem to indicate that 
 unless our statesmen learn how to helvetianize 
 Europe, they will end by balkanizing it. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE VALUE OF A MAN 
 
 As a shopkeeper labels his goods according 
 to quality and value, so each age stamps its 
 valuations on its indivii^ual men. True, it 
 is difficult to decipher their labels, and still 
 harder to interpret their social, significance. 
 But these are tasks the sociologist is bound 
 to attempt. Let us try to do\so, of course 
 but in outline, for each successive phase of 
 that era which occupied the century and a half 
 intervening between the Industrial Revolu- 
 tion of the eighteenth century and the world 
 war. It will perhaps pass for impartial 
 characterization, if we broadly describe these 
 successive phases as first Liberal, then Im- 
 perial, and finally Financial, with the covering 
 qualification that some observers would doubt- 
 less reverse this sequence of the second and 
 third items. These three great social orders, 
 Liberal, Imperial and Financial, have, of 
 course, been substantially changing with the 
 war and are now being more definitely 
 
 criticized. They are also being modified by 
 
 26 
 
THE VALUE OF A MAN 27 
 
 other factors, those of the incipient future — 
 and both for worse and for better. 
 
 The evolution from Liberahsm to Imperial- 
 ism and Fii^iancialism will probably seem to 
 those who hereafter regard it in historic 
 perspective as a single movement of sufficient 
 momentum to syeep up in its progress, and 
 absorb into itself all minor political parties 
 of conventional order. This view we shall 
 adopt and attempt to justify in subsequent 
 'Chapters, but here we are merely concerned 
 to note that as each phase of this threefold 
 system has in turn become predominant the 
 value set upon a man has changed, as one 
 set of practices and beliefs has yielded the 
 leading place to anotKer. Thus for the stricter 
 exponents of the mechanical age, a man was 
 practically to be viewed as but an imperfect 
 tool, and treated as a machine not yet in- 
 vented away. In the corresponding Liberal 
 order of ideas a man has the value of a voter 
 for his M.P. ; and so in time arose the analo- 
 gous principle of " One Man One Vote." 
 In the Imperial order, when this has been 
 frankly and sternly stated, as so conspicu- 
 ously by the Prussian, and thereafter com- 
 pulsorily by us all, your plain man has also 
 to be viewed for practical purposes as the 
 unit in peace, and ^s cannon-fodder in war. 
 
28 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 In the Financial order every man has his 
 price, and so his pay. As this point of view 
 becomes clearly and effectively stated, it 
 becomes apparent that all will be well for 
 the labourer if we can assure him a Minimum 
 Wage. Quaintly enough this had come to 
 be reckoned j by its best exponents before the 
 war, at sorne thirty piecfes of silver, as. if these 
 were appropriately the symbolic and accumu- 
 lative rewatd of all foregoing negations of the 
 divine, and of the corresponding degradations 
 of personality. 
 
 Still, here we are ; in the very midst of 
 these threjB related valuations, of ourselves 
 and of each other, as individuals and workers. 
 Are we to get beyond them ? And if so — ■ 
 How ? The Radical returns to his " One 
 Man One Vote-" : and to do justice, not 
 only to him but to his antagonist, the Tory, 
 they have at length had the sense to see 
 thafsthe term " Man " does not exclude 
 Woman. The Socialists, whose^ philosophy 
 has beeli the proletarian reflection of the 
 conceptions ol " Empire " held by officials- 
 and soldiers (Mass-interests with the socialists, 
 of course, claiming to predominate over 
 Ruler-interests) cannot but help yet further 
 to extend imperial bureaucracies, and to 
 adapt the essential organization of armies to 
 
THE VALUE OF A MAN 29 
 
 productive functions. True, their enthusiasm 
 of democracy, their insistence upon the 
 struggle of classes, often obscures these martial 
 tendenciesj though more to themselves than 
 to their antagonists; but their record — even 
 that of their most gentle and would-be pro- 
 gressive sections, the mass of the Fabian 
 Society (as,* for instanqe, in the Boer War), 
 for choice — amply justifies this criticism, 
 without need of reminder of the adhesion 
 and loyalty of practically each and every 
 group of socialists in Europe to its own 
 national government during the early stages 
 of the War.^ Their claims, to obtain for the 
 people in each country some share in the 
 settlement of the terms of peace, some increase 
 of security thereafter, have plainly had their 
 effect. As for the Anarchist, he was, at least 
 up to the Russian Revolution, comparatively 
 little in evidence, and his past utterances 
 y 
 
 1 Given the evocatory situation, these dormant im- 
 perial instincts naturally awaken in the Socialist mind. 
 Of many recent instances note the writings of Paul 
 Lensch, which seem to be providing the nucleus for 
 a neo-imperialist grouping amongst German Socialists. 
 The Times of April 29, 1919, reported, "There are many 
 Germans who agree with Dr. Lensch, the new Professor 
 of Social and Economic History in the University of 
 Berlin, that there is no reason why SociaUst Germany 
 should not carry out the scheme of world-power which 
 was the goal of the Imperialists." 
 
30 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 have too much given the pubHc an impression 
 that he but outstrips the man of money in 
 his claim to " do what he hkes with his own." 
 
 But it will be said, a man has still some 
 religious value, some philosophical value, 
 even if his economic- and political values at 
 present be appraised too low. True, but , 
 these, ip so far as they exist to-day, are httle 
 more than survivals, lingering inheritances- 
 from earlier social phases, in most othet 
 respects largely passed away. Thus Angli- 
 canism and Nonconformity are alike inheri- 
 tances from the strifes of the Renaissance' 
 and the^eformatioui Catholicism is more 
 emphatic upon its medieval and earlier claims, 
 although undeniably coloured also by. Re- 
 naissance strifes^-witness the Jesuits, and 
 the Counter-Reformation in which they have 
 been super-eminent, almost from its very 
 outset. Admittedly, then, these elder doc- 
 trines are all influencing life and conduct 
 to-day. Their churches even include among 
 their adherents, however imperfect or nominal, 
 a majority from the Liberal, Imperial and 
 Financial worlds, though they are conspicu- 
 ously deficient in adherents among the respec- 
 tively insurgent parties of these three orders 
 e. the Radicals, Socialists and Anarchists. 
 
 If we ask more definitely, where do these 
 
THE VALUE OF A MAN 31 
 
 religious influences intervene in our modern 
 world ? — ^must we not agree that their golden 
 moment of revival came after the Revolution, 
 both French and Industrial? In fact, as a 
 Counter-Revolution, broadly and indeed strik- 
 ingly recalling the Counter-Reformation ? The 
 .Ultramontane movement is the prime illus- 
 tration of this, especially upon the continent, 
 and that its services were appreciated by 
 Kaiserism was manifest. Wesley's great Re- 
 vival in England and Wales was a mijch- 
 needed spiritual rebound from the bringing 
 in of the machine- valuation of man, by the 
 new order and its philosophy, that of the 
 political economists. But since this renewal 
 of the soul's value was unwisely driven into 
 dissent, the Church of England had to wait 
 for its arousal until the Oxford movement 
 of 1843; with its resultant predominance of 
 the High Church, or Sacramentalist Party. 
 In Scotland, the simultaneous renewal took 
 predominantly, though not exclusively, Pres- 
 byterian and Puritan form; withess the 
 " Disruption," with its rise of the Free 
 Church, whose subsequent influence, not only 
 in Scotland, but upon English Nonconformity 
 also, has been deep. 
 
 , It is to be noted that these religious move- 
 ments were broadly contemporary with the 
 
32 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 rise of "Social Philosophy"; and with its 
 more definite formulation by Comte as Soci- 
 ology, and also with that of Socialism. Though 
 each of' these two latter be still cominonly 
 viewed as a social philosophy, their essentially 
 religious quality was felt, indeed often pro- 
 claimed, from the first, and has never been 
 lost sight of by their respective apostles. So 
 in the more obviously religious groups of the 
 Counter-Re volution, there has been a- good 
 deal of social philosophy also. Witness 
 Joseph de Maistre and Lamennais, Kingsley 
 and Dr. Chalmers ; or later iPope Leo XIII ; 
 and at present in all denominations, living 
 divines without number, among whom the 
 present Bishops of Oxford and Winchester, 
 Dr. Jacks, Dr. Forsyth and Dr. Barry, 
 are familiar" and typical English figures. 
 Each and all — ^to he sure with the best inten- 
 tions, and in the best sense — are more or less 
 frankly reactionary: that is, they seek to 
 maintain, say, rather to revitalize, this or 
 that tradition of the Christian inheritance, 
 medieval or reformed, from its present neglect 
 by the secular orders-Liberal, Imperial ^nd 
 Financial — ^which they agree in believing 
 would then be adequately^ reformed. In this 
 predominantly mechanical, militarist and^ 
 monetary world, they again seek to recall 
 
THE VALUE OF A MAN 33 
 
 the example of their Master in the Temple, 
 albeit with more or less of the various 
 limitations of His disciples as well. 
 
 The rise of these religious movements, 
 subsequent to the political Revolution and 
 the Napoleonic wars, came after the economic 
 disorder of the first two generations of the 
 mechanical age was passing its climax, and 
 was showing many signs of equilibration. 
 Yet the advance of the Railway Age, say 
 from 1840 onwards, brought with it a fresh 
 and further growth and intensification of 
 the modern order in all its aspects — ^the 
 Mechanical, the Impierial and the Financial 
 alike— and chilled the progress of these 
 Counter-Revolutionary religious movements, 
 quite unprepared as these were for compre- 
 hending this second Industrial Revolution 
 (as the Railway Age soon proved to be), 
 much less for dealing with it. The respective 
 flocks, even many of their shepherds, were 
 alike swept into the- new Railway Caravan, 
 and thus soon were landed at various points 
 along its triple destination, all alike unforeseen 
 by such passengers. - 
 
 What Church, what cleric, can claim appre- 
 ciable success in interpreting, much less 
 guiding, any one of these great aspects of 
 the inodem world? For a long time past 
 
34 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 has^not their essential endeavour been to 
 maintain their ^hureh or chapel as a. refuge 
 from this world? It would be absurd as 
 well as unjust to forget the social "fendeavotlrs 
 which are inei-e§d;9|:l^ manifest in every 
 communion ; yet where is one of these as 
 yet discovering how to deal; otherwise than 
 by counsels of perfection or by palliatives, 
 with any one of the three great elements 
 of current civilization in detail, that is, with 
 Mechanism, with Power, or with Gold ? 
 
 Yet does not the Christian Church, and 
 indeed every other great religion, owe its 
 present standing in the world to its past 
 achievement in these very respects : (i) the 
 sanctification, and organization, of the in- 
 dustry of its earlier times ; (2) the moraliza- 
 tion, even conversion, of its rulers; and (3) 
 the discipline, even the consecration, of its 
 wealth ? 
 
 These tasks of the Churchmen — ^who were 
 the sociologists of the past — ^have now re- 
 turned upon the sociologists of to-day : how 
 far, then, can we rise towards Stating and 
 interpreting the elements of the present 
 situation, though complete solutions be yet 
 far off ? 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE GOLDEN CALF 
 
 In absence of any vision into the future 
 "sufficiently definite and clear for practical 
 guidance — the situation in which all schools 
 of thought find, if not indeed confess, them- 
 selves — we must each of us all the more 
 attempt some fresh analysis of the modern 
 order in which we are living. For if this 
 analysis can be clearly reached, we may then 
 test it, by applying it to the interpretation 
 of recent and current events in detail. Not 
 until it can thus justify itself, dare we attempt 
 any consideration of the future. 
 
 A little study of Fig. i will show how 
 ^he sociologist looks at the world. This 
 way of regarding a community as a two- 
 in-fourfold working system — of Temporal 
 and Spiritual Powers — ^was understood in 
 the medieval past, witness Pope and Em- 
 peror, Guelfs and GhibeUines. Thus Dante's 
 teaching was onjy revived and made explicit 
 
 35 
 
36 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 "TEMPORAL POWER" 
 
 ' SPIRITUAL POWER " 
 
 (or COURSE COtiG/fUEtiTAM> INTEftACrmo) 
 
 rCHIEF5 
 ItMPORAL. 
 
 rPEOPLL 
 POWER 
 
 SPIRITUAL 
 
 IHTEOECH/AIS 
 
 POWER 
 
 -3 
 
 ^z 
 
 TEA\PORAL 
 
 SPIRITUAL 
 - 1 
 
 I. Iff any given Social Formation, 
 
 (simple or civilized, past, pre- 
 
 - sent, or' possible, 
 
 e.g. (Past) Classical, Medieval, Re- 
 naissance, 
 
 e.g. (Present) Mechanical, Im- 
 perial, Financial 
 the prime problem of Sociology is 
 to distinguish itsessential activi- 
 ties. Objective and Subjective^ 
 as Temporal and Spiritual,. 
 
 II. In the Temporal Power have to 
 
 be distinguished ' its Directive 
 types ("Chiefs") from its Oper- 
 ative types ("People"), with 
 their respective ©rganizatibnis. 
 
 In the Spiritual Power have to 
 ■ be distinguished its fheoretical ■ 
 tsrpes (" Intellectuals ") from its 
 Active and Expressive typesv 
 (" Emotionals "), (" Expression- 
 als"). 
 
 POWEJ? 
 ■■~ POWER 
 
 III. In each of these four Groups, 
 may be distinguished (so far as 
 developed) their essential 
 
 1. Place of Activity -or Means of 
 
 Action, 
 
 2. Types of Individuals, 
 ^ 3- Types of Institutions. 
 
 'CASTLE f TOWN 
 HALL 
 
 •STATCOItywORKSHOP 
 POIrtT 
 
 ^A— -f- 
 
 nmKHEm 
 
 ^PALACE 
 
 'CAMP ,;^'' 
 
 ESTATfl 
 
 ~< 
 
 CITY - 
 ^CEHTRE 
 
 sPRIEST 
 
 'CAVALIER fRHiWHEw IV. For application of above towards 
 past formations, take as simple 
 beginnings towards outlining 
 
 A. MedievalFormation(e>^.in.old 
 Flanders), 
 
 B. Renaissance f^rmation^e. ^. in 
 England of Charles I) (with 
 respective antitheses of " Aris- 
 tocracy "and "Democracy"). 
 
 anHtWM. 
 
 ARTS& 
 
 sorts 
 
 PSALM - 
 
 . .siHeme 
 
 BftLE - 
 ■REAPER 
 
 V MEeUBS ' 
 
 Ftci. I. — Scheme for Study of Social Formations. 
 
THE GOLDEN CALF 37 
 
 by Comte, who defined any complete and 
 full-orbed society as consisting of two co- 
 relative hemispheres, viz. Temporal and 
 Spiritual Powers. The Temporal Power has 
 also always its directive and executive ele- 
 ments, in plainer phrase (that of Comte), its 
 " Chiefs and People " : and the Spiritual 
 Power similarly its respective predominance 
 of thought and of expression, and this in all 
 ages. For these two perennial elements of a 
 Spiritual Power, we have always with us. 
 We may call them monks and priests, or the 
 Regulars and the Seculars with the medieval 
 catholic, or divine and pastor with the re- 
 formed churches, or social philosopher and 
 orator with the Industrial Revolution. Or 
 again, researcher and popularizer in science, 
 thinker and journalist with our own times. 
 These are but the changing manifestations 
 of the " Intellectuals and Emotionals " of 
 Comte, or as we might now say, the Intui- 
 tionals and Expressionals of the time. 
 
 Tabulate now (Fig. 2) all these representa- 
 tive groups and types of action, of thought 
 and expression as conspicuous in contem- 
 porary life. Set down also their respective 
 Institutions. We see these primarily as 
 Organizations, yet let us also visualize' 
 them, in their characteristic Buildings and 
 
38 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Monuments, and realize them in their various 
 outputs also, of Words and Deeds. 
 
 The Institutions indicated in these three 
 columns are all alive etnd active to-day. In 
 
 IhPUSTRlAL EXPAPISIOt^lST FIMAMCIAU 
 
 WASTER 
 
 MACHIME 
 
 ■H- 
 
 LABOUR 
 
 UjaZatiJtelt 
 
 BUREAUCRACr 
 
 iij 
 
 BALLOT BOX 
 
 ''ARMY I^IMANCE/puSLIC 
 
 4UjU. 
 
 iru/uiUnaCVJB 
 
 BARRISTER 
 
 MARKET 
 
 BARRACK 
 
 I 
 
 SPORT5 
 ?GAME.S 
 
 VRS\OVl\M\ 
 
 JfLuuoi^ * 
 
 BARU 
 
 EAMK 
 
 OTTHMETie 
 
 HOARPIMG 
 
 PHimrtftiiiopisT 
 
 £ j state: I 
 
 g V PARLtAWEHT \ Ot;ATORY | VHSfRllCflO» V HATWnALtSW Vl WEMlSPiail VJ MVESl'WEWf 
 
 ?ME PRES S AS 
 opinion ADVotACy BflidoyC' ffaJbuao^ Qdinatuiina GuiDmo 
 
 UIBERAU ^ IMPERIAU PROGRESSIVE' 
 Fig 2. 
 
 life and action they are simultaneous and 
 co-existent : they are inter-related and in- 
 dispensable to one another : yet there is, at 
 the same time, to be recognized a changing 
 emphasis upon one or other. This is con- 
 
THE GOLDEN CALF 39 
 
 spicuously manifested in the differences we 
 recognize in different countries, different 
 capitals and cities. Thus, we commonly 
 think of Britain as fundamentally Industrial, 
 of recent Germany as Imperial, and of 
 America as especially Financial, in their 
 prevalent life and its manifestations. Simi- 
 larly Manchester is conspicuously Liberal : 
 recent Westminster, still more Whitehall, 
 predominantly Imperial : and " the City " 
 obviously Financial. 
 
 Beyond such broadly generalized views we 
 may recognize in any and every country — 
 nowhere more easily than in our own — an 
 historic transition. The Industrial Revolu- 
 tion, and its political expression in Liberalism, 
 had its heroic age with Cobden, its golden 
 age with John Bright, and the expression of 
 both culminated (if not died) with Gladstone. 
 Since their day, the greatness of Parliament 
 as a gathering of individualities or of influen- 
 tial members, or as the arena of great parties 
 and their champions, has notably diminished ; 
 and the predominance of the Cabinet Minister 
 (and with him the permanent official) has be- 
 come the salient feature of our current history. 
 Again, since Disraeli, Rhodes and Chamber- 
 lain became Chiefs to their generation of the 
 People, with Seeley and Kipling as repre- 
 
40 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 sentative historian and bard {i. e. Intellectual 
 and Emotional), our~~old "National" or 
 "Party" Politics has been giving place to 
 "Imperial Policy"; and the War has but 
 emphasized this process, and completed it. 
 Similarly in othqr countries. Germany would 
 not have been the formidable Empire she 
 was— with Junker-Chiefs riding a weU-bridled 
 People, with Treitschke to instruct them, 
 with singers \galore — -without having jftrst 
 attained colossal industrial developnient ; 
 while France, here as so often the land of 
 creative initiative, gave us all our lead in 
 her rapid transition from her ultra-liberal 
 and radical Revolution to the highly efi&cient 
 bureaucratic and militant Empire of the 
 great Napoleon, thenceforth imitated in other 
 countries to this day. For what was Bis- 
 marck — ^what, too, in spirit were Crispi, 
 Chamberlain and many more^^but real or 
 would-be wearers of his seven-leagued boots ? 
 Enough, then, to illustrate the general 
 transition from the Liberal to the Imperial 
 order. How now does the Financial order 
 dome to have its turn ? In every possible 
 way ; of which only some representative modes 
 can here be indicated. Thus,, through her 
 national thrift France has largely led in the 
 Financial world as well. Financial predomi- 
 
THE GOLDEN CALF 41 
 
 nance was also latent from the very outset 
 of the industrial and manufacturing order; 
 even from ifs pioneers at the Reformation, 
 and among the Puritans. Again, despite the 
 fact that inventors and pioneers generally 
 ruined themselves in their enthusiasm of 
 construction, and that this constructive ec- 
 stasy pervaded the most successful cotton- 
 spinning or railway-making, it is inr finance 
 that these culminate. It nowadays has come 
 to be only too clearly realized by all con- 
 cerned, that people are in manufacturing, or 
 business, or the carrying trade, not simply 
 to create, collect, distribute and " deliver the 
 goods," but for money gains, for dividends. 
 In fact it requires some acquaintance with 
 the classical literature of political economy, 
 some definite recalling of the Great Exhibi- 
 tion of 1851, to realize nowadays the old joys 
 of manufacturing for its own sake. And if 
 you recall to a modem captain of industry 
 this old lyricism of his fathers, he is either 
 incredulous, contemptuous, or both; and he 
 assures you that he at any rate is not in 
 business " for the sake of his health." 
 
 A corresponding change has taken place in 
 the meaning of the word "Business," as used 
 in metropditan cities of finance. The term 
 has, for many, shed its technical content, and 
 
42 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 come to, mean the "making" of money 
 , almost in the direct and literal sense of the 
 coiner and bank-note printer. Success in 
 this sort of business depends upon skill ajid 
 boldness in initiating and carrying through a 
 certain sequence of " Operations " — ^still an- 
 other of the many terms transferred from the 
 realities of the workshop to the phantoms of 
 the city " office." These operations begin 
 with the acqtiisition of what is called " Con- 
 trol." And again^ " control " ckrries at best 
 a second- or third-hand reference to the facts 
 of productive industry. " Control" in the 
 financial sense means a majority of voting 
 interest; and is thus an idea and method 
 imported from Politics into business. The 
 next stage of Finance is the manufacture of 
 papei; claims on the " controlled " property, 
 wMch may be>a, gold mine or a " concession " ; 
 , a brew;ery or a casino ; a steel plant or a ship- 
 building yard; a cotton factory or a railwa^; 
 or various combination^ of these: or, again, 
 the " controlled " property may be itself some 
 mere fractional or paper interest in kn actual 
 or prospective " business." In this stage of 
 creation, division, multiplication and com- 
 pounding of legahzed claims, the financier 
 offers magnificent rewards to barristers and 
 solicitors, and so engages the best heads in 
 
THE GOLDEN CALF 43 
 
 that able profession for specialized manipula- 
 tion of the " Company Laws." 
 
 The final and culminating stage in -the 
 sequence of the Financier's " operations " is 
 the transformation of his paper claims into 
 legal tender currency. It is here that the 
 business of Finance blossoms into the high 
 refinements of artistry. Just as it was in 
 the preliminary stages the politician and the 
 lawyer who were first the exemplars, then 
 the allies, and finally the servants of the 
 Financier, so now a similar transition from 
 colleague to satellite overtakes and masters 
 the Banker and the Journalist. For the 
 Financier as artist it may be said that he, 
 long before poet or painter, was a " Futurist." 
 His " Prospectus " may indeed be regarded 
 as a classic document of the somewhat un- 
 crijtical " Futurism," which believes that the 
 achievements of to-morrow must inevitably 
 surpass those of yesterday. The fortune of 
 the Financier comes in the last resort to be 
 measured by his success in converting the 
 public to adopt his rosy views of the future. 
 For that feat of persuasion he invokes the 
 prestige of the Banker and the ardour of the 
 Journalist for ' ' news . ' ' The resulting story of 
 the Financier's mounting influence, reaching at 
 times to domination ovfer the Bank and the 
 
44 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 "Press, is one of the chapters of modern 
 Romance, still largely untold; though Miss 
 Ida Tarbell's vivid History of the t Standard 
 Oil Company raaiy be mentioned as a begin- 
 ning of this fascinating literature, before 
 which all our present detective stories will 
 fade into their proportionate insignificance. 
 
 Thus with Lawyer and Politician on his 
 left, and supported on his. right by Banker 
 and Journalist, the Financier advances to 
 his pinnacle of greatness and authority, his 
 turn as Chief of the new Social Order, and 
 was thus Super-Imperial Jong before we heard 
 of the League of Nations and its aims. The 
 public has been cofrrespondingly " educated " 
 into an acceptance of this social order, so 
 thoroughgoing as to be -not only habitually 
 willing, but eager to exchange their coin of 
 the realni for the financier's paper " claims " 
 upon the land of promise, so enticingly pegged 
 out in his prospectus. In short, this type of 
 personage has in effect accomplished in rare 
 degree that union of temporal and spiritual 
 powers which Csesars and Tudors have adorned 
 before his4ay, and so he becomes High Priest 
 of the Golden Calf he has set up in the market- 
 plztce of each metropolitan and even secondary 
 city. His practising worsjiippers constitute 
 (or hope through his merits to attain to) that 
 
THE GOLDEN CALF 45 
 
 vast and ever-growing " Leisure Class," whose 
 habits and mode of Ufe are so admirably 
 described in the work thus named by Pro- 
 fessor Thorstein Veblen, that rare bird, a 
 naturalistic observer and interpreter amongst 
 the economists. Furthermore, into these 
 circles and companies of the materially blest, 
 the social and even religious groups above 
 outlined, have, as far as may be, comfortably 
 adjusted themselves. Their historic rever- 
 ence for the teaching and leadership of Israel 
 was not abated, yet they gave little sign — 
 until the War at least---of recognizing how 
 such prosperity and proifiotion (iiT every 
 sense) was obscuring their ideals. Hence — 
 as the Devil qUoted Scripture— one could 
 safely cite to the respectable British, or still 
 better Indian or Colonial Official after his 
 return from church : " Render unto Caesar 
 the things which are Caesar's, and also the 
 things which are God's." And similarly to 
 the prosperous manufacturer or shareholder 
 after chapel and Sunday dinner : " Godliness is 
 contentment with great gain." In no case, as 
 far as our repeated experiments went, did either 
 Official or Investor detect the modernizing 
 of the version. On the contrary, a response; 
 of purring satisfaction was usually elicited. 
 Thus the emphasis and impulse of the 
 
46 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Industrial Age has long been in process of 
 transition from Manufactures to Finance : in 
 short, from the making of things to the Making 
 of Money. The older concrete interest -and 
 pride in delivering the goods, has been in- 
 creasingly replaced by that of getting in the 
 profits. How the abstract and mathematical 
 notation of money has come to predominate 
 over the concrete producing of goods, is well 
 illustrated in the corresponding change of 
 education. In the Liberal and Parliamen- 
 taiy age, it was Reading that was felt most 
 important among the three R's; but nowa- 
 days it is not merely the Financier who lays 
 the main stress upon Arithmetic, but parent, 
 teacher and inspector alike. An emphasis 
 on Writing is appropriate to the bureaucratic 
 and imperial order; witness the victory of 
 " Civil Service Handwriting " in our schools, 
 over the old " Italian business hand," so 
 inferior as regards the slowness and the 
 spacious paper- wasting which give dignity 
 to the former. As to Arithmetic, some time 
 ago we were interested to find a little boy 
 of twelve, in a day school, painfully struggUng 
 with the mysteries of " Stocks and Shares," 
 under the guidance of a young mistress of 
 nineteen, who assuredly did not understand 
 them much' more than if they were stocks 
 
THE GOLDEN CALF 47 
 
 and stones; the point being, in one case as 
 the other, that woman can generally be 
 depended on to teach to childhood a fuller 
 and more whole-hearted reverence for the 
 predominant religion than average menfolk 
 can inspire. Again, when the teaching of 
 Arithmetic became first insisted on in the 
 public schools of England, about the eighteen 
 forties, in due preparation for the coming 
 of the railway age, their conservative old 
 head masters protested vigorously, just as 
 they more lately used tp do, or still do, 
 against " Science " — or what they think 
 science — but then on the highest moral 
 grounds, " the danger of soul-destroying Mam- 
 monism." Will it be denied that there was 
 something in their obscurantism after all? — 
 as there may again turn out to be in their 
 "anti-scientific" obscurantism of to-day? 
 For what most are pressing on them are but 
 the husks of science. 
 
 Now a word as to the uprising of the 
 Financial above the Imperial order. How 
 are Empires to be estimated? In terms of 
 square mileage and population ? And, even 
 more, in terms of their budgets ? Or beyond 
 these again, as " Fields for Investment " ? 
 
 The process of evolution may also go the 
 opposite way, *'. e. from Financial as well as 
 
48 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Liberal to Imperial. Thus the Honourable 
 East India Company developed into the 
 Indian Empire; in which, however, the old 
 financial requirements of London are not, of 
 course, forgotten. 
 
 The main distinction of any and every 
 Imperial system from previous social <iis- 
 pensations is a fundamental economic oiie. 
 The Medieval and -Feudal order was pre- 
 dominantly rustic, i. e. agricultural and 
 regional : and the Renaissance order was 
 conspicuously occupied with urban industries 
 and luxuries for the new nobles who were 
 replacing or transforming the ruder rural 
 onefe. The modern mechanical order of things 
 became, far more than -ever, one of urban 
 production, though now chiefly of necessaries 
 and "comforts"; and so it necessitated a 
 vast agricultural development, and this a 
 colonial expansion, to feed its ever-increasing 
 city populations. Each of these three main 
 forms of past or passing society has thus 
 prpvided its own necessities— its food, its 
 clothing, its shelter. But the unique peculi- 
 arity pf an Imperial order, true of each and 
 every one throughout history, as to-day, is 
 that— -in all its really representative ranks, 
 from simplest of soldiers, humblest of clerkly 
 bureaucrats, up to its generals and proconsuls 
 
THE GOLDEN CALF 49 
 
 and ministers, with their instructional and 
 inspiring spiritual attendants of course also — 
 it consumes, but does not produce. It consumes 
 superlatively : it produces not at all. Food, 
 clothing, shelter and leisure have all to be 
 provided for its swiftly multiplying temporal 
 and spiritual members by the Industrial 
 order. The Imperial Order had therefore been 
 increasingly educating, subordinating, domin- 
 ating, directing its wQrking population for 
 the generation or two before the War. This 
 process of adjustment was obvious in Prussic- 
 Germany, but rilay be also discerned every- 
 where else. How in war itself the Imperial 
 Order supremely dominates, we have learned 
 by experience to see. 
 
 The taxation of Industry can but rarely 
 suffice for Imperial requirements, even in 
 peace time; witness the long-expanding 
 governmental and military budgets of all 
 countries, and the corresponding and long- 
 increasing indebtedness of most, so notably 
 of France and Germany. Hence when a 
 war comes, the taxation of past and present 
 wealth is supplemented by ingenious artifices 
 that create the illusion of meeting military 
 bills by drafts on the future. Thus' there 
 develops a fresh and complicated system of 
 mortgaging the Future; and of course not 
 
50 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 without the parasitic refinements _of High 
 Finance. How ouj' own National Debt dates 
 from past wars, and has expanded anew in 
 this one, needs no exposition here. 
 
 But there is an old saying, accredited to 
 the wisest of kings, that " the bqrrower is 
 servant to the lender." So, when the soldier 
 has ceased his ever-increasingly colossal ex- 
 penditure upon destruction, and ministries 
 and diplomatists begin to clear up again, 
 governments and their peoples find them- 
 selves necessarily in the power of the creditors 
 pf their immense war-debts. Particularly, 
 therefore, in the power of those who combine 
 the grasp and skill, the subtlety yet single- 
 mindedness which distinguish the true finan- 
 cier. Less distinctly,' of course, yet often 
 -not less really, is not the Financier to 
 the minister much as is the potent minister 
 to his constitutional king, " Intellectual 
 and Expressional " together, thus becoming 
 directive and so executive also ? All previous 
 social powers thus renew and concentrate in 
 our henceforth true Lord and King the 
 Financier; no "wonder, then, that we elders 
 have watched throughout our generation,' 
 first in America, but now also in Europe, the 
 millionaire becoming both august and ponti- 
 fical, and thus acquiring right divine. 
 
THE GOLDEN CALF 51 
 
 We do not forget that the creditorship of 
 these debts is largely participated in by the 
 public, increasingly even by the small-invest- 
 ing public. Even the proletariate since the 
 War, have made a good beginning here, like 
 the peasants and servant girls in France for 
 two generations back ; but this merely en- 
 ables the whole progress, from Imperial to 
 Financial mastery, to accomplish itself more 
 smoothly, in fact as an unrealized Transition, 
 instead of being seen as a Revolution. Roj:hs- 
 childs and Morgans might readily become 
 unpopular; but with these small investors in 
 Weekly War Loan, and with John Bull and 
 many more, calling to the People (thus further 
 centralized to London) for a " Business 
 Government,' the effective predominance of 
 the " fing-ncial mind " becomes every day 
 more substantially assured. How all this 
 perfecting evolution of " The City," as the 
 hub of the Imperial universe — and of the 
 Bank and its golden galaxy of planets and 
 satellites, comets and meteors, not to speak 
 of nebulae with their promise of the future — 
 continues and popularizes this economic fea- 
 ture of the Imperial system, that of producing 
 nothing while consuming much, in peace, 
 and stiU more in war, it might seem unpro- 
 gressive to enlatge upon. 
 
52 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 In the meantime, does it not appear that 
 these things have still more fully to accom- 
 plish themselves ? . We might note, for in- 
 stance, the symptomatic significance of that 
 admirable Survey of Outer London, under- 
 taken by the Royal Institute of British 
 Architects as a war relief measure for unem- 
 ployed members of their profession. This 
 survey is preparing for a London some three 
 times greater than County Council London, 
 into which the metropolis of Empire-Under- 
 Finance "doubtless instinctively hopes to ex- 
 pand as an after-war development. And 
 why not? The Provinces and the Empire 
 are now through the War far more fully in 
 hand than ever, for supplying such a super- 
 metropolis with its needful " bread and 
 shows " in the good tiines it sees coming. 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 THE NATURE OF ADVERTISEMENT 
 
 With the growth and onward progress of 
 the Liberal and Imperial into the Financial 
 order has gone a concurrent development of 
 that public and private appeal called Adver- 
 tisement. So let us attempt here an analysis 
 of this type of influence, regarded as a sort of 
 spiritual office, not to say Ministry of Propa- 
 ganda and Information, duly adapted to the 
 Tepiporal Power crystallized in the above 
 threefold order, but manifested most con- 
 spicuously in its Financial stage. To give 
 brevity and point to the investigation, let us 
 take a particular concrete case, and treat it 
 as 4ypical. 
 
 Recently the head of a great Oxford Street 
 Emporium wrote and published a book called 
 The Romance of Commerce. Now the most 
 intei^esting thing about this book was the 
 reaction of the Press towards it. As for the 
 book itself, its character and quality can be 
 briefly defined. Its title, to be truly descrip- 
 
 53 
 
54 OUR SOCIAL IKKERITANCE 
 
 tive, should have been " Tit-Bits of Merchant 
 Lore." The book is an illustrated collection 
 of anecdotes, always interesting and often 
 lively, gathered from miscellaneous sources. 
 The anecdotes are assembled without much 
 sense of order or sequence, and entirely with- 
 out interpretation. Naturally, therefore, the 
 Press welcomed the book. For the Press likes 
 anecdotes, is contemptuous of order, intoler- 
 ant of sequence, and abhors interpretation. 
 But the newspapers and the periodicals not 
 only praised this book ; the remarkable thing - 
 about their appreciation was the quantity of 
 it. The superficial area of all their enconiums / 
 together would make a pretty calculation in 
 the assessment of current literary value?. 
 
 How explain this journd-listic valuation? 
 It must not be thought that the judgpaent of 
 editors was influenced by the bias of advertis-^ 
 ihg imanagers, anxious for their journals to 
 stand well with an author who is also a very 
 prince of advertisers. Such an explanatidti is 
 clearly insufficient; for the volume earned 
 panegyric, both ardent and lengthy, from 
 journals which could have no expectation of 
 advertisements from Oxford Street. It is 
 evident that soijie interpretation of wider 
 scope and deeper" reach is needed. 
 
 The clue to the puzzle lies, doubtless, ir\. 
 
NATURE OF ADVERTISEMENT 55 
 
 the nature of the thing called advertisement. 
 What in its essence is this system of publicity 
 that flourishes so luxuriantly in public life, 
 and so fully penetrates the home ? It would 
 be a commonplace of psychology to define 
 advertisement as an appeal to the will through 
 the intellect and the emotions. The adver- 
 tiser tries to persuade you to do something. 
 Mostly the aim is to extract cash froni your 
 pocket. But by no means always. It is easy 
 to cite exceptional instances. Recently one 
 of the great Joint Stock Banks purchased 
 twelve columns of the Times to give publicity 
 io a speech of its chairman which was really 
 an argument for altering the Banking Laws. 
 Also quite recently the Archbishop of West- 
 minster, or his representative, acquired four 
 or five columns for the insertion of a pastordl 
 letter. 
 
 An advertiser; in simplest guise, is a person 
 who buys a place on the public stage. , But it 
 seldom happens that the purchaser of pub- 
 licity delivers his own message like the Bank 
 chairman or the Archbishop. The custom, 
 on the contrary, is to buy space in tbe news- 
 paper or on the hoardings; and then to hire 
 skilled talent to fill it by putting the case 
 persuasively to the public. The pen of the 
 writer and the pencil of the artist are, for 
 
56 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 the advertiser, instruments of his craft. In 
 modern business there is no pretence that the 
 argument or the picture of the advertisement 
 are the spontaneous expression of ;the writer's 
 or ahist's personality. Contrast therewith 
 the apparently kindred cases, ^. g. the litigant 
 who engages a lawyer to plead his case ; the 
 politician who appeals through the cartoonist 
 or speaks through the pamphleteer; the 
 statesman wha employs a historian to com- 
 pose a diplomatic document. In all these 
 cases it is (rightly or wrongly) taken for 
 granted that the presentation proceeds from, 
 a moral conviction of the soundness of the 
 case. Now the advertiser is marked off frorii 
 other users of advocacy by frank abandon- 
 ment of this moral or spiritual factor. He 
 has reduced advocacy to a sheer matter oi 
 business. He hires the writer or the artist 
 as one hires a bicycle or a piano. The essence 
 of advertisement is then, that it degrades the 
 ihoral element in personality itito a thing of 
 the market. It acts rigorously on the assump- 
 tion that every man has his price. The 
 "Science of Advertisement " (as its expert 
 practitioners call it) is, in short, the inevitable 
 and pharacteristic spiritual institution created 
 by and for the Financial Age. The present 
 vogue of advertisement marks the historic 
 
NATURE OF ADVERTISEMENT 57 
 
 climax of the Financiering System. In estab- 
 lishing the prevalence of this vogue, that 
 system has fulfilled itself by creating its own 
 appropriate and accepted Spiritual Power. > 
 William James remarked that " the intel- 
 lectual leadership of the United States has 
 been taken from the universities by the ten 
 cent magazine." It is a common English 
 belief that the political leadership of the 
 British nation .has passed from-Parliament to 
 Press. Both statements are currently read 
 as an indictment. People instinctively feel 
 that however poor and uninspired may be the 
 leadership of University and Parliament, that 
 of magazine and newspaper belongs to an 
 essentially lower order. And why ? Because 
 behind the newspaper and the magazine they 
 sense a dark, elusive, irresponsible power — 
 the advertiser. This power they vaguely feel 
 to be sinister as well as formidable. And 
 indeed it works by the simple and massive 
 modes of Natural and Artificial Selection. It 
 eliminates the unfit amongst opinions, ideas, 
 sentiments, news. The unfit is, of course, that 
 opinion, idea, sentiment or news which does 
 not conduce to the survival of the advertiser 
 and all that he stands for. For instance, how 
 in the nature of things should He, Supreme 
 Patron of the Press, bestow his feyour§ upon 
 
58 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 newspapers and magazines that do not con- 
 form to his order of life and way of thought ? 
 ' As the Great MiUionaire has gathered to 
 himself the prestige of aristocracies, practically 
 even of royalties,' so the Great Advertiser has 
 subtly and imperceptibly acquired a certain 
 inastery of public opinion. The Millionaire 
 a:nd the Advertiser, are not these (if you think 
 in terms of reality and no± of illusion) the 
 effective working h.e&.d^'oi our social system? 
 They are respectively the most representa- 
 tive types of temporal chief and spiritual 
 guide in contemporary life. Or, to speak 
 precisely, they had well-nigh become so in 
 the years before the war. And as we have 
 seen above, we are by no means escaping from 
 bur thraldom to. their dominance, but as yet 
 the very opposite. Heiice, when editors make 
 obeisiarice to a book whose author is at once 
 advertiser and millionaire, there is no need 
 to impute venal motives. They are merely 
 prostrating themselves in genuine faith and 
 loyalty before their own pa.rticular Pope, who 
 happens also to, be their Caesar. This is 
 indeed the Romance of Commerce. 
 
CHAPTER VI 
 
 REPRESSIONS AND REPRISALS 
 
 Turning aside from the turmoil of the 
 Forum, one may contemplate, as spec|:ator, 
 the drama of current politics. The air is 
 tense with party cries. Conspicuous among 
 the vociferating multitude are the Imperial- 
 ists, a complex group of many colours ranging 
 from the pale grey of commohwealth idealists 
 to the ruddy purple of passionate tariffists. 
 There are surviving Liberals, free and tied. 
 Numerous, though less avid of attention, 
 are the representatives of " vested interests," 
 usually of the putse, sometimes of the person. 
 All these groups, dissenting clamantly from 
 each other, yet seem to be confederates in a 
 common camp of Conventional Politics, in 
 the 6yes of Trade Unionists, Radicals, Social- 
 ists, Syndicalists. So, too, these latter, viewed 
 together, appear as oiie great Party of In- 
 surgent Politics confronting its conventional 
 rival. A comparative survey of the Liberal- 
 Imperial-Financial Order has been made. 
 
 59 • 
 
6o DUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 We essay now a like examination of the 
 leading insurgent groups. As before, the 
 text may be relieved by relegating dejtails to 
 a schematic presentation; which in botanical 
 -fashion, one might call the Floral Diagram of 
 
 gAPITALl6T 
 
 IffflUSTRIAL 
 LIBERAL 
 
 'MBOUHSR'. rMtNISTER 
 
 EyPANSIVE 
 i IMPERIAL 
 
 -ORATOR i LhISTORIAM 
 1 >-l;k«il/k of empire 
 
 i ill 
 
 SOLDIER 
 
 -SARD I 
 
 OF EMPIRE 1 
 
 FINAMCIER 
 
 1 
 
 PROGRESSIVE 
 
 .APVpRTISER 
 
 1 
 
 IHDE.BTOR 
 
 .PHIUNTMRDflST 
 
 1 
 
 T T ! ^ M T T 
 
 rPOLlTlCIAn /'DEMAGOGUt^HISTORIArir 5ARD '(^FROPAMimrsTjrMIHIUST 
 
 OFT LABOUR < 
 
 \ 
 
 RAPICAL< 
 
 OF IMEUSTRV 
 
 |<S0CIA1.IST< 
 
 TRAPES 
 
 UNIONIST V STRIKER) 
 
 V socialist: 
 
 VANARffHISr 
 
 ^CONSPI ROTOR 
 
 VSOL&H£VIK 
 
 Fig. 3. 
 
 the Radical-Socialist-Anarchist Order (Fig. 3, 
 lower part i) . The elements of these several 
 analyses, if well and truly made, should next 
 recompose into a picture of our whole political 
 jjystem and its mode of working. Moreover, 
 this picture should reveal, almost as it were 
 by inspection^ what the contemporary order, . 
 
 1 See descriptive note at end of volume. 
 
REPRESSIONS AND REPRISALS 61 
 
 known otherwise as the State, contributes to 
 the social inheritance, and what to the burden 
 of evil. 
 
 Following many other observers, we have 
 already indicated how Socialism runs in con- 
 trast yet parallelism to Imperialism. That 
 Radicalism bears a similar relation, opposed 
 yet complementary, to Liberalism is fairly 
 obvious. In face of the Financial order, 
 we have a far less organized comradeship, 
 though fearsome in its day of action, that of 
 the Anarchists, who seemed disappearing and 
 almost negligible until restored to activity 
 in Russia through the Bolshevik Revolution. 
 Even in their first active days, a generation 
 back, they seemed seldom clearly against the 
 Financier, but more cdmmonly against Im- 
 perial government with the Socialists, and, 
 as Ultra- Radicals, against the Liberals. Still 
 here and there a financier may remember, 
 that some of the more critical spirits among 
 the Anarchists were wont to threaten the 
 Bank or the Stock Exchange, as well as if 
 not more than the Palace of the Ministry. It 
 was one of their watchwords and aims, even 
 in those days, to "incinerate the documents," 
 so expressed as a countermove to the 
 Financier's tendency to multiply indefinitely 
 his documentary claims on the wealth and 
 
62 OUR, SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 production of the community. For when 
 even Mr. Gladstone, at his most radical 
 moment, blurted out his then startlingly^sharp 
 oppositipn of " The Classes and the Masses," 
 it is not to be wondered at, that more extreme 
 spirits, like even Mr. Lloyd Georgp in his 
 " Limehouse " idays, should :have laid stress 
 on the clash between " the Haves " and 
 the " Have-nots." Among such critics the 
 Anarchist was the extreme one, at once com- 
 plementing and countering the Financier ■ he 
 saw the " Haves "• standing on their pile of 
 paper claims, which he proposed simply to 
 cancel by applying a lighted match td them. 
 But nowadays both Radical and Anarchist 
 (Russian exti;emistsi excepted) have for the 
 most part rallied to the more moderate con- 
 trast of Imperialism and Socialism, as of " the 
 -powers that be " confronted by the poweirs 
 that desire to be. 
 
 Subordinating past differences, and'hof- 
 withstanding the substantial potency, and the 
 still unbrokeir contentment of th^ established 
 oirder, its triple components — Liberals, Im- 
 perialists and Financials— have long been in- 
 creasingly uniting towards forming a " Party 
 of Order," in face of the "Unrest" — i.e. the 
 enduring discontent and increasing aspira- 
 tions—of the Radical, Socialist and Anarchist, 
 
REPRESSIONS AND REPRISALS 63 
 
 These, again, have been uniting into what they 
 claim as the " Party of Progress " ; and this 
 has long been becoming more or less definitely 
 Revolutionist in temper; and even in its 
 gentlest mernbers, such as the Fabians, it is 
 frankly revolutionary in purpose. But this 
 unhappy antithesis, of a party of order on 
 one side, and a party of progress on the other, 
 tends on the one hand to promote conserva- 
 tism, and even encourage reaction, in the 
 established triad ; and> on the other, it tends 
 to excite the extremer spirits of the would-be 
 progressive party towards more and more 
 unrest. This, again, naturally produces dis- 
 quietude among the friends and supporters 
 of Order. And from this unstable and more 
 or less inflammable state of things we may 
 readily go further in the study of Irish 
 troubles, or of Labour troubles, of Indian 
 unrest, and so on, in every country in degree 
 and kind. For thus arises a vicious circle, at 
 length, of Anarchy and Rebellion countered by 
 systematic Repression which again provokes 
 Reprisals. > ^ 
 
 ' These again are met with still sterner meas- 
 ures of repression to which in turn the more 
 indomitable spirits of the other camp inevit- 
 ably reply with deadlier reprisals. The Umits 
 of this ferocious interplay of repressions and 
 
64 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANGE 
 
 reprisals are reached in the outbreak of the 
 most embittered kind of civil war. The tale 
 of Russian, Finnish, and other atrocities, 
 both Red and White, becomes thus more 
 intelligible, since so far explicable in general 
 terms. 
 
 But before the advent of such climax, two 
 alternatives present themselves. The Party 
 of Order sees release in a foreign war that 
 unites the whole nation against a common foe. 
 The Party of Progress is similarly impelled 
 towards the stroke of force that gives into its 
 hands the reins of Government. Thus deep- 
 in the logic of the situation is the alternative 
 of War or Revolution. 
 
 Is it not this very tendency to explosive 
 disintegration that you find if you plumb far 
 enough- in the constitution of the modern 
 State ? And why ? Well, the modern State 
 subordinates every kind of spiritual authority, 
 in the last resort, to its own temporal Govern- 
 ment. Next, this kind of Government is 
 claimed by its ablest theorists (such as Anglo-- 
 Hegelians), as, in its essence, an " organization 
 of moraUty." But there surely is a confu- 
 sion of man's twofold nature as animal and 
 human, ^hich cannot continue indefinitely, to 
 masquerade as its harmonization. 
 
 In practice, especially in times of crisis, such 
 
REPRESSIONS AND REPRISALS 65 
 
 a system of Government tends to work out 
 the logic of the situation by putting the brute 
 to bridle and ride the human. In the face of 
 this reversion, the gentler types, doubtless in 
 the long run, tend to rebound into authority. 
 But, it is apt to be a very long run. And 
 meantime the more assertive types see a short 
 cut to success, in this game of repressions and 
 reprisals, by that perversion of the soul 
 which idealizes Force. 
 
 Some such analysis of tl^e constitution of 
 the State in terms of psychology, is surely 
 needed to supplement those juristic exposi- 
 tions which have too much held the field in 
 the past. The latter, as befits the times of 
 their origin, are more in terms of mechanics 
 than in the language of life and mind. They 
 describe the working of the State-Constitution, 
 largely as an affair of checks and balances. 
 As a contribution to this mechanical theory of 
 constitutionalism we submit the summarized 
 view presented in Fig. 4. There the intention 
 is to show the State as composed of tWo 
 pieces of machinery held together by a ball- 
 and-socket joint. They are niaintained in 
 instable equilibrium by a constant pull to the 
 right with its possible jerk into war, and 
 a countering push to the left with its possible 
 crash into revolution, In the detail of this 
 
66 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 diagram are indicated the stages of reversion 
 through which the modern State descends 
 
 LI BERAL-^ I MPEIRI AL+ Fl NAMCIAL 
 
 PARTY o^ ORJD^R 
 
 \roUCYopREPRESSIOny ^ 
 
 PEISPOTISM 
 
 niHlLlSM 
 
 yPOLIgYoFREPRlSALs\ 
 
 PARTY, or. PROGRESS 
 
 RADlCALS+S0CIALlST5+Af1ARCHlsr5 
 
 Fig. 4. 
 
 almost inevitably to that poUcy of Repression 
 with its provocation of Reprisals to which 
 recourse is had in times of crisis. Another 
 
REPRESSIONS AND REPRISALS 67 
 
 view of the same diagram is to regard it as 
 presenting what students of mechanics call 
 a couple. Equilibrium is maintained by 
 two equal and opposite forces. But let one 
 of them be increased and, the balance 
 being upset, the mechanism begins to move. 
 Militarists see this movement as a rise into 
 War, others as a fall into revolution. , 
 
 The extreme illustrations, at once most 
 tragically and logically developed are those 
 of Russia. The Revolutions of 1917-18 and 
 countering movements have been but the 
 continuation and development of the crisis 
 reached in 1905-6. The stonn of that Re- 
 bellion and the stress of its Repression shoW 
 the pointer-facts of the issue. Hence the main 
 features of that period may well be illustra- 
 tively recalled, as typical of the eventualities 
 which work themselves out logically from this 
 given situation. Similar tendencies of politi- 
 cal stress and social strain are now every- 
 where observable, and these even within the 
 Empire, witness treland and India. Hence, as 
 similar measures of repression and of reprisal 
 become resorted to, the issues more or less 
 exhibit the same general course, allowing for 
 variations in accordance with the differing 
 national characteristics and-traditions. Under 
 these circumstances it may be useful to 
 
68 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 attempt a broad, analysis of the predisposing 
 factors as these manifested themselves in the 
 Russian situation of 1905-6, for which we 
 first thus clearly tabulated them. In that 
 situation, we submit, lie the clues to an under- 
 standing of the imrnediate instabilities of 
 European domestic politics, and which all the 
 time underlay even the military situation of 
 the Great Powers in' conflict during the war, 
 as Russia has especially shown. 
 
 See, then — and still from the Russia of 1905, 
 to choose no later or nearer examples^ — ^how 
 unrest breaks out in its many forms ; as from 
 industrial strikes to crowds, mass-meetings, 
 and violent speeches; and how these come 
 to be more or less sharply handled by the 
 police, and subsequently by the minor magis- 
 tracy. Popular feeling is thus excited, and 
 mass-meetings increase. Disturbances, even 
 tumults, tend to arise ; which, even when not 
 going so far as riot, may speedily approach 
 this, and thus lead to more or less violent 
 dispersion, even by the military, followed by 
 trials and punishments of a sterner kind than 
 those of the police magistrate. Against even 
 such beginnings of martial law, mass petitions 
 soon naturally appear, with yet larger crowds, 
 alarming accordingly. Violence breaks out, 
 and each side blames the other for its begin- 
 
REPRESSIONS AND REPRISALS 69 
 
 ning. Wholesale repression arises; this is 
 confronted, with outbreaks of insurrection ; 
 and this again is suppressed, sometimes with 
 difficulty, with wholesale state of siege, or 
 even by military force of the extremest kind. 
 Thi§, in fact, is Civil War, as it raged in Petro- 
 grad and Moscow for tragic weeks together, 
 even in the risings of that earlier endeavour 
 towards Revolution. Illustrations from Ire- 
 land and from India will suggest themselves, 
 as also will similar beginnings even in the 
 heart of the homelands. 
 
 Yet these are but the more open elements 
 of the social tragedy, and the milder ones. It 
 evolves also a long oscillation of secret terrors. 
 The most ardent and outspoken spirits cannot 
 but have their meetings in secret, while the 
 more exasperated Of these readily form into 
 definite conspiracies. These in turn are met 
 by police surveillance and espionage; they 
 are broken upon by informers, and treated 
 by arrests and trials, or want of trials. Deeds 
 of violence may become thereby only more 
 frequent; and bombs are hurled, again and 
 again .with tragic effects, indeed in Russia 
 with assassinations, the most startling and 
 dramatic in history. Hence "repressions of un- 
 precedented severity : then arrests, becoming 
 so indiscriminate, punishments becoming so 
 
70 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 severe and so arbitrary, as to intensify the 
 widespread sentiment of tyranny, and so to 
 evoke conspiracies more secret and more 
 terroristic than (ever. We thus see the 
 Anarchist, undetectable in his threatenings 
 even in the trembhng palace, and on the other 
 hand the Agent-Provocateur, at the very 
 heart of conspiracies, sometimes even of 
 successful ones. Only one step further on 
 each side now remains logically possible / and 
 even this is taken. The agent-provocateur, 
 from posing as an embittered anarchist, may 
 become converted by the comrades he would 
 betray, into a traitor to his "former cause; 
 and conversely, the disappointed or offended- 
 anarchist may turn upon his brother con- 
 spirators, and become a revengeful agent of 
 police, to deliver them to Siberia or the 
 gallows. On the one side the assassination 
 of tyrants becomes a new form of tyranny; 
 and on the other tyranny stoops to what 
 becomes felt as nothing short of assassination,-^ 
 military, or even judicial. Each too often 
 was of the innocent; for probably no 
 political tragedy of errors has ever gonfr 
 so far. 
 
 The career and psychology of Father Gapon 
 is not easy to understand here in the West, 
 but what is to be said of the subtle a^id per- 
 
REPRESSIONS AND REPRISALS 71 
 
 plexing Azeff, apparently of all villains the 
 most doubly dyed? Psychological puzzles 
 are not confined to these extreme types of 
 character or conduct; but were manifest in 
 those dreadful years among all Russian parties. 
 For the two poles of conservatism and pro- 
 gress, which seemed to the public eye so 
 sharply expressed, so clearly specialized in 
 their respective party representatives, were 
 really strangely mingled in both. Tolstoy 
 is, of course, the greatest and most familiar 
 example of a mingling of these apparent 
 opposites ; yet popular and progressive S57m- 
 pathies were easy to find in the apparently 
 conventional Russian noble and courtier, 
 soldier or diplomatist, which Tolstoy himself 
 had been. Social feeling was unmistakable, 
 even in that most superlative of all counterT 
 revolutionists, the late " Procurator of the 
 Holy Synod," M. de Pobedonostzeff, who 
 was no mean adept in modern history, and 
 in social economy as well. Conversely, the 
 elements of profound conservatism, in its best 
 sense,- that of loyalty to land and history, have 
 never been far to seek among the most illus- 
 triously gifted exiles whom Russia has driven 
 upon our shores. Indeed, to give these points 
 the position they deserve, it should be pointed 
 out (as has indeed been done in the standard 
 
72 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 legal textbook of Prof. Jethro Brown) that 
 the philosophy, and even policy, of AnarchisnoT' 
 (as expressed, for instance," in the heroic life 
 and admirable works of Kropotkin), has 
 none of the crude destructivehess still popu- 
 larly associated with that systeni. For his 
 writings are founded upon a first-hand know- 
 ledge of the geology and geography, of the 
 agriculture and resources, of the peoples and 
 possibilities, of Russia and Siberia, which 
 place them on a level with the best work of his 
 lifelong collaborator, Elis6e Reclus, the last 
 " grand old man " of geographic science, in his 
 Geographic Universelle, and GtograpM^ Sociule. 
 Again in his constructive proposals, Kropot- 
 kin in many ways resembles Sir Horace 
 Plunkett, and indeed coniplem^ts him, by 
 hot a little of the spirit 6f his poet-peasant 
 companion, George Russell ("A.E*"). Yet 
 Kropotkin's bitter and lifelong antagonist, 
 PobedonostzefE, for all his reactionary and 
 open hatred of- many of our rriost cherished 
 Western ideas and institutions, would also 
 have warmly supported Plunkett. He was, 
 moreover, steeped 'ta, at any rate the earlier 
 part of, the social teaching of Frederic LePlay, 
 wliich to introduce more fully to contem- 
 porary British readers, is one of the best, 
 because most truly evolutionary and deeply 
 
REPRESSIONS AND REPRISALS 73 
 
 progressive, objects of the present series, 
 witness our Coming Polity. 
 
 Now, if these two sharply contrasted leaders 
 of Russian thought, on its extreme left and 
 extreme right respectively, have been alike 
 based on some of the geographical and vital 
 fundamentals of social science, is there not 
 reasonable and growing hope that, with its 
 further advance, their respective followers may 
 increasingly come together? And this not 
 in any mere compromise : but in comple- 
 mental contributions towards the dawning 
 synthesis of thought, the returning synergy of 
 social action, the renewing sympathy with all 
 parties of sincere endeavour. Is not this the 
 hope of social peace ? And even of the making 
 of the future? 
 
 On the other hand might be observed and 
 interpreted in all countries, tendencies of 
 opposite direction; those which instead of 
 advancing social science, promote and organ- 
 ize the impulses to repressions and reprisals. 
 As *a single instance of these reversions in 
 domestic politics, with their inevitable accom- 
 paniment and sequel of perversions, take the 
 recent announcement that the Special Service 
 Branch of Scotland Yard has blossomed into 
 a full-grown Department of State. This 
 means the elaborate ramification, throughout 
 
74 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 our community, of a political police whose 
 efficiency will/ in effect, be measured and 
 rewarded by the. amount or evidence it ex- 
 tracts from secret sources, and furnishes to 
 the authorities for the repression of opinion 
 and action adverse to the Government. The 
 comment by a leading Liberal journal that 
 the new Department is a " practical necessity 
 of these times " is, of course, but an instance 
 of the moral perversions that go with these 
 political reversions. Of like order, under 
 this politics of repression and reprisals, seem- 
 ingly everywhere actual or incipient in sequel 
 to the War, is the cjniicism of official nomen- 
 clature which entitles this latest offshoot of 
 imperial bureaucracy the New Home Intelli- 
 gence Department ! ^ 
 
CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE REVOLUTIONARY TYPE 
 
 The revolutionary storm of 1905 could not 
 but deeply impress and alarm, each of the 
 great neighbour-empires, Germany, Austria 
 and Turkey ; and the subsequent development 
 and policy of each showed adjustments in- 
 spired by fear of kindred troubles. Increas- 
 ing consolidations within each of these three 
 Empires, their policy towards external expan- 
 sion, eyen by war, and so also their coming 
 together, were manifestly thus influenced. 
 In these and other ways the Russian upset 
 of 1905-6 became one of ihe factors in the 
 Great War, and long before it renewed itself 
 in the Revolutions of 1917-18. As to the 
 outcome of these who dare predict ? In ihe 
 present scarcity of information it is hard to 
 discern the immediate tendency of things. 
 Yet let the previous outline be again con- 
 sidered in relation to recent and current 
 events. Intricate and obscure though they 
 be, their general movement along certain 
 lines seems fairly obvious. 
 
 75 
 
76 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 The salient features of the situation are 
 strangely simUar throughout the Western 
 world, and even beyond its borders. They 
 show in aqtive operation the poHtics of Re- 
 pression and Reprisals, but with r6les reversed' 
 in those cases where the revolutionary parties 
 have acquired control of the administrative 
 machinery. There, Repression is the instru- 
 ment of the Revolutionary Government and 
 Reprisals have become the recourse of their 
 defeated Opponents or disappointed confeder- 
 ates. Grown up in the habits formed by 
 this political regime, the revolutionary leaders 
 naturally turn to the practice of repression 
 after climbing into the seats of power. The 
 mental habituation which characterizes a 
 particular social inheritance norptially persists 
 throughout the life of its generation. And 
 this is true alike of qualities and defects, 
 Conspicuous amongst the qualities of the. 
 revolutionary tradition is that of doctrinal 
 exposition and moral propaganda. Energies • 
 devoted to these purposes by the Bolshevik 
 chiefs in opposition and in exile were continued 
 in power and multipUed tenfold as to range 
 and facUity, by the prestige of established 
 authority and the finance of state revenues. 
 Thus has been presented to our generation 
 the spectacle of a combined Temporal and 
 
THE REVOLUTIONARY TYPE 77 
 
 Spiritual Power unmatched in momentum 
 of moral' energy since the first ardours of 
 the French Revolution; perhaps outrivalling 
 that, even, it may be, challenging, in this 
 respect the militancy of the early Muslim 
 Empire. 
 
 It goes without saying that the moral value 
 of a doctrine promulgated under such auspices 
 is not weakened but augmented in a world 
 which expects its statesmen to be both Pope 
 and Caesar. The perils and the penalties of 
 joining temporal to spiritual power in the same 
 hands are soon forgotten. The corrective 
 experience was woven as a central thread into 
 pur social - inheritance by the sages of the 
 Middle Ages, only to be torn out again by 
 their successors of the Renaissance. To pick 
 up this broken thread and reweave it into 
 the texture of life and thought was one of the 
 great labours to which Auguste Comte set his 
 hand. Forthe failure of subsequent sociolo- 
 gists to continue and complete that work, 
 Europe is paying dear. 
 
 Nor is the revolutionary doctrine depreciated 
 in the eyes of the multitude in all countries of 
 the West by the inadequacy of its intellectual 
 element, but rather enhanced since adapted 
 by its limitations to the impoverished social 
 inheritance which the " masses " everywhere 
 
78 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 share with the " classes " since the latter were 
 left mentally stranded by the ebbing tide oi 
 " classical education." 
 
 It is thus a lamentable fapt that, with some 
 notable exceptions, such as the Reclus in 
 the last generation and Kropotkin in this, 
 revolutionary leaders (and not only in Russia 
 but in every country) tend to be equipped 
 with a mental furniture that is to a large 
 extent out-of-date. Their social inheritance, 
 as the analysis of an earlier chapter disclosed,, 
 is too confihed within the limitations of that 
 Mechanical-Imperial-Financial order, from 
 which they fondly imagine themselves eman- 
 cipated. How grave a misfortune at a 
 moment when, in the vigorous phrase of 
 General Smuts, the tents have been struck 
 and the great army of humanity, is again on 
 the march J The prospects of early escape 
 from our present desert, of Transition are not 
 bright if the leaders be preoccupied less with 
 the vision of a promised land and its viable 
 approach than with the bondage of Egypt. 
 A mind of the backward look suffers from 
 habitual inhibition and so is constitutionally 
 disqualified for effective leadership. Add to 
 this disability the illusion of mistaking retro- 
 spect for prospect, and , revolutionary policy 
 is seen to be heavy with elements of tragedy. 
 
THE REVOLUTIONARY TYPE 79 
 
 But there remains still a final indictment; 
 even more archaic than what they claim to be 
 the " scientific " element of their social in- 
 heritance is its deepest spiritual factor. 
 
 To get this clfear, one must sharply dis- 
 tinguish two radically different kinds of 
 inheritance. The distinction is generally 
 recognized in theory but far from always 
 in practice. First consider those for whom 
 inheritance means transferring from generation 
 to generation the cake of custom unbroken. 
 This, conception increasingly possesses, as 
 they grow older, the minds of persons given 
 to formal and legalistic ways of thought, 
 and not least those who never suspect them- 
 selves of these mental habits. The deadening 
 effect of Custom (especially when legalized) is 
 seen at its worst when crystaUized round the 
 nucleus of Property. And the resulting per- 
 version of the spirit may be not less poisonous 
 if unconscious. Turn up, for instance, the 
 word " Inheritance" in any secular encyclo- 
 paedia and you find nothing but an account, 
 more or less detailed, of the customary and 
 legal regulations governing the succession 
 to- property. Editors of encyclopaedias and 
 their specialist contributors alike reflect the 
 materialist bias of their times in leaving the 
 reader tacitly to assume that the only kind of 
 
8o GUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 inheritance that counts is concerned with^the 
 transmission of property. And the victiins 
 of this moral bUndness are by no means con- 
 fined to encyclopaedic editors and specialists, 
 or their docile readers. 
 
 Turn next from the writings of the Law to 
 those of the Gospel; and there ypu see set : 
 forth the idea that the transcendent privilege, 
 the real wealth, into which we are bom is the 
 inheritance, of ideals. In these sacred writings 
 we are told just how to inherit and take pos- 
 session of this spiritual legacy to which every 
 one is heir. The laws of its transmission^ are 
 clearly stated, and its power to impart life 
 more abundant is convincingly described 
 and exemplified. We are even promised, if 
 we seek first this kind of inheritance, then we 
 may hope that, in gdpd time, the other, the 
 material kind, will be added unto us. 
 
 Merely to contrast the dead hand of the 
 Law, and .the vitalizing ideal of the Gospel, 
 does not carry us far. The essential and " 
 practical questions are these : how to escape^ 
 the f 6rmer and acquire the latter ? what are 
 the particular ideals capable of doing their 
 thaumaturgic work in our own^ven time and 
 place? how can they be set to their proper 
 labour of spiritual energizing ? 
 
 When we observe an individual whose life 
 
THE REVOLUTIONARY TYPE 8i 
 
 exhibits this sort of transformation, and we 
 remark that he or she has undergone " con- 
 version," we recognize and pay homage to a 
 particular instance of the general mode in 
 which the ideal operates. Moments when 
 this social process is doing its work on, as 
 it were, a wholesale scale, we call times of 
 spiritual revival. Now, there are many signs 
 that the world is to-day re-entering upon such 
 a reawakening to " the things of the spirit." 
 The outcome depends, to be sure, upon the kind 
 of stimulus and direction applied to the mass- 
 movement. With fervour and courage imply- 
 ing no lack of self-sacrifice, the revolutionary 
 leaders in general and the Bolsheviks in par- 
 ticular apply themselves to these momentous 
 tasks of animating and guiding the awakening 
 masses. But is it not a fact of observation 
 that their propagandism is so deeply tinged 
 with ideas and impulses relating to property 
 and its transmission, as to maintain the 
 materialist habit of mind rather tha,n trans- 
 form it? And is not such a reading of the 
 situation confirmed by the practice to which 
 revolutionaries have prompt recourse when 
 they secure the reins of government ? Are not 
 their policies and programmes to no small 
 extent dictated by a meticulous interest in 
 the phenomena of property, its distribution. 
 
82 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 production, acquisition, tenure, transmission ? 
 Unavoidable is the inference that the revo- 
 lutionary doctrine but too closely resembles 
 conventidiial politics, in that its spiritual out- 
 fit savours more of the Law than the Gospel. 
 
 These remarks are not to be read either as a 
 belittling of the social significance of property, 
 or as a criticism of those who affirm that the 
 use and abuse of wealth are potent determin- 
 ants of social welfare. The intention- runs 
 . ifjeyond these points. Its purpose is to expose 
 the peril of a leadership dominated (and the 
 more fatally if, unconsciously) by those tra- 
 ditions of political and legalistic formalism 
 from which the awakening masses desire in 
 the longing of their hearts to escape. Revo- 
 lutionary propagandism if it is to take on the 
 qualities of spiritual renewal must transpose 
 the order of its going. It must first ensure 
 its inheritance of ideals, and these must be 
 drawn from a source uncontaminated by the 
 politics of property. 
 
 The supreme truth that '* unless the ideal 
 build the house, their labour is in vain that 
 build it ' ' has of course toie applied. But this 
 is likely to be a mere counsel of perfection, 
 unless another lesson of ancient wisdom is also 
 learned. The Burden of Evil which comes 
 to us subtly blended with the Heritage of 
 
THE REVOLUTIONARY TYPE 83 
 
 Good inevitably plants its virus in every soul. 
 In the consequent struggle for purification of 
 the sinful self, victory has to be achieved before 
 heirship to the kingdom of the ideal can be 
 made good. Are we then to wait until moral 
 purgation and spiritual inheritance have both 
 been attained before dealing with the material 
 heritage and attempting a right ordering of 
 property? Assuredly not, for that would 
 imply a fatal error, even a deadly sin — 
 inaction in face of the enemy. If guilty of 
 such inaction, revolutionary leaders would be 
 but accomplices of the present possessors who 
 sit arrogantly entrenched across the environ- 
 mental approaches to " the good life." The 
 answer as in all moral dilemmas is to act and 
 reflect, to work and pray, in a continuing 
 sequence of resolve and effort to reach 
 and maintain the high levels of one's own 
 personality. 
 
 The revolutionary type~to-day as in former 
 times is characterized by a triple endowment. 
 It is inspired by a passionate sympathy with 
 the sufferings of the Peoplein the present : it 
 is informed by an imperfect knowledge of 
 evil origins in the past : it is directed by 
 vision of the future illusory in so far as 
 it is partial, abstract, confused. But defects 
 that are intellectual tend to get self-corrected 
 
84 OUR^ SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 when-one plunges into the vortes? of action. 
 For action that is planned and purposive, 
 even though it never reach its goal, yet 
 liberates, as it proceeds, a train of revealing 
 ideas. And what, above all, is learned from 
 the experience of repeated trial and error by 
 the man of good- will and strong purpose is 
 moral insight. The sufferings that inevitably 
 accompany misdirected action may thus 
 yield in their crop of agonies the seeds of 
 spiritual renewal. If, therefore, the world- 
 stage were being set for Experiments of powef 
 in revolutionary hands, the conditions would 
 be given, it is true, for aiiphase of turbulence, 
 yet also for a notable human advance. - 
 
 But any forward movement must in the 
 long run proceed on the main lines of our social 
 inheritance, if it is not to fade into sterility, 
 or promote reaction. The next inquiry before 
 us must therefore be with the student of the 
 past, accustomed to sweep full circle from 
 that into the present and thence onwards into 
 the future. , What stars do. such watchers of 
 the social horizon see brightening in the 
 distance for the comfort and guidance of the 
 disoriented wayfarer ? With eyes habituated 
 to the high peaks of history, yet observant of 
 contemporary outlooks and trained to forward 
 vision, what may be discerned of ideals fitted 
 
THE REVOLUTIONARY TYPE 85 
 
 to transform creatures of Law and Custom 
 into creators of Polity, Culture, Art? This 
 latter form of' the question is a modernized 
 way of asking how to renew that standard 
 conception of ancient religions, the Ideal City. 
 How recultivate this old seed for current, 
 everyday use ? How make application of its 
 beneficent germ to leaven the lump of revo- 
 lutionary doctrine ? Why also may it not be 
 made to do like service of regeneration for 
 conventional politics? All these we venture 
 to say are inevitable questions, if not of to- 
 day, yet of to-morrow. For their adequate 
 answering is needed, to be sure, a coming 
 together of many who are not at present in 
 communion. Meantime let us follow whither 
 it takes us, our own limited approach to these 
 great issues. 
 
CHAPTER VIII 
 
 EUTOPIA AND HOW TO PAY FOR IT 
 
 In a crisis of civilization, not unlike the 
 present, Sir ThomSls More wrote his JJtop'ia. 
 According to one account' he had been 
 challenged thereto by his friend and admirer, 
 Erasmus. As was the custom^ amongst 
 writers in those days of commingled wit and 
 learning, the challenge was at once expressed 
 and concealed in the title of a publication. 
 Erasmus called his book Encomium Morice (the 
 Praise of Folly) . Therein he lashed the follies 
 of the foolish ; but he also praised the humour 
 and the* wit of the wise. And since More 
 himself was known as the very paragon of 
 the jesting sage, it is clear that Erasmus with 
 his double-barrelled shot squarely hit both 
 his marks. 
 
 Such were the circumstances that evoked 
 More's rejoinder with his Utopia. The pun 
 inserted in the title by the author must 
 have been obvious not only to Erasmus, the 
 challenger, but also to all their studious con- 
 
 86 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT 87 
 
 temporaries, since punning was the literary 
 fashion of the day. The two contrasted mean- 
 ings embodied in the title turned, of course, 
 on the custom of representing the Greek ou, 
 meaning negation, by u in translation, while 
 the same sound might stand for eu. By the 
 latter prefix the Greeks expressed the, idea 
 of the satisfactory, which for them implied a 
 combination of the good, the beautiful, the 
 true. Hence while outopia wa.s the impossibte 
 ideal of no-place, eutopia meant making the 
 best of each place in actual and possible fitness 
 and beauty. 
 
 Subsequent generations seem to have in- 
 creasingly chosen the sarcastic half of the 
 meaning, and neglected the real and hopeful 
 one, until in modern times the latter became . 
 almost completely forgotten, owing to the 
 literary disuse of the pun. 
 
 In further evidence (if such be needed) of 
 the double meaning conveyed in the alterna- 
 tive spellings may be cited an early Italian 
 translation, in which the spelling was actually 
 Eutopia. To renew More's twofold message, 
 but now with emphasis on the encouraging 
 half, what better device than to introduce 
 that way of its spelling? Let it be agreed 
 then that Eutopia stands for the realizable 
 best that can be made of the here and now, if 
 
88 OUJl SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 we invoke and use all the resources available, 
 physical, mental and moral. 
 
 Just as the sentimentalists of force loye to 
 call themselves " realists," while scoffing at 
 ideals, so the dreamers of wild dreams (about 
 the prospects of " business enterprise," for 
 instance, 'or the results of legislation), are 
 wont to scoff at Utopias,, while calling them- 
 selves " practical " men. But if the eutopian 
 habit of mind means persistence in seeking 
 out and applying fullest resources for better- 
 ment of places and improvement of their 
 communities, then every one not fixed in the 
 apathy of routine will desire to cultivate it. 
 How then to form and develop this habit? 
 or say rather how acquire its moving impulse, 
 the eutopiai;! vision ? That is a question for 
 the educationist; and of what might come 
 from the university in answer thereto, we 
 shall have something to say in Part III of 
 this volume. It is also a question for the 
 plain citizen ; how he may seirch out in the 
 life around him the best of the past, and thus 
 find material wherewith to fashion his ideal of 
 the future ; of this we shall treat in Part II. 
 Here we put forward the converse idea, that 
 as you explore the ways to Eutopia you 
 rediscover the best of our social inheritance. 
 ' Take, for instance, the question of health. 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT 89 
 
 About this the student who pushes on from 
 physiology into psychology and religion learns 
 two great truths. One is that man, like all 
 the animals, except parasites and other de- 
 generate creatures, may keep his body strong, 
 and his will firm by vigorous muscular inter- 
 play with his environment. The other is 
 that, unlike the animals, the human being can, 
 only reach and maintain the high levels of 
 his life-cycle by increasingly introducing as he 
 grows older the element of psychic and creative 
 purpose into his interplay with environment. 
 But the difiiculty of this spiritual achievement 
 is augmented by an insidious and recurrent 
 temptation. It is the fascination of things 
 luscious to the taste and seductive to the 
 eye. Yet fulfil the positive conditions 
 and you are rewarded with health and also 
 with wealth and beauty of surroundings. 
 In other words, you realize the Domestic and 
 Regional Eutopia ; and at the same time you 
 renew one of the oldest of human traditions, 
 the story of the Garden of Eden. If, however, 
 on the other hand, you yield to the tempta- 
 tions of luxury, it is less certain in these days 
 of leisure-class morality and plutocratic law- 
 givers, that you will suffer expulsion from your 
 earthly paradise. 
 . For another illustration taske the great and 
 
go OUR SOCIAD INHERITANCE 
 
 growing revival of civic interests and Its mass 
 of writings concerned with the origin and 
 growth of cities, the repair and extension of 
 old ones, the making of new. Survey the 
 most recent output of this literature and it v 
 will be found to be more and more occupied 
 with " the things oi the spirit " ; its Civic 
 Eutopia becoming correspondingly idealized. 
 In short, the modem science of Civics is ap- 
 proaching in grasp and insight the truth of the 
 Psalmist that " except the Ideal keep the city, 
 the watchman "waketh but in vain." And if 
 our reflective city builders are thus recovering 
 a great Hebrew tradition, it may be that the 
 best of our young citizens, even in Manchester, 
 Birmingham and Glasgow, are perhaps not 
 so far as they may seem to be from renew- 
 ing the oath of the Athenian Youth. If, for 
 instance, the Boy Scouts in this triple home of 
 the Industrial Revolution, were to take the~ 
 Athenian oath and keep it, throughout Kfe, 
 then the making of Eutopia there might 
 overtake the growth of Kakotopia, even 
 though the latter has had five or six generations 
 start. This is how it runs — 
 
 " We win never bring disgrace to this, our 
 city, by any act of dishonesty or cowardice, 
 nor ever desert; our suffering comrades in the 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT 91 
 
 ranks ; we will fight for the ideals and sacred 
 things of the city, both alone and with many ; 
 we will revere and obey the city's laws and 
 do our best to incite a like respect and rever- 
 ence in those above us who are prone to annul 
 or set them at nought; we will strive un- 
 ceasingly to quicken the public's sense of 
 civic duty; thus in all these ways, we will 
 transmit this city, not only not less, but 
 greater, better and more beautiful than it 
 was transmitted to us." 
 
 Illustrations might be multiplied to show 
 that the eutopian habit when rooted in the firm 
 ground of present experience exhibits a curious 
 tendency to return upon the past for energy 
 to leap forward into the future. But enough 
 perhaps has been said to demonstrate that the 
 conception of Eutopia has the poetic quaUty, 
 amongst other merits, of presenting in vivid 
 imagery the best of our social inheritance, 
 at least from Adam to Sir Thomas More. But 
 its historic outlook by no means stops short 
 at the Renaissance, nor ceases at that point 
 its power to transform the burden of inherit- 
 ance into the momentum of an ideal. 
 
 Take next the Industrial Revolution and 
 cast the mind back to the end of the eighteenth 
 century. Suppose our then leaders of thought 
 
92 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 and action, instead of taking their qounsels 
 from Adam Smith and Jeremy Bentham, had 
 chosen their spiritual inheritance froni the 
 line of the Blessed Thomas More and the fore- 
 looking Francis Bacon, him of the Great 
 Renewal, not the facile lawyer or the syco- 
 phantic courtier. Entering into that tradition 
 our statesmen and thinkers would have asked 
 themselves, " What is the eutopian way 
 through the Industrial Revolution? " Well; 
 this question confrortts us to-day : and with 
 the urgency of an approaching avalanche, 
 since the Western world is threatened with 
 burial under the stupendous . burden of evil^ 
 with , its incredible wreckage, human and 
 material, wrought by the selection of the 
 Smithian and Benthamite paths. 
 
 Consider the present situation. On the 
 ohe side, the demiurgic energies of machine 
 production : 'on the other forty-five millions 
 of people, for the -most part without houses 
 or furniture worth the name; clothed in 
 garments that depress life instead of enhancing 
 it ," given to rude recreation ; herded in the' 
 mean streets af dull and dingy towns. Be- 
 tween that material supply so bountiful and 
 this human need so clamant stands in tragi- 
 comic idleness a multitude of masters in the 
 arts of life, men and wonpien with God-given 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT 93 
 
 capacities for exalting well-being, quickening 
 the spirit, dignifying labour, beautifying 
 cities, ennobling personality. Of these ppets, 
 painters, sculptors, singers, musicians, story- 
 tellers, dramatists, architects, great numbers 
 are left unemployed during the best of their 
 years; and as a body it is doubtful if they are 
 ever more than half employed. They, together 
 -with the cultivators of science in its whole 
 range, from counting signs and symbols to 
 estimating souls and societies, constitute the 
 two advanced wings, respectively expressional 
 and intellectual, of the Spiritual Power that 
 should be. These are the marching torch- 
 bearers of our social inheritance. It is theirs, 
 in the onward and upward movement of 
 civilization, to lead the way and light the 
 path. But instead of acting in unison they 
 remain scattered in dispersive groups, or 
 even isolated individually, used, misused or 
 unused, at the caprice of a governing class 
 sick with acquisitiveness. 
 
 Ask why these masters of the arts of life, 
 all of them skilled guides in the ways to Euto- 
 pia, are not more fully engaged to design for 
 the People, in workshop and factory, to refine 
 their leisure, to aid in the education of their 
 children, to decorate and furnish their homes, 
 to dignify and adorn public places ! Said 
 
94 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 one of these masters with wistftil pathos, the 
 other day, " In village, town and city I see the 
 Social Instincts walking the streets and I 
 would that I could house them nobly," We 
 are told (preposterous fable) that the People 
 dislike all these fine things and do not want 
 them. We are told (mystical shibboleth) 
 that in any case such service of the people 
 would 3»t pay, and consequently the money 
 could not be found. The same financial 
 obstacle, we were assured, would prevent 
 Armageddon, or if not, .would soon terminate 
 it. Nevertheless it occurred, and throughout 
 nearly a full lustrum wrought its fabulous 
 ruin. And the financial result ? At. the close 
 of all the waste and carnage, the pockets; 
 of the People bulged with," Bradburys," and 
 the manufacturers and traders found them- 
 selves endowed with credit reserves of un- 
 dreamed magnitude.^ So were the utilitariaai 
 
 ^ True the £i " Bradbury " is worth but about half 
 a sovereign of pre-war money. But that has no relevance 
 to the matters at issue. The points as intended to be 
 brought out or implied in the text later on may here be 
 sharply stated. They are these : (a) War finance in- 
 corporated the workers into the credit system more 
 fully than before : (&) thisrwas accompanied by a greatly 
 increased national output of goods and services : (c) with 
 this went an endowment of the workers witii a larger 
 share both absolutely and relatively than they pre- 
 viously enjoyed : (d) when a worker gets his wages in 
 " Bradburys "Tie is in effect being paid by a Treasury 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT 95 
 
 prophets confuted and once more proved by 
 the logic of facts to be futihtarian. 
 
 True, there is another side to the picture. 
 The pubhc debt of several thousand millions 
 is our price for preventing Prussia from com- 
 pleting the Kakotopia she began to execute 
 in her neighbours' territory after forty years 
 of assiduous preparation. There in a nutshell 
 is the heritage of Imperial Rome, staged with 
 all the resources of the Mechanical Age. And 
 the financing of it, on their part and ours? 
 How was it done ? As you unravel the secret 
 of this seeming mystery, you disclose the 
 culminating heritage which comes to us from 
 the Industrial Revolution — our Credit System. 
 It is called also the Cheque and Clearing 
 System. Both names help towards the under- 
 standing of this prodigious social invention. 
 The latter title reminds us that cheques are 
 the real money of to-day, coins and even bank- 
 notes being survivals of pre-industrial ages. 
 The manufacture and distribution of this 
 cheque-money, the functional currency of the 
 nation, is the business on which bankers have 
 
 cheque drawn by the Government on a credit opened 
 with the group of clearing banks and running without 
 direct charge for interest : and hence {e) the institution 
 of the "Bradbury " is thus itself a half-way house to 
 direct usance Of the cheque and clearing system by the 
 working classes. 
 
g6 OUR SOCIAL INHERITAl^CE 
 
 specialized. They and their customers, along _ 
 with the ancillary trades (stockbroking, bill-" 
 broking, discounting, accepting, dealing in 
 foreign exchange, in buUion, in coupons) 
 which serve the same great body of customers, 
 constitute a vv^orld apart. ' To this circle of 
 maximum economic facility is practically 
 limited the full inheritance of the Industrial 
 Revolution. Over agaiiist these" privileged 
 legatees stand the wage-earners and petty 
 traders whose sole currency remains the ar- 
 chaic " coin of the realm," and the hardly less 
 archkic bank-note. To say that these wage- 
 earners and petty traders are discredited is a 
 factual '^statemfent of their failure to inherit 
 the bounties of the machine industry and of 
 its sequel and correlative, the credit-system. 
 
 In what precisely does it consist, this 
 bountifulness of the credit-system towards its 
 fortunate inheritors? Just how does the 
 system work? What is the " go " of it ? 
 Well, note first that the members of this 
 cheque-using world apart are all linked into 
 bne single body of mutual aid by a chain of, 
 Bankers' Clearing Houses. There are those ■ 
 of the " provinces," of Scotland and of Ireland, 
 and all these are for practical purposes co-or- 
 dinated through centralizing activities, carried 
 on in a modest building that hides in the seclu- 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT 97 
 
 sion of a Lombard Street alley. So diffident 
 in look and locality is the London Bankers' 
 Clearing House. 
 
 Here then, in the far-spreading community, 
 thus co-ordinated, is one of the vastest of 
 economic organizations, and though the most 
 unassuming in appearance, yet perhaps the 
 most potent in fact. It acts, when it acts as a 
 whole, more by instinct than by deliberation. 
 Those who co-ordinate govern, one of the 
 maxims of aristocracy reminds us. Well, 
 here is a co-ordinating apparatus that comple- 
 ments and completes the system of machine 
 production. By means of the Cheque and 
 Clearing system based on Credit is recombined 
 towards unity that infinite subdivision of 
 processes and specialization of products, in 
 which resides the power, yet also the weakness 
 of the machine industry. 
 
 An industrialized community would doubt- 
 less drift into dissolution, if there were not 
 some return movement of synergy at work 
 correcting the dispersive fragmentation of 
 machine production. But as yet the integra- 
 tive movement, even more than the mechani- 
 cal, has been left to the free play of instincts iii 
 which there is less of the altruistic than of the 
 predatory. The qualities of this integrating 
 process are occupational; its defects social. 
 
98 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 TTie wholesale handling of money, most 
 generalized of commodities, impacts a corre- 
 spondingly general habit of mind. And when 
 money becomes more and more mere tokens 
 of unvalorized credit, success in its large- 
 scale operation turns increasingly on skill in 
 a widening forecast, and precision in esti- 
 mating eventualities throughout the vast 
 ramifications of business. Yet the banker 
 remains too much of a mere empiricist to be 
 conscious of his mentar processes, and so but 
 half develops his co-ordinating powers :_ he 
 is too intent on the making or maintenance 
 of his private fortune to be free from bias in 
 the allocation of credit, even if trained to 
 scrutinize its social repercussions. Never- 
 theless his occupation endows him with 
 qualities of mind which, in science go to the 
 making of synthesis, in philosophy unity, in 
 business and pbUtics co-oirdination. So long 
 as he is left in his position of power unbalanced " 
 by responsibility, a private trader with public 
 functions, he stands, conspicuous in the 
 Hiarket-place, masked in the forum, a figure 
 perilous to the community yet rich in latencies 
 of service. The social education of the banket;! 
 and his colleagues in the control of credit is 
 thus on the first plane of national need. But 
 this education cannot be accomplished, per— 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT 99 
 
 haps not even properly begun, until people 
 understand how the masters of credit inte- 
 grate the thousandfold specialisms which 
 maintain the fabric of our existence on this 
 planet. Enshrouded in mystery, as at present, 
 the process is inevitably used less for public 
 service than for the exaction of private 
 tribute. From the resulting abuses has 
 emerged a variety and multiplicity of social 
 parasitism which adds greatly to the com- 
 munity's burden of running costs, proving 
 once again how money is at the root of evil. 
 Of this parasitic finance some analysis has 
 been attempted in a previous chapter.^ As 
 to the. direct use of the credit-system for 
 deliberately planned social purpose, little 
 study has been made and hardly any practice. 
 The volume projected in our Series for survey 
 of this field will have much uncultivated 
 ground to plough. Meantime, here the in- 
 tention is to expose in briefest outline the 
 working hi the system and to affirm a People's 
 right of succession to a domain of the social 
 inheritance whose usufruct has hitherto been 
 denied them. 
 
 As the name. Credit-system, reminds us, 
 the capital, or as one might more correctly 
 
 1 For a fuller account see Papers for the Present, No. 9, 
 " The Drift to Revolution." (Headley Bros.) 
 
100 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 say, the Cheque Fund, of the banking com- 
 munity, is far less an accumulation of" past 
 savings than an anticipation of future values, 
 nicely estimated by the traditional skill of 
 hereditary bankers, assisted of course by 
 accounting and statistical staffs. The Cheque 
 an^ -Clearing system manifestly depends for 
 its smooth working upon the well-tested 
 assurance that these future values will be 
 forthcoming at due date and according to 
 estimate. Without therefore ' belittling the 
 banking elements of the situation, we still 
 must recognize that the system draws its life-: 
 blood elsewhere. Its source is in the working 
 classes. For if you think of it, the Cheque 
 Fund is, in the first place, created by capitaHz- 
 ing their excellent habit of delivering the goods : 
 and performing the services to-morrow, as 
 yesterday and to-day. In these goods and 
 services reside the real and true assets of the 
 banking business and its subsidiary trades. 
 It is this flow of energies which the Cheque 
 Fund, by its delicate mechanism and subtle 
 fluctuations, registers and measures. That' 
 fund is the pulsometef of the machine 
 industry. But it is a great deal more. 
 
 As -the Cheque Fund, is drawn upon by 
 cheque-users, so the stream of energies is 
 directed to this, that, or the other purpose. 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT loi 
 
 These purposes are broadly those of {a) domes- 
 tic and personal use, (6) business enterprise, 
 
 (c) the ordinary public services, and finally, 
 
 (d) the extraordinary schemes of Statecraft. 
 To contract a, b, c in_ order thereby to expand 
 d is, as we had recent opportunities of observ- 
 ing, the essence of War Finance at its cleanest 
 and best, i. e. in its least corrupting aspects. 
 To this process the cheque-users were impelled 
 by voluntary effoirt, and educated by organ- 
 ized appeal aided by a little bribery and some 
 coercion. 
 
 We are now ready for the question to which 
 all this discussion of the Credit System has 
 been leading up. If this masterpiece of the 
 industrial era is so well adapted to the kako- 
 topian finance of war, may it not now be 
 adapted to the eutopian finance of a militant 
 peace ? For War, being the Utopia of the 
 prussic type which graces every country, has 
 its precise spiritual counterpart in a Eutopia 
 sufficiently charged with emotion for arousal 
 of combative instincts to contend for its 
 realization. True, the question has to be 
 sharply posed and squarely faced whether 
 in fully modernized communities there is 
 conceivable a spiritual power adjusted to 
 suffuse all ranks and classes with the warmth 
 for eutopia-building, which our now dominant 
 
102 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 spiritual powers can arouse for their utopia 
 of war. 
 
 Anyhow this war, by fiUing labour's pockets 
 with " Bradburys," brought the Pedple within 
 sight of their full social inheritance from the 
 Industrial Revolution. How now may they 
 continue that progress through adjustments of 
 the Credit System similar to those engendered; 
 by the war ? There is, to be sure; a radical 
 distinction between kakotopian and eutopian 
 finance. The former feeds private credit out 
 of public debt. The latter, as it works to- 
 wards the bettering of environment and im- 
 proving of population, creates reserves of ^ 
 credit, certainly for the public, if seldom 
 enriching the eutopian financier. 
 
 How then to transform some portion of the 
 " capital " that will be " fixed " in these future 
 reserves (assuming them in process of creation) 
 into the present liquid values of^t^he credit-, 
 system which make up the Cheque Fund? 
 That is the technical problem for the banker. 
 And it would be no great problem, but little 
 more than a matter of routine, if the banker did 
 not belong by tradition to a group grown accus- 
 tomed during the Modern Transition to think ' 
 of public wealth in terms of debt. The first 
 move to a constructive social finahce is thus 
 to change the banking comniunity's habit 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT 103 
 
 of mind from kakotopian debt to eutopian 
 credit in thinking ab^ut public wealth. 
 There are, however, it must be admitted, 
 complications, and these come somewhat 
 perilously into view with the discussion of 
 Terms. 
 
 To bring together Banker and Eutopian 
 on a conversational footing, we will venture 
 upon a bold, even an extravagant hypothesis. 
 We wUl suppose our Elder Statesmen, in 
 rebound from prussic methods of kakotopia-. 
 making resolve upon the contrary policy. 
 The sincere and studious preparation of Euto- 
 pia, thereby implied, would proceed by no 
 mere chance assembling of fragmentary re- 
 forms, but by the comprehensive planning of 
 a competent General Staff. In such a political 
 atmosphere pervading Westminster but not 
 yet reaching " the city " the following con- 
 versation is imaginable at the head office of 
 one of our great Joint Stock Banks. 
 
 Chairman of Bank, addressing Deputation 
 of Eutopians. I ought frankly to say at 
 the outset that the business we understand 
 you propose does not appeal to us. But at ' 
 the request of the Chancellor of the Exchequer 
 we have consented to receive you. 
 
 Eutopian Spokesman. It would appear, 
 Sir, you are misinformed. We propose no 
 
104 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 business. We come to inform you of our 
 intention and to put a question. The working 
 classes, acting through their Guilds and Trade 
 Unions, along with a certain section of the 
 professional classes in association with these 
 bodies, havp after prolonged study of ways 
 and means reached a crucial decision. They 
 have determined to divert a certain modest 
 portion of their ener^es from " business 
 enterprise," and devote it instead to the de- 
 signing and making of homes and gardens, 
 to the planting and culture of orchards and 
 forests, to the renovating of decayed villages, 
 to the tidying up and repair of dilapidated 
 towns, to the building and decorating of 
 recreation haUs and civic theatres. In short, 
 their intention is to set about the production 
 of some real wealth of lasting value and life- 
 giving impulse. Our question to you Bankers 
 is this : given this diversion of energies from 
 " business enterprise," to the maMng and 
 maintenance of real wealth, how do you 
 propose to adapt your Cheque and Clearing 
 system to our wealth-producing activities ? ^ 
 We do not wish to be exacting. We are willing 
 
 * For a scheme worked out in detail for an application 
 of the Credit System to Housebuilding see Appendix to 
 "The Banker's Part in Reconstruction." (Papers for 
 the Present, No. 2, Headleys.) 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT 105 
 
 to grant you in security for loans a mortgage 
 on the bettered environment which the appli- 
 cation of o«r energies will create. We offer 
 a fair payment for usufruct of your Cheque 
 and Clearing system in application to our 
 needs and for the skilled services which such 
 administration calls for. Next as to what is 
 ordinarily termed " rate of interest " on the 
 credit issued to us. We are advised that this 
 is compounded of several ingredients. In 
 addition to the cost of administrative service 
 there is included in your " rate of interest," we 
 understand : (i) insurance against loss ; (2) 
 some participation in the value of the bettered 
 environment when realized; (3) a payment 
 exacted by privilege in bargaining for the 
 sale of credit which is really public property. 
 Elements i and 2 must, of course, be charged 
 against us, the first on a footing of actuarial 
 calculation, and the second by fair arbitration. 
 For the third element we decline liability. 
 Finally, there is the question of amortizing 
 or cancelling the credit, and this we propose 
 at a rate that is inversely proportioned to 
 the estimated " life " of the security against 
 which the credit will be issued and directly 
 proportional to its cost of maintenance. 
 
 B. C. Gentlemen, there are two remarks 
 which the situation seems to me to call for. 
 
io6 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 In the first place,^ we are talking of matters 
 that concern not banking but rather invest- 
 ment. In the second place, perhaps you 
 will not be surprised if I say that what you- 
 propose appears to me less like business than 
 philanthropy. 
 
 E. S. I may reply, Sir,, that our acquaint- 
 ance with " business enterprise " has made us 
 familiar with the language you have used; 
 but deliberately, if you will allow me to say 
 it, we prefer to deal with JekyH of the Bank 
 rather than with Hyde of the Finance House^^ 
 And as for business and philanthropy, we 
 admit that distinction, but with a difference. 
 We do indeed ask you to forego the percentage, 
 which is, as we see it, the " monopoly price " 
 of what you call yx)ur "loan capital." But 
 in our view that " loan capital " is just the 
 national credit which supports and indeed 
 constitutes the Cheque Fund. The abate- 
 ment of your ordinary charges which we 
 suggest, it is clearly open to you to regard - 
 either as business or philanthropy. If you 
 choose the former designation, then it is a 
 payment you are asked to make in return-- 
 for the unavowed usufruct of the national 
 "capital" on which you implicitly trade. 
 Regard it as philanthropy and you are 
 making an honourable sacrifice for the good 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT 1Q7, 
 
 of thetommunity, as improved by the real 
 wealth we propose to create. 
 
 B. C. And suppose we decline both alter- 
 natives ? 
 
 E. S. As you have been frank with us, 
 I also will speak plainly in reply. We fore- , 
 saw a negative response, and are prepared 
 accordingly. But first let me explain. We 
 Eutopians are a peace-loving folk of conserva- 
 tive tradition who prefer to go abuilding rather 
 than afighting. But our Radical and Socialist 
 friends are militant fellows, spoiling for a 
 fight. We desire your co-operation ; they are 
 scornful of it. We admire the long stoiy of 
 traditional skill which has built up the sim- 
 plicities, complexities, ingenuities of the credit 
 system. They are given to the criticizing of 
 its past blunders and its present costliness 
 to the community at large. Thanks to their 
 economic specialists they are furnished with 
 a detailed banking scheme of their own they 
 would fain set agoing and if need be substitute 
 for the existing one. In their scheme each 
 regional federation of Guilds ^nd Unions has 
 its own Bank, all of course linked through 
 Clearing Houses. I spare you the detail of 
 these Regional Banks. But you may take 
 my word for it that their principle is that on 
 which your own Bank is so firmly established. 
 
io8 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 In other words, they will capitalize the future 
 goods and services of groups A, B, C, and there- 
 with engage and pay for the present gdods and 
 services of groups D, E, F. 
 
 B. C. May^ I, out of naere curiosity, ask 
 how it is proposed to find the gold reserves 
 of your Regional Banks ? 
 
 E. S. We are assured by our economic 
 specialists that the theory and practice of gold 
 reserves is appropriate to a system of banks 
 trading/ for shareholders' profit by the issue 
 of credit manufactured in the secrecy of 
 Bank Parlours. Against that resulting temp- 
 tation to overtrading and consequent infla,tion 
 or watering of currency which haunts Bankers 
 and their clients alike, the device of gold 
 convertibility has' been, if not invented, yet 
 developed. That is what our economic friends 
 tell US; They further declare there is no need 
 either of the dogma or the device of gold 
 convertibility if our manufacture of credit is 
 not only open and declared, but also based 
 on records and estimates of costs and 
 returns, vital and social as well as economic. 
 Given statistical efficiency, full publicity, and 
 adequate co-ordination , of all the Regional 
 Banks, we hold that gold convertibility would 
 be as useless in theory as even now it is 
 clumsy in practice. 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT 109 
 
 Needless to pursue the conversation further. 
 Bank Directors, unless more changed by the 
 experiences of the war than appears to-day, 
 are not Ukely to be persuaded that eutopia- 
 building is, something that transcends both 
 business and philanthropy. But many people 
 are becoming reluctant to let their minds 
 revolve in these mutually exclusive thought- 
 cages. To them will, we trust, be acceptable 
 certain broad conclusions as to practical 
 changes of which the principle is clear though 
 the details remain'to be worked out. 
 
 Long overdue is aji extension of the Criedit 
 System, alike to the everyday usage of the 
 People, and in social application to betterment 
 of environment and improvement of popula- 
 tion. The consequent enlargement of the 
 Cheque Fund would be in equivalence to the 
 increase of energies thus released. What an 
 immense power of production Ues latent in the 
 hands of the nation when the hearts of the 
 People are touched and their minds awakened, 
 the war has shown. To stir again into demiur- 
 gic activity these latent impulses and potent 
 energies, but now for the making of Eutopia 
 in each village, town and city, shpuld be the 
 objective of that militant peace for which the 
 world is athirst. This means, in the language 
 here used, trying clearly to realize arid nobly 
 to act upon the deUberately selected best of 
 
no OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 our whole social inheritance. The modem 
 age, by its historic research has unfolded that 
 iiAeritance as on a scroll, thus opening to one 
 and all the succession to an almost boundless 
 kingdom. The same age by the immense pro- 
 ductivity oHts machine industry has furnished 
 the material resource needed to take posses- 
 sion on an opulent scale. Finally, as the 
 crowning legacy of Western inventiveness, has 
 come the Credit System, which, giyen the 
 other conditions of attainmeftt, is the- key of 
 the economic entrance into Eutopia. True, the 
 present possessors of this key have been too 
 much inclined to use it for a "lock out" of 
 the People. The spreading European revolu- 
 tion is but a variant of the customary rejoinder 
 — a. strike. The better way of a co-operant 
 concentration on making the most of our 
 resources would have more appeal if their 
 bountifulness were generally known; and if 
 also were mapped for the benefit of all, an 
 open road to possession of its kingdom by the 
 spirit creative. This mapping will be done 
 when the cartographers of the inner and the 
 outer world are able, all of them, to work in 
 unison. In other words, the orderly march 
 of the People towards Eutopia awaits the 
 coming together for their service, of Chiefs, 
 Intellectuals and Emotionals, old and new. 
 
EUTOPIA— HOW TO PAY FOR IT iii 
 
 The moral and intellectual changes implied 
 in any such concert of spiritual and temporal 
 powers are, to be sure, formidable. But 
 immense also are the visible Irewards. 
 
 ' There is no great and no small 
 To the Soul that maketh all : 
 And where it cometh, all things are : 
 And it cometh^verywhere. 
 
 I am owner of the Sphere, 
 
 Ofthe seven stars and the solar year. 
 
 Of Csesar's hand, and Plato's brainr 
 
 Of Lord Christ's heart, and Shakespeare's strain." 
 
CHAPTER IX 
 
 FROM POLITICS TO CIVICS 
 
 In the foregoing chapter , the somewhat 
 hazardous enterprise was attempted of pegging 
 out an economic approach to Eutopia, through 
 territory jealously preserved by a privileged 
 class. Bankers have built around their terri- 
 tory a high ' wall of mystification. Within 
 they maintain in undimmed lustre what is 
 perhaps the last survival in a long line of 
 hieratic crafts. So effective is their tradition 
 of taboo that even the specialists ot economic 
 science tread warily in the domain of banking 
 and currency. But in all this lurking obscur- 
 ity the detached social observer discerns the 
 lialf-instinctive, half-reasoned defence of class 
 privilege and trade prerogative. And in that 
 reading he is confirmed when turning from 
 the economic to the political performances of 
 the same class and its confederates and allies, 
 he discovers similar tendencies to mystifica- 
 tion at work. Think of that legend of the 
 " Governing and Administrative Classes,"^ 
 which surrounds these children of fortune as 
 
 112 
 
FROM POLITICS TO CIVICS 113 
 
 with a halo ! Yet when you dispassionately 
 examine into the facts of their leadership, as 
 for instance, through the uncharted ground , 
 of the Industrial Revolution, you find their 
 performance to be, in the long run, little more 
 than a drift of the nation into chaos. Again, 
 take the sedulous diffusion of their notion of 
 the State as an Absolute supreme over all 
 other interests spiritual as well as temporal 
 (too much meaning in practice the subordina- 
 tion of the People and their associations, 
 economic and cultural). With the course of 
 this mystical Absolute we might parallel the 
 rise and maintenance of their craft shibboleths 
 such as that of Gold Convertibility. Or 
 again, compare the Urim and Thummim of 
 ' Departmental Formality with the cloud of 
 obscurity which envelops the Banker's " rate 
 of interest." In the latter confusion, a pri- 
 vate charge for public credit is veiled by lump- 
 ing it into one Indivisible along with half a 
 dozen items of legitimate cost. 
 
 Enough has perhaps been said alike to 
 justify a comparison of banker and politician 
 as practitioners of the occult arts ; and also 
 to introduce the specific criticism of conven- 
 tional Politics as a transitional system whose 
 prestige can only be upheld by obstructing the 
 advent of its successors. Many to be sure, seg 
 
114 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 in the revolutionary type a natural successor 
 to the conventional politician;- predetermined 
 by the laws of social evolution. In the 
 analyses of previous chapters we have, on the 
 contrary, tried to show that the revolutionary 
 type belongs in many essentials to the regime 
 of conventional politics, from which his 
 emancipation is but partial and only to be 
 completed at the cost of great suffering to all 
 classes, and not least to the People. Here we 
 repeat in a different form the gist of those 
 foregoing analyses, in order to clear the ground 
 for a further consideration of inovements 
 emerging into the political field from other 
 than revolutionary sources. 
 
 From the standpoint of the student of 
 -civics, the transformation of the world's 
 thought, now so plainly in progress at many 
 points, may be briefly and clearly stated. It 
 is, in fact, the progress from Politics — and 
 this too mu6h in the abstract — ^to Sociology, 
 and this more and more thoroughly realized 
 and to be effectively applied in the concrete.^ 
 Generalizing the politicians of all colours— 
 for their differences, like those of theological 
 sects, are usually far less important than they 
 think, their fundamental agreement far more 
 thorough than they know— we find that they, 
 are all alike in having a characteristic theory, 
 
FROM POLITICS TO CIVICS 115 
 
 a characteristic form of organization, also a 
 distinctive mode of working. The theory is 
 always more or less the Liberal one, that of 
 the ' ' Individual and the State. ' ' ImperiaUsts 
 and Socialists, indeed, prefer to speak of " the 
 State and the Individual " ; but tlxis, of course, 
 is the same view, but now in the socialistic or 
 imperialistic perspective, instead of the Liberal 
 one. The essential watchword of all alike is 
 always the s^me, that of " Rights " ; they 
 only differ in the degree by which the " Rights 
 of the Individual," the "Rights of the State," 
 or "the rights of Man," "the rights of 
 Woman," are emphasized by particular 
 sections. Differences, no doubt, all important 
 to them, among themselves, and for their 
 party warfare; but not to us here, either for 
 the present broad and classificatory purpose, or 
 for the practical one which follows upon this. 
 Their form of organization, in general prin- 
 ciples, is thus necessarily everywhere the same 
 — that of Parliament and Party men; and 
 this everywhere, from Old England to " Young 
 Turkey " or New Russia.^ The mode of work- 
 ' ing, too, is the same, by Elections and Votes. 
 
 ^ As to, the Soviet type of Government, it would seem 
 that this departs from the current Parliamentary model 
 in (a) restoring the village meeting as a " primary " or 
 initiating' unit of government : (6) adding alongside this 
 primary as its co-equals the regiment, the factory, etc. : 
 
ii6 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 For all this, they have next a corresponding 
 machinery of Education. For theory this is 
 in the characteristic teaching of Uni'\^rsitieSi 
 that of the older ones especially. For organic 
 zation it is the I^ress : and for working it the 
 paucuses, from the old Clubs ta the new 
 Labour or Feminist ones. For, as " Auld 
 Lichts " and " New Lichts " in Scotland are, 
 to the extetnal observer, despite their differ- 
 ences, strangely alike — ^since all ministers or 
 amateur ministers, little ministers^— so the 
 aforesaid politicians of all parties are similarly 
 ; strangely alike, when vievi^ed by the detached 
 sociological eye. In fact, they are again all 
 ministers or amateur ministers, though this 
 tim^ in the parliamentary sense of that word. 
 Or shall we not say barristers and amateur 
 barristers? The so-called "Working-Man" 
 or " Labour " candidate, or Woman Suffra- 
 gist are- still, from the present external point 
 of view, substantially of the same kidney ; 
 for if not each actually a barrister, still each 
 essentially the amateur barrister, each an 
 
 (c) on this basis, building (by ddegation and federation) 
 a nation-wide system of goverhmient : {d) reverting to 
 the limited, franchise, but now making the privilege of 
 the vote more or less dependent on manual labour. 
 It is clear that a system working on these lines is 
 but a species within the same political genus as the 
 . Parliamentary regime, and differ^ from its fellow species 
 essentially in variants of the representative principle. 
 
FROM POLITICS TO CIVICS 117 
 
 understudy in the making of an Asquith, or 
 a Haldane, or an F. E. Smith; each, in 
 short, a pleader ; and each for his own cUents. 
 Plus fa change, plus c'est la meme chose. 
 
 Whence this irreverent generahzing of all 
 sorts of politics and politicians? It is in- 
 evitable to the next phase of thought ; i. e. the 
 post-apolitical, the sociological : for in this we 
 escape from the abstraction of the State and 
 the Individual; and with this from the 
 attraction (or, as we now come to think, the 
 obsession) of their " Rights " to a more con- 
 crete vision — that of " Society and its Mem- 
 bers." For now the conception of " Rights " 
 is no longer in the first plane; but increas- 
 ingly that of " Duties " — and let us hope 
 of their performance — though that, in the 
 present state of science and morals, remains 
 as yet more uncertain and also difficult. The 
 essential mode of organization for thrashing 
 out ideas is no longer that of Parliament and 
 Party, but now takes the form of Societies 
 and their Membership. Similarly the mode 
 of working becomes that of Meetings and 
 Discussions; and Elections and Votes now 
 take but a very minor place, sometimes hardly 
 any. In these discussions the old lines of 
 party cleavage are greatly overstepped. If, 
 for example, a list of the ' Presidents of the 
 
ii8 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Sociological Society be scanned— «. g. Bryce, 
 Brabrook, Avebury, Balfour— it will be seen 
 that it includes leaders of both the traddtipnai 
 political parties. For a scientific society has 
 not a party view. What it desires is to have 
 at the head of its year's discussions an able 
 man of social experience, who has long 
 observed and acted, read and reflected upon 
 social questions, and who is willing to discuss 
 these, clearly and temperately, in symposium 
 with reflective men of differing views. 
 
 As regards this sociological movementj the 
 old centres of education move but slowly.: 
 In Great Britain, Party-man and Journalist, 
 University Don and Advanced Woman, are 
 for the most part alike ' backward in their 
 social thought and knowledge, as compared 
 with those of continental countries. Hence 
 education in the social field has still to be 
 done by niodest discussion and publications 
 among societies, all stUl small conventicles, 
 and not wort|i persecuting by politicians. For 
 examples, notably the Positivists, especially in 
 our fathers' time ; the Socialists in our own, the 
 Fabian Society, for choice; and of late years, 
 though too mildly, the Sociological Society. 
 Of course, also, there are free lances of all 
 schools, and sporadic writing everywhere. 
 
 Is this progress final or sufficient ? Are the 
 
FROM POLITICS TO CIVICS 119 
 
 problems of the age to be solved thus, even 
 by a universal extension of the Sociological 
 Society, the Fabians, the Positivists, or the 
 Suffragists — ^into some sort of new " Estab- 
 lishment " ? By no means. Turning now 
 upon our own friends, the sociologists— like 
 wolves, they may say, upon their own pack — 
 we cannot but think that the " Society " we 
 study is still, for the most part, only society 
 with a big S, too much like Humanity with 
 a big H : and thus, again, too much like 
 THE STATE (all in capitals)— that great 
 abstraction of the socialistic, imperialistic, or 
 other political phase of thinking. Without 
 their notioil of " Society " being quite so 
 elaborately abstract as that, our sociological 
 brethren appear to us as still far too little 
 ^occupied with real societies. They seem to 
 us too little observant of actual, living con- 
 crete societies, as in yonder village and that 
 hamletj in this city arid that other. 
 
 As a recent effort towards a concrete and 
 organic treatment, arising within the socio- 
 logical fold, see Instincts of the Herd in Peace 
 and War (Fisher Unwin, 1916), by Mr. W. 
 Trotter, a new writer, but whose very name 
 (if he will pardon us) suggests an inside know- 
 ledge. The psychology of national groups is 
 here worked out in terms of the social move- 
 
120 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 ment of an organic group, a^ though a 
 " State," for, example, were a variant of the 
 wolf-pack. In developmept of Mr. Trotter's 
 point of view, he might work out the psychology 
 of various social forms, in simpler terms ; as, 
 for example, the city as a hive, the church as a 
 flock, the tribe as a swarm, etc. But here, of 
 course. Professor Espinas, M. Perrier, and others 
 have been at all this long before any of us. 
 
 True, here and there the sociologist knows 
 a good deal about primitive societies and 
 their ways ; yet of these — ^professed anthro- 
 pologists, of course, excepted — ^generally only 
 at second- or even third-hand, until recent 
 years at least. Witnesseven Herbert Spencer, 
 who had himself no first-hand knowledge, and 
 whose great folios of " Descriptive Sociology " 
 have f ailed^-even in their classification — from 
 which he hoped so much; and wliich his 
 ^executors continue, in the fuU historic loyalty 
 of every school and sect to the letter of their 
 master's teaching, rather than to his aim and 
 his desire. Whereas the only societies we 
 ourselves claim to know of, or care much 
 about, are those societies which are to us 
 definite knd real, beciause we have seen, ob- 
 served,pnterpreted them in some measure. 
 These real societies are, for the most part, 
 not wandering tribes, still less floating book- 
 
FROM POLITICS TO CIVICS 121 
 
 memories passing into abstractions. They are 
 so many definite, local, human hives or ant- 
 hills, great and small, dotted here and there 
 over the world (some 15,000,000 in aU, the 
 Postal Union tells us), and each of the larger 
 ones clearly marked down in its own place 
 upon the shrunken world-landscapes of the 
 Atlas, which we keep by us for their evocation. 
 From this point of view — that of the hum^n 
 naturalist, the evolutionist in the concrete, 
 in short the student of Civics — ^we can no 
 longer take much stock in the too abstract 
 " Society and its Members," of the sociolo- 
 gists, any more then he could do in " the 
 State and the Individual " of the politicians. 
 What, then, is the Civic world of thought? 
 In what terms? In those of Cities and 
 their Citizens! in terms, that is, of definite 
 Regions, and Region-centres, each with their 
 characteristic Folk, with their Groupings, their 
 varied yet kindred differentiations also. Hence 
 we neither discuss " Rights " nor preach 
 " Duties " ; but survey and examine concrete 
 facts : and from this we come to feel, to see, 
 and even, at times, to suggest, very definite 
 Responsibilities. Responsibilities here cor- 
 porate, there individual; but these varying 
 widely according to each place, each man. 
 We have to investigate how the§e ^tg-nd, an(j[ 
 
122 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 how these differ, in Edinburgh and in Chelsea,, 
 in London and in Paris, in New York and in 
 Chicago, or, again, in Fife and Brittany, in 
 Languedoc and Lothian, in ^ucknow and 
 Lahore. It is from the study and the com- 
 parison of such cities, such regions, no longer 
 as Crudely and remotely as " Macedon and 
 Monmouth," with too many would-be " com- 
 parative " (anecdotal) writers tovthis day — 
 but in concrete terms of " Regional and City 
 Surveys," geographic, antliropoiogic, demo- 
 graphic, historic, economic, and so on, and 
 alsovthrough customs, institutions, and lands, 
 through morals and manners, and with the 
 psychology • of all these — ^that any, views to 
 which we have attained about the nature of 
 society are gradually crystallizing out. But 
 in this way we are reaching, a few, hard- won 
 generalizations, themselves no doubt imper- 
 fect at best, indeed waiting manifold develops 
 ment by ^ther workers, in their cities and 
 regions, and in this and succeeding genera- 
 tions. To minds so prepared, the form of 
 organization of these concrete human groups, 
 these pities or real societies, does not seem 
 essentially to be that of talk-shops, whether 
 called Parliaments or even Societies, whether" 
 learned or practical : not ev^ of Town 
 Councils, moderate though these are in. 
 
FROM POLITICS TO CIVICS 123 
 
 thought, and in their practicality alike. 
 Their mode of working — since, in cities, by. 
 " working " we mean getting something done 
 — ^is no longer mainly of electing, speech- 
 making, or voting, nor yet of meeting and 
 reading papers, nor even publishing them in 
 our own way, as we here are doing. It is 
 above all regional, locail, practical, like the 
 work of doctors and surgeons, of architects 
 and masons, of gardeners and housewives ; in 
 fact it is — ^as the war especially has shown 
 — an enlargement of all such productive 
 kinds of work. It is a continued activity of 
 observation and of action, from home out- 
 wards to city, and back from city again to 
 home. It is thus becoming literally economic, 
 in fact, again as of old. ' 
 
 Applying such scientific lights as we caii 
 reach to the problems of action and of life, 
 individual and social, we see our accumula- 
 ting observations developing into clearer and 
 clearer Surveys, our corresponding grouping 
 of detailed actions into Plans. We may 
 express the former as Diagnosis, and the 
 latter as Treatment : and this is sometimes 
 on the individual scale, lilie medicine, like 
 sanitary repair, like pieces of specific art or 
 craftsmanship ; and sometimes it is on the 
 large scale, for the whole group over the 
 
124 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 whole pla\;e, or good part of it, at any rate 
 beyond immediate individual interests : witness 
 Hygiene and Town Planning, with their grow- 
 ing literature, and their '' Reports " on Cities. 
 Wherever he happens^ to be resident, ^ 
 whether by bifth- and education, by the 
 manifold choices and accidents of travel, or 
 by direct responsibilities, the civic student has 
 to iriake the region and village, the town and 
 city, his very own by a gradual and discern- 
 ing incorporation of its characteristic indi- 
 viduality . He tries to live 'inr this, with this, 
 and in increasing measure, for this. He thus 
 not only observes, but tries to understand 
 and interpret it all, in its qualities and 
 defects : thus, too, he begins to see what may 
 be dorie lor it; and, above all, even with it. 
 That, again, is riot merely or mainly through 
 State and Parliamentj not through Press, hor 
 through Universities, still less by means of 
 their historic or contemporary thought-ghosts,^'! 
 their pet abstractions. Country and Town, 
 Life and Labour, Woman arid Home, these 
 coricrete living realities are what he tries to 
 see, to undferstand, and to help forward ; and 
 this, we repeat, not by eloquence or votes, 
 nor even by sporadic " Papers,'' but to begin" 
 with, in actual miniature, of Place, Work, 
 and Folk, in " Regional and City Survey." 
 
FROM POLITICS TO CIVICS 125 
 
 And with corresponding " Report " there- 
 after, having its definite proposals and aims 
 of service ; and all as clearly as may be, even 
 to Plans and estimates when practicable. 
 And a point we would emphasize as particu- 
 larly characteristic of this method is that 
 such Reports, so far from being confined to 
 matters of material betterment and im- 
 provement of health and economic well-being, 
 disclose vividly and insistently the need for 
 local development of a spiritual Power by 
 spontaneous expression of the indwelling soul 
 of the community through university, art 
 activity, press and other culture agencies. 
 
 This seeing and showing of real societies 
 is as yet ]3ut imperfect, all too imperfect. 
 Still, with all the poverty, imperfection, even 
 crudeness if you will, of such work so far, 
 these sociological methods of Regional Survey 
 and Civic Betterment express a less imperfect 
 mode of social vision and of related action 
 than that as yet reached and acted on by the 
 organizations of the passing (essentially the 
 past) Political phase, with its plans (called Bills) 
 and its Estimates, towards Liberal, Imperial 
 and Financial ends. Less imperfect, too, than 
 those of the transitional "Economic " or (semi-) 
 sociological phase, which as yet produces no 
 plans at all (Fabians partially excepted). 
 
126 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Yet it is only fair to the politician to 
 recognize that his advance, from abstract 
 Politics to concrete Civics, is nowadays more 
 in progress than his persistent conventions : 
 enable him fully to realize. The sanitary and 
 housing schemes which already interested 
 politicians moved by social reformers in the 
 nineteenth century, have been developing, in 
 the twentieth, into town planning schemes* 
 as to which already one Minister in, the 
 Empire, John Bums, has taken the daring 
 initiative of making himself competent. Such 
 schemes a^e "still further integrating into the 
 higher arts of City Design and Regional; 
 Development by which latter President 
 Roosevelt was reached some years ago, and 
 towards which engineers, economists and 
 sociologists, architects and artists, are rapidly 
 uniting: witness these schools of concrete 
 Civics which are beginning to arise at length 
 even in Universities. An organized emotional 
 impulse also is not wholly wanting to the 
 civic revival, as city pageants and festivals 
 be^r witness, so that some day their rulers 
 will make a step beyond the customary 
 matter and manner ' of their -speeches on 
 Empire or Independence Days. In short, in 
 these and other ways, there is a growing 
 return to the old Greek conception of Politics 
 
FROM POLITICS TO CIVICS 127 
 
 as Civics, even among the hitherto conven- 
 tionally political-minded. 
 
 But much remains to be done, both in 
 education and in practice. To their eigh- 
 teenth-century abstraction, of th^ Greek 
 "City" into "The State," that capital 
 blunder, not Unmixed with pious fraud, one 
 of us has attempted to do justice elsewhere.^ 
 Social education — ^insufficiently though many 
 recent and well-meaning endeavours towards 
 " Schools of Economics," of Social Science 
 (or even Social Service), recognize it — ^must 
 be founded like that given by all the " pre- 
 liminary sciences," upon observation and ex- 
 periment : i. e. on Surveys in the first place and 
 Reports in the second. In this volume (Part 
 II) we try to indicate the simplest beginnings 
 of such Survey-^f or Westminster. Thereafter 
 (in Part III) we offer such brief suggestions 
 as space allows, towards further studies. 
 
 To recapitulate. The quest of life more 
 abundant spurs us with an impulse, limited, 
 defined, directed, by such vision of attain- 
 rnent as we may compass. Deep are the 
 wells of inspiration and many the sources 
 of wisdom, but rare the effective Catholicism 
 of life in all its being and becoming. The 
 
 1 V. Bratiford, Interpretations and Forecasts, pp. 11 
 and 12. 
 
128 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 doctrine arid ritual of the churches, though- 
 valuable aids both for stimulus and pur- 
 gation, are as yet defective in qualities that 
 make for the concrete and the definite in 
 application to this opportunity, that temp- 
 tation, as these arise in the complex world 
 of to-day: Current political' philosophies, 
 alike conventional and insurgent, by over- 
 emphasis of the outer and the material' leave 
 the inner and the spiritual dwarfed and 
 starved, or impassioned for partisanship. The 
 actualities of education but too much, tend 
 to complete the bewilderment of the modem 
 man. He, in the ardours of youth, struggles, 
 through this welter of confusions, to realize 
 the personal dream of Marriage, Career, 
 Home ! That vision is instinct with , life 
 because compounded of its three essential 
 elements. Call these by the general terms 
 of Folk, Work, Place, and you reach the 
 standpoint of a science genuinely social be- 
 cause really vital. Try, in mood alter- 
 natively realistic and idealistic, to make the 
 most and the best of this Indivisible Triad, not 
 for a fortunate few, but for all arid through- 
 out life ; engage in this uncovenanted service 
 and you embark on a forward move through 
 the Transition, because committed to the 
 Art of Eutopia-building ! 
 
PART II 
 
 WESTMINSTER: A CITY SURVEY FOR 
 DISORIENTED CITIZENS 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 INTRODUCTORY 
 
 Our legacy_from the past conies to us in 
 three different ways. First of all there is 
 the organic legacy, i. e. the Heredity of our 
 a,ncestral stock. Next there is the economic 
 legacy, or material equipment of which the 
 part in private hands is called wealth, while 
 viewed as a whole it is thought of as a 
 common Heritage of Resources. The third 
 kind of survival from the past is difficult to 
 name, so varied, so stupendous is it. Its 
 components are the wisdom of the ages, their 
 sorrows and their hopes. These experiences 
 and emotions of countless generations are 
 transmitted to us through the social habitua- 
 tion we term custom, and the mental and 
 moral habituations we term religion, know- 
 ledge, art. The precious things in this 
 Treasure-house of the Spirit of Man are 
 Ideals, Ideas, Imagery. In these imponder- 
 ables is the best of our Social Inheritance. 
 
 Exploration into the thousand chambers 
 of the spiritual treasure-house begun by the 
 
 131 
 
132 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 child at its mother's knee is continued at 
 school; and beyond this a fortunate few 
 receive skilled guidance from the University. 
 Institutions termed educational are essentially 
 organs for transmitting the social inheritance. 
 But the historic city, which has kept alive 
 its ancient culture by using it for modern 
 needs is the sf)iri|;ual treasure-house. For its 
 own citizens and for the people of its regioiL 
 such a city is, therefore both their school and 
 their university. And for the studies, theo- 
 retical and practical, that educate and train 
 for this high citizenship we would fain rescue 
 the term Civics from its present misuse in 
 textbooks of administrative politics. 
 
 Let it not be thought that Civics is a dull 
 or ponderous study. On the contrary, its 
 first object is to see and enjoy the beauty 
 and the; wonder of cities. It is an open-air 
 study, suffused with life and delight. Con- 
 sequently, Civics is well adapted to restore 
 health and tone to a mind depressed or 
 wearied. It is essfentially recreative. We 
 claim, therefore, for the civic survey a posi- 
 tive and reasona.bly certain* value as a mode 
 of spiritual healing. If so, it has an intimate 
 relevanCfe, and a useful application in that 
 field of convalescence, wherdn whole nations 
 find themselves to-day. For who, after the 
 
INTRODUCTORY 133 
 
 shattering experiences of the world war, has 
 not suffered a certain disintegration of mind, 
 body or soul? But the resulting fracture of 
 personality, may be mended and even a higher 
 integration attained if one be willing to turn 
 student of civics and submit to its regimen 
 of spiritual healing. The patient may thus 
 aspire to enjoy the delights and benefits of 
 convalescence towards a state of health and 
 sanity beyond his previous hopes. 
 
 Elsewhere we have presented civics, in the 
 sense here taken, as a body of truth already 
 developed, even to the point of systematiza- 
 tion, and also attempted some outlines of the 
 civic outlook and bf its application to a wide 
 range of current issues.^ Here our purpose 
 is illustrative, rather than expository. We 
 wish to show civics more after the fashion 
 of the Greek philosopher who, when chal- 
 lenged to define movement, answered by 
 simply walking. We now therefore make 
 an endeavour of this peripatetic kind. Then 
 (in Part III) we — very briefly — outline further 
 developments of the method and standpoint 
 adopted in our survey, since for us the heart 
 
 ^ See " Cities in Evolution " (1915), also " Civics as 
 Applied Sociology," P. Geddes, in Sociological Papers, 
 Vols. I and II, igo6 and 1907. Also Interpretations 
 and Forecasts, V. Branford, Chapters I, II, III, VI, VII. 
 
134 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 of the. University, the school, the college is 
 in the Very city itself. Already (in Part I) 
 we have suggested civics as the objective 
 of the great Transition now beginning frotn 
 politics and its associated education, to a more 
 excellent way, that of Civics, and this both 
 for thought and life. 
 
 Running throughout the volutpe is this 
 idea, of the Present, the recent Vast, and the 
 incipient Future as a more or less troubled, 
 it may be even turbulent, transition towards 
 a better and more orderly condition of our 
 whole /Western civilization. In Part I the 
 idea of the Transition is worked out mainly 
 in reference to current political issues. In 
 Part II the idea of transition is incidental 
 yet pervasive; it is more implied than ex- 
 pressed. There the City itself is, as it wete, 
 the instrument of transition, guiding our 
 choice of tradition, helping us to energize 
 survivals into initiatives. In Part III the 
 conception of the 'Present as a Transition 
 is made th6 basis of our projected — ^indeed, 
 long initiated^ — ^scheme of civic studies, which 
 are put forward as no small part of th6 
 university of the future. Such studies are 
 suggested as an active agent for transforming 
 the social inheritance from a burden into a 
 niomentum. 
 
INTRODUCTORY 135 
 
 The scheme of city walks hef6 submitted 
 is put forward with a double Jjurpose. It 
 stands as a concrete and practical iftttodttc- 
 tion to the general idea of this great Tran- 
 sition of which London is so vast a theatre. 
 It is offered also as a perhaps minor, but hot 
 negligible contribution to that ptoblem of 
 war-weariness which confronts the world 
 to-day: with urgency. Similar schemes of 
 civic Walks and studies have been and aire 
 being Worked out for use in othet cities, 
 great and small. As an aid towards renewal 
 of shaken or depressed personality we venture 
 to commend such exercises, at once physical 
 and mental, to the multitudes of the dis- 
 oriented, to convalescents, nurses, and War 
 workers, ay, even mourtiers, like oiirsdves, 
 who find here our, anodyne and hOpe. 
 
 For man", the civilized animal, there is an 
 urban as well as a rural element in the 
 " healing power of natUfe." All agree that 
 the tranquil beauty of the countryside is 
 good for the convalescent. But so also is 
 the rich and varied scehe, the changing 
 panorama, of the city. 
 
 Westminster CitV, though ringed by bricks 
 and mortar, remains nevertheless so happy 
 in its internal economy as to combine both 
 elements of this healing force in Unusual 
 
136 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 degree. Think of all the natural beauty and 
 the civic wonder which lie before us within 
 the boundaries of Westminster. St. James's 
 Park and the Green Park, Hyde Park and 
 most of Kensington Gardens ; the great open 
 spaces, some of them finely gardened, of 
 Mayfair and Belgravia ; a winding river-front 
 with some two miles of superb embankment. 
 Old buildings and rtionuments compact of 
 beauty, meniory and mystery; new edifices 
 of stately magnificence; ) picture galleries^ 
 public and private, that are peerless ; libraries 
 to match (for the British Museum is but just 
 over the border) ; and in endless profusion, 
 recreation, dramatic and musical; in short, 
 varied entertainment both observant and 
 thoughtful, good for mind and body. 
 
 But all these several powers^ of healing, 
 unless brought to bear in some sort of unity, 
 are apt to bewilder the disoriented individual. 
 He is over^sensitive and easily fatigued. The 
 needed unity of impression should surely 
 come from the personality of the city. That 
 per^onaUty, in the case of Westminster, is, 
 to be sure, far from evident, whether at first 
 approach, or on the town plan. Nevertheless 
 it exists. It is historical and spiritual; and 
 to be effective it must be made manifest in 
 these terms. To devise, therefore, a workable 
 
INTRODUCTORY 137 
 
 scheme for the use of Westminster as a haven 
 for war sufferers in general, and for con- 
 valescents in particular, is the fair task it 
 sets before us students of civics. How, then, 
 can we adapt our civic survey to the use of 
 all who need spiritual healing? And how 
 show the city as a vast open-air museum, 
 in which they may saunter and loiter at 
 pleasure, with opening eyes and freshening 
 brain ? 
 
 By way of answer to these questions our 
 scheme of walks aims at presenting West- 
 minster City as a living whole, one in spirit 
 yet infinitely diversified in body. In detail 
 its purpose is to help the pedestrian con- 
 valescent to see and enjoy the magic of street- 
 vistas, the beauty of park and garden, to 
 feel the fascination of historic memories ; yet 
 also to grasp the present trend of things, and 
 so, maybe, to glimpse something of the open- 
 ing future. In order that the mind may 
 assimilate in tranquillity all this nourishment 
 absorbed through the ^eye, suitable refuges 
 must be found and used as stations of rest 
 and contemplation along the line of peram- 
 bulation. To ensure this element of repose 
 is essential. It is, however, something more 
 than mere passive tranquillity that is called 
 for. There must also be present conditions 
 
138 OUR-SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 to evoke that active element of rebirth that 
 is latent in complete repose of mind and 
 body. It is this power of renewal which is 
 the creative factor m spiritual healing. The 
 French word recueillement expresses the two- 
 fold agency of repose and recreation. 
 
 In these and other ways the City may be 
 made to do its work of spii*itual healing. 
 The process requires an altematiion of repose 
 and gentle stimulus ahke for mind and body. 
 There is a rhythm or melody of healing." 
 Further developed, the melody acquires the 
 more tonic qualities of harmony. This civic 
 harmony emerges from the subtle interaction- 
 between the personality of the Citizen anxi 
 the individuality of the City. 
 
 From the civic standpoint^ the problrans to 
 begin with are those of selection by interpres- 
 tation. Buildings, monuments^ street-vistas, 
 and so on, must be chosen for observa- 
 tion, which are visibly suffused with vital 
 elements of the city's individuaUty. More- 
 pver, these architectonic elements then find 
 their own way to recomposition in the mind 
 of the convalescent. Images and impressions 
 are thus implanted by the survey which at 
 its close build themselves into a vision of the 
 city, in all the manifoldriess of its being and 
 becoming. In proportion to the fulness and 
 
INTRODUCTORY 139 
 
 opulence of this vision does the citizen take 
 ifjossession of his social inheritance. 
 
 Now it is a happy provision of nature that 
 the convalescent'^ personality is by no means 
 a fixed and definite thing. It is, on the 
 contrary, marked by an exceptional fluidity 
 and potentiality of change. There take place 
 during tecovery from disease — so the medical 
 psychologists affirm — certain physiological re- 
 adjustments. These are tantamount, they 
 tell us, to a return of that plastic phase of 
 youth when the personality is being remade. 
 , In their language of science, convalescence is 
 a renewal of adolescence. Thus the presence 
 of a whole population of convalescents in the 
 midst of our ancient culture-cities, in West- 
 minster and Oxford, Canterbury and Win- 
 chester, Cambridge and York, Edinburgh and 
 Dublin^, is an event of high significance. It 
 means, for those who utilize the opportunity 
 aright, the coming of a new harmony between 
 city and citizen; so these may yet renew— ^ 
 why not_ surpass? — the historic glories of 
 civic magnificence through a corresponding 
 flowering of genius. Does this seem too 
 hopeful? For the ravaged cities of France 
 and Belgium all this has been preparing thesie 
 four years ; and by war-broken men. 
 
 A constructive phase of civic renewal will 
 
140 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 come in due time : enough first to cultivate 
 the receptive phase, of contemplation. Let 
 the City- feed the mind of its disoriented 
 citizens with images of beauty. Thereafter, 
 in its own good time these ininds, healed 
 and reihvigorated, will wake , to activity of 
 reflection £^nd self-expression. They will then 
 give back to their city works of individual 
 distinction to enrich its civic life. 
 : If there be any doubt as to the meaning 
 of the \vord contemplation in the " trophic " 
 sense here taken, it may be dispelled by 
 the. following anecdote related by Mr. C. R. 
 Ashbee in his new and illuminating , book. 
 Where the Great City Stands. In a chapter 
 telling how we may learn from the East its 
 secret of Repose, 'Mr. Ashbee says — 
 
 " I was once in Seattle, where all the ser- 
 vants are Orientals, often with much greater 
 refinement and sense of beauty than their 
 masters. Staying one evening in an American 
 house, I noticed a Japanese boy bring in a 
 lamp ; and he set it on the table with such 
 grace and distinction that I asked about him. 
 
 " ' Yes,' said my host, ' he is a charming 
 boy, and we did him some kindness, and the 
 other day there arrived this letter from his 
 people in Tokio — 
 
INTRODUCTORY 141 
 
 " ' Honourable Sir, 
 
 " ' We are much touched at the 
 kindness you have done to our son Shugio; 
 we want to make you some return for your 
 honourable kindness; and so I am sending 
 you herewith my two most precious posses- 
 sions, a drawing by Hokusai and a drawing 
 by Utamaro. Will you do me the favour of 
 giving these your honourable contemplation, 
 and when you have taken your fill of enjoy- 
 ment wUl you return them to me ? ' " 
 
 The scheme of walks here submitted rests, 
 as we have said above, on a belief that in the 
 civic beauties of Westminster there are objects 
 of contemplation which may bring delight to 
 convalescents, aiding their positive healing; 
 and lines of reflection which may thereafter 
 help to make life in the comihg times more 
 hopeful, and work and citizenship more 
 effective. 
 
 Precisely what method are we to take as 
 guide in our present walks ? There are good 
 guide-books of many kinds — from the simple 
 enumeration of places as we come to them, 
 like " Baedeker " (or whoever may be his 
 successor in the after- war times), to handy 
 or special treatises, as on London architecture 
 
142 OUR SOQIAJ. INHl^RITANCE 
 
 in general, or, say, Wren's churehes in par- 
 ticular. I^iterary associations may likewise 
 be fully found; while for Governfnent and 
 Press, Commerce and. Affairs, convenient 
 bool?s.are %ccegsible, frotti Whitaker's Almanac 
 onyKarrds, But with all tbeir wealth of facts 
 ,or memorie§, these books do not take us far 
 into the present life of the city; their sub- 
 ject's relation to tlai? is too much unexplained. 
 The survey of the " Life and Labours, of the 
 People " has been the subject of Charles 
 Booth's great work, and a fertile ^stimulus 
 towards minor ones, but this, again, is,avow- 
 edly economic and doinestic, so that the 
 connectious with the former points of viejy 
 are ^^ot. made plain enough for our purpose. 
 Nor can we-r-within these limits especially— 
 undertake so great a task for our area, a 
 world-city in itself : enough here to indicate,, 
 as we ramble, something of the ilxter-relations 
 of these many points of view which appear 
 upon our way. 
 
 Without: a City Survey, describing fully, 
 with plans and illustrations, all interpretation 
 must be inadequate : here we take bu,t what 
 comes of the first and what suggest? itself— 
 conversationally, as it were--of the second. 
 Our talk, like miany- an older guide's, may at 
 times displease the reader, or here and there 
 
INTRODUCTORY 143 
 
 perplex; him, since it freely mingles that of 
 many existing and distinctive schools. Such 
 " aociolpgical " conceptions as we are here 
 applying are at first expressed without that 
 measure of definite statement attempted in 
 pxeyiious voluijies of this series, though we 
 return to these in Part III of the present 
 one. Let us rather, before these rambles, 
 explain ourselves in a simple way. 
 
 Let the reader recall with us, and from 
 his own family experience, . and his varied 
 acquaintance before the war, the many points 
 of view, the varied " criticisms of life," which 
 used to come before him in the everyday 
 way. There was oxie grandfather's Tory 
 convictions; and the other's stalwart Glad- 
 stonian Liberalism : and there was further 
 division among their sons. One became a 
 Radical and was a prominent pro-Boer : 
 another, who did well in the City, was as 
 keen and convinced an Imperiahst and as 
 active a Tariff-Reformer: while the third 
 turned Socialist, and flouted the family 
 tradition with the reddest of ties. Among 
 their sons^ before the war one or two were 
 with their fathers : others have gone their 
 own ways. One, stronger on Tolstoi than 
 on agricultural science, had gone " back to 
 the Land " : .another, an artr worker, was 
 
144 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 moving for Guild Socialism. One writes for 
 the Press, moving, as most must do, along the 
 lines pioneered by well-known writers, now 
 from detective stories to picaresque romance, 
 or from strange n^w devilries of sciencei to 
 its Utopias : or again to sardonic criticism 
 of the medley and Babel around him. And 
 so on: "it takes all kinds of people, to 
 make the world." All these views and more 
 have helped to make and' still are making 
 the life around us, and swell or colour the 
 thought-streams on which we are sailing or 
 eddying ; and so have to be reckoned with : 
 alike as we look around in the troubled 
 present, or peep into the cloudy future to" 
 see how it seems shiaping,' or how it may be 
 influenced anew. It is in this mingled medium 
 that the contemporary novelist and dramatist 
 select and sketch their characters, and make 
 them " talk to the very life." 
 
 We have grown up amid this tjirmoil of 
 action and thought, peering into its ;many 
 streams and eddies, trying to make out from 
 this variety of past life something of its 
 outcomes, and from this medley of curte^it 
 events something of their underlying ideas, 
 and so reach such interpretations and fofe- 
 ciasts, as may be, of the advancing stream. 
 Life, as well as Nature, must have scientific 
 
INTRODUCTORY 145 
 
 order underlying its Proteus-like transforma- 
 tions, whether these be in gradual everyday 
 succession, as it seemed before the war, or 
 to-day through the world-wide cataclysms and 
 catastrophes, which we now see these quiet 
 pre-war days were preparing and accumu- 
 lating for us. 
 
 To search out this order is the task of 
 sociology — youngest and most difficult of 
 sciences. True, the historian has long been 
 in the field; since Time grew memorial; 
 while the fundamental textbook of Politics 
 is Aristotle's, and the many attempts of 
 theologians but follow or combine the lines 
 initiated by prophets long' before their day. 
 Even the Economist, so busy these hundred 
 years past, has been picking up ancient 
 threads, as well as spinning new ones. Yet 
 the freshness and the value of sociology lies 
 in its higher endeavour than any of these— 
 not only to follow up and set more clear these 
 separate threads of doctrine, but to make 
 out their mutual relations, and so gain 
 understanding of the many-coloured and 
 ever-changing web of human life, as it issues 
 from the loom of time. And though most 
 sociologists, like Herbert Spencer, have 
 sought to do this in the library and study, 
 they were more indebted to the life around 
 
146 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 thiem than they £ilway$ knew : and at times 
 they have irealiired this : witness Gibbon, and 
 Ct5mte, for conspicuous instances. As students 
 df cities, we aire more and more of a mind 
 with the students of nature> and ^o a-roving 
 like them, thdugh now through cities, as they 
 through the wild. In such direct observa- 
 tional experience carried forward from youth 
 to age ("observation," says Meredith, "is the 
 most enduring of th^^ pleasures of life ") the 
 biologists and geologists, for instance, have 
 lekt-ned the best of what they know; and 
 hence theii: greatest theory as yet has come 
 out of siich naturalistic -voyagings. 
 
 Out Of ddorSi then, in city, town and 
 Village, we ha.ve not only to make our main 
 observatioiiS for our social science, but even 
 sfeatch out their meaning. It is as we watch 
 the Present hurrying to and fro under the 
 towel's and shadows of the Past, and along 
 its old ways out into new ones, and these 
 diverging; towards the horizon, that know- 
 ledge and interpretation best progtess, and 
 moreover together. Each and every city, 
 eveiy towh, has thusi the interest of a new 
 fotest of life, its similarity, yet uniqueness. 
 Even the sirnplest Village or hamlet" may 
 oftfeh jdeld us clues that guide us fair and 
 deep into the vast hives of men. But as 
 
INTRODUCTORY 147 
 
 nature's great scenes are most arousing and 
 impressive, so with Man's : where, then, 
 better can we begin than with Westminster — 
 whose local and historic evolution, its national 
 significance, its imperial and world-wide in- 
 fluence, are so conspicuous to us all ! 
 
 Here, then, in these chapters, are our sug- 
 gestions for beginning the peripatetic study 
 of this, our central city, a metropolis, if ever 
 there was one. Our present walks and cur- 
 rent talks are followed by suggestions towards 
 further studies. They have been preceded 
 and introduced (in Part I) by broadly out- 
 lined interpretations of the social stream, 
 from the medieval and Renaissance epochs 
 ,of the past into the mingled phases of the 
 present, now in way of further changes in 
 the opeijing future; Yet all in beginnings 
 merely : for we must leave to a later volume ^ 
 a further endeavour to treat its development 
 in fuller and more orderly fashion. 
 
 ^ Of this future volume {Westminster : Temporal and 
 Spiritual), long in preparation, an instalment, with a 
 discussion of its method, appeared in the Sociological 
 ' Review for January 1916. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 A GENERAL VIEW OF WESTMINSTER 
 
 ^, 
 
 The essential thing about each particular 
 walk is that it should be a pleasant saunter 
 from somewhere to somewhere. It should 
 start at a place or building which has some 
 meaning and purpose as a point of origin. 
 The route should go on through ways that 
 ^exemplify and unfold that purpose. It should 
 terminate at a destination which exhibits 
 fulfilment in noble architecture, in imagina- 
 tive or commemorative sculpture, in, a vista 
 of civic beauty, or best of all, in some com- 
 bination of fine buildings and gardened land- 
 scape. Hence the first two walks roam 
 through the district lying between Piccadilly: 
 and St. James's Park, Leicester Square and 
 the Green Park. ' The Spirit of the Fair is the 
 leading motive of this perambulation. That 
 spirit being most manifest perhaps in Picca- 
 dilly Circus, the itinerary begins there. It 
 goes on to show in the Music-Hails of Leicester 
 Square, the theatres of the Haymarket, the 
 
 Clubs of Pall Mall, the festal elements of an 
 
 148 
 
VIEW OF WESTMINSTER 149 
 
 abiding Fair. But it may be that in the hfe 
 and customs of these places the observer does 
 not at first discern that these are the sur- 
 vivals and renewals, the elaborations and 
 refinements of the pleasures, the feastings and 
 the gossipings of the Fair; yet these very 
 buildings stand to-day where once stood the 
 booths of the medieval Fair of St. James, 
 which held carnival for a week on the high 
 ground outside the old city of Westminster. 
 The first walk terminates in Waterloo Place, 
 with its enchanting vista over the permanent 
 pleasure-ground of St. James's Park, green and 
 fresh against a background of grey towers and 
 spires, recalhng the glories of the old royal 
 and abbatial city. A second walk concludes 
 the perambulation of St. James's Fair with 
 the vista of Burlington House s6en from 
 Duke Street. As official home of the artists 
 who gild the book of life, Burlington House 
 is manifestly a culminating expression of the 
 spirit of the Fair. But its portico is also a 
 gateway into Mayfair. So the next walk 
 shows the grandeur and the dignity of May- 
 fair mansions, and observes the evidences of 
 a social life enriched by resources of art and 
 wealth. This walk ends where the Ladies' 
 Mile debouches on Hyde Park Corner, and 
 reveals in the always popular spectacle of 
 
150 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 gallant riders and high-bred steeds, framed 
 in a sylvan setting, something of the Secret 
 of aristocratic power and its long-continued, 
 permanence. 
 
 At Hyde Park Corner we are. on the old 
 Highway which connected the medieval 
 Abbey with the Roman Watling Street, and" 
 so with the North and the West of England. 
 Following this continuation of the, Roman 
 road through the Green Park, St. James's Park 
 and Tothill Street, we may enter the pre- 
 cincts of the Abbey through the site of the 
 ancient gateway. There is some compensa- 
 tion for the loss of the old gatehouse in con- 
 trasting the gardened charms of St. James's 
 Park with the undrained swamp which was 
 its medieval predecessor. And, moreover; we 
 end our walk in a massing of lofty masonry, 
 such as the old Abbey could not show. Its 
 western ±o^yers have been completed, and the 
 great Tower of the House of Lords adds- 
 graindeur to the scene that bursts upon the 
 pedestrian as he emerges from the gloomy 
 purlieus of Tothill Street. This triple- 
 towered vision is the prize of the fourth walk. 
 It is the architectural cake which our con- 
 valescent can both eat and have, as the laws 
 of spiritual possession allow. 
 
 Next come two walks which, in space, are 
 
VIEW OF WESTMINSTER 151 
 
 only the shortest of strolls. But in time they 
 carry us down the centuries. Witjiin the 
 precincts of the Abbey and around ^he Rouses 
 of Parliament, there is a concentration pf 
 historic memories which makes this speck of 
 earth, and the buildings it bears, the sacred 
 centre of Westminster, of England, of the 
 Empire. Architecture, it has Ipeen s^id, is 
 crystallized history. Well, here are deposited 
 for us to seg and enjoy, without fatigue and 
 within the compass pf an afternppn's con- 
 templatipn, the representative crystals pf 
 Enghsh history, in length and breadth and 
 dlearness. In the measure that the visitor is 
 touched, he repeats that contemplation again 
 and again. 
 
 How to invoke the spirit of this sacred 
 place and make it ours? How incprporji^je it 
 as one's very own ?— that is the questipn fpr 
 the thinking convalescent. Instinct tells him 
 he must perambulate the precincts in rgyefpnt 
 and receptive mood; he must quietly cpn- 
 template the buildings within and withpnt; 
 he must absorb their beauty and their 
 memories by turns and together. How best 
 help on their spiritual interpretation? We 
 suggest a clue here, a clue there, and fpr the 
 rest leave him face tp face with the inspira- 
 tion of realities. 
 
152 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Whitehall cannot be separated from the 
 Abbey and Parliament, so we begin the 'next 
 exploraltion with the scene northwards from 
 .Parliament Square. Looking up Whitehall 
 from the^ corner of New Palace Yard, one sees 
 some half-dozen Government Offices — ^the 
 Palaces of Bureaucracy — ^which compose into 
 a vista of iinpressiveness. That vista may 
 mitigate the prejudice against Whitehall as 
 a mere nest of bureaucracy, which the con- 
 valescent not improbably harbours. He will 
 make his own observations, as he walks up 
 Whitehall towards Cjaaring Cross. He may 
 diversify the route by perambulating right 
 and left the corridors of Bureaucracy that 
 extend into St. James's Park on one side and 
 towards the river on the other — a zig-zag 
 coufse which has the advantage of approach- 
 ing Charing Cross through the Admiralty 
 Arch. But that is another walk. This one 
 may fittingly close at Captain Cook's statue, 
 finely framed between the Admirafty Arch 
 and the greenery of the Park. This statue 
 recalls an aspect of the Navy less in the 
 popular mind than it should be. Before the 
 seas of the world can be policed by com- 
 manders of gunboats, they must be charted 
 by exploring geographers. It is the naval 
 tradition of the latter which Captain Cook 
 
VIEW OF WESTMINSTER 153 
 
 represents. And his exploits are hardly less 
 thrilling than those of Nelson — to some minds 
 even more so. In the midst of a great and 
 bitter war between two nations of hereditary 
 hostility, he compelled the homage of the 
 generous enemy. Commanders of French 
 men-of-war carried standing orders from 
 their Government, that if they fell in with 
 Captain Cook they , must not only refrain 
 from acts of hostility, but even salute him. 
 His belated statue is the long-overdue com- 
 plement and counterpart of the Nelson Column 
 which dominates the next walk. , 
 
 The exploration of Trafalgar Square begins 
 with a literally moving spectacle. As we 
 contemplate the ceaseless stream of traf&c, 
 human and i^ehicular, framed in the opening 
 of the Admiralty Arch, we realize the import 
 of Dr. Johnson's saying that at Charing Cross 
 is the full tide of life. But the Charing Cross 
 stream is but one of half a dozen that flow in 
 and aut from tha. vortex of Trafalgar Square. 
 In no mere metaphorical sense is Trafalgar 
 Square a " hub of the universe." In its whirl- 
 pool there pulsates a traffic that is at once 
 local, national, imperial and world-wide. The 
 increasing installation of the great shipping 
 companies in Trafalgar Square and its neigh- 
 bourhood"means that the ocean routes con- 
 
154 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Verge there. As a creator of ocean mastery, 
 Nelson, on his majestic pillar, overtqps all 
 else in the Square. His cult animate^ many 
 a patriotic heart. But many doubtless pass 
 through the Square unkindled by the older 
 spirit of the place. The homage long paid to 
 the civic cross that once sanctified this very 
 human spot is extinct. Seventeenth-century 
 Puritanism, having no use for thg,t cross, 
 except to make paving stones, destroyed it. 
 Nineteenth-century antiquarianism rebuilt, 
 but did not reanimate it. Forlorn it stands 
 to-day behind the railings of the Railway 
 Station, waiting some new breath of liip from 
 a generation that will combine passion for the 
 present with love of the past. 
 
 In exploring the Strand, the conyalesGBnt 
 has to resist the fascinations of the moving 
 crowd, and be wary of the enticements qf te%- 
 shop and cinema. These are the back-door 
 blandishments of the Strand; they are but 
 the eastern extension of that perpetuisd Fair 
 of St. James's which he has already traversed. ; 
 He has to restrain also the allurenients of 
 Theatreland, which at so many points puts 
 its magic touch on the Strand. That pageant 
 of draftiatic delights is also -an annexe of 
 the continuing Fair, and appertains morfito. 
 Piccadilly Circus and L,eicester Square. Thg 
 
VIEW -OF WESTMINSTER 155 
 
 route for renewal of historic Strand memories 
 is now by the Embankment. The medieval 
 and Renaissance sense of the word Strand 
 was what its common meaning is to-day, viz. 
 a foreshore or water-front. To the Embank- 
 ment, then, we proceed ; but walk not on the 
 hard flags of the causeway. We go. through 
 the gardens, and not only because it^ is 
 pleasanter. There flowers, foliage, fountain, 
 bandstand, statuary, though recent features, 
 help to recall the dignified gaieties of Renais- 
 sance nobles, disporting themselves in formal 
 gardens that sloped from palace-front to 
 riverside. The vulgar gaieties ^of the later 
 " Strand " are derived from the jollities pf 
 lackeys and serving-maids at the back-gates 
 of the palaces. The great hotels which from 
 the site of vanished palaces overlook the river 
 to-day, differ from their predecessors essen- 
 tially in this — that for an aristocratic luxury 
 of culture they have substituted the pluto- 
 cratic cult of luxury. The Strand walk closes 
 with an ascent of the Savoy slope, and so 
 .returns to "the main street of commercial 
 gaieties. From there the pedestrian, even 
 amid the whirlpool of traffic, may seize and 
 dwell upon the triple-spired perspective, of 
 which St. Mary's is dominant. This opulent 
 vista, like many others, needs for its full 
 
156 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 enjo5mient the quiet of a Sunday morning. 
 Those who can afford the time will then find 
 it well repays to duplicate these walks while 
 the streets are some of them empty, and all 
 comparatively quiet. There is no other oppor- 
 tunity, save before breakfast on summer 
 mornings^ really to see and fully enjoy most 
 of the characteristic architecture of the 
 metropolis. 
 
 The next walk is to the British Museum from 
 Waterloo Bridge. From the south side of that 
 masterpiece of combined engineering and 
 architecture, one surveys the great arc of the 
 'river which is the chief natural feature' both 
 of London and of Westminster. The wonder 
 and the^beauty of both cities may be seen 
 from here as perhaps from no other single 
 I point. And from this vantage-ground, too, 
 one sees, with the aid of a little geography, 
 the origin of the twin cities, as respectively 
 Bridge-Town at one end of the river-bow, and 
 Ford-Town at the other. The route to the 
 British Museum, viewed at its best, may 
 fairly be called London's " Parnassian Way " ; 
 and not only because of its destination in 
 that " shrine of ancient sculpture andjhodem 
 learning " ; but also from its associations with 
 Dryden and other poets of the eighteenth 
 century ; for we pass by the site of Wills's 
 
VIEW OF WESTMINSTER 157 
 
 Coffee House, that Pierian fount which suc- 
 ceeded the Mermaid Tavern of Shakespeare 
 and Ben Jonson. 
 
 To reach the British Museum, we step just 
 across the arbitrary boundary of Westminster 
 City, and having thus transgressed, one may 
 as well perambulate the tranquil squares of 
 Bloomsbury, recall their culture-memories, 
 and observe some present tendencies which 
 give promise for the incipient future. This 
 walk may also be taken as culminating in a 
 way at the Foundling Hospital, which through 
 the long-continued training of its foster- 
 children as bandsman's boys for army and 
 navy, has become one of the truest musical 
 centres of the metropolis; and consequently, 
 little though most Londoners realize it, a 
 favourite haunt of the Muses, who .mostly 
 come to childhood, or else scarcely at all. 
 
 The next walk begins in the gardens of 
 Gray's Inn (said to have been laid out by 
 Bacon), and traverses the chief Inns of Court 
 to end in the Temple Gardens. Here is a 
 three-quarter mile stretch of almost con- 
 tinuous courts, cloistered or college-like, 
 which with their halls, churches, and libraries 
 constitute a culture-community unique in 
 individuality and potent in history. Touch- 
 ing both business and politics with peculiar 
 
158 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 intimacy, the barrister grasps " the City " 
 with one hand and Westminster with the 
 other. This long ribbon of Inns each of 
 which is an almost independent and extta- 
 murai domainj is thus at once a junction and 
 a boundary of London and of Westminster. 
 From this vantage-ground " Barristeria " has 
 long been a dominating influence in both 
 cities. 
 
 Ftom the Temple Gardens a long walk takes 
 us by the Embankment back to Old West- 
 minster, where we cross the strea:© that once 
 turned the Abbot's mill. The Tyburn rivulet 
 no longer runs sparkling in the sunlight. It 
 serves what Dean Stanley seemed to think 
 the more correct modern purpose of a main 
 underground sewer. The memory of its 
 medieval r6le is preserved in the name Mill- 
 bank. And if not a new kind of Abbot, at 
 least a worthy and teaching friar has here 
 appeared in the Curator of the Tate Gallery, 
 His varied treasure-houSe, and the long 
 stretch of river-front visible from the portico 
 of the Tate Gallery, are among the rewards of 
 this lengthy walk. 
 
 From Millbank the next Walk takes us 
 through the slums and semi-slums of Pimlico, 
 mitigated by the green basis of Vincent 
 Square. But the monotonous dreariness of 
 
VIEW OF WESTMINSTER 159 
 
 mean dwellings is worth while, since it serves 
 by contrast to enhance the mastery and splen- 
 dout of floating domes, as around the corner- 
 of an abysmal alley there bursts on the 
 astonished gaze Westminster's new Cathe- 
 dral, a masterpiece in its strongly individual 
 way. Next we traverse the later Georgian 
 glories of Belgravia, first the rival, now the 
 co-partner of Mayfair in the provision of 
 seasonal homes for Olympian Families. Our 
 route cuts across a qorner of Chelsea, then 
 returning to Westminster through a bit of 
 Fulham, it finally debouches on the main 
 portico and central tower of the Victoria and 
 Albert Museum. One can hardly commend 
 Sir Aston Webb's design; but there is a 
 touch of elation, as turning from Fulham 
 trafiic into tranquil Thurloe Square, one sees 
 down an avenue of foliage on one side and 
 pillared porticos on the other this towering 
 mass of statued masonry. 
 
 Therein dwells another fraternal Com- 
 munity of Curators charged with the sacred 
 custody of spiritual treasures. But in the 
 labyrinthine halls and chambers of this 
 Treasure-house, one may only too easily lose 
 serenity of mind : this is offered and better ex- 
 pressed next door, in the Brompton Oratory. 
 By fortunate coincidence, most of our walks 
 
i6o OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 have temiinlated in the vicinity of a restful 
 church. Besides the Abbey itself, and St. 
 Margaret's, th^re were. at the terminals of 
 two early walks St. James's Church, near 
 Burlington House, and St. Martin's, next to. 
 the National Gallery. At the , end of our 
 Strand walk we have a choice of two 
 fine churches, St. Mary's and St. Clement 
 Danes. And almost next door to the British 
 Museum is St. George's, Hart Street, whose 
 doric columns bear in huge lettering this 
 notice — ' 
 
 MUSIC AND SONG * 
 
 FOR 
 SAILORS, SOLDIERS AND FRIENDS 
 
 The Foundling Hospital has its own Church" 
 and for the Middle Temple, where ends our 
 thirteenth walk, there is. the famous Norman 
 Chapel. In all these churches the pedestritin 
 convalescent can find repose, and enjoy the 
 composure and gentle stimulus our walks are 
 chosen to foster. St. George's, Hart Street, 
 is not, alone among churches in providing 
 music for soldiers and sailors, for which the 
 walks may be timed. Organized in co- 
 
VIEW OF WESTMINSTER i6i 
 
 operation, these efforts of the churches woiild 
 add much to the civic resources of convales- 
 cence. That co-ordination is an obvious 
 coming step in the ecclesiastical reawakening. 
 In the strange whirligig of the' time-spirit, the 
 Church is thus renewing its youth; whereas 
 the State, as if in abandonment of its long 
 rivalry for spiritual supremacy, during the 
 war shut up its spiritual Treasure-houses, one 
 after another; indeed, was only prevented 
 by an angry uprising of public opinion from 
 carrying out a declared intention to bury, 
 in underground vaults, the treasures of the 
 British Museum, and "utilize" the building 
 for Lord Rothermere's.Air Office. 
 
 To return to our itinerary. We have 
 reached the western border of our region. 
 Recall the long ribbon of barristerial lawyer- 
 dom which we saw to be the real if not the 
 nomilial boundary at the east. Here at the 
 other extremity of Westminster a short 
 ribbon of Science and Art contrasts with the 
 long legal one. The galaxy of Museums, the 
 schools of Technology, the Colleges of Art and 
 of Music, are grouped around the high Tower 
 of the London University building, somewhat 
 after the fashion called in America a campus. 
 But here it is only an incipient and not a 
 realized university campus ; for the Museums 
 
 M 
 
i62 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 and the University as yet know not each 
 other. They are controlled from separate 
 worlds i in the one case from Whitehall and 
 in the other froni No Man's Land. And the 
 great dome of the Albert Hall — ^whioh should 
 unite all the dispersive Faculties of the 
 University, and with these the Museums — 
 appertains to a third world withoud; discover- 
 able relations to either of the other two. 
 But these quaint ostracisms of the past need 
 not prevent the observer from picturing the 
 Albert Hall — one of the master-buildings of 
 the metropolis — as a veritable Temple of 
 Music crowning the University Campus of 
 the future. We may be aided tojs/^ards this 
 glimpse into better times coming by a pleasing 
 vista of things as they- are, if, , from the top^ 
 most step of the Albert Memorial, we watch 
 the afternoon sun playing its fascinating 
 game of light and shade among the mingled 
 range of masonry and foliage from the 
 Geographical Society to the Albert H^U, 
 So endeth our seventeenth perambulation. - 
 
 Next, an incursion into Kensington Gar- 
 dens, and then into Hyde Park, which to- 
 gether we may treat as one for the broad 
 purposes of our survey. More than the other 
 pafks of Westminster, this is the pleasure- 
 ground of the Olympians during their seasonal: 
 
VIEW OF WESTMINSTER 163 
 
 'residence in their mansions of Mayfait and 
 Belgravia. Hence a perambulation of its 
 western end serves at once towards beating 
 the bounds of our region and as balance and 
 complement to the more Parnassian Way we 
 trod on the eastern border. Let us enter 
 beside that much-derided monument, the 
 Albert Memorial. The Prince sits, a golden 
 Teutonic Apollo, enthroned and canopied 
 amid a great gathering of artists, sculptors, 
 poets, musicians, collected from every clime 
 and time, so that this encyclopedic frieze is 
 better worth study than the monument itself. 
 And since the traditional r61e of these, the 
 true Parnassians, has been less to adorn and 
 ennoble civic life than to make beauty and 
 joy for the enhancement of aristocracies 
 throughout history, it is evident the princely 
 gesture is characteristically Olympian. So 
 the monument makes a suitable starting-point 
 for passage on our Olympian Way. The 
 route passes by Watts's equestrian colossus, 
 and the miniature gem of Peter Pan, which 
 together express Youth and Childhood as 
 aristocracies at their best should rear them. 
 The walk culminates in a crescendo of beauty, 
 urban and rural, of which aristocracies so far 
 have monopolized the secret — at least since 
 the middle ages. To keep within the bound- 
 
i64 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 ary of Westminster we strike towards the 
 Serpentine and teach its shore a little south 
 of the Peter Pan Statue. A sheet of shim- 
 mering water in the foreground leads up to 
 the statuary and fountains of a formal garden. 
 Through the rising background of sylvan 
 masses there peep the turrets of lofty man- 
 sions. Crowning the whole scene is the spire 
 of St. James's Church. There are few places 
 outside Italy where can be seen grouped into a 
 single composition a more entrancing harmony 
 of water, statuary) foliage and architecture. 
 
 Designed a,s a Rest-house for weary 
 passers-by, the Chapel of the Ascension, 
 lavishly decorated by mural paintings, is near 
 ajt hand., But our convalescent, however 
 weary in body at the end of the walk, may 
 enter the chapel exultant in mind, for this 
 closing vista is something of a revelation of 
 what man and nature may accompUsh in 
 unison. 
 
 There remain but two '^journeys to complete: ■ 
 our perambulation of Westminster. One is 
 along the great shopping thoroughfare that 
 is its northern bprder; arid the other is a 
 diagonal route through Soho back to the civic 
 centre. For the Oxford Street route we start 
 at the Marble Arch. Incidentally we note 
 that it is not, as Mr. G. K. Chesterton in a 
 
VIEW OF WESTMINSTER i6; 
 
 careless moment has said, a gateway fron 
 nowhere to nowhere. If you turn westwards 
 after passing through the Arch, from Hyd( 
 Park, it becomes the exit from Ol5niipia intc 
 what it thinks a modern Bceotia, Bayswater 
 The conspicuous feature of Oxford Streel 
 is the tendency for its sunny side to become 
 monopoUzed by those emporia of feminine 
 deUghts which the combined realism and 
 ' imagination of the French permit them, 
 without derogation, to name Aux Bonheurs des 
 Dames. These bazaars of the wefet are in- 
 teresting, not only for the Oriental splendour 
 and richness of their stuffs, but also because 
 they illustrate a characteristic distinction of 
 London and Westminster, of the west-end 
 from the centre and east-end. As Oxford 
 Street goes west it becomes increasingly a 
 place of pleasure shopping; while eastwards 
 its utilitarian elements grow at the expense 
 of the esthetic. ]\|ore and more the former 
 obliterate the latter as you proceed towards 
 Holborn and Cheapside, which are, of course, 
 the continuations of Oxford Street in the 
 sense both of business and locality. Finally 
 you reach the source of shopping commodi- 
 ties in the Docks, the Warehouses and the 
 Factories of the East End. And there the 
 traffic is wholly utilitarian, and life is at a 
 
i66 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 correspondingly low ebb. A parallel trans- 
 formation is observable along the southern 
 border. The " River of London " in changing 
 to the " River of Westminster " substitutes 
 for docks, wharves and warehouses a joyous 
 fringe of miinsions, monuments, palaces and 
 gardens. Hence in order to understand what 
 Westminster lives > upon, bqth the Oxford 
 Street and the Embankment walks should 
 some day be continued by bus to their point 
 of convergence in Poplar^ some four miles east 
 of London Bridge. 
 
 Our walk through the Oxford Street booths 
 of Vanity Fait closes at St. George's, Hanover 
 Square, the church of fashionable weddings. 
 May we not say without impropriety that 
 there also culminates the Bonheur des Dames 
 in the ordinary course of nature, aided a 
 little, it may be, by the life-enhancements of 
 Oxford Street shops? In our closing vista 
 the statue of Pitt must be included, for he 
 stands therea perpetual sentinel of the festal 
 processions that file past St. George's portico 
 daily during the spring months. Whether his 
 mien is one of regret, scorn or indifference, 
 cannot be discerned. But surely it was the 
 spirit of Vanity Fair that established the 
 most resolute of bachelors a guardian over the 
 wedding-church, St. George's, Hanover Square. 
 
VIEW OF WESTMINSTER 167 
 
 The Soho walk begins at the French Church 
 in Soho Square. But for continuity of sur- 
 vey we may help our passage thither by bus 
 along Oxford Street. The genius of Soho is 
 concentrated in its restaurants. There as 
 nowhere else in Westminster or London can 
 you have a meal which is scientifically cooked, 
 artistically served, and withal inexpensive. 
 For that exotic blessing of the poor man, he 
 has to ^hank the political revolutions of the 
 Continent; for during more than a century, 
 refugees seeking shelter in Soho have made it 
 the continental quarter of Westminster. Our 
 perambulation closes in Leicester Square, 
 which with its public garden and commemora- 
 tive statuary follows the open continental 
 rhodel, in contrast to the squares of Mayfair 
 and Belgravia strictly preserved for their 
 Olympian families. 
 
 For finish to the pedestrian survey of 
 Westminster two Synoptic views piay be had. 
 From the flat roof of the Dental Hospital in 
 Leicester Square one may see the Towers of 
 Westminster not only massed to the south, 
 but spreading to east and west in greater 
 profusion than most people are aware. 
 Finally, from the Clock Tower of the House 
 of Commons one may realize the essential 
 and abiding qualities of Westminster. Seen 
 
i68 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 from that height, the Precincts of the Abbey 
 and of ParUament compose with Whitehall, 
 Charing Cross and Trafalgar Square into a 
 unity of vision, of memory and of aspiration, 
 to which may be fittingly applied the great 
 name of Forum Britannicum. 
 
 On the map Westminster city looks like a 
 lopsided pear. Our itinerary will take the 
 convalescent rambler round most of the rind 
 and twice through the core. He will look at 
 the city from the outside, and with particular 
 illumination, from Waterloo Bridge. He will 
 try to focus it from high places. But most 
 of all, he will turn to beauty of buildings and 
 their setting, to harmony of architectural 
 proportion, to subtlety -of light and shade, to 
 .mystery of street- vista and ideal of design, 
 in his search for the shining spirit of the 
 living city. s . 
 
CHAPTER HI 
 
 THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 
 
 The words Piccadilly and Leicester Square 
 are much rnore than the names of places. 
 They stand in the imagination of legions of 
 men for a perpetual Fair. But a special 
 kind of Fair. The genius of the place is 
 festal in its own peculiar way. The ordinary 
 Fair is a mingling of trade and jollity. Picca- 
 dilly Circus and Leicester Square have made 
 a speciality of trade in jollity. 
 
 In the centre of the Circus stands a great 
 fountain rising through many tiers. The 
 topmost is crowned by a statue bearing all 
 the insignia of a Cupid. What combination 
 of symbols could better tell of the stream of 
 life which the Fair draws into itself, and — 
 at best — ^restores to its source intensified, and 
 enhanced, instead of exhausted. But the 
 cunning of the sculptor's hand has shown 
 forth the spirit of the place with even subtler 
 intent. If ybu look carefully at the statue 
 ^ 169 
 
I7D OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 you see it bears the face not of the lovely 
 boy, but of the young man who knows how 
 many beans make five. To guess the sculp- 
 tor's double meaning requires but slight 
 knowledge of classical forms a-ud an acquaint- 
 ance with the character of the neighbourhood. 
 The body and movement of the statue is 
 that of the^od of Love, but the face is the 
 face of the god of Trade. The sculptor has 
 merged Mercury and Cupid into a composite 
 form. 
 
 Leicester Square carries a longer and more 
 varied tradition than Piccadilly. Its life 
 to-day is richer in content, though poorer' 
 in the traffic of the streets. Hence the spirit 
 of the place is less readily grasped. It cannot 
 be so easily interpreted and so sharply ex- 
 pressed as by a cupidinous Mercury rising" 
 from the waters of a central fountain. As 
 twin focus of a continuing fair, Leicester 
 Square has also its central fountain, but now 
 crowned by a highly complex figure, in fact 
 the most varied and opulent in English- 
 letters. At a first glance it savours of insult 
 rather than honour to set up a statue of 
 Shakespeare between two music-halls, and 
 with never a house of legitimate drama in 
 sight. But draw a circle of halfrmile radius 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 171 
 
 ■from Leicester Square, and you will circum- 
 scribe Theatreland. A diverting poster re- 
 cently on the hoardings correctly showpd 
 Leicester Square Station as central to the 
 whole "region of the playhouses. So we may 
 agree that on the whole they planned, well 
 who dedicated to Shakespeare the central 
 fountain of the Square. 
 
 There the greatest of dramatists holds 
 abiding court, in the select company of 
 Hogarth ,and Reynolds, John Hunter and 
 Isaac Newton, whose busts adorn the four 
 corners of the g&,rden. Each of these four 
 notables recalls something of the former 
 glories of Leicester Square. In Reynolds's 
 day, the tide of fashion brought Rank and 
 Beauty to his studio for commemoration on 
 canvas. Hogarth, half a generation earlier, 
 proclaimed his ■ own faith and the contem- 
 porary spirit of the place by boldly affixing 
 a golden head of Vandyck over the front 
 door of his house. But in the later eighteenth 
 century science hardly less than art flourished 
 in Leicester Square. There lived John Hunter, 
 greatest and most original of eighteenth- 
 century surgeons. He was no mere dry 
 anatomist but a thinker and organizer, and 
 his house became, for his generation, a 
 university-in-little. His garden he gave up 
 
172 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 to the building of a Museufti, which later on 
 grew into ever-expanding galleries of the 
 College of Surgeons ; for which Sir Charles 
 Barry, had next to design the spacious build- 
 ing in Lincoln's Inn Fields. Of all the four 
 worthies who coinpose this statued court of 
 Shakespeare, Newton alone did not actually 
 live in the Square. His house stood in St. 
 Martin's Street just outside the south-west 
 corner. It has recently been demolished ; 
 though that act of vandalism need not 
 falsify Macaulay's prediction that the spot 
 would continue for ever to draw the curious 
 and the Ifearned from the ends of the earth. 
 
 Leicester Square is a comparatively new 
 name. Formerly it was called Leicester 
 Fields. But who to-day, except the . anti- 
 quarian, cares a fig for the Earl of Leicester- 
 that built a mansion there in the seventeenth 
 century, and so gave his name to the place? 
 To-day the Square is interesting for the 
 brightness of its garden, its fountain and 
 statuary, and the vividness of its dramatic 
 associations. , All these aspects may be fixeql 
 and crystallized, if we rename the place to 
 express what it is, or at least may yet become, 
 viz. the Forum of Shakespeare. 
 
 JMany pleas might be advanced to justify 
 this rechristening. For instance, the adjacent 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 173 
 
 statue of Henry Irving is a fitting link with 
 Trafalgar Square, whick in the days of 
 Imperial Rome would have been called the 
 Forum of Nelson. Again, the^ more civic 
 title would serve as a standing reminder of 
 certain urgent needs of local amelioration. 
 One of these, is to dignify the City Hall, at 
 present forlorn and outshone by music-hall, 
 theatre and pictiire gallery. Its " Place " 
 needs replanning as a Civic Forum, which 
 would thus stand central between the Forum 
 of Shakespeare on its right and the Forum of 
 Nelson o'n its left. 
 
 Another thing which would be brought to 
 mind by this civic title is the need for a 
 College of Dramatic Art. In the south-east 
 corner of Leicester Square, there will some 
 day fall vacant the space now occupied by 
 Archbishop Tenison's School. And as Town- 
 planning advances, that day will come nearer. 
 There are, for instance) American cities in 
 which the trains that carry business folk to 
 town in the morning do not run out again 
 empty, but take urban children to suburban 
 or country schools, and bring them home in 
 the afternoon, instead of running in empty 
 to fetch the business folk. When West- 
 minster reaches thkt stage of civic develop- 
 ment, there will become available a site that 
 
r74 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 runs from Leicester Square to Charing Cross 
 Road. Even that is but an exiguous site for 
 all that a* College of Dramatic Art should 
 be and do. To furnish ground needed foir 
 open-air pageant, masque and processidh, 
 the nearest- place available is Regent's Park. 
 Why not mark there a dramatic reservation 
 stifificient for summer use by thfe future 
 College in Shakespeare's Forum ? And might 
 not the spacious court of the adjacent St. 
 Martin's Church, by renewal of the historic 
 association , of Church, and Stage, become 
 available? Perhaps that renewal is not so 
 remote as -some may think ; witness the 
 pageantry of recent ecclesiastical processions, 
 and the historic tableaux, called " Soldiers 
 of the Cross," so vividly and dramaticailly: 
 presented in St. Martin's Court in 1916. 
 
 The peep we took into the future Civic 
 Forum was by the way. Our walk turns 
 west again from Leicester Square in order 
 to reach the Haymarket. Half-way between 
 Piccadilly Circus and; Leicester Square the 
 Haymarket is also intermediate in the char-t 
 acter of its " place-genius." The strolling 
 players have here also struck, root ; and their 
 booths have grown inta two permanent 
 theatres. Also the more irregular gallantries 
 of the Fair are not unknown in the night 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 175 
 
 life of the Haymarket. But neither of these 
 things is most in evidence as one saunters 
 down from Piccadilly to Pall Mall. The 
 Hajonarket , presents itself as essentially a 
 street of shops, copiously interspersed by 
 houses of refreshment that vary from the 
 old-fashioned tavern to the modem hotel. 
 The shops, too, are visibly different from those 
 that line Bond Street, Regent Street and 
 Oxford Street. Here, for instance, saddlers 
 and harness makers, cutlers and ironmongers 
 are markedly in evidence. And you may 
 see old shops which scorn the modern plate- 
 glass, and cling proudly to their old-fashioned 
 bow-windows, of many small panes. In short, 
 you have the impression rather of a country 
 market-place than of a metropolitan shopping 
 street. Such is the tenacity of the old Hay 
 and Cattle Market, where formerly rustic 
 folk came to do their buying as well as their 
 selling. 
 
 At the lower end of the Haymarket, one 
 observes the Shipping Offices overflowing 
 from Cockspur Street and Charing Cross. 
 From these offices of the great Shipping 
 Companies, which with their connecting rail- 
 ways encompass our planet like a spider's 
 web, you may .book a passage to see the 
 wonders of Nature the Marvellous, and the 
 
176 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 glories of Man the City-builder. Consider 
 the ever-growing stream of " globe-trotting !' 
 tourists — the veritable pilgrims of our day. 
 For them it is not only Piccadilly and Leicester 
 Square, but the whole world that has become 
 a perpetual Fair. Pause -;to contemplate^ 
 the "Cook Building" (as they woul<i term 
 it in America), which is central to the southern 
 vista of the Haymarket. Mark its skeleton 
 globe hoisted for sign and token of a business" 
 prepared on demand tq transport a Kaisfer 
 to Jerusalem, an artist to Japan, a mystic 
 to Thibet, a climber to the Himalayas, or a 
 sportsman to the Rockies. What is the 
 bureau of this business but the standing 
 booth of a super-Showman, specialized beyond ' 
 " Foreign Curiosities " to foreign curiosity 
 itself? i 
 
 There are two other notable vistas from 
 the Haymarket. Westwards down Charles 
 Street you see the equestrian statue of 
 William III, framed in a garland of greenery 
 glowing against the setting sun. Here at 
 once is the enduring symbol of aristocracy, 
 and a gateway to the West End of stately 
 squares, terraces, crescents and streets grouped 
 around magnificent Parks. This glimpse into 
 the abode of the Olympians is balanced on 
 the east by the vista down Panton Street, 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 177 
 
 culminating in the turrets of the Alhambra 
 with their gilded crescents. They are the 
 architectural tokens of that Mahommedan 
 Elysium to which the dramatic taste of 
 Olympians inclines to-day more fully than in 
 Hellenic times. 
 
 In addition to its weekly Hay and Cattle 
 Market, the district between Piccadilly and 
 St. James's Park had in olden times its annual 
 Fair beginning on St. James's Eve and lasting 
 for a week or more. Not a few instances of 
 survival or renewal of both fair and market 
 we have seen. Others we may observe in a 
 walk down Pall Mall ; " the finest street in 
 the metropolis," as it has been called. One 
 .end is adorned by the oldest surviving royal 
 Palace of Westminster. At the other there 
 clusters a group of buildings, which, though 
 they do not most of them belong to Pall 
 Mall, yet give to its eastern vista some air 
 of classic magnificence. All along between 
 these two fine terminals • run the palatial 
 fa9ades displayed by clubs of world renown. 
 Two contiguous edifices, for instance, as the 
 guide-books remind us, repeat respectively 
 the Farnese Palace of Rome, and the Library 
 of St. Mark at Venice. Halt for a moment 
 to regard them from the south-eastern open- 
 ing into St. James's Square. If yotl are not 
 
178 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 a \student of Italian architecture, assuredly 
 you will fail to discover which is the Roman 
 Palace and which the Venetian Library. 
 For from their beginnings they have been 
 social headquarters for the two great Political 
 Parties which have so long divided the allegi- 
 ance of electorate. But which is vsrhich? 
 The stranger is no nearer solving the puzzle 
 of identity. For what reason ih the nature 
 df things political should inspire the Liberals 
 to import their architectural ideal from one 
 great Italian City and the Conservatives 
 theirs from another? Inquiry into internal 
 conditions only elicits, as the best-kricflvh 
 traditional distinction, a certain superiority 
 in the repute of the ch$f at the Reform over, 
 his rival who feeds the inmates of the Carlton. 
 But that- differential item would only enable 
 the observer to identify the buildiligs if 
 invited to dine at each in turn ; possiblyTiot 
 eveii then, for his" gastronomic development 
 might not so quickly reach the needed pitch 
 of political refinement. 
 
 The profound distinction which is supposed 
 to separate Liberalism and Conservatism is 
 thus undiscoverable in their external shells. 
 Indeed these manifestly belong to one arid 
 the same stylistic species, that of the Renais^ 
 sance Palace. And having got so far, the 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 179 
 
 common man will doubtless be content to 
 stop there, leaving specialists to decipher 
 varietal differences. Is it not possible that 
 future interpreters, perhaps not so far distant, 
 may go further than the common man, and 
 infer from this similarity of shell a real 
 similarity of type between the indwelling 
 creatures? If so, we might come to look 
 upon the fierce partisan strife of our election 
 contests in much the same light as that in 
 which historians regard the combative dis- 
 plays of historic Reds and Blues in old 
 Byzantium. Those old factions seemed to 
 their contemporaries fraught with profound 
 political significance; but to us they are 
 little more than the rivalries of the circus. 
 So in the election contests of the parties 
 there survives more than is commonly 
 assumed of that spirit of the fair which 
 draws the throng to the boxing-ring and the 
 prize-fight. Assuiredly, the palatial clubs of 
 Pall Mall are, in historic perspective of origins, 
 but one remove from the Coffee-houses of 
 the eighteenth century. On this vety site 
 the quidnuncs of those days gathered for 
 their gossip in the select circles of the Coffee- 
 house, Which came in between the old open 
 Tavern and the modern closed Club. And 
 as for the tavern, its pedigree clearly runs 
 
i8o OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 back even to the pleasure-booths of the fair. 
 It is, of course, no detraction from the dignity 
 of the modern liustings and the grajideur 
 of the Party Meeting in a Pall Mall Palace 
 to recognize their origins in humble , begin- 
 nings. What these august affairs thus lose 
 in the mystical qualities of the unknown, 
 , they more tlian gain in, the solidity of their 
 human foundations. And, as Aristotle re- 
 minds us, the value of a thing is to be judged 
 not by its beginning, but by the end to which 
 it tends. And it may well be that in the 
 future evolution of political systems, the 
 historic parties have their essential; contri-' 
 butidn to national life and organization still 
 to make. For some future liberalizing of the 
 Liberals and conservating of the Conservatives 
 we are thus encouraged to look forward as 
 we stroll down Pall Mall.' 
 
 Passing down the narrow street which 
 separates the two political Clubs, one comes 
 to a row of the representative mansions that 
 house the Olympian families, during their 
 "season in town." In town they naturally 
 desire conditions approximating as far as 
 may be to those of their hiral life. But the 
 spacious privacy of a private park and the 
 floral inagnificence of great gardens, even 
 nobles must forego in town, for there these 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR i8i 
 
 delights in their fulness are nowadays for 
 royalty alone. The nearest urban substitute 
 is a house fronting on a royal park, and for 
 garden a generous patronage of the com- 
 mercial florist. Between these substitutes 
 and the aristocratic ideal of verdant privacy, 
 a certain compromise has been found for 
 the highest ranks of the titular hierarchy, as 
 we shall see in our Mayfair walk. 
 
 In the domestic economy of the town 
 mansion, limitation of space raises delicate 
 issues. It compels, for instance, a nice 
 balance of . adjustment between the lofty 
 dignity and grandeur of public rooms adorned 
 by inherited or collected art treasures, and 
 the demands of ease and comfort in the more 
 private chambers. To meet these conflicting 
 claims,, builders have devised an ingenious 
 plan of construction, whereby the train of 
 servants are accommodated by day in a 
 basement, and by night in attics. 
 
 By a happy accident, not in the original 
 plans, Carlton House Terrace is bisected by 
 Waterloo Place; and there is thus opened 
 into St. James's Park a way fitted for the 
 processional splendours of the future, when 
 the days of pageantry return. Let us end 
 here our first walk, and pause to enjoy a 
 view hard to imagine excelled in any other 
 
i83 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 city. Tp see masonry towering out of green 
 foliage is always to satisfy the mind and 
 cheerx the heart : but here, rising beyond a 
 sea of verdure, we have the delectable vision 
 not of one tower, but a whole succession of 
 :towers, spires and dome. In the foreground 
 of the picture, where the southward way cuts 
 the broad Mall,. the Artillery Monument makes 
 the beginning of a new Cormnemorative Place. 
 Mr. Colton's design curiously resembles Stan- 
 ford White's ingenious construction in New 
 York, which is at once a monument to 
 Farragut, a civic adornment, and a com^ 
 modious public seat. The need for a rest- 
 . place on top of the steps from which to view 
 the panorama suggests the duplicating of 
 Mr. Colton's design ili an adaptation to seats 
 on either side of the York Column. The 
 growing custom of provic^ng special seats 
 for wounded soldiers would thus be followed 
 and even improved upon. And when happily 
 there are no more wounded soldiers, the 
 reversion to the seats will fall in to the 
 public. 
 
 II 'v 
 
 At its west end. Pall Mall proudly bears 
 the Tudor Palace of St. James. The right 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 183 
 
 hour to pay it a visit, at least before the 
 War, was eleven in the forenoon, when there 
 used to take place daily a ipilitary ceremony 
 that served to recall the memories of the 
 place, or some of them. What it did not 
 recall was the connection of the Palace with 
 the Fair. That is a continuing drama, for 
 there are deeds and events which cling to a 
 place, and remain an " unseen hand " in the 
 ordering of its destiny. 
 
 The story begins with a pious citizen of 
 medieval Westminster who founded a Hospital 
 and dedicated it to St. James. The Abbot 
 of the Benedictine Monastery, then at the 
 height of its influence and wealth, supplied 
 a site on the edge of his farm lands which 
 stood high and dry above the swamp and 
 waste which is now St. James's Park. The 
 King from the old royal Palace of West- 
 minster looked kindly on the deed of charity, 
 and ordained an annual Fair to the honour, 
 of St. James and the profit of the new hospitaL 
 Several centuries pass of unbjroken record in 
 the quiet fulfilment of the Hospital's purpose, ^ 
 to shelter and care for leprous women. Then 
 appears at the new Palace of Whitehall a 
 monarch who feared neither God nor the 
 Devil, he who despoiled the Church, robbed 
 the Guilds and did his best to desecrate the 
 
i84 OUR SOCIAL, INHERITANCE 
 
 tradition and ritual of marriage. A lover of 
 sport; he coveted the Abbot's \^ste for a 
 hunting-ground, and this trifle was thereupon 
 added to the vast booty of stolen monastic 
 lands. The land was converted into a pre- 
 serve, by the erection of an encircling wall 
 which kept the game in and the public out. 
 The site of the Hospital was a tempting spot 
 for a country house, that should also be a 
 hunting-lodge, so the inmates were ejected,:, 
 and St. James's Palace replaced St. James's 
 Hospital. The revenues of the Fair doubt- 
 less went to swell the pockets of some favourite 
 courtier already glutted with the pillage of 
 the Church. 
 
 Another century passes, and a more gener- 
 ous SjUd sympathetic King appears at White- 
 hall, the first Charles. He restores to public 
 use St. James's Park, but retains the Palace, 
 and leaves the revenue of the Fair to flow 
 into 'aristocratic coffers. Next the Puritans 
 have their turn in the seats of authority at 
 Whitehall. They suppress the Fair, and for 
 half a generation sit heavily on the safety- 
 valves of gaiety, with consequent subter- 
 ranean explosions. Next returns the " Merrie 
 Monarch " with his baechanalian train. The 
 Fair is restored; and during a few years ot 
 flickeririg life it adds its own brand to the 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 185 
 
 coarse jollities of Restoration London. This 
 resulting blend of festivities survived the 
 vicissitudes of fashion for two centuries; 
 indeed, according to competent observers, it 
 is far from absent in the contemporary 
 customs of the place; into which, however, 
 the wise convalescent will not farther inquire. 
 
 As for the fate of the Old Fair itself, the 
 record is that an ordinance (of Charles 
 n !) finally and for ever suppressed it, on 
 account of its " debauchery and lewdness." 
 To speak truly, the medieval fair was dying 
 of suffoc3.tion. It was strangled by the 
 tightening ring of town mansions which in 
 the seventeenth century were gathering about 
 the royal Palace of St. James, as later they 
 clustered round the royal house at Kensington 
 and finally round Buckingham Palace. What 
 the Renaissance plutocracy wanted, as does 
 the modern city, was not an annued fair, 
 but an all-the-year-round one ; not a weekly 
 market, but an all-day and every-day one. 
 So the ancient fair was born again in adapta- 
 tion first to Restoration London, and then to 
 the contemporary metropolis. And the old 
 market reappeared in dispersal through scores 
 of shops and stores since multiplied tenfold. 
 
 All these and countless other echoes from 
 the past mingle in the city gf to-day with 
 
i86 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 the quickening voice of to-morrow. There 
 is thus generated a civic spirit which, with 
 all its faults, strives ceaselessly for corporate 
 and individual "life more abundant." And 
 that quest is most manifest in the pulsating 
 region of our itinerary, for therein the aristo- 
 cratic and the popular pleasuring imite their 
 courses day and night throughout a large 
 part of the year. This civic quarter has 
 become a perpetual fair with a fringe of 
 palaces. How powerful is the spirit of the- 
 place let the story of Regent Street tell. ' 
 For that purpose we must pass for a moment 
 beyond the bounds of our present itinerary. 
 
 Early in the nineteenth century, Nash, the 
 dominant architect and town-planner of the 
 day, backed by the strong arm of royalty, 
 threw his energies into the designing and 
 making of a sumptuous boulevard. It was 
 intended to connect the newly made Regent's 
 Park on the far north, with the Regent's 
 Palace, which stood where is now the York 
 Column at the lower end of Waterloo Place, 
 In this grandiose, design for Regency adorn- 
 ment he did not succeed. The spirit of the 
 place was antagonistic and defeated the will 
 of the town-planner and his royal supporter. 
 What was actually achieved is that which 
 the genius loci dictated. Lower Regent Street, 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 187 
 
 if you think of it symbolically, is a cere- 
 monious broadway linking into unity the 
 refined luxury of Pall Mall and the commoner 
 gaieties of Piccadilly Circus. Thus, by the 
 construction of Lower Regent Street were 
 the two foci of festivity made to work into 
 more balanced adjustment. And with a 
 certain rounded completeness, the new street, 
 in cutting its broadway from Pall Mall to 
 Piccadilly, obliterated St. James's Market — 
 solitary visible remnant of the medieval 
 Fair and of the later Haymarket. 
 
 Nash, it is true, so far got his way as to 
 build the Upper as well as the Lower Regent 
 Street. But what has become of the massive 
 arcading of the Quadrant and the projecting 
 Spire of All Souls' Church, those two in- 
 genious devices, on which he depended for 
 continuity round the bends 'in his curving 
 boulevard? As for the arcading, that was 
 promptly assailed as an obstruction to shop- 
 ping, and most of it was soon replaced by 
 the inevitable plate glass. The essential 
 civic character of Upper Regent Street was 
 thereby revealed as nothing but a bifurcation 
 and extension north and south of that 
 traditional shopping thoroughfare, Oxford 
 Street, itself a continuation of Holborn as 
 that is of Cheapside, the general market- 
 
i88 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 place of London City from time immemorial. 
 And to realize the frustration of Nash's 
 design and the discomfiture of royal am- 
 bition, notice the fate of All Souls' Spire. 
 It was first dwarfed by that huge caravan- 
 serai, the Portland Hotel, and then reduced 
 still further towards insignificance by the 
 erection of an almost American building for 
 the Regent Street Polytechnic. 
 
 Contemplating Waterloo Place as it is 
 to-day and holds promise of becoming to- 
 morrow, one is confirmed in the opinion that 
 Nash planned betier than he knew, and that 
 in more senses than one. By the demolition 
 of Carlton House (the Regent's, Palace), a 
 Superb \vindow was opened from Waterloo 
 Place into St. James's Park. , A first-rate 
 possibility was thus offered to civic architect 
 and sculptor, of making a " Grand Place," 
 and indeed something more. One statue 
 after another has appeared, and so there are 
 gathering elements of what may yet be as 
 fine a Forum as any. For where there is 
 noble sculpture, there nobility of civic life 
 should be not far to seek. A " Grand Place," 
 one may say, becomes a Forum when it 
 brings together the citizens in no mere 
 assemblage of f)leasure or of business, but 
 in contemplation of the beautiful', in af&rma- 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 189 
 
 tion of the truth and towards resolve of the 
 good. It is of happy augury that the latest 
 additions to the statuary of Waterloo Place 
 appeal alike to the sense of beauty and to 
 love of the heroic. There were set up just 
 before the war, statues of Captain Scott, 
 hero of the Antarctic, of Florence Nightingale 
 with her lamp, and of her champion, Sidney 
 Herbert. These monuments commemorate 
 deeds as bright as any in history, and, to 
 some critics at any rate, they are also ad- 
 mirable as works of art. This incipient 
 Forum lacks, as yet, its dominant figure. 
 For the rightly forgotten scion of royalty who 
 stands 125 feet high on the York Column is 
 surely but a temporary occupant of that lofty 
 perch. He is the decorative match, if war- 
 like antithesis, of the Nelson on the twin 
 column in Trafalgar Square — as you may 
 verify from one of the few spots where they 
 can both be seen together. 
 
 The complete furnishing of this possible 
 Forum of military and initiative idealisms, 
 though well begun, belongs to the future. 
 Should the War in its sequel produce a new 
 Joan of Arc (for whom the times are surely 
 ripe), the site of her statue is waiting. The 
 spirit of the place is expectant and the 
 company is in the main not unworthy. 
 
igo, OtJR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 To return from Pall Mall to Piccadilly, 
 let us avoid the central boulevard of Regefit 
 Street, the shoppirig and theatre traffic of 
 the Haymarket, and likewise the westerii 
 passage by St. James's Stre6t, which is almost 
 as much a street of clubs as Pall Mall itself. 
 Let us go by way of St. James's Squatre.'s 
 Laid out and built during thcL Restoration, 
 its houses gave relief to the congestion of 
 Westminster City, filled to overflowing by 
 the old and new nobles, merchant princes 
 and. adventurers who fluttered about White- 
 halll like moths round a candle. The list of 
 celebrities who have lived in the Square fills 
 pages of the antiquaries' - books, It runs 
 from Royal Dukes to their mistresses, and 
 with many grades and kinds of distinction 
 above, below, or between, as from Gibbon 
 and Gladstone downwards. Of its present 
 inhabitants, by far the- most interesting is 
 the occupant of the north-west corner house. 
 For there; dwells the London Library, ~ be- 
 gotten of Carlyle, who iound the metropolis- 
 without a good lending library and left it 
 equipped with the best in the country. 
 There are other houses of interest. Thus 
 No. 31 and No. . 5 are samples of family 
 mansions, the former that of an old line of 
 territorial aristocracy, the Dukes of Norfolk, 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 191 
 
 and the latter, of a new one, at once cultural 
 and mercantile (Lords of Avebury and Lom- 
 bard Street). No. 32 is the town house of 
 the Bishops of London, and recalls the time 
 when the episcopal country seat at Fulham 
 was distant from London a stage-coach 
 journey with the attendant risk of attack 
 by highwaymen. No. 15 is a plain brick 
 house to which are attached the stone pillars 
 and pediment of a classical fagade. It is a 
 landmark in the perennial Battle of the 
 Styles. It was built in the latter half of the 
 eighteenth century by the architect rightly 
 enough nicknamed " Athenian " Stuart, and 
 immediately became the fashion of the day. 
 At the instance of the famous Dilettanti 
 Society, Stuart had gone on an architectural 
 mission to Athens to make precise measure- 
 ments of ancient Greek buildings. On his 
 return he crystallized his Hellenic experience 
 in this building. It was acclaimed by con- 
 temporary critics to be the vety acme of 
 fine taste. It started a new wave of classicism 
 in the ebbing tide of Renaissance building, 
 with corresponding reaction against the plain 
 and simple Georgian, exemplified in some of 
 - the houses survivihg in the Square. 
 
 In King Street on our way to Piccadilly 
 there are two notable buildings for us. One 
 
192 OtFR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 is St. James's Theatre, westernmost of play- 
 houses and the ninth theatre '(counting in 
 music-halls) within the area we call St. 
 James's Fair. The other is the Renaissance 
 fafade of Messrs. Christie, Manson and Woods' 
 great suite of galleries, known the, world over 
 as headquarters for the sale of works of art. 
 Nominally a private auction mart, this build- 
 ing is, in, reality, one of the greatest of public 
 museums; for if you pay a visit to these 
 galleries, once a week throughout the year, 
 you see displayed a more varied and exten- 
 sive collection of art treasures than most 
 metropolitan museums can boast. Indeed 
 private enterprise, aiming at something else, 
 has in' a w^i- achieved that desideratum of 
 the curator — a museum of circulating con- 
 tents. Through its galleries there flows a 
 perennial stream whose source is in ihe old 
 mansions of a decaying aristocracy and out- 
 let in the new ones of a rising plutocracy. 
 Those who sell for money, or buy for status 
 or pleasure, alike here continuously contribr 
 ute their quota. Hence you may see, pur- 
 chase and carry home as a personal trophy, 
 treasures that range from a medieval carvings 
 pillaged from a monastery in the sixteenth 
 century to a futurist painting fresh from a 
 twentieth-century studio. The quaint and 
 
THROUGH St. JAMES'S FAIR 193 
 
 curious products of the East are there, 
 mingHng with those of the West and North 
 and South in true museum-Uke profusion 
 and confusion. If any doubt exist as, to 
 whether or not the spirit of the medieval 
 Fair still broods over St. James's, it cannot but 
 be dispelled by a study of Messrs. Christie's 
 catalogues. Read the following enumeration 
 — ^recited aloud it is as sonorous as a Homeric 
 hymn — " the ebony of the Moluccas ; the 
 sandal wood of Timor; the costly camphor 
 of Borneo; the benzoin of Sumatra and 
 Java; the aloes wood of Cochin China; the 
 perfume, silks and innumerable curiosities 
 of China, Japan, and Siam; the rubies of 
 Pegu ; the iine fabrics of Coromandel ; the 
 richer stuffs of Bengal; the spikenard of 
 Nepaul and Bhutan; the diamonds of Gol- 
 couda; the Damascus steel of Nirmul; the 
 pearls, sapphires, topazes of Ceylon; the 
 satin wood of Malabar; the lac, agates, and 
 sumptuous brocades and jewellery of Cam- 
 bay; the costuS and graven vessels, wrought 
 arms, and broidered shawls of Cashmere; 
 the bodillium of Scinde ; the miisk of Thibet ; 
 the galbanum of: Khorassan ; the sagepenum 
 of Persia; ambergris, civet, and ivory of 
 Zanzibar; frankincense of Zeila, Berbera, 
 and Shehr." That is a list of leading Oriental 
 
194 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 gOpds customarily offered for sale at one of, 
 the great Fairs of medieval Europe; but 
 might it not pass ior a Selection from these 
 modern auction catalogues? 
 
 After leaving this famous Auction Mart, 
 the natural way to Yea^in Piccadilly is via 
 Duke Street, for that is practically an ex- 
 tension of these King Street galleries. It is 
 lined with shops for the exhibition and dis- 
 posal of what are variously called bric-a-brac,' 
 objects of virtu, antiques, art treasures, 
 according to the mood and the upbringing: 
 of the speaker. And another reason for 
 passing through Duke Street is that it fitly ^ 
 closes our walk with a view of the Guild 
 Hall of those contemporary craftsmen whose 
 excellence in painting and sculpture keeps 
 alive the making of " art treasures." King 
 Street debouches on. Burlington House and 
 frames a portion of its facade in a not un-' 
 pleasing vista. The alignment of Burlington 
 House portico with Duke Street is missed 
 by a few feet ; but that defect of civic adjust- 
 nient need not spoil the vista if you take a 
 little pains to find the compensating angle 
 of sight. Too often in our walks we find ; 
 street-vistas marred for want of a little town- 
 planning ; but that art long cultivated, then 
 well-nigh forgotten in Victorian days, is now 
 
THROUGH ST. JAMES'S FAIR 195 
 
 reviving. It is an art which some, not 
 knowing what it is and imputing to it what 
 it is not, disHke; especially those who hold 
 the mistaken idea that it comes from Germany. 
 It is ancient and universal in origin, yet for 
 the amateur it is a comparatively simple 
 affair. It consists primarily in not regarding 
 a street as so many shop-fronts or separate 
 buildings, but as a unity and sequence of 
 vistas. The town-planner's habit of mind 
 may be cultivated by remembering, when one 
 enters a street, to look along it both ways, 
 and see what kind of view is presented at 
 each end of the street, and framed by its 
 terminal houses. Yet one of the most re- 
 vealing discoveries of life is the number of 
 undesigned scenes of beauty which the archi- 
 tecture of every great city offers to the 
 observing pedestrian. And it is well to 
 begin one's civic observations through the 
 sense of beauty, if only to fortify the mind 
 to pass on to the distasteful things of which 
 every modern city is too full. Many prefer 
 to begin their to\vn-planning studies at the 
 utilitarian end, as for instance by counting 
 the pedestrians visiting the markets, estima- 
 ting the traffic or measuring the breadth of 
 the streets. That is excellent preparation 
 for census collector, economist, and engineer. 
 
196 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 But the wise town-planner comes to the dry 
 facts. in his own good time, which is after 
 his mind is stored with historic memories, 
 knd images of beauty. He uses all the 
 resources of the material sciences, but each 
 in its proper place. He will note, for in- 
 stance, in the area of the present itinerary ,' 
 the Museum of Practical Geology in Jermyn 
 Street. Yet he may defer his visit tiU the 
 moment arrives for studying the site of 
 London, of which there is a large model in 
 the Museum, or of studying the available 
 building materials along with his brother, 
 the architect. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 MAYFAIR 
 
 The Mayfair walk is from Burlington 
 House to Hyde Park Corner. The precise 
 route by which the .destination is reached 
 'does not much matter, provided certain 
 places of special interest are visited on the 
 way. One of these is Shepherd's Market. A 
 few small shops — mostly for the sale of 
 vegetables and groceries, or other affairs of 
 petty trade — open into a square where the 
 temporary booths of long ago have estab- 
 lished themselves as an intrusive row of 
 permanent buildings. That is Shepherd's 
 Market. It shows, as in a diagram, the 
 evolution of the old-world Market into the 
 modem systfem of Shops. But why begin 
 our observations of Mayfair with what in 
 appearance is the antithesis of all things 
 aristocratic? Assuredly nothing could be 
 in sharper contrast to the conventional idea 
 of Mayfair, than is Shepherd's Market. Well, 
 this is a diagram of economic evolution, and 
 something more. Shepherd's Market is the 
 
 197 
 
igS OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 lineal successor of the great spring gathering 
 which gave its name to the original May Fair. 
 Down even to the beginning of the eighteenth: 
 century there was held in this locality a Fair 
 which afforded the people of Westminster a 
 fortnight of carnival each springtime. As 
 St. James's Fair was the Summer carnival, 
 so this was the corresponding Spring Festival; = 
 Rich and poor alike participated, each in their 
 own way, in the gaieties of the old May Fair. 
 Witness the following extract from a letter , 
 in the Tatter of 1701 — 
 
 " I wish you had been at May Fair, where 
 the rope dancing would have recompensed 
 your labour. All the nobility in town were 
 there, and I am sure even you, at your years, 
 must have had your youthful wishes, to have 
 beheld the beauty, shape and activity of Lady 
 Mary when she danced. Pray ask my Lord 
 Fairfax after her, who, though not the only 
 lord by twenty, was every night an admirer 
 of her while the fair lasted. There was the 
 city of Amsterdam, well worth your seeing; 
 every street, every individual house was 
 carved in wood, in exact proportion one to 
 another; the Stadhouse was as big as your 
 hand; the whole, though an irregular figure, 
 yet that you may guess, about ten yards- 
 
MAYFAIR 199 
 
 diameter. Here was a boy to be seen, that 
 within one of his eyes had DEUS MEUS in 
 capital letters, as GULIELMUS is on half-a- 
 crown; round the other he had a Hebrew 
 inscription, but this you must take as I did, 
 upon trust." 
 
 But the end of May Fair in its original and 
 democratic form was rapidly approaching : 
 for in a Taller of less than ten years later, we 
 read — 
 
 " Yet that Fair is now broke, as well as the 
 Theatre is breaking; but it is allowed still 
 to sell animals there. Therefore if any lady 
 or gentleman have occasion for a tame 
 elephant, let them enquire of Mr. Pinkethman, 
 who has one to dispose of at a reasonable 
 rate. The downfall of May Fair has quite 
 sunk the price of this noble creature as well 
 as of many other curiosities of nature. A 
 tiger will sell almost as cheap as an ox ; and 
 I am credibly informed a man may purchase 
 a cat with three legs for very near the value 
 of one with four ..." 
 
 ..." Advices from the upper end of Picca- 
 dilly say that May Fair, is utterly abolished, 
 and we hear Mr. Pinkethman has removed 
 
200 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 his ingenious company of strollers to~ Green- 
 wich." 
 
 To-day the small and rather grimy shops 
 of Shepherd's Market cater for the petty wants 
 of charwomen, laundresses, caretakers, chauf- 
 feurs, coachmen and other " dependents " 
 of the great houses around. Hence it is a 
 place of respectability, but low vitaHty. 
 Therein one might discover a poignant con- 
 trast to the intensity of life which once 
 characterized this place. But assuredly that 
 former intensity is trainsfojrmed and diffused 
 rather than departed. And the mode of its 
 transformation, its current varieties, and their 
 ^changing tendencies, are the topics of our 
 present walk. The evolution of old into new 
 Mayfair will be our Ariadne thread through' 
 this West End labs^rinth. 
 
 Immediately adjacent to the Market, indeed 
 occupying one of its corners, is a ducal 
 mansion, restore4 from the fortune that came 
 with etn American heiress. The size and 
 magnificence of this edifice testifies to one 
 characteristic mode of aristocratic renewal. 
 And the site of the mansion recalls another 
 secret of patrician continuity. The two tap-' 
 roots of aristocracy are its inherent powers of 
 social renewal and organic renewal, Declin- 
 
MAYFAIR 201 
 
 ing patriciates renew themselves socially by 
 marriage with the heiresses of commerce. 
 'They renew themselves organically by the 
 selection of brides picked for beauty, health 
 and charm, from no matter what class. Now 
 it so happens that on br about the site of this 
 ducal mansion stood once the most famous of 
 all the chapels for celebration of " Fleet " 
 marriages. Here officiated the notorious Dr. 
 Keith, ever ready at a moment's notice, and 
 for moderate fee, to administer the sacrament 
 of Holy Matrimony to all and sui^dry. During 
 the season of the May Fair there streamed 
 into Dr. Keith's chapel a procession of happy 
 couples, borne on the springtide of life. As 
 many as six thousand marriages were said 
 to have been celebrated in this chapel by tjie 
 valiant Keith in the course of a single year. 
 Nothing short of an Act of Parliament could 
 stem this flow of vitality. But before re- 
 course to that traditional damper, there had 
 been tried in vain an ecclesiastical censure, 
 and a public excommunication on the facile 
 parson; who, nothing daunted, retaliated 
 on his assailants by himself declaring ex- 
 communication on his bishop and also on the 
 associated civil judge ! Keith's chapel, while 
 its day lasted, was a vortex of life, not only . 
 for the people. To it also were drawn ardent 
 
202 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 aristocrats bent on renewing the vitality of 
 their own families, and incidentally,- that 
 of their order, from the youth and beauty of 
 less exalted classes. It was thus the scene 
 of many so-called mesalliances. Here, for 
 instance, was celebrated the marriage of a 
 Duke of Hamilton, who, by espousing a 
 beautiful commoner introduced into the 
 Olympian circle a woriian of abounding life. 
 She became the wife of two, and the mother 
 of four dukes. 
 
 An aristocracy has been defined as "a 
 group of families umtej, by an epic urge." To 
 be sure it is easier, by observation in Mayfair, 
 to confirm the first part of the definition than 
 the second. The family grouping is more 
 conspicuous than the epic urge ; thougK the 
 latteir is plain enough to the searching eye, as 
 we shall later see. One may speak of the^ 
 families of Mayfair as a group, in the sense 
 that one speaks of a herd of deer, a flock of 
 birds, a shoal of fish. They are creatures of 
 seasonal migration, here to-day and gone 
 to-morrow. Mayfair is but one of their many 
 seasonal haunts. Here they assemble to 
 make merry in the spring and early summer 
 months. Their " season in town " is a time 
 of effervescent activities, literally a prolonged 
 May Fair ; a continuous c^^rnival of f eastings, 
 
MAYFAIR 203 
 
 gaieties, and " shows," of every order, ranging 
 from an exhibition of Futurist paintings in a 
 Bond Street gallery, to the classic races at, 
 Epsom and Ascot. As the heats of summer 
 replace the quickening warmth of spring, the 
 pleasure-seekers of the Fair become satiated. 
 The season in town ended, there is a migra- 
 tion to the recuperative places of nature and 
 to the Kurorfer, or other healing places of 
 medical art. To the continental spas go 
 mostly the enfeebled and the overfed ; but 
 elsewhere the^bulk of the migratory pack. 
 The moors and glens, the streams and moun- 
 tains of Scotland, are the nearest reserves of 
 great natural solitudes. Hence these have, 
 become, partly by the drift of things, and 
 stiU more, perhaps, by artificial processes, the 
 great hunting-ground and autumn sana- 
 torium of the English aristocracy, and their 
 plutocratic understudies. 
 
 Between autumn and midwinter, the game 
 coverts and the grasslands of English shires 
 afford exhilarating occupation on foot and 
 horseback, especially to the lusty young 
 males, So Society scatters to its family man- 
 sions throughout the countryside. In the 
 cold and dreary days of the new year they 
 gather again for a flight in the wake of the' 
 swallow. 
 
204 OUR SOCIAL INHERltANCE 
 
 Their villas; coquettishly pferched on sunlit 
 spots of Mediterranean shores, intermingle 
 with those of other European aristoc^^acies. 
 With these they sometimes play and make 
 scandal : sometimes keep critically apart; 
 in either case subconsciously preparing to 
 fight, and, so make history! But with the 
 politics, foreign or domestic, of this strange 
 species, alternately superordinary and sub- 
 ordinary, we are not here concerned : that 
 belongs to another part of Westminster. Nor, 
 indeed, are we concerned with their migratory 
 habits, except to note in the round of seasonal 
 haunts the place of Mi,yfair. What^ we have 
 to observe and interpret is the mode of life 
 in this habitat. ^ Where, it may be asked to 
 begin with, do we find the evidences, of that 
 epic urge which i$ the alleged bond of social 
 union ? It is not obvious, maybe, the e^ic 
 element in marrying a tradesman's heiress, or 
 the lyric with a chorus girl. True, though it 
 might well be answered that the high adven- 
 ture in that affair is mainly on the woman's 
 part. Aside from these particular cases, aire 
 not patrician women ever inspirers and cpn- 
 servers of courage in their order? To the 
 young male, courage comes as a natural 
 function like digestion and respiration. But 
 that kind of courage is material and episodal 
 
MAYFAIR 205 
 
 rather than moral and sustained. And 
 woman, whether in patrician or other classes, 
 is, many believe, the main transformer of 
 episodal into habitual courage. But in this 
 matter the womanly r6le is far from, being 
 merely passive. Is she not herself the most 
 frequent exemplar of that higher courage 
 which is needed for explorations of the moral 
 and spiritual life ? 
 
 Of this let us take an instance from the 
 neighbourhood of Shepherd's Market, where 
 our walk was arrested by this discussion. 
 Almost opposite the Curzon Street entrance 
 to the Market is a great arched portico eft 
 carved stone adorned with the architectural, 
 sjonbols of life abundant. Flaming torches, 
 ears of wheat, lamps of oil, proclaim a re- 
 ligious purpose. And in confirmation you 
 read in sculptured letters that compose into 
 the decorative scheme; — 
 
 THIRD CHURCH OF CHRIST SCIENTIST. 
 
 The building is open, and there is that about 
 it which invites the passer-by to enter. In 
 the spacious hall, brightened by flowers and 
 a glowing hearth, you> are welcomed by a 
 smiling lay-priestess, with friendly offer to 
 show and explain. After a tour of the more 
 sacred parts of the interior, you are put in 
 
2o6 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE' 
 
 charge of another smiling priestess, the 
 guardian of a soothingly decorated reading- 
 room, where an arm-chair and a supply of 
 sacred and secular literature are placed at 
 your disposal. Whatever opinion you may 
 hold of this new religion, you cannot but 
 adniire the courage of the women who thus 
 administer the introduction to its ritual to the 
 stranger within their gates. 
 
 But this incursion of modern woman into 
 a world bristling with spiritual perils is only 
 a sample of the moral and psychic re-explora- 
 tions undertaken in recent years under 
 feminist impulse and guidance. Other illus- 
 trations could be given in abundance, from 
 drawing-rooms of Mayfair, and from the upper 
 chambers of Bond Street, with their many 
 sibyls of the occult ; and these never so busy 
 and prosperous as since the War. In short, 
 there are many active centres of the current 
 revival of explorations into the mysteries and 
 the meaning of the inner life. The courage 
 required to launch one's bark upon these 
 uncharted seas is, of course, far from confined 
 to the women of the, aristocracy. But in the 
 spiritual adventuring of the; latter, there is a 
 certain moral audacity which, in another 
 field of exploit, is called epic. Especially is 
 that so in the play of sex within the larger 
 
MAYFAIR 207 
 
 social drama. To be sure, the man also acts 
 his part in fitting fashion, where the issue is 
 worth while. In illustration thereof take the 
 following little history, with its Mayfair 
 sequel and setting. 
 
 A younger son of a minor Scottish laird — 
 one Duncan of Lundie — joins the British 
 Navy to seek his fortune in the wars, 
 French, Spanish and Dutch, which merrily 
 continued throughout the eighteenth century. 
 He serves with distinction in actions ranging 
 half round the world. But promotion is slow 
 for an unbefriended youth ; and small is the 
 share of prize money that falls to junior 
 officers. Wearisome years are spent in wait- 
 ing and pleading for the command that was 
 his by right of prowess. He descends almost 
 into mid-life without getting a ship of his own. 
 Then he marries into that powerful family, 
 the Dundases of Arniston. Quickly the scene 
 changes. Rapidly he rises through rank after 
 rank, to command of one of the main fleets. 
 Ife was blockading the Dutch coast (it is 
 said to have been one of the most effective 
 blockades in history), when, the mutiny at 
 the Nore broke out. Insubordination affects 
 Admiral Duncan's fleet with the rest. But 
 by dramatic displays of the Herculean 
 strength that went ^yith his stature of six feet 
 
20? OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 four, the Admiral holds together the Qrew_ 
 of his flagship and of one or two others. 
 With these he keeps at sea and continues 
 to maintain the blockade by a ruse. He 
 hoodwinks, the Dutch fleet into inactivity 
 by a display of well-designed signals to that 
 large part of his own fleet which was not 
 there. The mutiny subdued and his squadron- 
 restored to strength, the Admiral returns to> 
 port, in order to refit. While still in harbour . 
 .and his squadron only half refitted, word is 
 brought that the Dutch fleet has come out. 
 The Admiral puts to sea^ only to find the 
 Dutch fleet sailing close under a lee shore and" 
 making for their home port. By disregard- 
 ing a stringent standing regulation of the 
 Admiralty oiily to attack in line-of-battle 
 formation, the reckless Admiral manages by a 
 disorderly assault to squeeze in between the 
 Dutch fleet and their own coast. 
 
 The result of the battle of Camperdown 
 ev^ry schoolboy knows. What the history- 
 books do not recite are certain details of 
 information in the sequel; which incidentally; 
 throw some light on the problem of haw 
 aristocracies are made and maintained. They' 
 tell us, to be sure, that Admiral Duncan was 
 rewarded by a Viscounty, and a modest 
 pension to be continued for three generations. 
 
MAYFAIR . 209 
 
 The smallness of the pension consorted ill 
 with the dignity to. be maintained in per- 
 petuity by the family of a Viscount. But 
 one of the things the historians do not mention 
 is that the Government in deciding the 
 amount of the pension probably took into 
 account the quantity of booty not unlikely 
 to remain in the hands of a Scottish Admiral 
 after many years conscientiously devoted to 
 the spoiling of the three richest nations of 
 the day, and the sacking of their colonial 
 ports. Another item usually omitted from 
 the narrative is that the women-folk of the 
 family — especially, one may suppose, those 
 on the Dundas side — -were dissatisfied with 
 the Viscounty, as being in their view in- 
 adequate to the merits of the case. One of 
 the Admiral's aunts, when she heard rumour 
 of the proposed title, squarely faced the 
 Secretary of War, and told the Minister 
 straight, " the least you can do is to give him 
 an Earldom." But the Minister thus admon- 
 ished was a kinsman of the Dundas family; 
 and that perhaps is why the higher title was 
 delayed, and only given to Admiral Duncan's 
 son. For aristocracies, at their best, exercise 
 a judicious punctilio in regard to these matters. 
 The Mayfair Mansion of the Earls of 
 Camperdown, as we pass it in our walk through 
 
210 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Charles Street, will recaU this story, so repre- 
 sentative of that epic urge which^ is tlie core 
 of the tradition that inspires and holds 
 together groups of patrician families. And 
 let us not forget, the feminist factor in the 
 narrative. We may fairly generalize its part ; 
 and perceive therein the providence that 
 secures careers for the young men of its order 
 and honours for the older ones. 
 
 This feminist factor works for the most 
 part behind the scenes ; and that doubtless 
 is one of the reasons why it counts for so much- 
 in the renewal and sustenance of patrician 
 distinctions. Niceties of difference in status, 
 such as that between a viscount and an earl, 
 may seem to the plebeian mind lacking in 
 significance. But that . failure of sensibility 
 connotes, perhaps, nothing but our dulness 
 in the appreciation of delicately graded life- 
 enhancements. How different the mind of 
 the patrician woman ! How amazing her 
 discrimination of vital values, whether in the 
 titles of nobility, the etiquette of gesture, or 
 the esthetics of Bond Street wares. And 
 keen as is her sensitiveness to the nuances of 
 life, it is yet equalled by her deftness in 
 manipulating them. For this she has devised 
 an art unrecognized in the schools, and 
 elaborated a logic unknown to philosophers.. 
 
MAYFAIR 211 
 
 By subtle social readjustment, by her resolute 
 personal choice of favoured individuals, and 
 by her will to seek out and utilize to their full, 
 the psychic forces of life, is not woman — 
 plebeian and patrician alike — ^for ever at 
 work silently frustrating the levelling ten- 
 dencies of democratic institutions? Is it 
 not largely hence that, even in democratic 
 France, they have so often to say " Cherchez 
 la femme " ? 
 
 Let us consider some further illustrations 
 of this hidden play on the chessboard of life, 
 as revealed in the customs of Mayfair. One 
 of the " Season's " events is the annual show 
 of pictures at Burlington House. The gal- 
 leries of the Academy are then thronged with 
 queenly women, gowned in spring finery, and 
 crowned in all the glory of the milliners' art. 
 The attendant cavaliers also are many : and 
 though decked in soberer hues, they shine, if 
 not always in their minds, at any rate doubly 
 so in boots and hat. , As for the painted 
 wares of the shew, who shall describe their 
 number, brilliance and variety? A well- 
 known philosopher of art has essayed the 
 task — 
 
 " Imagine," he says, " a building divided 
 into many rooms. . . . Every wall is covered 
 
212 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 with pictures . . . animals in sunlight or 
 shadow, drinking, standing- in water, lying 
 on the grass . . . human figures sitting, 
 standing, wa,lking; often they are naked. 
 . . . Apples and silver dishes ; portraits of 
 Councillor So and So^ sunset ; lady in red ; 
 jflying duck ; poi'trait of Lady X. ; flying 
 geese; lady in white; calves in shadow ; . . . 
 portrait of Prince Y. ; lady in green. . . ." 
 
 But all this confusion of presentment is 
 not to be taken as impugning the taste of the 
 patrons or the skill of the artists. For is it 
 not inexorably dictated by the current mode 
 of window-dressing ? The aim of the show- 
 man {yfho to-day is the shopman) ■ apparently 
 is ta overwhelm the spectator with so lavish 
 a display as to distract the senses and conse- 
 quently suspend the critical faculties. The 
 customer is to be pardoned if, in the mental 
 confusion of his sensuous bedazzlement, he 
 does not discriminate nicely between quantity 
 and quality. And it is not to be wondered at 
 if, in consequence, he hands over his purse 
 to the most vocal salesman. Thiis are 
 commonly accounted as neither well-founded 
 nor in proper taste, the current gibes against 
 the Royal Academy for overcrowding its 
 walls with flaunting appeals to unrefined 
 
MAYFAIR 213 
 
 sense, and with sentimental exercises in 
 commonplace emotions. 
 
 A week 'or two previous to the opening of 
 the exhibition, there may be witnessed a 
 scene that is complementary to the fashion- 
 able assemblage of patrons. To see this other 
 spectacle, one must go round to the back door 
 of the Academy, through which the pictures 
 are brought in. From Piccadilly to Burling- 
 ton Gardens the change does not seem notable. 
 But once inside the back gate, there is a 
 startling transformation. Here is no stately 
 portico, no spacious courtyard, no sculptured 
 fagade of Portland stone; and only a long, 
 narrow, dark alley between two plain brick 
 walls. That on the left is the western gable 
 of the Academy building itself, and it 
 stretches its great height and length un- 
 relieved by a single decorative touch. If it 
 were not for the magnificence of the Picca- 
 dilly front, the visitor might foolishly fancy 
 from its back premises that the Royal 
 Academy was a factory in a slum. 
 
 At the back door, then, we take our stand, 
 to watch the stream of pictures passing all 
 day into the building. In this procession, 
 if you have the patience to wait and watch 
 it, you may see a veritable model of our 
 social world. Between the struggling artist 
 
214 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 carrying hopefully his own youthf til dream of 
 beauty, and, at the other end of the artistic 
 scale, the canvas of the lady-amateur home 
 indifferently by a footman, you perceive a 
 thousand manifestations of life endowed with 
 the gift of expression and only seeking for 
 its joyful ctiltivation, an appreciative audi- 
 ence. But that simple and primary con- 
 dition of life's fulfilment is denied to all but 
 a favoured few in the competitive chaos of 
 the Academy Exhibition. And the arbiters 
 of the fate that select the favoured few, who 
 are they, and what are their criteria of 
 judgment? To answer these questions, one 
 must trace to their source the styles and views 
 of the elder Academicians, and not merely 
 the fleeting vagaries of " taste." The origins 
 are many. But is not one main concentra- 
 tion to be found in Mayfair salons and the 
 Corresponding country-house parties? In 
 final resort, therefore, it would appear that 
 the fateful shears are, to no negligible extent, 
 to be discovered in the delicate palms of 
 patrician hostesses. 
 
 Burlington House is the Home not only 
 of Art, but of Science; and in the eastern 
 wing of the quadrangle is housed the Royal 
 Society. That august body is to the world of 
 
MAYFAIR 215 
 
 science what the Royal Academy is to the 
 world of Art. Without disrespect, and with 
 truth, it may be described as a skimming of 
 top layers. It is the scientific Upper Chamber 
 or House of Lords. In point of constitution 
 it is renewable by co-option, on a basis some- 
 what antiquated and correspondingly honori- 
 fic. Elsewhere in the quadrangle are lodged 
 the Astronomers and the Geologists, the 
 Antiquarians and the Botanists. The Picca- 
 dilly front is also partly occupied by an organi- 
 zation which is, as it were, the scientific 
 House of Commons. It is known officially 
 as the British Assogiation ; and affectionately 
 by its members as " the British Ass." 
 
 In a eWorld wofuUy disordered, you would 
 expect to find Order, if anywhere, amongst 
 these scientific folk. As the Royal Academy 
 is an Association for the Enhancement of 
 Life through Vision; so all Ihese scientific 
 societies are collectively an association for 
 the Ordering of Life through Knowledge. 
 Hopefully, therefore, you inquire of the Royal 
 Society and the British Association for some 
 Scheme of Knowledge, soihething general 
 and positive, which may help us to avoid and 
 transcend the current conflict of ideas and 
 the prevailing chaos of opinion. But the 
 results are sadly disappointing. As for the 
 
2i6 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE _ " 
 
 Royal Society, such Order as it compasses 
 is got by formally and comprehensively/ 
 excluding from its survqy the most com- 
 plicated things, such as the Human Mind, 
 Social Organization, the Theory and Practi(ie 
 of Religion, and much else. Incredible as 
 it may sound, it is nevertheless a fact, that 
 this pontifical Society, which stands to the 
 Nation and the Government as the embodi- 
 ment of all scientific wisdom, has always ; 
 officially boycotted the psychological and 
 social sciences,. Next, turning to the British 
 Association, one discovers its sense of order 
 to be too little .beyond that of the Royal 
 'Academy catalogue. In other words, as 
 its Sections A B C7 etc., confess, it is also 
 too much arrested at the alphabetical stage, 
 and remains so far primitive and childlike. 
 Still, it has in this the beginnings of a scheme 
 of "knowledge ; and it admits, for instance, 
 Anthropology and Education. 
 
 Now, in, the matter of verified knowledge, ]■ 
 this question of Order is surely fundamental. 
 It is (to borrow a phrase of President Wilson's) 
 the acid test. Make a ruthless application of 
 this test; and you are driven to infer that 
 the official or Burlington House science ought, 
 taking it in its entirety as a system of mental 
 illumination, • more accurately to be called 
 
MAYFAIR 217 
 
 Nescience. People blame the Government 
 and the Nation for not being sufficiently 
 scientific. The trouble is, that in this Burling- 
 ton House sense, the Nation and Governihent 
 are too " purely " scientific. Unless, there- 
 fore, this official house of science widens its 
 ways, it is in danger of becoming Burlesque 
 House to the rising generation, who are 
 asking for the so6ial sciences and their 
 guidance. ' 
 
 In spite of official boycotts, the psycho- 
 logical and social sciences are, of course, 
 pursued in other institutions. These studies 
 are even perpetrating the Universities. But 
 everywhere within the circles of the learned, 
 this culture is dominated by the essentially 
 machine-science of the Royal Society. Hence 
 in college and university it has been arrested 
 for the most part at the study of dead or 
 sterile forms, There it is too seldom animated 
 by the breath of life. Even at its best — say 
 the Economics of Prof. Marshall's school at 
 Cambridge, or of Lord Acton's History 
 school, it is still essentially pre-sociological. 
 Ami so even is " Mind," despite exceptional 
 articles. These, too, are samples of the 
 green tree : we have not space for the faggots 
 of the dry. 
 
 Hence thpse who would s^riQijsly explore 
 
2i8 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 the realities of the social or the inner life and 
 the mysteries of the living soul, are conse- 
 quently deprived of the scientific discipline 
 and skilled guidance which should be avail- 
 able. So it has come about that vital investi- 
 gation into the field of psychic realities has 
 fallen into the hands of amateurs (even great 
 physicists may be examples* of this), and 
 sometimes of charlatans. For moral courage, 
 howevei" abundant, and spiritual insight, 
 however gifted, are no substitute for positive 
 and verified knowledge of the way the world 
 works. Hence the crudities of drawing-room 
 seances, the quackery of Bond Street witch- 
 eries, the simplicist posturings of " new 
 religions," and the bland sophistries of 
 "higher thought" systems. Yet all these 
 manifestations qf psychic activity are the 
 defects of qualities. And while the qualities 
 are their own, the defects are demonstrably 
 the correlate and counterpart, if not wholly 
 the consequence, of the ban and boycott of 
 things social and spiritual by th6 scientific 
 pundits of Burlington House. In what it 
 fails to dpr^as weir as in what it does, the 
 science of Burlington House thus exercises 
 a deep and far-reaching influence first of 
 practical obscurantism in these studies, but 
 also in the false perspective in which thq 
 
MAYFAIR 219 
 
 -physical sciences stand, so long as we leave 
 out the higher ones. 
 
 How the serio-comedy of science is played 
 in its front buildings we have just seen. 
 Next, passing to its rear we observe this 
 serio-comedy turning into solemn (even tragic) 
 farce. There we are confronted by a building 
 of impressive f agade decorated by a whole 
 gallery of statues. In a long double row, the 
 heroes of scientific research, from Aristotle to 
 Lavoisier, are presented in life-sized figures. 
 Contemplating this historical vision of pro- 
 gressive thought, this moving spectacle of 
 experimental discovery, you infer that here 
 indeed is a veritable Temple of Research — 
 perhaps Bacon's " Solomon's House " at last 
 — and that within its halls the lamp of truth 
 burns brightly. In point of fact it was thus 
 built as the examination-centre and record- 
 store of the University of London; and it 
 has now become the Testing-house for our 
 official Mandarinate. The Civil Service ex- 
 aminations are held here. Their processes 
 are well known, if not adequately appreciated. 
 Candidates are first drilled throughout their 
 best years in the memorization of dead know- 
 ledge. Then they are tested and measured 
 as to fitness for national service, by their 
 skill and facility in disgorging the pellets of 
 
220 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 information with which they were previously 
 crammed. 
 
 In a completed Temple of Parnassus^ such 
 as the University must yet be, the Poets, 
 with their attendant musicians, dramatists, 
 dancers and actors, historians, story-tellers 
 • and scholars, may well occupy the central 
 building. Artists, sculptors and architects 
 would inhabit the right wing, and scientists 
 range along the left. Judged by this stanf 
 dard, Burlington House, for all its size and 
 magnifitence, is but a pair of wings for a 
 body still to be created. True, the new (and 
 doubtless some day to be august) British 
 Academy has been recently constituted; and 
 given a lodgment in Burlington House. But 
 these are for the most part the grammarians 
 and the commentators of literature; and, as 
 is well known, gramrnarians and commen- 
 tators have' the unhappy knack of converting 
 any building they may chance to inhabit 
 into a mausoleum. The nearest approach' 
 to a home of living poetry in Westminster is 
 perhaps at Mr. Elkin Mathews's place in Vigo 
 Street. But just outside Westminster is the 
 Poetry Bookshop in Devonshire Street which 
 answers better to that. description, and ap- 
 propriately comes almost within the precincts- 
 of the British Museum, or not too far away. 
 
MAYFAIR 221 
 
 Withal, Mayf air is not without its touch of 
 the Parnassian spirit. Where Hertford Street 
 debouches upon Park Lane, there is a bay 
 wherein has been erected a monument to 
 EngUsh Poetry. It is a fountain with three 
 tiera of statues. First there are the Muses of 
 Tragedy, Comedy and Lyric Poetry; next 
 above these are placed Shakespeare, Milton 
 and Chaucer; and the whole is surmounted 
 by a Victory, winged and golden. Here, 
 then, on the western fringe of Mayfair, stand 
 the poets, though seeming a little dubious of 
 their footing. The artists and the scientisis, 
 with their more appealing gifts — as respec- 
 tively of paint-box for women and children, 
 and of explosives for sportsmen and warriors 
 — ^have their firm lodgment, as we saw, upon 
 the eastern fringe. But that the poets have 
 here a footing at all is an achievement to be 
 credited to the feminist factor. That de- 
 signation is, to be sure, a dull name for the 
 Muses themselves. Throughout the history 
 of aristocracies have not their womenkind 
 ever had Parnassian associations? How 
 often you find them in couples, the great lady 
 and the minor poet; the great poet and the 
 minor lady ! But to whatever originating 
 influence may be due the erection of this 
 Parnassiaii monument, there is evidence of 
 
222 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 the womanly touch in the drinking-trough 
 attached to the fountain, for on its granite 
 are inscribed the words — 
 
 NEW DAYS, NEW WAYS PASS, 
 LOVE STAYS 
 
 The quality (or defect, as some may think 
 it) of appreciating and establishing subtly 
 graded distinctions of status is sometimes 
 made the very basis of social organization. 
 An army is the best-known example of 'such 
 a hierarchized society. Another well-k^nown 
 one is the ' Roman Catholic Church, whose 
 ministrants rise in ordered rank, from choir- 
 boy to Pope. The hierarchy of the British 
 aristocracy falls far short of these perfected 
 social forms : but so far as it goes, 'tis" well 
 illustrated on the - town-plan of Mayfair. 
 Consider, for instance, the plan of that section 
 which runs from Piccadilly to Berkeley 
 Square. First comes Devonshire House, 
 facing the Green Park, and looking towards 
 Buckingham Palace. The ducal mansion 
 stands in grounds which extend to the dimei;i- 
 sions of a miniature park ; so only by com- 
 parison with the spaciousness of the adjacent 
 royal parks does the ducal domain seem small. 
 Next behind the Duke comes Lansdowne 
 House, with private walled grounds, which 
 
MAYFAIR 223 
 
 are also park-like, as befits the dignit5z,of a 
 Marquis, but their size is appreciably below 
 the ducal standard. Finally comes Berkeley 
 Square with its central garden which is to 
 be considered as the Collective Park common 
 — the faithful guide-book informs us — to 
 three Earls, five Lords, two Baronets, one 
 Dowager Duchess, one Countess and two 
 Right Honourables. AH this titled constella- 
 tion is crowded incontinently into Berkeley 
 Square by the harsh limitations of urban 
 space. Thus we see how the town-plan 
 adapts itself to the requirements of status,' 
 from Royalty to Right Honourable ; so that 
 the plan of this section, extending from St. 
 James's Park to Berkeley Square, is a diagram 
 of our titled hierarchy. Some explain these 
 hierarchical tendencies as the reflex of military 
 grading; and doubtless with justice, for even 
 an aristocracy like ours is not without likeness 
 to that of the Kingdom of Prussia, of which 
 war is the business. But that there are other 
 influences at work also, we have already 
 suggested. 
 
 To complete our study of family adjust- 
 ment to site and space on the basis of status, 
 a visit should be paid to some representative- 
 " Mews " of May fair. A typical case is 
 provided in the planned walk. So far we 
 
224 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 have seen only the fronts of Mayfair mansions. 
 What of their backs? In passing through 
 Queen Street you have on either side the 
 customary Fair frontages. But turn into the 
 archway that, opens inconspicuously to the 
 left ; and in a moment another world appears'. 
 You find yourself in a slum. The high grimy 
 walls ahd ifrowning casements of the mansions' 
 backs, rise over a congested mass of^low 
 buildings and mean alleys. The buildings, 
 indeed, are more closely packed and gloomier 
 .than in the ordinary East End slum. There 
 the congestion comes from the crowding of 
 small cottage-like dwellings. The sky of 
 the East End slum is not darkened, except 
 where Business has planted its Warehouse's, 
 Enterprise its Factories, Philanthropy its 
 Model Dwellings and the London County 
 Council its Schools. And even then it is an 
 old ahfl general practice to leave some space 
 between ond dwelling-house and^~ another. 
 But here in the heart of Mayfair you see the 
 two-storied and even three-storied dwellings 
 of the Mews flush against the lower stories of 
 the family mansions. The poisonous system 
 of back-to-back houses is thus riot altogether, 
 as currently supposed, an evil monopoly of 
 the industrial hives of the north. 
 The :/ coachmen, grooms, chauffeurs of the 
 
. MAYFAIR 225 
 
 Mews have wives and children. You will 
 not see the children at play in the Parks of 
 Mayfair. They are often too far away for 
 the younger children, even if the Keepers 
 were encouraging, which they officially are 
 not. The natural playgrounds of these 
 children of the Mews are surely the gardens 
 of the Squares. For simple folk of rustic 
 origin, such as doubtless are most wives of 
 coachmen and grooms, the garden" of the 
 neighbouring square would, but for hindering 
 conventions, be like the village green, a place 
 for games of children, and for gathering and 
 gossip of elders after the day's work. But 
 this conception of the urban square clashes, 
 of course, with that which sees in it a collective 
 park. And while that contrast of ideas lasts, 
 no mere unlocking of gates nor removal of 
 spiked rails would bring the folk of the Mews 
 out into the open lawns of the Square. Some- 
 thing that goes beyond material considerations 
 is needed to bridge the historic abyss between 
 Olympian Park and Village Green. Of what 
 that something consists, we shall find a hint 
 and more in the. closing vista of our walk. 
 
 Our destination is Hyde Park Corner. We 
 
 reach it by a roundabout route from the Poets' 
 
 Monument; there turning north again in 
 
 order to take a glance at Grosvenor Square. 
 
 Q 
 
226 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 That with Berkeley Square make the two 
 social foci of Mayfair. As Devonshire House^ 
 with its outlook oij the Green Park, is the 
 dominating centre of its district, so Gtosvenor 
 House, with its spacious grounds looking 
 into Hyde Park, radiates to its own quartef 
 the prestige of a ducal tradition, whose 
 amplitude of ground-rent roll compensates a 
 certain modernity of title. Crossing Park 
 Lane, we turn Jnto Hyde Park through a 
 footway opposite the lower end of Grosvenor? 
 House grounds. Avoiding the broad road 
 that conducts to Hyde -Park Corner, we seek 
 a more delectable path through the green- 
 sward; An arrow-straight avenue lined with 
 overarching trees runs parallel to the road, 
 but separated from it by masses of foliage 
 and a broad belt of turf. Along this " Lovers' 
 Walk," as it is well called, we take our way. 
 At its southern end the avenue frames a statue 
 of Byron. When near enough just to discern' 
 the bare outline of the statue — say at fifty 
 to a hundred yards according to the state of 
 the atmosphere — ^let us pause. The vista is 
 one of great beauty. Its placid charm is well- 
 calculated to"*^ispel any jarring of feeling 
 lingering from the less pleasing spectacles of 
 our walk. The Byron statue is the centre 
 of a scenic panorama of which the detail as 
 
MAYFAIR 227 
 
 well as the whole enrich our stores of mental 
 imagery. It is in such treasures that the real 
 wealth of aristocracies consists. To the right 
 is the colossal statue of Achilles, clearly- 
 outlined through the foliage. In the back- 
 ground, shining through the trees, are the 
 white pillars of the marble screen at Hyde 
 Park Corner; and beyond this, tower the 
 dark masses of lofty Belgravian mansions. 
 Further to the right, one may dimly trace, 
 through leafy branches, the moving figures 
 of riders in Rotten Row. To the left are just 
 perceptible traces of the variegated archi- 
 tecture which makes Park Lane, in point of 
 styles, the most interesting of Mayfair streets. 
 And between this and the Byron statue, the 
 picture is completed by the dense shrubberies 
 of Hamilton Place gardens, vivid against the 
 grey stone walls of Piccadilly^Mansions. 
 
 With this vista imprinted on the memory, 
 let us close our walk and return another day 
 to interpret the significant items of the final 
 scene. 
 
 What of the return visit of interpretation ? 
 The Byron statue came into the focus of our 
 vista because we abandoned the customary 
 thoroughfare for the less usual one of Lovers' 
 Walk, but the Achilles statue is more central 
 
228 OUR SOCIAL Inheritance 
 
 to the Mayfair standpoint. In an attitude 
 of menace, sword poised for thrust or parry, 
 the colossal figure flaunts its nude muscu- 
 larity from a pedestal, raised on a mound at 
 the public focus of the Park. Deeply carved 
 in great letters of gold, an inscription tells 
 that the statue was set up by the women of 
 Britain, 
 
 TO ARTHUR, DUKE OF WELLINGTON. , 
 
 Impossible not to think that when the sub- 
 scribers conteriiplated the gallant figure 
 created at their desire, the image that arose 
 in their minds was the living warrior hero 
 rather than the mythic one. This , Achilles 
 stands for the Duke himself, stripped of 
 conventional wrappings,- and seen as the 
 Olympian ideal of the youthful patrician 
 trained to war. That ideal is centred to the 
 cult of western aristocracies. At once in 
 enforcement and in answer to its challenge^ : 
 the statue is now confronted by an anti- 
 aircraft gun, mounted on the pediment of 
 the Hyde Park screen.^ That gun is the token 
 of a new ideal of military prowess. Whether 
 we consider the soldier mechanics who work 
 it, or the flying invaders who are their target, 
 it may be safely affirmed that neither have 
 ^ Removed since the close of the war. 
 
MAYFAIR 229 
 
 won their battles on the playing fields of any 
 Eton. Not a few laurels of the air service 
 have been won by youths rejected for the 
 army by reason of this or that " physical 
 unfitness." Yet though we assume that the 
 victories of the future will fall to mind more 
 than to muscle, that does not necessarily 
 mean a waning of the patrician, ideal. It 
 might happily mean that this gifted order, 
 without ceasing its cult of courage, would 
 cherish and glorify and make to prevail its 
 own more fitful Parnassian strain. Think, 
 for instance, of the Byron statue and what 
 it portends. Seated in musing posture, pen 
 in hand, scroll on knee, his favourite dog 
 looking wistfully up, the poet seems to con- 
 trast in every respect with the Achillean 
 t57pe. But in point of fact the youthful 
 Byron combined with his Parnassian gifts 
 those of the Olympian ideal. Notwithstand- 
 ing his sUght deformity, he was agile, strong, 
 and handsome; capable of feats hke the 
 swimming of the Hellespont, and a great' 
 traveller; ancient of lineage, titled, proud 
 and masterful, possessed of demonic energy, 
 a born leader of men. He crowded into his 
 brief life half a dozen careers — ^man of fashion, 
 satirist, poet, pohtician, friend of Freedom, 
 revolutionary leader. Verses he threw off 
 
230 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 with the facility of an improvisatore, the skill 
 of a'master, and in such prodigious quantities 
 that the number of lines written during the 
 ten active years of his life exceeded those of 
 the lUad, the Mneid, Paradise Lost, and the 
 Divine Cometiy all added together. His type 
 is thus Parnassolympian, and in rare degree. 
 That his statue '. should stand midway 
 between the Achillean Wellington and the 
 monument of the Poets in Park Lane is thus 
 a felicitous piece of that undesigned town- ' 
 planning we are so often finding along our 
 way. It is not quite midway, bjit as it 
 should be, nearer the Achilles. There is 
 room in Hamilton Place Gardens for others 
 of the, patrician poets of England who 
 approach nearer to the Parnassian, ideal. So 
 let statues of Philip Sidney a,nd Shelley be 
 set up to mediate between Byron and the 
 group of pure Parnassians in Park -Lane. 
 Sidney would stand in the centre as perfect 
 type of the Parnassolympian, and the 
 sequence, if we contemplate it in political 
 mood, would remind us that the reconciliation % 
 of democracy and aristocracy must come by 
 developing each in its kind, to that high level 
 where differences are tfanscended and discords 
 merge into harmonies.' 
 
 Ill conclusion, to return to the question 
 
MAYFAIR 231 
 
 of a page or two back — ^how to build a passage 
 between mansion park and village green, 
 between the Mews of Queen Street and the 
 garden of Berkeley Square? There is no 
 short cut to be constructed, by political or 
 other machinery, though that is not to deny 
 the use and expediency of these methods of 
 social road-making. But the route thai is 
 perma,nently viable must go by the Parnass- 
 olympian way. How shall we find this? 
 What is Education? — say, rather, National 
 Re-Education ? 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 RENAISSANCE PHASES 
 
 St. James's Park is an embroidered matitle 
 fringed with jewels. To be appreciated, such 
 d. mantle must be contemplated as a treasure 
 yet worn as a garment. To speak plainly, the 
 Park is first to be 'enjoyed as a Pleasance; 
 then when the mind-ds stored with its images 
 of beauty, one may study it as a Museum, 
 of Renaissance relics, remnants, and renewals. 
 There are some of fortunate habit of mind who 
 can enjoy and study at the same time. That 
 is a habit to be acquired by practice; and 
 there is no better place to begin its cultivation 
 than St. James's Park. 
 
 A spring day of blue sky and drifting 
 
 clouds is the best of all times for a stroll in 
 
 the Park. Crocus an/i daffodil are peeping 
 
 through the unmown grass. The yellow note, 
 
 taken up and repeated by the generous gilding 
 
 of thfe Palace railings and of the great iron 
 
 gates, swells to a paean from the golden figures 
 
 that crown the marble fountain. The lawns, 
 
 shrubs and trees of the middle greensward 
 
 232 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 233 
 
 compose into masses of subtly graduated 
 greens now darkened to olive, anon brightejied 
 to gold and auburn under the capricious sun. 
 The long lake winds amongst these central 
 masses of verdure, reflecting foliage and flowers 
 amid the mystic blues, purples and greys of 
 shimmering water. Encircling this garden of 
 enchantment runs a high wall of grey or golden 
 masonry, indefinitely varied in form and de- 
 sign, breaking now into tower, column and 
 spire, now into pillared fagade, and further 
 diversified here and there by the mellowing 
 tones of brickwork, ranging from Tudor to 
 modern. High above all, sun and cloud play 
 in concert their ceaseless game of enhance- 
 ment, by adding to central landscape and 
 surrounding buildings the infinite wonder of 
 light and shade. 
 
 Such was this paradise of a park before the 
 rude hand of war was laid upon its charms. 
 How melancholy its appearance to-day. Air- 
 raids compelled the draining of the lake. The 
 ever-growing Bureaucracy of Whitehall has 
 thrust, out repellent tentacles which month by 
 month crawl further into the Park. If the 
 hideous things continue to grow, a time will 
 come when the place will be all tentacles and 
 no Park. At first these hutments for the 
 bureaucrats were of wood, but now of brick, 
 
234 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 I 
 
 so the prospect of their removal does not im- , 
 prove. The visitor of to-day must be content 
 with what remains of former beauty, and 
 exercise his imagination in conceiving the 
 vistas of dehght which will again be possible 
 when the lake is i;efilled, and the tentacles 
 withdrawn. 
 
 Include the Green Park as a mere forecourt 
 of St. James's, and you have three entrances 
 to the Park through monumental arches, two 
 being of ttiple span. There is something of 
 elemental appeal about a great archway. 
 There is in it that which, like rhythm in 
 language, soothes the mind, and like climax in 
 oratory, lifts up the heart. The monumental 
 arch has always been one of the permanent 
 resources of spiritual tonic : — " Lift up your 
 head§, ye gates ! " Amongst other traditional 
 forms is one which, though historically associ- 
 ated with the monumental arch, is, we may 
 hope, of less enduring character. This other 
 spiritual tonic is, as we most clearly see when 
 reviewing German history between 1866 and 
 1914-18, the memory of the last successful, 
 war and the forward-looking tp the next one. 
 The association of the militarist tradition and 
 the monumental arch had its most conspicuous 
 manifestation in Imperial Rome. Paris, fol- 
 lowing that tradition in one of her recurring 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 235 
 
 moments of classical renewal, adorned herself 
 with monumental arches during the Napo- 
 leonic wars ; and Berlin followed suit during 
 a prolonged period of Napoleonic mimicry. 
 
 Of the three archways into St. James's Park, 
 one only, the Wellington Arch, is explicitly 
 of warrior origin. Of the other two, one is 
 usually called the Admiralty Arch, and the 
 other appears '^to be as yet practicfUly name- 
 less; but since its central span frames the 
 first conquering hero of our Indian Empire, 
 it might be called the Clive Arch. 
 
 Here, then, in the three monumental- gate- 
 ways of the. Park are the first specimens in 
 this Museum of Renaissance survivals and 
 renewals. Yet the finer essence of the clas- 
 sical revival we call the Renaissance — ^its 
 Hellenic element rather than the Roman — 
 need not limit the use of the monumental 
 arch to the triumphs of war. Flowers adorn 
 feasts more often than they mitigate funerals. 
 Renaissance poetry — and still more modern 
 poetry — tells of lovers more frequently than 
 warriors. So it would be classical in the best 
 sense to celebrate some notable civic achieve- 
 ment by a monumental arch. Suppose, for 
 instance — ^if it be not too es^travagant a sup- 
 position— rthat the East End Park which has 
 been talked of for Shadwell,'be actually made ; 
 
236 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 suppose, too, that the proposed Garden Suburb, 
 far down the river, to reUeve the congestion- 
 of the Dockers' quarters, "be also built. 
 Would it not be a true, classic and Hellenic — 
 because civic — ^renewal to celebrate these be- 
 ginnings of the better East End — ^the future 
 " Eastminster "— ^by a pair of worthy, even 
 if modest gateways — one for the Shadwell 
 Park, and its fellow for the Dodcers' Garden 
 Suburb ? 
 
 But to return to pur West End observ3,tions. 
 After the Mayiair walk, we enter the Park by 
 the Wellington Arch, and turn to admire the 
 fine proportions of Decimus Burton's design 
 and the vigorous life of its crowning group of 
 statuary. 
 
 Framed within the arch is the classic portico 
 .of St. George's Hospital; so with undesigned 
 symbolism bringing together in art things 
 closely associated in present-day life — ^the 
 warrior's triumph and the sufferings of war's 
 victims. - 
 
 The avenue down Constitution HUl is at 
 once a public road and the approach to a 
 roy^l palace. The Queen Consort of one of 
 the Georges had the natural woman's desire 
 for greater privacy at Buckingham' Palace. 
 She consulted one of the Ministers oi the day 
 as to how the approach might be made into 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 237 
 
 ,a private avenue and the cost of the same. 
 He replied, " Madam, the cost would be only 
 two crowns." Whereupon the Queen thought 
 better of it, and changed her intention, if not 
 her mind. 
 
 Buckingham Palace is the fourth in succes- 
 sion of royal residences in Westminster. The 
 royal family has moved round St. James's 
 Park in the wake of the sun. Whitehall, the 
 first Tudor Palace, stood almost due east of 
 Buckingham Palace, touching the river on 
 one side and the Park on the other. Into 
 this Whitehall, Henry VIII moved froni the 
 medieval confinement of the old palace of 
 Westminster, which stood where are now the 
 Houses of Par^ament. Between Whitehall 
 and Buckingham Palace, the half-way house 
 was St. James's Palace, which has sacred 
 memories for Jacobites since Charles I spent 
 his last days there : and scandalous memories 
 for the gossips because the early Georges there 
 kept their mistresses. Finally was acquired 
 for the King's use Buckingham House, into 
 which, when altered and adapted, George III 
 was installed. 
 
 Buckingham^ House was built for a great 
 nobleman of the later Renaissance by one 
 of the Dutch architects who came into fashion 
 with the advent of William III. The problem 
 
238 OUR SOCIAL INHEMTANCE 
 
 set to this architect, at once by the 'spirit of 
 the times and his patron, was this — ^to design 
 in an urban setting a milieu worthy the dignity^ 
 the' gestures, the speech,, the title of John 
 Shejfifield, Matquis of Normanby and Duke of 
 Buckinghamshire ! The solution achieved in 
 this particular case is interesting because it' 
 shows as in a mirror some essential character- 
 istics of that prolonged epoch, which in its 
 totality it is convenient to call the Renais- 
 sance. To begin with was acquired on easy 
 ternis the lease of a spacious area of " crown " 
 lands, i.e. land despoiled from the Abbey. ^ 
 Next, in order to get a better frontage on St. 
 James's Park, about three-quarters of an acre 
 of the public Park itself was taken in and 
 encldsed in the " private " property. Of the 
 house built and the garden laid out on this 
 site, we have two contemporary accounts. 
 One is by the nol>le owner himself, and the 
 other by an observing traveller. The two 
 impressions are supplementary, and must be 
 taken together in order to get a full and vivid.: 
 picture of the Elysian delights attained in 
 house and garden. , 
 Says the traveller : — 
 
 "Buckingham House is one of the great, 
 beauties of London, both by reason of its 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 239 
 
 situation and its buildings. It is situated at 
 the west end of St. James's Park, fronting the 
 Mall and the great walk; and behind it is a 
 fine garden, a noble terrace (from whence, as 
 well as from the apartments, you have a most 
 delicious prospect) ; and a little park with a 
 pretty canal. The Court-yard which fronts 
 the Park is spacious ; the offices are on each 
 side divided from the Palace by two arching 
 galleries, and in the middle of the court is a 
 round basin of water, lined with freestone, 
 with the figures of Neptune and the Tritons 
 in a water-work. The staircase is large and 
 nobly painted; and in the Hall before you 
 ascend the stairs is a very fine statue of Cain 
 slaying of Abel in marble. The apartments 
 are indeed very noble, the furniture rich, and " 
 niariy very good pictures. The top of the 
 Palace is fiat, on which one hath a full view of 
 London and Westminster, and the adjacent 
 country; and the four figures of Mercury, 
 Secrecy, Equity and Liberty, front the Park 
 and those of the Four Reasons the gardens. 
 His Grace hath also put inscriptions on the 
 four parts of his palace. On the front to- 
 wards the Park, which is as delicious situation 
 as can be imagined, the inscription is — Sic siti 
 IcBtantur Lares — (The Household Gods delight 
 in such a situation) ; and fronting the garden, 
 
240 OUR SOCIAL INHERITAKC^. 
 
 Rus in Urbe, (The Country within a City) - 
 — ^which may be properly said, for from that 
 garden you see nothing but an open country, 
 and an uninterrupted view, without seeing-- 
 any part of the city; because the Palace 
 interrupts the prospect from the Garden," 
 
 From the Duke's account read the follow- 
 ing :— _ i 
 
 "The avenues to this House are along St, 
 James's Park, through rows of goodly elnis on 
 one hand and gay flourishing limes on the 
 other; that for coaches, this for walking; 
 with the Mall lying between :themi This 
 reaches to my Iron palisade that encompasses 
 a square court, which has in the midst a great 
 bason with statues and water- works; and 
 from its entrance rises alLthe way impercep- 
 tibly, till we mount to a Terrace in the front. of 
 a large Hall, paved with square white stones 
 mixed with a dark-coloured marble ; the walls 
 of it covered with a set of pictures done in the 
 school of Raphael. Out of this on the right 
 hand we go into a parlour 33 feet by 39 feet,, 1 
 with a niche 15 feet broad for a Bufette,, '" 
 paved with white marble, and placed within 
 an arch, with Pilasters of divers colours, the 
 upper part of which as high as the ceiling is 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 241 
 
 painted by Ricci. . . . Under the windows 
 of this closet (of books) and greenhouse is a 
 Httle wilderness full of blackbirds and nightin- 
 gales. The trees, though planted by myself, 
 require lopping already, to prevent their 
 hindering the view of that fine canal in the 
 Park." 
 
 Now these impressions should be received 
 in no mere spirit of antiquarian curiosity nor 
 as evidence of how stately gardening con- 
 tinued in practice long after Bacon's magnifi- 
 cent Essay. They teU what was going on, 
 not only in Westminster but throughout rural 
 England during the centuries that intervened 
 between the break-up of the Middle Ages and 
 the rise of the Industrial Revolution. The 
 results are abiding : and they constitute one 
 of the two dominant factors in the life of to- 
 day. The lother, of course, is the Industrial 
 Revolution itself. The driving power of the 
 Renaissance was the quest of life more abun- 
 dant, by resolute men who saw the fulfilment 
 of their ambition and its ideal in a Palace of 
 Art and a Garden of Delight, set in the sylvan 
 wonderland of a verdant Park. The Indus- 
 trial Revolution largely transformed urban 
 England, witness its capital city, of Man- 
 chester, into the least delectable of countries. 
 
242 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 But before this (and also through the substan- 
 tial sharing of Land with Capital in this new- 
 " made wealth) the pursuit of the Elysian quest 
 transformed rural England, and its capital 
 city of Westminster, into the most delectable 
 of countries— -at least for the privileged inmates' 
 of this Elysium. 
 
 Here is the practical division of «^ England 
 into two nations, because two distinctive 
 cultures. The Westminster nation is even 
 more widely separated from the Mancunian 
 than are the Rich from the Poor. Judged 
 by the standards of pioney, it is Industrial 
 England which is the rich nation. But from 
 the standpoint of real wealth what are the 
 industrial cities? Have they not too much 
 been places for the making of private fortunes^ 
 and public misfortunes? Who of us that 
 knows and cherishes real wealth, and shrinks 
 from its material deprivation, would not 
 rather be an under-gardener in Hyde Park 
 than a Cotton Lord in Manchester ? 
 
 It is well to recall the original appearance 
 of Buckingham House and the story of its 
 making. It is a clue to many things and 
 especially to understanding contemporary 
 Westminster. . The many mansions that ringv 
 the two royal parks of the city and thence ; 
 expand into the vast ranges of Olympian 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 243 
 
 habitations, are surviving or renewing pro- 
 ducts of the Renaissance quest. Certain 
 variations of architectural type have thus 
 arisen. Not a few of their characteristic 
 varieties, imitations, departures may be seen 
 in a walk round the outer margin of the Green 
 Park and St. James's. Leading fuller study 
 of these to specialists, note but a few con- 
 spicuous instances, and those only which 
 have some contemporary appeal. 
 
 Eastwards beyond the ■>• brick walls of St. 
 J arnes's Palace and Marlborough House may 
 be- seen an excellent example of the use of 
 stucco, and on a fully Roman scale. By 
 means of central pediments, and a liberal 
 application of pillars, cornices and balconies, 
 the two rows of dwellings called Carlton 
 House Terrace are each of them given the 
 dignity and unity of a single fa9ade. It is the 
 fashion nowadays to scoff at stucco, despite 
 its Roman and Itahan Renaissance traditions, 
 but the generation that built Carlton House 
 Terrace used it deliberately, and for several 
 purposes. At no great extra cost a rov/ of 
 standardized houses could thus be diversified, 
 yet within a unified scheme of design for 
 the whole street. A striking example of this 
 variety in unity got by the use of stucco is the 
 Adelphi Terrace,^ a masterpiece of the Brothers 
 
244 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Adam, which we should see, and fairly admire, 
 in the Strand walk. Again, the stucco front 
 was hygienic, since, if properly made, it not 
 only carries a coat of paint but demands it ; 
 and herein was an opportunity of introducing ! 
 into the grey. monotony of northern cities the 
 much-needed element of colour. Many sug- 
 gestions, for the increased use of colour in 
 London' buildings have been made of late 
 years ; as notably by Mr. Halsey Ricardo, in 
 one of those early papers of the Arts and 
 Crafts movement, which if now reprinted 
 would find a wider audience in these days of 
 growing attention to Town-Planning. 
 
 Stafford House at the corner of the Green 
 Park and St. James's is a second Buckingham 
 House, buUt for another^ noble family, and, 
 after various vicissitudes, now become a 
 public Museum of metropolitan antiquities, 
 thanks,- to the publie spirit of its last- owner. 
 Lord Leverhulme. It is now called the 
 London Museum ; but the civic Muse will not 
 permanently be content with what is but a 
 mere gathering of jirchaic relics, and later frag- 
 ments aijd bagatelles, however interesting or 
 beautiful in themselves.^ This transformation 
 from an aristocratic regime to a democratic 
 use is interesting as an example of tendency. 
 On the opposite side of the Park that tendency 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 245 
 
 — in a very different formes illustrated- by a 
 high structure of grimy brickwork, that looks 
 for all the world as if a Factory had breached 
 the aristocratic rampart, and inserted its 
 frowning face in the circle of smiling palaces 
 and mansions. The building is a co-operative 
 tenement of " Flatland " dwellers ; con- 
 structed to give a window into the park to 
 many members of a colony of middle-class 
 families, where otherwise only one Olympian 
 family might have enjoyed that privilege. 
 In symbol, indeed actually, the edifice is 
 a specimen of the Industrial Age thrust in- 
 continently into our museum of Renaissance 
 relics and renewals. Its shapeless mass, with 
 its distorted skyline, looms threateningly over 
 the southern horizon of the Park, counter- 
 feiting, as it were, the wave of industrialism 
 that surged into the ebbing tide of the Renais- 
 sance. And to complete the parallel, , and 
 perfect the symbolism, there breaks into the 
 horizon near by, a pathetic pepper-pot of a 
 spire. It is the architectural feature of 
 " Westminster Chapel." In our mental civic 
 museum it may stand as spiritual counterpart 
 of the industrial specimen, since it wistfully 
 expresses the Aon-conformist striving to rise 
 in the twofold world of inner and outer life. 
 Deep in the shade of Queen Anne's Man- 
 
246 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 sibns, as that block of flats is called, there 
 runs a long, row of low buildings. Between 
 them and the verdure of the Park stretches 
 a wide gravelly Sesert. The range of buildings 
 is the Wellington- Barracks, which house the 
 Foot Guards ; and the gravelly desert, is 
 their drill-ground. Now the true park of 
 '^aristocratic tradition is incomplete without 
 its lodge-keepers and their cottage habitations, 
 so the Radical's eye is increasingly seeing in 
 this range of barracks an elongated, over- 
 grown set of lodge-keepers' cottages — and in 
 these a picked group of the People in proper 
 traditional guise, drilled into due docility. 
 His museum picture of Elysian Society, as the 
 Renaissance patpicians have had it, and more 
 or less in all lands, is thus becoming danger- 
 ously completed, as recent Russia has been 
 showing. 
 
 Walking across the broad eastern end of the 
 Park, we pass one after another the spreading 
 palaces of bureaucracy, that have given to old 
 Whitehall its modern meaning and orienta- 
 tion. The Whitehall of Heiiry VIII was but 
 a modest residence for an ambitious prince 
 as standards of luxury then were. Stuart 
 successors planned one to rival in size and 
 grandeur the vast city-like palaces'that rose 
 amid the building rivalry of Popes and 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 247 
 
 Emperors, of Cardinals and Nobles. But in 
 England the whirligig of politics brought it 
 about that Kings planned and nobles ejje- 
 cuted. So nothing but the Banqueting House 
 (now the" United Service Museum) was 
 achieved of Inigo Jones's grandiose design for 
 a Whitehall rebuilt on the scale of a three 
 hundred yards fa9ade. Instead, the nobles 
 erected for themselves an extra supply of 
 palaces such as Buckingham House. Inci- 
 dentally may be recalled as an anecdote of 
 nomenclature the story of Queen Victoria's 
 first visit to Devonshire House in Piccadilly. 
 To the Duchess said the Queen, " You live 
 in a Palace and call it a House. I live in a 
 House and call it a Palace." 
 
 In our own time the less adventurous off- 
 spring and milder successors of those Renais- 
 sance nobles have Compounded with the 
 democracy, for a new Whitehall, which has 
 far outbuilt the largest dreams of Stuart 
 kings. Before the war, the innumerable 
 Departments of Whitehall were housed in 
 edifices, monumental without however dreary 
 within. To-day their ramifications and exten- 
 sions are darksome buildings that threaten 
 to convert Whitehall into black hole. But 
 on the present understanding that these are 
 temporary, we need not here further com- 
 
248 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 plain ; though how to demobilize this recent* 
 growth of official army isr proving one of the 
 toughest of after-war problems. 
 
 St. James's Park/if we picture it in all its 
 charm of combined landscape and architec- 
 ture, is, without doubt, the finest Pleasance 
 of the metropoHs. How to renew, and in- 
 crease, its use and enjoyment by the citizens 
 without -detriment to its tranquil beauty ? 
 
 If one asks who in point of fact derives 
 keenest delighi from the Park, there can be 
 no doubt of the answet. It is those 'who at 
 one remove or more, are the actual makers 
 or inspirers of such beauty, the artists and 
 poets I and the rest of us in proportion as we 
 contain and carry within our soul something 
 of artist and poet. But all men have a share 
 in the Parnassian spirit ; and women often 
 a larger share. What, indeed, are the Muses,^ 
 but just the moods and the gestures of woman 
 at her finest ? If so, she is the Parnassian being 
 faif excellence. The chief use of Buckingham 
 House to John Sheffield was doubtless just 
 this : — ^that it gave him a stronger pull in the 
 choosing of his Duchess. . For the most im- 
 portant thing, in a man's life, next to the 
 kind of mother he has, is the kind of wife he 
 gets. Hence it is, or should be, the aim of 
 men eager to mitigate and ameliorate the 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 249 
 
 struggle for life, to promote the supply of noble 
 wives and good mothers. It is perhaps the 
 deepest truth about aristocracies that, for and 
 within their own order, they, have oftenest 
 practically solved this problem. Hence the 
 Ol5niipian calm of their men in peace at home, 
 and their equally Ol5mipian fury in battle 
 abroad. The secret of the matter can be 
 simply stated. Patriciates have learned how 
 to dignify and glorify their women ; and that 
 traditional knowledge is their most valuable 
 entail. ^ From generation to generation they 
 continue more or less to supply their women- 
 folk with those gifts of art and resources of 
 nature which are needed for the high function- 
 ing of the womanly spirit. That they do all 
 this less well than they might, with quite 
 unnecessary over-elaboration, and consequent " 
 cost and burden to other classes is true ; but 
 beside the point of the present argument. 
 The present point is that the inner mystery 
 of the aristocratic cult resides in a continuing 
 creation of life-enhancements that develop 
 woman, and even kindle in her, Parnassian 
 flame. For that purpose have been associated 
 with patriciates throughout histpry, poets, 
 painters, musicians, sculptors, dramatists and 
 all the trained bands of Parnassus. 
 It is indirectly through their City that the 
 
250 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 People have received the organized service 
 of the Arts, when they have had it at all. 
 After a long lapse this civic co-operation -is 
 again beginning. Along .with the increase, 
 within the civic domain, of woman's influence 
 and thiat of her friends and allies, the artist, 
 the poet and the educationist, we see ever- 
 increasing attempts to provide public parks, 
 gardens, picture galleries and concert halls, 
 libraries and assembly rooms. All these are 
 milieus of amenity, they make in their degree 
 and kind for the libertition and adornment 
 of the spirit. But though these do in pafift 
 supply for the women of the people the place 
 of the noble lady's park atid gardens^ they 
 do not provide a substitute, or at best a very 
 incomplete one, for the mansion itself. At the 
 very core of her social need is a withdrawing- 
 room, wherein she also on occasion,, as hostess 
 of entertainment, may express and be herself. 
 AH the requisite backgrpund and apparatus" 
 of art and beauty must be there as a personal 
 setting, for these are an essential part of the 
 very means by and through which her person- 
 ality works, and exerts its spiritual effect on 
 man and child, and on other women. 
 
 The vast spread of the suburban villa, with 
 its comparatively spacious and decorative 
 drawing-room, its lay-oui of miniature park 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 251 
 
 and wood and garden, are evidences of some 
 success of the well-to-do middle classes in 
 dignifying their womenkind, in giving them 
 these ceremonial surroundings . The ' ' Garden 
 City " and " Garden Suburb " movement is 
 extending the same principle, and applying 
 the same uplift, to the possessors of slenderer 
 purseis; and is happily doing it with much 
 more recognition of civic needs and interests. 
 But nowhere is there as yet adequate recog- 
 nition of the need to provide the women of the 
 people with this cultural environment, neces- 
 sary, on occasion at least, for her full dignity 
 as a spiritual power. 
 
 The foregoing is no digression, but intro- 
 ductory to a practical suggestion for increasing 
 the popular use of the Park without detriment 
 to its quiet beauty. There are houses round 
 the Park held from the Crown on leases which 
 have not much longer to run. As this pro- 
 perty falls in, it would, under current custom 
 of Government Departments, be treated as 
 an object of commercial exploitation. But 
 surely the time has come for the Government 
 to initiate a new and more social type of 
 landlordry. Our suggestion is that such 
 crown property be taken over by a Civic Trust, 
 of declared purpose to raise the standards of 
 
252 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 housing and life among the People. Let the 
 specific object of the Trust be defined by an 
 intention to elevate the p^ople'js housing, to 
 what might be called, not by quantity of bricks 
 and mortar, but by quality of environment, 
 the Park Standard. " 
 
 Who should be the first Trustees? Who- 
 ever they are, they will give an impetus of 
 lasting effect": their impulse will determine 
 in no small measure the character and tradi- 
 tion of the-Trust. It is easy to see what kind 
 of persons are not wanted as Trustees. At all 
 costs inust be avoided the Pompous Non- 
 entities and the merely Titled Personages 
 whom convention designates for such honour- 
 able responsibilities. Almost equally must be 
 shunned most of our wealthy philanthropists 
 knd leading politicians. Most of all are needed 
 those who recognize the importance-t)f "^the 
 play elernent " in life. But there are many 
 different sides to this play element. The 
 esthetic, the. ceremonious, the dramatic, are 
 ingredients in play no less indispensable than 
 the muscular, the hygienic and the social. 
 We must therefore have trustees nominated 
 -by, let us say, the Kyrle Sbciety, the National 
 Trust, the Stage Society, the Guild of Play, 
 ■the Arts and Crafts Society. It goes without 
 saying that the Garden Cities Associationv 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 253 
 
 the Housing Organization Society and the 
 National Housing , Council must also Be 
 represented. And finally, standing for social 
 interest in general, there is the Sociological 
 Society. 
 
 Audaciously foreseeing, let us picture the 
 first meeting of the Trust. An unconventional 
 member puts forward the following project : — 
 " The gist of my proposal," he will say, " is 
 that we proceed by the method of leaven. 
 Give the woman of the People a taste of the 
 Park Standard in housing. That personal 
 experidnpe she will carry with her into her 
 own home, street or district. It will prove 
 a leaven to lighten the lump of inertia with 
 which the People have been burdened by 
 several generations of abominable housing. 
 We have come into possession of a number of 
 large mansion-like houses fronting the park. 
 We will, if need be, let some of them to the 
 highest bidders. With that income we will 
 maintain the others as Parish Mansions. Let 
 each Parish of the city of Westminster have 
 one of the houses rent free and maintained, 
 as far as may be, at the cost of the Trust. 
 The clergy of the^ parish — all denominations 
 being represented — will be invited to co- 
 operate in an organization for the use and 
 enjoyment of a Festal House, common to all 
 
254 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 members of their joint congregations, and 
 ulsable in turns. The upmost hberty of action 
 we will leave to each parish, subject to one 
 major stipulation as to principle, and certain 
 minor ones as to detail. First as to the larger/ 
 condition. The drawing-room of the Mansion 
 shall be retained, and put at the disposal of 
 any and every parishioner, on the simplest 
 conditions of application for 'use for a short 
 period of hours morning, afternoon or night, 
 there to entert-ain at her or his own pleasure?, 
 and in their own way, instead of in their ow]p./ 
 homes. And to this general principle, two 
 other conditions attach. Each plain working' 
 woman of the parish who chooses to claim 
 her turn of this drawing-room and organize ; 
 her own social function, thus for the tirrie 
 being, shall take first social precedence of all 
 others in the parish. She thereby becomes, 
 for the time being, the Lady of the Mansion- 
 house, the first lady of the parish, representing 
 not only the Civic Trust, but even the national '• 
 interests which that Trust exists to promote. 
 And again, it shall be stipulated that special 
 preference be given for Wedding applications, 
 since in no respect is the spaciousness and 
 beauty of' a mansion-like house more at 
 advantage over the ordinarily top narrow and 
 ' small-rpomed dwelling. As for the minor 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 255 
 
 stipulations, it suffices to mention such com- 
 mon-sense regulations as a trifling registration 
 and cleaning fee, order of priority by ballot, 
 and so on." 
 
 To this proposal, put forward by a Trustee 
 of exceptional unconventionality, a score of 
 substantial objections may naturally be raised 
 by fellow Trustees. As nineteen of the 
 twenty objections will at once occur to every 
 well-regulated mind, there is no need to inen- 
 tion them. As for the twentieth objection, 
 that is akin to the reason which made the 
 schoolboy dislike Dr. Fell. It consequently 
 remains unexpressed. 
 
 Now the Trustees are, as we have taken 
 pains to secure, all of them persons of sincerity, 
 goodwill and something more. They were 
 chosen because to these common qualities 
 they added the uncommon one of being 
 habituated to think in terms of vital economy. 
 Their minds work habitually less in terms of 
 money, prestige and politics; and more in 
 terms of beauty, health, play, housing, cloth- 
 ing and mating. In other words, they are 
 vitalists, and sincere ones. The most uncon- 
 ventional Trustee of them all does not press 
 his prdposal. Hp leaves the idea to work its 
 own way. The result is that in a year or two 
 the Trustees adopt the project, withi certain 
 
256 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 modifications, to make it even more genuinely 
 corporate. / 
 
 Thus may be laid the first course of another 
 Parnassolympian way between democracy and 
 aristocracy. One such way we saw . at the 
 close of our Mayfair walk. That started' 
 from the patrician side ; this from the plebeian. 
 The, practical pioneer of the latter kind of 
 pathway was Octavia Hill. Her statue,^^ 
 therefore, may well be the first to adorn the 
 new Commemorative Place, which, in the 
 fulness of time may face the first People's 
 Mansion in St. James's Park. And beside her, 
 as by the side of Florence Nightingale stands 
 Sidney Herbert in Waterloo Place, will be 
 ,John Ruskin; who was both the financial 
 colleague and the intellectual champion of 
 Octavia Hill in her first essay towards the 
 Better Housing of the People. 
 
 Our vvalk is arranged to ^nd at the old 
 western gateway of the Abbey, through which 
 in medieval days went and came a streaih 
 of traffic across thewaste that is now the Park, 
 to and from the main highway of Watling, 
 Street. To reach the site of the old Abbey 
 gateway, we leave the Park at Queen Anne's. 
 Gate. If designed for the purpose, the street 
 called Queen Anne's Gate could not > better 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 257 
 
 serve as an annex of our Renaissance museum 
 intended to exhibit and explain the decline 
 of that gorgeous age. The street is a veritable 
 sculpture gallery of late Renaissance types. 
 Throughout its length run two parallel rows 
 of weU-modelled heads, each wrought upon a 
 keystone to each ground-floor and iirst-story 
 window. The series is extraordinarily arrest- 
 ing. There can be few things in architecture 
 anywhere, more calculated to fill the sensitive 
 spectator with shuddering horror. The faces 
 are those of satyrs, mostly old. or ageing men 
 in every mood " and manner of vile and 
 lecherous expression .^ Nothing could be more 
 striking than the contrast of these repulsive 
 old despots in whom the Renaissance closed (or 
 the Restoration ended) and the young ApoUos 
 and Admirable Crichtons of its opening. 
 
 At the end of the street is a statue of Queen 
 Anne, flanked by two Renaissance heads. 
 Here the Queen, for all her insignia of orb 
 and. sceptre, is but woman putting before 
 pomp of courts and crowns the hope and 
 desire of mateirnity. And the masculine 
 gesture which this womanly aspiration evokes, 
 
 ^ The nort];i-west corner house has recently been 
 rebililt. The architect (Sir E. Lutyeiis) has retained the 
 principle of decorating his exterior with Renaissance 
 heads, but now reduced to more or less colourless 
 respectability of the familiar kind, 
 s 
 
258 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE-; 
 
 how is that shown by the sculptor? He 
 has made the two attendant lieads the very 
 personification respectively of Mr. Sneerini^ 
 and Mr. Leering. 
 
 Here then in this group is the spirit of 
 the declining Renaissance presented with the 
 uncanny fidelity of art. The satyr ic heads 
 are the fruits of egoist ambitions, pursued 
 unchecked for generation after generation by 
 nien of ardent life. Recall some representa- 
 tive contemporary victims of this Csesarisl 
 tejriptatibn. Kaiser dazzled by dreams of 
 world-dominion, monarch combining headship 
 of Church and State, proconsul dominating 
 colony and dependency, nobleman determin- 
 ing canons of art, squire dictating to parson, 
 employer adjusting the political' colour of 
 his workmen, newspaper proprietor realizing 
 power by manufacture of opinion and fortune 
 by its sale, schoolmaster holding cane in one 
 hand and book in the other, millionaire 
 philanthropist, domestic despot — all these 
 are illustrative samples of the infinitely diver- 
 sified CseSarist illusion. For formal definition 
 of that ever-present human temptation, let us 
 say it is the belief that spiritual functions may 
 be made an appanage of temporal power and 
 prestige. The nearer to success a man, when 
 young or mature, pushes the ambition to be at 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 259 
 
 once, in however small a way, both Pope and 
 Caesar to those under his authority, the more 
 he prepares for himself an old age of tyrannies, 
 lusts and cruelties. Imagine the heirs of 
 this tradition after generations, even centuries 
 (so long did the Renaissance continue) of 
 accumulated impulse and opportunity. We 
 think of them in other countries, say in old 
 Russia, or in Slave states. But a walk down 
 Queen Anne's- Gate renders that mental 
 exercise unnecessary. For it is English faces 
 that are sculptured in that double row of 
 statuary. Unfortunately they did not all die 
 off with the eighteenth century. 
 
 From these decaying fruits and withering 
 husks of the Renaissance we pass into the 
 sunless abyss of Lewisham Street. This so- 
 called " street " is a narrow passage between an 
 eight-story buUding- on one side and a seveur 
 story one on the other. The latter is the new 
 house of the Ministry of Reconstruction. It 
 might have been better for more light on its 
 councils. 
 
 The dark alley of Lewisham Street may 
 stand in our museum as a s5rmbol of the inter- 
 val of chaos between the Renaissance and the 
 succeeding epoch of the Industrial Revolution. 
 A good sign of this confronts us as we emerge 
 
26o OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 upon a factory-like building. Over its en- 
 trance are inscribed the words— 
 
 H.M. STATIONERY OFFICE, f ! : 
 
 For the correction of those cynical persons 
 Who regard " stationary " as the general 
 adjective for all Government offices, we 
 mention that this building is the official 
 stationery warehouse. But if they reply that 
 this industrial age is also the Paper age, it 
 is more difficult to confute them. Without 
 pausing to regard this or any other manif esta-^ 
 tiotis of the industrial era (that not being the 
 object of the present walk), we double back a 
 few yards to get into TothiU Street, which is 
 the actual line of the old roadway from the 
 western gate of the Abbey. The nightmare 
 of Queen Anne's Gate, the gloom of Lewisham 
 Street, the grime of the Stationery Office are 
 wiped out and forgotten in the heartening 
 spectacle of the Abbey west front, further 
 enriched by the House of Lords Tower, which 
 cunningly cornposes into the picture. 
 
 This final scene has also its definite place 
 in our open-air museum. Discredited by the 
 baseness of later Renaissance phases, the clas- 
 sical traditions ielV but of favour. Imagine 
 the position in which men of esthetic tem- 
 perament and serious mind fotind themselves 
 
RENAISSANCE PHASES 261 
 
 in the first generation of the nineteenth cen- 
 ' tury. Messrs. Sneering and Leering behind ; 
 in front an endless succession of Lewisham 
 Streets and Stationery Offices. Where under 
 ^uch circumstances was a reinspiration for 
 the inner life to be sought ? For answer look 
 at the Abbey, and you realize how and when 
 the Gothic revival arose. 
 
CPAPTER VI 
 
 PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 
 
 By general consent the sacred centre of 
 Westminster, of London, and even of Eng- 
 land and the Empire, is in the precincts of 
 the Abbey. What , spot can we find from 
 which to compress^ into a general survey, and 
 a single memory, the essentials of these pre- 
 cincts ? What are the architectural elements 
 which enshrine its living traditions, its 
 awakening impulse and spiritual call? In 
 short, we seek a viewpoint from which may 
 be read the full tale of those sanctities whiCli 
 are the gems of our social inheritance. 
 
 We may try the outlook of any one of the 
 high towers of Westminster, as for example, 
 from the Clock Tower. But such a view, 
 does not sufficiently concentrate on the items . 
 of the foreground. It rather encourages the 
 eye to wander afield. No ; we desire a stand-,, 
 point which focuses the gaze on the grouped 
 buildings, yet also selects for us those which 
 are most symbolic. And moreover, this 
 
 262 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 263 
 
 outlook should present to us the story of the 
 place in an orderly way. Philosophers and 
 teachers have wondered whether history 
 could not be better taught, as it were, back- 
 ward, beginning with the famiUar things of 
 to-day and ending with the survivals of 
 antiquity. In point of fact, is not that very 
 like what the uneducated man does, on the 
 infrequent occasions when he turns his mind 
 to the passage of time? But he does not 
 call it history, and does not usually carry it 
 far enough to meet the historian, who be- 
 ginning at the other end usually stops short 
 of recent times. If, then, we could work the 
 method of the uneducated man with the 
 mind of the historian, we might walk as in a 
 procession back through the centuries to the 
 origins of civilization. 
 
 Mr. G. K. Chesterton, in his Short History 
 of England, declares that the proper way to 
 write a popular history is not only to do it 
 backwards, but to start with the common 
 objects of the street and explain how they 
 came into being and fashion. He disclaims 
 ability to write history backwards, but tries 
 to fulfil, the second of his conditions. He 
 illustrates the latter method by recounting 
 the genesis of the top hat and the columnar 
 trousers of contemporary habit. But build- 
 
264 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 * 
 
 , ings, no less than men, have their garments 
 of combined use and. decoration. Thus in 
 the structure and the ornamehts of public, 
 edifices, one may read the story of the times 
 that gave theim birth. And this, indeed, is 
 just what the -civic observer tries to do. 
 While as for reading history backwards, that 
 comes almost naturally to the student of 
 (Cities, For him, there is no division of the 
 record into a past called History, and a 
 present called Journalism, and therefore 
 taboo to the punctilious historian. On the 
 contrary, he can start with the orn,ament on 
 contemporary buildings which everywhere 
 compels attention; and this ornament is, 
 essentially in ' nlore than nine cases out of 
 ten, a historic survival. As soon, therefore, 
 as you begin to observe and interpret con- 
 teniporary buildings, you are plunged into 
 the reading of history backwards; though, 
 like Monsietir Jourdairi talking prose, you 
 may be unaware of it. Every stfeet pros- 
 peel: is thus charged with the beauty and 
 the mystery of a long human story. 
 
 For such a symbolic vista let us try the 
 approach from Victoria Street. This is very 
 nearly that of the old highway by which the 
 roads of northern and w^^efn England con- 
 verged on to the Abbey, just as the branch 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 265 
 
266 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 and trunk lines of a railway system converge 
 on its main terminal. However, the Abbey 
 -precinct now is no terminal, but a busy 
 ^ross-roads, as indeed-also in the past. That- 
 is necessarily the first impression of the ob- 
 server, for he can only reach his vantage-' • 
 point by safely dodging many streams of 
 trafiic that here gather and disperse. _ Now, 
 at a busy cross-roads, one expects to find an; 
 inn or tavern. And here it exists in a form 
 appropriate to the locality. We have indeed 
 taken up a position at one of the four corners 
 of Clubland. We are at the portal of the 
 present location bl that caravanserai of 
 recent democracy — the National Liberal Club. 
 But why should fate have established on this 
 spot, the National Liberal, of all Clubs ? Do 
 we find a symbolic clue to that riddle ih the 
 architecture of the building ? Looking up at 
 its facade, one sees- a multiplicity , of pillars, 
 pediments and other classical adornments, 
 literally plastered on to the front > of the 
 building. And moreover, the placing of all 
 this would-be " ornament " has been done 
 with the mechanical precision and the punc- 
 tilious regularity of an engineer's blue print. 
 Stripping the facade — ^in the mind's eye — of 
 this adhesive ornament, and its connecting 
 stucco, we discover a vast space of plain 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 267 
 
 brick wall, pierced at uniform intervals by 
 lighting apertures. How, then, shall we 
 describe this architectural type? As a 
 provisional designation call it factory- 
 touched- with-classic . 
 
 Turn now to the great portico and its 
 " entablature " supported by carved figurbs. 
 Look at the detail of the latter. In place of 
 the conventional caryatides, we see the figure 
 of a modern man of contemporary mien. His 
 face is that of the cultivated classes, but his 
 back, bent under the weight of superimposed 
 stone, suggests rather the labouring type. Is 
 he not a symbol, all the truer since' unde- 
 signed, of the modern factory worker edu- 
 cated mentally, but physically bowed and 
 even distorted by the drudgery of machine 
 production ? He has been taught by the 
 orators of Liberalism to look always to the 
 Legislature for mitigation of the burden 
 under which his shoulders bend. And as it 
 so happens that these Preaching Friars of 
 the Liberal faith are the present occupierS^ of 
 this building, do we not detect the finger of 
 destiny in their recent removal from a real 
 though recent palace to an edifice of more 
 appropriate symbolism?— a former Hotel in 
 which the fundamental function of a Club, 
 as Super-" Pub.," can be frankly continuous 
 
268 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 -ic— and one, moreover, without that tower of 
 aspiration,, which expressed and glorified 
 Liberalism in its golden age. 
 
 Looking down our vista, we see just beyond 
 this present National Liberal Club a project- 
 ing angle of the Westminster Hospital. As 
 the former is a monument of the Industrial 
 Revolution in its moments of political aspira- 
 tion, so the latter is a reminder of the obverse 
 picture. For these great modem Hospitals 
 are the veritable Temples of Suffering, into 
 which drifts multitudinously the human 
 wreckage of the Machine Era, for restoratioilN, 
 to an enfeebled life, or to await a more 
 lingering death. Across the way, facing. this 
 melancholy institution, we see the gable-end 
 of a building whose battlementiiigs and 
 pointed windows sharply contrast with the 
 architecture of the National Liberal Club. 
 The " Gothic Revival " of which this " Church 
 House " is a sample, was not, of course, a 
 mere architectural reaction against the classi-: 
 cal fashion of its time. It was far more a 
 revolt against, the drab an'd dreary com- 
 mercialism of mechanical production with 
 its "progress by leaps and bounds." The 
 Gothic Revival sprang from the same idealism 
 that made, the Oxford Movement, but here 
 expressing itself in stone and leaded gla^. 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 269 
 
 Sensitive, pious and ardent men, with back- 
 ward look, sought escape from the horrors 
 of the factory age, and simultaneously a 
 pathway to romance, through the pointed 
 arch of medieval mysticism. 
 
 At the entrance to the Church House, 
 there rises a granite column, crowned by 
 St. George and the Dragon. Let us leave 
 our viewpoint in Victoria Street and examine 
 this monument. But on the way there, 
 attention is arrested by an edifice of well- 
 nigh Assyrian mfassiveness and ornament. 
 Behind the National Liberal ' Club it rises 
 from the earth like a Temple of some Imperial 
 State on which is piled a pantheon of strange 
 gods. Towards the Abbey it thrusts for- 
 ward a spacious columnar limb, which, in 
 letters of gold, declares that portion of the 
 building to be a Bank. Thus frankly, if not 
 for the first time in its history, is the once 
 sacred Sanctuary of the Abbey precincts 
 invaded by the money-changer's stall. 
 
 This megalithic building has many limbs, 
 of which but one is put at the service of 
 the Bankers. The dome that floats over 
 its stupendous body culminates in a sort of 
 ■tower. That, again, is capped by an urn, 
 through which rises a strange finial, crowning 
 the colossus, as with a myriad-rayed star 
 
270 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 darkened _tp blackness. Sp striking is the 
 resemblance, it is impossible in viewing that 
 black flattened finial not to think of a sweep's-, 
 brush, as its head emerges over the top of a 
 chimney stack. How explain this curious 
 and doubtless unconscious s3niibolism? 
 
 This wonderful monument is no ancient 
 edifice, but one of the most j'ecent within 
 the Abbey precincts. It commemorates, de- 
 fines and fixes the social maturity of Non- 
 conformity. Without disrespect to the other 
 Nonconformist bodies, we may award this 
 distinction to the Wesleyans, and the more 
 since they alone have thus achieved a central, 
 footing in the spiritual centre of the nation. 
 This Wesleyan Central Building (or Church; 
 House, as it is sometimes called, challenging 
 comparison'^ith the Anglican Church House 
 across the way) is a representative monumeht- 
 — one is almost inclined to say ^/fe representa- 
 tive monument — of the Reformation. Now 
 an intimate connection is often pointed out 
 between the Reformed Churches and the 
 Industrial Revolution. The inventors, and 
 masters of the latter, the manufacturers and 
 merchants of the eighteenth century, and the 
 railway magnates, bankers and financiers of 
 the nineteenth, were ^ in considerable pre- 
 ponderance members of the Nonconformistr 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 271 
 
 churches; and how their theology chilled 
 and settled into their political economy is 
 a familiar story we have already alluded, to. 
 Even more were the corresponding " People," 
 the factory hands, labourers and artisans, 
 gathered into the flocks of Nonconformity in 
 the days when its shepherds were inspired. 
 Upon its churches and chapels, therefore, 
 devolved a main responsibility for the 
 spiritual guidance and the social course of 
 the Industrial Revolution. To moralize 
 modern manufactures and commerce — was 
 not that the historic mission, or at least 
 opportunity, of Nonconformity ? And if so, 
 then for. the centennial commemoration of 
 its greatest denomination, with the high 
 ardour of renewal it sought. to express, what 
 more appropriate object wherewith to crown 
 its Central Building than the instrument that 
 cleanses our domestic hearths' and their 
 ubiquitous chimney-stalks' pervasive soot? 
 How more simply yet subtly signalize the 
 needed correlation of external and internal 
 purification? 
 
 Be this interpretation acceptable or no, 
 we may recognize the whole group of build- 
 ings, Ciub and Hospital, Church Houses, 
 Anglican and Wesleyan, as outUning in brick 
 and stone the main story of our own times 
 
272 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 and even back to the Reformation. , And for 
 hope of the incipient future, we must not 
 forget the new Guild Hall. 
 
 Returning from this group to the tall 
 
 gfanite column, penetrate a few steps within 
 
 Dean's Yard, and you see it finely franied 
 
 , within the archway entrance, as its architect, 
 
 Sir Gilbert Scott, designed it to be seen. 
 
 Read the inscription on its base. It runs 
 thus — - 
 
 To the Memory of those 
 
 educated at ^Westminster School 
 
 who died in the Russian and Indian Wars 
 
 A.D. 1854-9. 
 
 On the field of battle 
 
 or from wounds and sickness 
 
 Some in early youth 
 
 Some fuU of years and honours 
 
 but who all alike 
 
 gave their liyes for their country. 
 
 This column was erected 
 
 By their admiring school-fellows 
 
 In token of sorrow for their loss 
 
 ^ Of pride in their valour 
 
 And the full assurance. 
 
 That the rfemembrance of their heroism 
 
 in Ufe and death 
 
 Will inspire their successors at Westminster 
 
 With the same courage and devption. 
 
 Nowhere surely is better expressed the 
 record and the ideals of a Social caste devoted 
 first to courage, and thereaftef , though at 
 some distance, to learning. That our Public 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 273 
 
 Schools are the organs of producing and 
 continuing^ such a caste, the world War has 
 again, and far more fully, shown. 
 
 On the other sides of the hexagonal base 
 are engraved the names of the heroes thus 
 commemorated. They run through all ranks 
 of the Services, from Commander-in-Chief 
 Lord Raglan to Midshipman Madan. 
 
 Passing from Dean's Yard into a forecourt 
 of Westminster School, we may see something 
 of the present generation of boys who inherit 
 these high traditions of valour and patriotism. 
 Watch them at play in the Fives Court. 
 Lithe and sinewy forms show bravely through 
 slender flannels. The glowing handsome faces 
 are alternately alert with the excitement of 
 the game or relaxed in careless repose. Each 
 boyish athlete is vibrant with hfe, instinctive 
 with promise. Here manifestly is the stuff 
 and making of aristocracy. In no meta- 
 phorical, but in a very real sense, we have the 
 vision of young Olympians at play. 
 
 Close by the Fives Court is the College 
 Hall. It was the Abbot's Refectory before 
 that representative medieval figure gave 
 place to his Renaissance successor, the Public 
 School Head Master. Those performances of 
 Latin Plays, for which Westminster School is 
 famous, continue to-day the early spirit of 
 
274 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 classical renewal. And if you are fQrtuna.te 
 enough to be a spectator at one of these plays, 
 you ^vitness the public school gesture com- 
 plementary to that of the Five^ Court. For 
 the public schoolboy inherited, the Renaissance' 
 ideal of being at once "Gentleman and 
 Scholar." The realization- of that ideal in 
 the romantic adventures of patriotic service 
 not only in the Crimea and in India, but in 
 the planting of British Dominion ubiquitously, 
 is the meaning (if you interpret it broadly)- of 
 the high granite column. That column, then, 
 romantic and recent though its style, is 
 therefore the essential and abiding monument 
 of the long continuance of the English 
 Renaissance. 
 
 It is worth noting that of all the heroes, 
 commemorated by the column, not one is 
 given in graven image. From Commander- 
 in-Chief to midshipman, they live merely in 
 a few plain inscribed letters; for it belongs 
 to this, as to other high orders, that the 
 individual is merged in -the tradition. Of 
 emblems there are plenty, from British Lion 
 to St. George and Dragon. But most sig- 
 nificant is the sculptor's presentation of the 
 two great Queens of England at the head of 
 the shaft ; for it is in the service of queenly 
 woman that the cult of courage best justifies 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 275 
 
 itself. The medievial Knight fought for his 
 Lady. In her presence he was perhaps a 
 trifle ungracious, and in her vocal worship 
 apt to be a little lacking in refinement. But 
 the Renaissance gentleman fought bravely and 
 sang exquisitely in her honour. And, what 
 doubtless pleased Rer not less, he graced her 
 assemblies with the gestures of courtliness, 
 and beguiled her tedium with witty conversa- 
 tion. And if the modern public schoolboy 
 has somewhat lapsed from this level of all- 
 round performance, yet its renewal lies at the 
 core of his tradition, and must not be for- 
 gotten if the present searchings towards the 
 improvement of our schools are to attain a 
 fresh success. 
 
 If older reminders of the Renaissance than 
 this granite column be wanted, we need seek 
 none better than the memorial windows of 
 Raleigh and of Milton, in St. Margaret's 
 Church close by. Nothing could be more 
 representative of the humanist expansion 
 than the adventurous explorations of Raleigh 
 in the outer world, save the yet wider-ranging 
 travels of Milton in the inner world of memory 
 and imaginative creation. Again, a visit of 
 homage must be paid to the Great Dead of 
 the English Renaissance who hve on in the 
 monuments of the Abbey. This Renaissance 
 
276 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 did not end with the seventeenth century: 
 its bright meteors continued to appear in the 
 eighteenth and even nineteenth centuries, and 
 are perhaps far from finished. He, for ex- 
 ample, who rtiost of all our poets reincarnated 
 the pure; spirit of Hellenism, has not as yet 
 been given his due niche' in Poets' Corner! 
 What evidence could be more cogent for the 
 work the Humanist Renewal in this genera- 
 tion has still to do? Has Keats, who was 
 scorned by the pundits of his own time, but 
 acclaimed by all the readers and singers of a 
 later generation, still to be discovered by the 
 authorities of our national Campo Santo ? 
 
 II 
 
 Returning to our original viewpoint in 
 Victoria Street, we notice beyond the granite^ 
 column, on the righrthe twin Western Towers 
 of the Abbey, the tower of St. Margaret's in 
 the centre, and on the left a projecting angle 
 of the new Middlesex Guildhall. Running 
 through the middle distance of our vista, 
 this line of Towers and Turrets recalls also 
 the, Middle Ages. 
 
 Now in thinking of the Middle Ages, let 
 us beware of a widespread illusion, since it 
 affects the ignorant and the scholarly alike. 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 277 
 
 Nearly all who- are not actual partisans of the 
 Gothic, see medieval times through the dis- 
 torting medium of eighteenth-centufy ration- 
 alists or seventeenth to nineteenth century 
 dilettanti. Both of these short-sighted types 
 had reasons for disparaging the work of the 
 medievals. Hence there grew up and still 
 flourishes a tradition of contempt and even of 
 a!buse, to which the Jacobins and Radicals 
 gave fiercest expression, but which even 
 otherwise educated Liberals and too many 
 others continue to this day. This historic 
 misunderstanding thrives on a confusion of 
 three distinct phases in the thousand years 
 that separate Roman civilization from the 
 Renaissance. There was the long Winter of 
 the Dark Ages proper, that of the Barbarian 
 invasions and settlements. Then there was 
 the Springtime of Feudalism, with its Castles; 
 and of Catholicism, with its great Abbeys. 
 Then the Summer and early Autumn of 
 Faith and Thought, of Cities and Citizenship ; 
 with Cathedrals, Friaries and Universities; 
 with civic Belfrys and Town Halls. Not 
 until Autumn decay was passing into a 
 Winter of men's souls did the Renaissance 
 come, nor was the Reformation inevitable. 
 
 Perhaps nowhere is there a finer Abbey; 
 but St. Margaret's Church is all that survives 
 
278 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 of the ciyic phase of medieval civUization in 
 Westminster, where, indeed, that phase never 
 rooted with vigour. For various reasons, of 
 which the nearness of London was one, no 
 greiat Civic Hall reared its stately height iji 
 Westminster, as in the cities of neighbouring 
 and allied Flanders. This Middlesex Guild- 
 hall recently erected is rather a general 
 renewal than v a local tradition. But it will 
 help to restore the medieval conception of 
 the City, as being, like the Roman Civitas, 
 something that includes the adjacent country- 
 side as integral to civic life, and vice versa. 
 For a Cathedrjil, as civic complement to the 
 medieval Abbey, Westminster had to wait 
 till our own day. By turning back from the 
 eastward look of our origihal viewpoint, we 
 see the dome-crowned toWer of the new 
 Catholic Cathedral silhouetted against the 
 western sky. But even here, the civic con- 
 ception lags : the historic ChurCh has still to 
 adapt itself. Yet there are renewing signs 
 of this, as Dr. Barry, for instance, cbuld 
 tell. 
 
 Taking medieval civihzatlon at its best 
 (the only sure way of appraisement), one 
 discerns two characteristic features. In 
 every parish, from Village to city, it provided 
 a permanent centre of spirituality and beauty 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 279 
 
 to draw the public gaze and hold it in con- 
 templation. The Church provided an ever- 
 open release from the fears, fatigues, anxieties, 
 ennuis of the outer life : moreover, it fur- 
 nished an alchemy which transmuted them 
 into their opposites of the inner life, hope, 
 joy, ecstasy. Thus it worked towards the 
 harmonizing of the inner and the outer, and 
 the simultaneous ennoblement of both. This 
 twofold aim of medieval culture may be 
 tested and verified by the contemporary 
 citizen of Westminster whenever, for quarter 
 of an hour, he puts off the garment of superior 
 modernity and put on that of receptive hu- 
 mility, unfamiliar though it may be. Let 
 him take his stand opposite the north porch 
 of the Abbey, say at a distance of some two 
 hundred paces, and from there — forgetting 
 Wren's unsuccessful treatment of the Towers 
 — contemplate the beauty and the dignity of 
 the Abbey's being. We choose this spot, too, 
 because it was there the main street of the 
 medieval city opened on to the Abbey-, its 
 North front framed between the terminal 
 houses of the street, as at Strasbourg to 
 this day. 
 
 For internal vision we may take a place 
 just inside the north transept, and yield 
 ourselves to the spirit of the building. The 
 
a8o OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 eye is led gently captive 'by the magic of 
 slender shafts rising into mystery of vaults 
 roof. In the dark space of the high lantern, 
 small windows, inserted by some masonic 
 Rembrandt, shimmer with purple, and glow 
 with red. Organ notes peal forth passion 
 towards, divinity, and from the choir flows 
 the healing of song and the ecstasy of praise. 
 With such spiritual quickening and more the 
 Middle Ages gradually developed their cult 
 towards sanctity. Throiigh this they not 
 only shepherded /their people, but brought 
 together nobles and commons, and well-nigh 
 moulded all Europe into the unity of Chris- 
 tendom. Through sanctity was their avenue 
 to that " Peace of God which passeth under- 
 standing " — of us moderns, no less than of 
 the ancierits; and which it is so hard for 
 us to find. (Our own would-be volume of 
 Science and Sanctity does not prove easy to 
 write !) 
 
 Next penetrate to the eastern extremity of 
 the Abbey, stand expectant in the apse, and 
 waif in reverence for the' genius of the place 
 to work its miracle in its own way. Soon 
 will ^pur heart be lifted up by the"; poem in 
 stone, and wood, and glass, which the undying^ 
 makers of the Lady Chapel chant afresh day, 
 by day. To the work of mason, woodcarver . 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 281 
 
 and glazier, there is added the enrichment of 
 heraldic blazons and pennants of a Knightly 
 Order. The spirit of chivalry was thus fitly 
 evoked in the shrine of Divine Womanhood. 
 That spirit may or may not be reincarnated 
 in the present-day occupants of the venerable 
 stalls. Their deeds alone can tell. But this 
 at least is certain; that every youth who 
 in reverent mood visits this shrine, will be 
 touched and inspired by the living breath of 
 chivalry. 
 
 Feudal chivalry was the half-way house 
 between that long disorder of the Dark Ages 
 into which its roots were struck, and the 
 Catholic and Civic magnificence into which 
 medieval civilization flowered. The later 
 barbarians who continued this disorder by 
 breaking up the endeavours of religion and 
 civilization towards the end of the Dark Ages 
 and the beginning of the medieval order, 
 happily have not left their mark within the 
 precincts of the Abbey. As to their renewed 
 continuators of to-day (for the world War was 
 fundamentally a renewal of ^the barbarian 
 invasions, and from their largest continued 
 home in Prussia), their nearest missile of 
 destruction fell on the steps of St. Thomases 
 Hospital across the river, in one pf the air- 
 raids^of 1917. 
 
282 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 If one asks for evidence of civilizatioii; 
 antecedent to the medieval, within the pre- 
 cincts of the Abbey r the answer is : " Look 
 around " ! In the mechanical piUars and 
 pediments of the National Liberal Club, for 
 instance, there is a relic of Vitruvius. Some- 
 thing of the spirit of the Latin poets has lived 
 on afhong Westminster Scholars, and, as we 
 have seen, still more of the Hellenic Olym-. 
 plans. The Roman toga that drapes the 
 statue of Canning in Parliament Square 
 reminds us that the House of Commons, in 
 the palmy days of oratory, drew its flowers 
 of imagination from Virgil, and the polish of 
 its periods from Cicero. The very name,. 
 " Westminster Hall," was for generations of 
 Englishmen proudly described as the Temple 
 of Justicia, highest and wisest of the Roman 
 goddesses. That old fashion of speech has 
 subsided since the removal of the Law Courts 
 to their hew home in Fleet Street. True, the 
 Roman (or ought not one to say the Graeco- 
 "Roman?) ideal of Justice leaves many men 
 cold; but quicken.it with the Liberal {i.e. 
 essentially the Revolution's) 'ideal of Free^ 
 dom, and there come together, and fuse to 
 intenser glow, the first and latest in our 
 island succession of firmly established culture 
 epochs. Their actual union in the heyday 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 283 
 
 of parliamentary life was a genuine cross- 
 fertilization. It generated a new flowering ^ 
 on our old root-stock of humanity. Thus 
 one begins to understand how in the early 
 flush of Liberal fervour, the great Clock 
 Tower reared heavenward its golden crest, 
 as the national Belfry of what was vaguely 
 but deeply felt to be the national Cathedral, 
 and full of promise of being even more demo- 
 cratic than were those of old. 
 
 The place where stands this " Big Ben " 
 tower is called New Palace Yard. It was so 
 called in the twelfth century when William 
 Rufus buUt Westminster Hall beside his old 
 Palace that stood where is now the House of 
 Lords. The newness of this Palace Yard is 
 thus several centuries older in time than most 
 of the present Abbey building. But what is 
 oldest in history is often youngest in spirit, 
 and therefore most capable of renewal, pro- 
 vided we can throw ourselves back to its 
 origin. Therein lies another justification for 
 reading history backwards. For by retracing 
 the steps of national development, the student 
 is exercised in shedding the prejudices with 
 which each age views its predecessor, and 
 -bequeaths to its posterity. From age to age 
 these prejudices may accumulate, and gener- 
 ate -that many-headed monster of Historic 
 
284 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Distortion, which poisons the springs of our 
 social inheritance. 
 
 Before quitting the neighbourhood of New 
 Palace Yard, throw a glance northwards up 
 Whitehall. On the left runs that stupendous 
 range of edifices which in Latin-speaking 
 countries are called Palaces of Government. 
 At the upper end of Whitehall these Palaces 
 overflow from the west to the east side of 
 the roadway. There the vista is closed by 
 the massive bulk of the War OflSce. The 
 building is crowned by turrets (with no access 
 for outlooks) culminating in domes curiously 
 recalling a Prussian Helmet, spike and all; 
 not the flattened infantry helmet, but that 
 of the Prussian Horse Guards ; but the 
 interpretation of these spiky domes we leave 
 to the respective advocates and critics of 
 the strange thing called "militarism." But 
 notice rising above and beyond the War 
 Office the slender spire of St. Martin's Church. 
 That conjunction recalls the age-long associa- 
 tion pf war and religion. The destructive- 
 'ness of war has been, intensified throughout 
 modern culture. But older cultures dealt 
 more vitally than has ours of the Press and 
 War Office with the power of war to thrill 
 the individual with heroic impulse, and to 
 impassion the community with the zeal of a 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 285 
 
 mighty effort. The long traditional alliance 
 of priest and warrior thus was (and again is), 
 a natural partnership of man's two comple- 
 mentary governing powers, spiritual and 
 temporal, in the enhancement of life through 
 its contrast with death, and in the corre- 
 sponding uplift of the soul. 
 
 One may or may not like these portentous 
 palaces of bureaucracy which line Whitehall. 
 But there are certain things about them as 
 to which all may agree. At a certain dis- 
 tance, their colossal masonry often composes 
 into a stately perspective ; moreover, at close 
 quarters their variegated towers may charm 
 even the critical eye, especially where a 
 suitable framework happens to be furnished 
 by some neighbouring outlook. Thus the 
 south-west tower of the new Local Govern- 
 ment Board makes a fine feature as seen 
 framed by an arch of the Fountain in 
 Parliament Square. 
 
 Again, as to historical and social interpre- 
 tation. That, more than esthetic aspect, 
 essentially concerns us as we increasingly 
 take possession of our social inheritance. 
 Are not these ever-growing and multiplying 
 palaces of bureaucracy a new kind of " Re- 
 ception," comparable to that which acclaimed 
 the triumph of Roman over Customary Law ? 
 
286 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 If so, they are tokens of a full and frank 
 acceptance by the Capital, if not quite so 
 heartily by the " Provinces," of the heritage 
 of imperial and centralized Rome. This, to 
 modern statesmen, has been the most alluring 
 of the many Romes which collectively make 
 up the larger part of the occidental inheritance 
 from its past. In that medley of still appeal- 
 ing ' survivals, there is_ road-makin'g and 
 colonizing Rome; there is world-conquering 
 and centralizing Rome ; there are Juristic 
 Rome and Christian Rome. There is even 
 Roman or civic Rome. That, too, is not absent 
 here, if we look upon the Abbey precincts, 
 as comprising, with Whitehall and Trafalgar 
 Square, a civic ; unity comparable to the 
 Roman Foruni, though as yet lacking its 
 developed consciousness. 
 
 In the upper vista of Whitehall there may 
 be seen dimly in the background something 
 of the three notable buildings of Trafalgar 
 Square, itself the northern or popular Forum, 
 contrasting with the southern, more aristo- 
 cratic and historic Forum, of the Abbey, the 
 Parliament Houses and the Whitehall Palaces. 1 
 From the front of the National Gallery look 
 down towards the Abbey over Trafalgar 
 Square, so as to see on the right the Nelson 
 Column and on the left the spire of St. 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 287 
 
 Martin's Church. Are not these two out- 
 standing monuments of the Popular Forum 
 just where they should be to express and 
 sjmibolize the scheme of things we call 
 " Government " ? The permanent essence of 
 that scheme through all its changing mani- 
 festations, if it is to be at once strong and 
 wise, just and merciful, is twofold, and Uke 
 the hemispheres of a globe. On one side is 
 the strong right arm of Temporal Power, but 
 balanced on the other by the correlative yet 
 independent arm of Spiritual Power. In 
 what forms are these Powers to-day? To 
 answer that question would be the inter- 
 pretation of the Present. What forms may 
 they, should they, take for to-morrow? To 
 answer this would be the discernment — even 
 the making — of the Future. 
 
 The majestic stature of the Clock Tower 
 closes our vista of the Abbey precincts, but 
 does not complete the tale of historic sanc- 
 tities. -Beyond, our picture fades into the 
 distance. That, too, is as it should be; for 
 shadowy is the inheritance of sanctities that 
 descends to us from the remoter past. Celtic 
 Britain is commemorated in the statue of 
 Boadicea and her war-maidens. Contem- 
 plate these as queens of life and therefore of 
 
288- OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 romance, they symbolize our culture-heritage 
 from the race that created Faerie. The Em^ 
 bankment on which stands the statue reminds 
 us of prehistoric man ; for that engineering 
 work of our own times continues those 
 stupendous earthworks whiph are the monu- 
 ments of ancient human skill. , The embank- 
 ments of unknown date and origin which, 
 lower down the Thames, retain the river in 
 its course, seem in their beginnings to be the 
 handiwork of prehistoric man. 
 
 The most primitive of our British archi- 
 tectural monuments is doubtless the standing 
 stone; and then the ring of these with which 
 early man centred his astronomic cult, and 
 sanctified his burial-places. That, too, may 
 well have existed before London's Dun, now 
 St. Paul's hill, but at Westminster we must 
 be content to ask if it was not some Welsh- 
 man who built us the rude half-circle of 
 miniature obelisks which surrounds the 
 'Abbey on its northern side, placed at inter- 
 val^- in the iron fence! When this is truly 
 replaced by a historic s5niibol, such as an 
 Eisteddfod erects to this day to commemorate 
 its bardic meeting, it will complete our well-, 
 nigh continuous reading of our historic record, 
 from our modern age of Industrial Revolution 
 backwards to Early Man. 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 289 
 
 This walk down the centuries, as well as 
 from Victoria Street to the Embankment, 
 may well close with a moment of musing on 
 Westminster Bridge, recalhng the high rapture 
 of Wprdsworth's sonnet — 
 
 "Earth hath not anything to show more fair." 
 
 Yet from there the irony of Gibbon, on his 
 last journey to Lausanne, bade a long fare- 
 well to " fumum et opes strepitumque Romce." 
 Ther^, too, the wrath of William Morris, 
 reflecting on the futilities of legislation, and 
 the limitations of his predecessors, was stirred 
 to decry the masterpiece of Barry as "fit 
 only for a dung-market." 
 
 Leaving these literary memories to the 
 pieties of their respective partisans, let us 
 complete our pilgrimage with the historian 
 by taking counsel with his modern comple- 
 ment, the geographer. What will the latter 
 discern, as from Westminster Bridge he 
 watches the moving spectacle of men and 
 things? He sees there the crossing of two 
 world-highways. The Thames has always 
 been for him the link between the waterways 
 of the world and the land and waterways of 
 England. The Bridge itself he sees as modern 
 substitute for Ford and Ferry, carrying across 
 the river, and into the heart of England, 
 u 
 
290 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 that main highway whose terminus and 
 starting-point at Dover collects - an Im- 
 inemorial continental traffic At the cross- 
 ing of that waterway and this landway throbs 
 the' systole and diastole of Westminster's- 
 heart to-day as it did a thousand years ago 
 and more. Hence those perennial springs, of 
 life and intercourse, both material and 
 spiritual, which gave origin to the Abbey, 
 the Palace and the City, nourished them 
 through the agea, and„ accumulated , their 
 tradition of dignities and sanctities. 
 
 However dignities may change, future 
 generations will continue the cult of these 
 sanctities, and even add to them. Will they 
 not recover our lost outlooks into the wonder 
 of the city and the mystery of the world? 
 Something of these may ;£ven "now be won, 
 as by a vigil from the windows in the turret 
 of the great Clock Tower. Like the venerable 
 Abbey itself, that synthetic tower seeks to 
 express its part in the spirit of this variously 
 sacred place ; for what wider range of ideals 
 than that which runs between Liberty and 
 Justice? Note even the symbolism of its 
 clock ! Regulate^ from Greenwich Observa- 
 tory, it does its work with the utmost perfec- 
 tion of adjustment yet attained between man 
 and nature. Its revolving hands are the 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 291 
 
 • 
 
 Representatives of the Astronomer-Royal in 
 Parliament. Their message is that as the 
 Statesman absorbs more of the Astronomer's 
 spirit — ^his reference for truth, his scientific 
 precision and foresight, his practical efficiency 
 accordingly — ^he will become no longer open to 
 the classic reproach of Oxenstiern — " With 
 how little wisdom the world is governed ! " 
 
 So far, then, these wa,lks for the present., 
 The reader, if interested, will continue them 
 for himself, and wUl find them profitable in 
 all directions over this vast province of 
 London, or in smaller cities and towns, in 
 villages too. As observations extend, fresh 
 interpretations will be needed surpassing 
 mere initial suggestions, such as most of ours, 
 with ideas towards these accordingly— now 
 appreciative, artistic (why not even poetic) — 
 now critical of evils, again sociological and so 
 On. As regards this last line of interpreta- 
 tion especially, we hope to submit to our 
 readers before long various more ordered 
 analyses of the City, and largely with West- 
 minster for type, and this time with the 
 general principles which are broadly indicated 
 in Part" I, applied in such detail as to adrnit 
 of orderly illustration, of typical buildings, 
 types and scenes. 
 
292 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 A final word on the spirit of the city and the 
 way it works. ^ When lovers meet, instantly 
 there passes a spark of life, which kindle^ in 
 each face the lamp of ecstasy. Deep has 
 called to deep : something of the wonderfiQ, 
 something of the creative has happened. 
 What it is belongs to the mysteries of life : 
 but th6 poet ' in moments of inspiration 
 c;9.tches its essence and gives form to its 
 Outcome. 
 
 " Said Solomon to Sheba, 
 And kissed her Arab eyes." 
 
 In the clumsy language of prose, we say 
 personality awakens personality and brings 
 into play the drarnatic gesture, the expressive 
 act. So it is, or may be, with personality of 
 city and citizen. From their contact issues 
 also the marvel of transfiguration; and the 
 condition of fulfilment is the same. There 
 must be the intimacy of communion that 
 cOm^ from common memories and joined 
 hopes. The dramatic gestures and expressive 
 acts of a long line of city-lovers survive in 
 street vistas and public monuments, in build-, 
 ings old and new. In these exists that social 
 inheritance which, when it awakes,- is the 
 spirit of the city. But this spirit Jies dormant 
 awaiting rebirth in the responsive souls of 
 
PRECINCTS OF THE ABBEY 293 
 
 individual citizens. From such union of the 
 past with the forelooking present is reborn 
 the spirit creative. Thus> at the quickening 
 touch of community, personaUty awakens 
 into the ecstasy of Hfe whose forms are 
 dramatic gesture and expressive action. In 
 dull terms of scientific precision we try to 
 express that truth as a working formula in 
 the saying that Civic Stfrvey leads to Civic 
 Service. 
 
 The concluding generalizations of our West- 
 minster studies are these. To each oncoming 
 tide of youth the social inheritance brings 
 increasing promise t)f life made more abundant 
 as, generation by generation, the roll of his- 
 toric achievement grows. But the penalty 
 of failure to inherit and awaken into life 
 triumphant is, for some, repression of person- 
 aUty, for others its perversion, by the tyran- 
 nous hand of dead and decaying survivals 
 accumulated through an immeasurable past. 
 
PART III 
 
 RE-EDUCATION, NATIONAL AND 
 INTERNATIONAL 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 THE DISINHERITED 
 
 Half a century ago or more, in the early 
 days of the Health movement, there ap- 
 peared a vigorous paper by Miss Martineau 
 on " How to Make Home Unhealthy." In 
 general tenor, its recommendations may be 
 easily recalled; for they are practically 
 nothing more than a! description, of the 
 ordinary conditions of the homes of respect- 
 ability and comfort of their time, and of 
 the accepted beliefs of good housekeepers, 
 Windows, of course, must always be care- 
 fully kept shut, by day for fear of draughts 
 which are so dangerous, and by night for 
 fear of " night air," something unspeakably 
 terrible. One must be very careful about 
 going out of doors and exposing oneself to 
 the weather, one might be caught in a shower, 
 or the sun might be unpleasant. We must 
 be well wrapped up if we do go out, and put 
 on a warnr dressing-gown and a smoking-cap 
 when we come in. A warm bath occasion- 
 ally may be an agreeable luxury ; even a 
 
 297 
 
298 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 cold one is perhaps no great harm if yoif 
 are one of these "muscular Christians"; 
 but working people have no use for either 
 of them, and should not be encouraged to 
 ape their betters. Comfort demands ample 
 carpets, rtigs and curtains, above all round 
 one's bed, xyhich should be in a recess, now 
 that boxes have unhappily gone out of 
 fashion. Drains are, of course, kept out 
 of sight, as vulgar; but otherwise they are 
 unimportant, and money need not be wasted 
 on them. But it is necessary to havfe. polished 
 mahogany and white marble well in view. 
 Meals cannot be too frequent, provided they 
 are substantial enough and hearty, of course 
 washed down with plenty of good beer, and 
 with a little spirits, at least for the gentle- 
 men — ^tea is womanish. Childreii. especially 
 must have " substantial food," Mke their 
 elders; but sweets, are very bad for them; 
 vegetables are unnecessary; and fruit must 
 be supplied with great caution, in fact only 
 given as a reward, or on special occasions,, 
 say a little in summer, and at Christmas 
 time. "School hours must be long, and with 
 plenty of lessons " to^ train the memory;" 
 And so on indefinitely; all exactly as our 
 elders used to believe, as even now we still 
 too much practise. 
 
THE DISINHERITED 299 
 
 Now is it not fairly obvious, at any rate 
 increasingly plain, as we reflect that Miss 
 Martineau's ironic mode of criticism as re- 
 gards Health in our Homes is no less applic- 
 able to what is our very largest problem of 
 the opening future, that of Morals in our 
 Towns? If we were to take for a title, 
 " How to Makq Town Demoralizing," we 
 need not seek cmt any inventions; it would 
 suffice to describe the existing state of things 
 as we all know them, yet practically ignore 
 them — that is, tolerate them — each in his 
 own borough. It all seems so " natural " : 
 that is, we have grown used to it, dulled to 
 it, acceptant of it. 
 
 We see in town the confused pressure of 
 business and the drudgeries of industry, the 
 long hours, the cramped, dull and ugly- 
 homes, the food so often poor, unsuitable, 
 or both. We see in school, despite miti- 
 gations and even constructive beginnings, 
 that in the mass dull memorizings and 
 examinings are still suppressing thought and 
 starving emotion; and that such garnishing 
 with facts, such sweeping out of feelings, 
 is preparing for more than inspectors to 
 enter in. From workshop or from school, 
 our only choice on the way back to the 
 home, if choice there be, is between the 
 
300 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 deadening dulness of some streets, and the 
 flaring^ garishness of others (agaiii through 
 sweeping and gafnishing respectively) or, 
 meaner and perhaps deadlier than either, 
 the struggling admixture of the Iwo. 
 
 The rustic mind, limited though towns- 
 men think it, unsafe either from our urban 
 debasing elements or its own, is at any rate 
 built up out of impressions -and experiences, 
 of which many, at least, are worthy; but 
 here in town shops replace nature; and what, 
 town-grown minds are not largely moulded 
 by them ? These women fascinated in crowds 
 by the sex-adornments of draper and jeweller^ 
 these young folk parading the streets,* these 
 men in their public-house, are natural one 
 arid all. / Are they not making the best of 
 life under the circumstances? At any rate,, 
 they think so ; and what have we to say ? — 
 at least, till we have realized their points of 
 view, their lines of adaptation? To under- 
 stand them fairly, return to the prosperous 
 home of Miss Martineau's Victorian house-: 
 wife. Even her dread of "night air" was 
 not from its origins an imaginary bogey; it 
 expressed an old and once-needed precaution,; 
 that against malaria, prevalent formerly as 
 "ague" on low-lying land an37where. Her 
 overstock of upholstery and carpets was 
 
THE DISINHERITED 301 
 
 largely developed as means of repose for her 
 men-folk, as well as herself, after the fatigues 
 and noises of their day, just as were her 
 massive meals for their renewal : even the 
 corresponding overdosing with alcohol not 
 only aroused conversation otherwise dulled 
 by repletion, but stimulated the clearing of 
 the respiratory system from its modern load 
 of town dust. And so on. People are seldom 
 entirely fools; indeed, never. Hence, given 
 our existing towns as they stand — ^half sur- 
 vivals from the historic past, half expressions 
 of a rude industrialism, of a crude com- 
 mercialism — ^is it not plain that a correspond- 
 ing rudeness and crudeness-of pleasures and 
 recreation^s is only too closely bound up with 
 these? And if so, that our difficulties — 
 whether as educationalists endeavouring to 
 raise the present too low culture-level, or as 
 moralists seeking to combat its various de- 
 genisrations and- their consequences — ^may be, 
 can only be, got over as we raise ourselves 
 to a fuUer civic outlook; and as we there 
 and thence combine our too scattered or too 
 specialized gndeavours towards the much- 
 needed Civic Renewal. 
 
 Where there is life at all, there must 
 always be some adjustment of Environment 
 to Organism, and conversely of Organism to 
 
302 OUR SOQAL INHERITANGE 
 
 Environment. When this adjustment is once 
 a working one, each keeps the other in its 
 accustomed place; hence it is but folly to 
 think that our mere criticism, or even im- 
 provement of organism here, or of environ^ 
 ment ther«, can permanently affect either 
 of them. The problem is to deal with both. 
 We may even^have a true vision of a more 
 excellent way of life, but how to bring this 
 about ? ' ' We only destroy what We replace, ' ' 
 The problems of bettering life, and its 
 environment, are thus not separate ones, as 
 political and other mechanically educated 
 minds constantly think, and as religioiit. 
 ones have also too much come to believe. 
 Nor is it, as politicians especially think— now 
 with mistaken hope, or again with unneces- 
 sary discouragement— a matter of movin^i 
 grgat numbers and masses before anything 
 can be done. It is not a matter of area and 
 wealth. It is at bottom an experimental 
 problem, that of starting a readaptation. 
 This once properly established, on howevei 
 small a scale to begin with, as real adapta- 
 tion, real life, its multiplication will be corn^ 
 paratively easy, may even take care of itseljE. 
 Here is, the large element of truth in tlie 
 doctrines of laissez-faire and natural selec- 
 tion, though IpVig ago better ex;pressed in 
 
THE DISINHERITED 303 
 
 the parable of the leaven, devised for the 
 encouragement of the simple housewife, and 
 that of the mustard-seed, for her husband 
 labouring in the field. 
 
 There are; however, many by whom these 
 propositions will hardly be granted ; indeed, 
 many whom such discussion, savouring of 
 science, repels altogether; who are yet as 
 open as any to the interest of their city; 
 still more to a simple and sympathetic pre- 
 sentment of its needs, and especially those 
 of., youth in it. For knowledge and under- 
 standing of the great city and its young life, 
 for experimental initiative, for germinal en- 
 deavour, and now also, happily, for growing 
 success, even national influence and also 
 international example, we know of. no one 
 in Europe — save, indeed, that late veteran 
 initiator. Canon Barnett of Toynbee Hall, 
 whom we can here compare with Jane 
 Addams, that virtual Abbess of Chicago, 
 whose " Hull House " has become in its 
 turn foremost among city centres of social 
 endeavour and civic uplift, of individual 
 training and of general example. Of her 
 few books, each more valuable than its pre- 
 decessor, there cannot be too highly recom- 
 mended — ^first for all who would handle civic 
 
304 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 questions with efficiency, and next for the 
 fellow-citizens they have still to arouse and^ 
 interest — ^her Spirit of Youth and the City 
 Streets {Macmillan,Ti9io) ; so that it is the 
 firm cotiviction of the present writers that 
 there is perhaps no social task more promis- 
 ing, more likely to be directly and' vitally 
 fruitful, whether for Civics or Eugenics, for 
 Morals or Ideals, than the millionfold diffu-. 
 sion of this little volume, and that among all' 
 classes, by all possible resources of pubUcity 
 and ciaeapriess, teaching and influence. 
 
 To give brief extracts after this intention- 
 ally superlative eulogy is, of course, dangerous. 
 For simplest introduction, however, take 
 only a few sentences froiiti the first chapter. 
 " Let us know the modern city in its w^k-1- 
 ness and wickedness, and then seek to rectify 
 and purify it until it shall be free at least 
 from the grossejr temptations which now 
 beset the yoiing people who are living in 
 its tenements and working in its factories. 
 The mass of these young people are possessed 
 of good intentions, and they are equipped 
 with a certain understanding of city life. 
 This itself could be made a most valuable 
 social instrument toward se;curing innocent 
 recreation and better social organization. . . . 
 And yet the whole apparatus for supplying 
 
THE DISINHERITED 305 
 
 pleasure is wretchedly inadequate and full 
 of danger to whomsoever nlay approach it." 
 For historic plain speaking, take the follow- 
 ing : — " Since the soldiers of Cromwell shut up 
 the people's playhouses and destroyed their 
 pleasure fields, the Anglo-Saxon city has 
 turned over the provision for public recrea- 
 tion to the most evil-minded and the most 
 unscrupulous members of the community." 
 For direct observation and economic inter- 
 pretation : — " Apparently, the modem city 
 sees in these girls only two possibilities, both 
 of them commercial : first, a chance to 
 utilize by day their new and tender labour 
 power in its factories and shops, and then 
 another chance in the evening to extract 
 jfrom them their petty wages by pandering 
 to their love of pleasure." Forxthe need of 
 adolescent guidance, sex-education : — ■" At the 
 present moment every city is full of young 
 people who are utterly bewildered and un- 
 instructed in regard to the basic experience 
 which must inevitably come to them, and 
 which has varied, remote, and indirect ex- 
 pressions." For criticism yet hope : — " Is it 
 only the artists who really see these young 
 creatures as they are — the artists who are 
 themselves endowed with immortal youth? 
 Is it our disregard of the artist's message 
 
3o6 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 which makes us so bUnd and so stupid, or 
 are we bo under the influence of our Zeitgeist 
 that we can detect only commercial values 
 in the young as well as in the old? It is 
 as if our eyes were holden to the mystic 
 beauty, the redemptive joy, the civic pride 
 which these multitudes of young people 
 might supply to our dingy towns." 
 
 For any who ask further, the mere titles 
 of her remaining chapters must here suffice. 
 For clear descriptive insight, " The Wrecked 
 Foundation of IJomesticity. ' ' For sympathetic 
 psychology, "The Quest of Adventure," "The 
 House of Dreams. ' ' For foresight and states- 
 jnanship in economic development, " Youth 
 and Industry." For the doctrine, reproof 
 and correction of us elders, and for youth's 
 instruction, " The Spirit of Righteousness." 
 
 These straying and neglected adolescents 
 of Jane Addams's great town, and ours, and 
 all others of the industrial age, are the dis- 
 inherited children of the City, as it has been 
 and should again be. How restore to them 
 their birthright in the social and civic 
 inheritance ? 
 
 Church, university and school are institu- 
 tions developed and organized for this pur- 
 pose. What an indictment, then, of these 
 institutions as they exist to-day that whole 
 
THE DISINHERITED 307 
 
 masses of the population should be kept out 
 of their spiritual estate ! As regards churches 
 and schools we have little to say in this 
 volume, and that more by implication than 
 directly. Here we briefly address ourselves 
 to the question of adapting the universities 
 to better fulfilment of their traditional office. 
 More than all other institutions the uni- 
 versities are charged with the comprehensive 
 , Trust of our whole social inheritance. What 
 are the shortcomings of their trusteeship as 
 now practised ? Of what l9,rger and more 
 vital activities in the care, the transmission 
 and the practical uses of the social inheritance 
 are the universities capable if awakened to 
 their opportunities and! aroused to their 
 responsibilities? How wean the academic 
 mind from its tendency to a fixed and sterile 
 habit of retrospect, and quicken it with an 
 eager interest in the application of its golconda 
 of spiritual resources to the making of the 
 future? Of these and kindred questions we 
 hope to treat more fully and systematically 
 in a special volume. Meantime we conclude 
 this by outlining such criticisms and sug- 
 gestions as are relevant to the limited purpose 
 in hand. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 
 
 The sorrows of the city, which, we have 
 last been considering, have ever moved men 
 in their generous youth. Our philanthropic 
 foundations of the past, and our University 
 Settlements of to-day,, look back to more or 
 less recent founders; but these had a long 
 line of predecessors, who struggled to abate 
 the -poverty or pain, the ignorance, vice or 
 crime of their great city, and by works of 
 charity or mercy inspired by pity. A heroic 
 line— for the most part leading back through 
 saints of all denominations (as so notably in 
 England through the Society of Friends) to 
 deeply kindred spirits in Catholicism in each 
 of its ages, and thence back to their coiiimon 
 Master. And the like in all faiths more or 
 less : thus six centuries before Jesus, young 
 Siddartha, moved by the suffering outside 
 his palace gates, resigned love, home, and 
 princely career, for the high quest of medi- 
 tating out some solution of these iiisistent 
 human problems : and so not only attained 
 
 308 ' 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 309 
 
 his own illumination, as Buddha, but founded 
 the widest of human faiths, the most numer- 
 ous and long-continued of endeavours, and 
 both still to be reckoned with. From the 
 present viewpoint, these high Avatars for 
 West and East were alike social thinkers and 
 endeavourers, and to a degree far fuller than 
 is reahzed effectively by the morals and 
 theology, or speculatively by the philosophies 
 which look back to them as founders. But 
 the deepest criticism of their typical con- 
 tinuators is that they do not adequately 
 follow their founders in striving to make the 
 Kingdom of Heaven come, here upon Earth. 
 
 Thus there is no disrespect to the great 
 initiators in here recalling that ours are times 
 of Science, and its applications. On the con- 
 trary, it is the plain duty of our own times, ' 
 for the greatest in all lines of religious, moral 
 and social evolution have exemplified that 
 very principle in their times, and would again 
 exemplify it were they with us to-day. 
 
 How such ideas are spreading through the 
 world is manifest in every' city. Yet, alas ! 
 in Westminster less than most ; and for 
 various reasons. Of these the first may be 
 that here, in this old centre of Rule and 
 Law, and now of Politics, Legislation and 
 Administration, an older and pre-scientific 
 
310 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 atmosphere survives. Hence neither Tory 
 nor Conservative nor Liberal, Ulsterian nor 
 Home Ruler, Liberal-Labourist, Imperialist 
 nor Financialist, nor even the individual 
 philanthropist who occasionally appears ainong 
 their ;ranks, in one House or the other, has 
 yet attempted any adequately comprehensive 
 study, nor demanded it, of the social evils 
 around them; and their detailed efiorts have 
 seldom been expressed in ways related to the 
 sciences. The more democratic parties *and 
 members. Radical, Irish or Labour — from 
 whom more might have been expected — ^have 
 been too specialized in criticism to accomplish 
 constructive enquiries, though from the last 
 at least there must be admitted hopeful 
 signs. 
 
 True, there has been the frequent appoint- 
 ment of " Royal Commissions of Enquiry " 
 into this and that : and of these the office 
 door, with seemly brass plate, may be ob- 
 served in course of perambulating the pre- 
 cincts of Parliament ; and this symptom may 
 be noted appreciatively, as proof of the 
 growing feehng and parliamentary admission, 
 that Social ISurveys are required.' So we 
 leave things here at that, postponing any 
 fuirther enquiry into their methods, pretty 
 uniformly pre-sociological as these have been. 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 311 
 
 and are; and correspondingly the apprecia- 
 tion of their results. Enough here to note 
 that we owe to private endeavours, hke 
 Charles Booth's Life and Labour in London, 
 or again to collective ones like those of the 
 Fabian Society (as we can say all the more 
 warmly, since not sharing its membership, 
 and accepting its outlook to a very limited 
 degree), results towards social knowledge are 
 usually beyond comparison with those of 
 Royal Commissions. Indeed, such improve- 
 ment as some of the latter have of late years 
 been showing, are due not a little to such 
 unofficial examples and influences. 
 
 Disappointed, then, by Royal Commissions, 
 shall we look for social knowledge to the 
 Universities : and if so, to which of their 
 schools, old or new? First naturally in 
 London, we turn to the School of Economics : 
 but — at least when we last consulted its 
 library — ^this had practically no books on' 
 cities, nor on civics in its literal and proper 
 sense, nor any help for us at all with such a 
 question as the present, viz. how better to 
 prepare ourselves and others for the study of 
 social evils, considered generally : i. e. com- 
 prehensively, comparatively, sociologically, 
 above all, civically : though, of course, for 
 various special economic studies, as notably 
 
312 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 of problems of poverty, of industrial unrest, 
 and better possible organization, and the like, 
 neither learning nor productivity have been 
 lacking, and with results happily becoming 
 appreciated and utilized. * Still, economics is 
 not yet sociology. 
 
 Shall we return, then, to the older schools 
 of learning, and search among their many 
 colleges? With all our varied personal at- 
 tachments and contacts at times suggestive, 
 we have in the main found little, and sq. had 
 to return from universities to their cities, 
 once more to search there for our social clues. 
 Yet ,for thirty years one of us, and forty the 
 other, have been seeking to understand the 
 growth and nature of Universities, their 
 qualities and defects and possibilities, as 
 custodians of the social heritage, and the 
 main ones for youth : and further to realize 
 arid apply ^uch of their varied resources as 
 bear upon cities and city- life with which 
 universities are more fully related than they 
 nowadays realize. Later we hope to express 
 what we can of this in a kindred volume to 
 the present, yet beginning at the university 
 end of the story. Still, some essential outline 
 is necessary, which may be best begun by 
 the recognition; of their prevalent defect; 
 Here is a brief story which may bring this out. 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 313 
 
 In a northern University city, ,which may 
 be left ilameless, since typical enough to be 
 anywhere, the writer of this chapter met an 
 acquaintance of youth, thirty years before, a 
 lady who had married an active and useful 
 social and political worker, and had fully 
 shared and helped in his effective career. 
 After talk of old times and friends, and then 
 of our respective young folk at College, she 
 said : " Do you know, when I was a girl I 
 was keen to go to college : but my man 
 would not wait, and I gave it up : so I have 
 never set foot in such a place in my life ! 
 I should still so like to see what really is 
 doing there: could you take me over?" 
 " Certainly, come along ! This is the school 
 of medicine : we may as well begin here. 
 Medical studies commence with Anatomy, 
 and here it is " : but of course the faintest 
 peep through a half-opened door sufi&ced for 
 the dissecting-tables with their lethal bur- 
 dens ; and little interest was aroused by the 
 adjacent museum with its skeletons and dis- 
 sections. " I spare you the Pathological de- 
 piartnient, but here is that of Eye-diseases " 
 (again a peep and shudder, at a tray of 
 bullocks' eyes). " This is the museum of 
 surgery : that is the collection of fractures." 
 Gjmecology we passed by (there Wqt5 ng 
 
314- OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 statue of mother and child to indicate it). 
 " Oh, Physiology; let me see what they are 
 doing." After rooms of chemical and other 
 apparatus, we came to the students' latora- 
 tory, with a dead frog or two and microscopes : 
 " They are studying the microscopic anatomy 
 of muscle." "/Still post-mortem ! " said she 
 to herself, quietly, in a puzzled way. " Well, 
 let us see elsewhere : here are the scientific 
 departments which prepare for medicine : 
 this is Zoology : perhaps the museum wiU 
 interest you." But again' the skeletons and 
 the pickles, even the stuffed animals left her 
 cold, and at the laboratory, with more dead 
 frogs, there was silence still. Further on a 
 Botany class had finished its work, and the 
 attendant was clearing up their mess of torn 
 flowers. Then she broke out— in disillusion- 
 ment and indignation — " Then is it all post- 
 mortem ? " A brief flash : but to_ her guide 
 th^ very spear-point of Pallas, the protest of 
 Alma Mater, no longer the mere official ghbst 
 of speech-time, but Woman, with her direct 
 common sense, that is, life-instinct, acting here 
 as University inspectress-in-chief , seeing more 
 keenly into the present condition of higher 
 education than any University historian or 
 Commission has yet done. 
 
 " Well, here are more of the Science Schools," 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 315 
 
 Mathematical departments, pure and applied, 
 with their diagrams and strarige models said 
 nothing to her, nor yet the chemical museum, 
 with its crystals and tubes. In the labora- 
 tory — " What is he doing? " " Analyzing a 
 mineral." She said nothing, was plainly 
 thinking, " Post-mortem again J^ " In the 
 Physical department the spectroscopes were 
 out — ^post-mortem of a beam of light ! It 
 was clearly time to be leaving Science for 
 the Humanities. 
 
 Here seeking a subject at its living best, 
 we began with the department of English : 
 but, alas ! for visitor and guide alike, the 
 lecture was on Anglo-Saxon grammar. Classics 
 and Sanskrit wejre passed by ; but hopeful of 
 modern languages, we tried the German class- 
 room : but there the blackboard was in- 
 scribed with something in early Gothic, and 
 even the class-syllabus promised no author 
 later than Goethe, " Let us try French: 
 surely Something alive there ! " Better cer- 
 tainly : the course came down two genera- 
 tions after Goethe's death to Victor Hugo's ! 
 The Education Department, was not attrac- 
 tive : she ki^ew its courses are mainly on past 
 educators, and its management by a Govern- 
 ment bureau : and, moreover, by this time 
 it was late : the gates were locked ' for the 
 
3i6 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 night, and we had recourse to the janitor's 
 back door. There the sweepers' accumula- 
 tions were before us in the big dustbin : and 
 at this point the guide had duller vision of 
 the current academic synthesis, and confessed 
 it. " Here are material results of the day's 
 works/the flowers and frogs, and exercise 
 papers." " A great many ashes for summer? 
 It must be a cold plsice ! " " This reminds 
 me, you have not seen the Engineering' 
 department." Scraps of paper with legal, 
 verbiage — ^whereas, and so on — " We have 
 forgotten the school of Law ! " Other papera 
 pertained to Philosophy. " Stay, here is a 
 clue ! This string, knotted, cut and tangled, 
 evidently represents logic-— tough, flexible 
 stuff, but not used in our day to tie subjects 
 or studies together ! " M^e went out into the 
 street, and there, waiting for the dustbin, to 
 seek in it the lucky sixpence that probably, 
 wasn't there, was a forlorn old woman, whose 
 dust and grime showed how busy she had 
 been farther^down the street;. " Here, now, 
 is the latest I can show you— the Pallas avatar 
 of the proposed Department of Commerce ! " 
 
 "And are the Universities all like this? " 
 " Yes, more or less all of them. This sort of 
 thing is what we are doing everywhere." 
 
 Still, not only toT'soothe a friend, thus 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 317 
 
 sharply disillusioned of her girlhood's dream, 
 and of her later reverence for the Universities 
 as fountain of living learning, but also to do 
 them justice, and to say what we can for 
 ourselves, it was only fair to add : " Mark 
 you, what you have seen in brief is the Official 
 system — of our Faculties and Governing 
 Bodies, and Programmes controlling the Dje- 
 partments. But you have not seen such life 
 and discussion as there is among the students 
 themselves. Moreover, in the actual teach- 
 ing, nearly every one is more alive than you 
 think. Every botanist takes his class not 
 only into the botanic garden, but far afield 
 over the countryside, and even to the hills 
 on holidays : the geologist has long excursions 
 too, with maps and hammers : the zoologist 
 takes them shore-collecting and dredging. 
 The engineer has 'them in the w^orkshop and 
 visits outside works as well. The educationist 
 sends them to observe and help in schools. 
 And those whose books keep them indoors 
 often talk freely enough : old Blackie was but 
 the best case of this." " Then why don't 
 you do more of it ? " was the natural enough 
 answer. "Because it is still contraband; 
 tolerated, of course, though more or less 
 disapproved. Moreover, we don't yet see 
 clearly enough how to bring our studies into 
 
3i8 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 order; we have' no agreement among our- 
 selves : I fear we hardly try. The fact is, 
 we don't clearly know how modern medicine 
 should be taught, or science, or languages or 
 literature, in their living and united way : 
 and thus each leaves his fellows alone, and 
 does whatever he feels he jpetsonally can. 
 We have the old and recent philosophies, you 
 rtiay say, but they are preserved in their 
 department, and no fresh philosophy to help 
 us has yet come adequately into view. So 
 in our big would-be education-machines, the 
 best we yet see our way to do is each to work 
 far away in his own little department, and 
 therein carry this or that, problem nearer 
 solution,' or towards application if he can. 
 But under these conditions Tve go on diver- 
 ging: our old common language has mostly 
 disappeared : for after colleagues have ex- 
 changed ' Good-morning ! ' if not reduced 
 this to a nod,' each disappears into his own 
 den, to work between his lecture-hours - at 
 some problem his fellows, correspondingly^ 
 self-absorbed, seldom think of desiring to 
 understand. It is into this detailed Encyclo- 
 paedia, with little or no order, beyond the 
 merely alphabetic, that all universities have 
 been moving, following the nineteenth-century 
 leadership of the Germans." This character, 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 319 
 
 too, it is which has made German specialists 
 such obedient worshippers of " the State " ; 
 and their Empire, with its mood of expansion 
 and conquest, afforded them a conception of 
 Unity, and, moreover, in Action, to better 
 forms of which their too restricted studies 
 had lost alike the inward and the social clues. 
 The ascendency acquired by bureaucracy-and 
 militarism in Germany over its culture and 
 education in these dispersive forms, is thus 
 explained : and we may well look into their 
 extending mastery among ourselves, and 
 especially through the War. 
 
 Where, then, shall we look for progress 
 in and indeed beyond thes.e Universities of 
 ours, for the most part sub-Germanic at best 
 efficiency, so far as not still pre-Germanic, in 
 their arrested development ? That is the too 
 largely unsolved problem which has delayed 
 our own efforts to write constructively, and 
 not merely critically, as above. In a word, 
 the difficulty is to see our way towards 
 realizing the Post-Germanic University. 
 
 Still, many are working, and that prac- 
 tically as well as studiously towards at least 
 partial, solutions. For instance, as just noted 
 above, the natural sciertces are studied out of 
 doors, and thus they are increasingly reahzing 
 
320 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 themselves as in no " separate fields," but as 
 analyzing 'their part in the greater science of 
 Geography — ^indeed, that of the Cosmogony 
 in evolution. Geography in this large sense 
 is noV beginning to absorb all the special 
 surveys of the natural sciences. Such surveys 
 are now of strata, of landscape configuration, 
 and earth sculpture, of climate and weather. 
 But all these elements are again surveyed, 
 now as determinants of plant life, and these 
 further in their influence on animal life. Next 
 all the foregoing are collectively observed as 
 conditioning man himself, as so obviously in 
 his rural life. Thus the advancing conception 
 of Regional Surveys, and these as covering 
 the great Globe itself, is making for unity in 
 the vast and varied field of Natural . Science. 
 Note, too, how the physical sciences have not 
 only been unified in great measure in the past 
 generation or two of the nineteenth century 
 by the doctrine of Energy, but again notably 
 developed with the opening age of radium. 
 
 So far well : but how are 'we to get even 
 so much unity for the Humanities : how 
 reach a science of them? The doctrine of 
 evolution does so far help us, though as yet 
 less comprehensively than in geology arid 
 biology. Still, the naturalists have profited 
 by evolutionary impulses from the humanists : 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 321 
 
 witness philology, with its tracing of varied 
 languages to a common stock, not only as of 
 Romance languages from Latin, but of what 
 seemed distinct stocks, like Latin and Greek, 
 Celtic, Teutonic, Slavonic and more, to com- 
 mon origins with Sanscrit, and also its modern 
 Indian derivatives. The economists, too, have 
 given potent suggestions : thus Darwin and 
 Wallace alike loyally avowed their identical 
 debt for their theory of Natural Selection 
 to Malthus On 'Population. In such ways, 
 then, and many more, our varied university 
 studies are more akin, and more mutually 
 helpful than our too traditional and too 
 narrowly specialized teaching and examinmg 
 allow the student to see. Especially if he be 
 " docile and hard-working," and not one of 
 those free and active spirits who can really 
 utilize and employ the University— ^as their 
 ta^e d'hote, as it were — ^instead of its always 
 overfeeding them with stereotyped rations 
 (whose bulk so much exceeds their nutritive 
 value), of its faculties and examinations. 
 After these war-times, soldiers who go back 
 to the University will, we trust, be more 
 frequently ready to recruit this latter type. 
 
 Such thinking fellows may next go further^ 
 and upon a fuller quest, a bigger and bolder 
 one — that of helping to realize the needed 
 
322 OUR SOCIAL, INHERITANCE 
 
 Post-Germanic University; in their own 
 studies first, and thereafter in the world. 
 How shall we express its beginnings a little 
 more fully? 
 
 Yet before attempting this, it may well be 
 first asked how higher studies and education, 
 with their Universities, have developed in the 
 past. What are their many stages of ad- 
 vance, on which all agree? Starting in the 
 Middle Ages, in which our elder centres arose, 
 it is agreed that this -took place essentially 
 round the then central problem of how to 
 reconcile the teaching of the Church with 
 that 'of Aristotle, then rediscovered : to 
 reconcile, in short, established religion with 
 Greek philosophy and science. 
 
 T^e story of the Renaissance influence in, 
 njodifying and supplementing old centres, and 
 founding new ones, was again largely Greek; 
 but now above all Platonic, with its returning 
 idealism — of beauty, truth and goodness, 
 realizable in human life, thus not hopelessly 
 fallen. Potent elements .also came in from 
 and with the Reformation, and its diffusion 
 of the Biblical classics, with their impulse, at 
 once profound and elevating, upon our modern 
 tongues. 
 
 The next great movement of Universities 
 arose from the Grande EncyclopMie of the 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 323 
 
 eighteenth century, that active ferment to- 
 wards the French Revolution; but this in 
 double form, on the one side sterilizing, on 
 the other fruitful exceedingly. 
 
 The first of these — the third, then, of this 
 series of Educational Revolutions — ^was natur- 
 ally chosen by the French Empire, for Napo- 
 leon saw in these clear-cut summaries the 
 very type of his needed textbooks and codes 
 of examination for his public services : and 
 thus he created the University of France. 
 From its scheme of standardized and well- 
 canned information, to be memorized and 
 tl^rown up intact at the examiner's call, 
 there arose a generation later the University 
 of London ; and on its model again, those of 
 India, in which the perfection of cram has 
 reached the limits of endurance, and even 
 exceeded them : so that a little group of 
 progressive educationists — ^the Calcutta Uni- 
 versity Commission, with Dr. Michael Sadler 
 at its head — have been recently at work 
 towards mitigating and improving the present 
 .lamentable situation. 
 
 So far, then, the three historic University 
 movements', which we naay call pre-Germanic ; 
 and if space allowed references to Oxford 
 and Cambridge, Edinburgh and Dublin, and 
 others of our old centres — ^not to speak of . 
 
324 OUR SOdlAL INHERITANCE 
 
 newer ones — ^we might trace the characteristic- 
 individualities which these present back to 
 their respective origins in medieval and 
 Renaissance times. True, the influence of 
 the Napoleonic textbook and examination 
 machinery hasj of course; overspread them allj 
 via London, and so far independently also, 
 as from the corresponding State-requirements 
 as well. 
 
 But all our Univeirsities claim more modern 
 elements, and show them in varying propor- 
 tions. What arfe these ? What but the Ger- 
 manic ? As the great Encyclopaedia came to 
 Edinburgh and there called into being the 
 EncyclopcBcLia Bntannica, prominent for the 
 next century and a half or thereby, so it 
 was welcomed in Berlin, then the other city 
 of Europe intellectually most open to French 
 influence, thanks notably to the golden age 
 of the Grand Monarque, Louis, XIV, and his 
 expulsion of the Huguenots, who largely 
 settled there. The French atmosphere was 
 maintained and freshened by Frederick the 
 Great, with his devotion to French culture, 
 versus German. Furthermore, the ferment 
 preceding the French Revolution, and the 
 corresponding up=-clearing and illumination of 
 Germany's own intellectual fermentation in 
 those times, then the overthrow of the in- 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 325 
 
 numerable German princelings by Napoleon, 
 and finally the arousal of national life and 
 consciousness against him, were all powerful 
 factors towards a new University develop- 
 ment — the fourth of the historic series. How, 
 then, did this arise? Essentially from the 
 EncyclopSdie — of which the main articles were, 
 so to speak, handed over each to a given 
 teacher, who henceforth became no mere 
 examiner, but increasingly a specialist upon 
 the subject. But this new conception of 
 progressive study and research in any and 
 every direction, involved nothing less than 
 complete individualism and democracy of 
 studies throughout the intellectual world. 
 All the trammels of medieval and Renaissance 
 curricula were thus broken, and the examina- 
 tion machine was not introduced. The watch- 
 word of the real intellectual and educational 
 revolution, " Lehrfreiheit und Lernfreiheit " 
 (complete freedom of teaching and learning), 
 became as dear to the German professor and 
 student as had been " Liberie, Egalite, Fra- 
 ternite " to the French people. 
 
 With the whole encyclopaedia open before 
 him, the German student of the nineteenth 
 century- was free to find what interested him, 
 and to wprk at that. With such active 
 interest he neither needed nor would bear 
 
326, OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE; 
 
 those supervisions and coercions which arose 
 with the decline of medieval and Renaissance 
 activity, and he rightly scoffed at the exami- 
 nation method imported by Napoleon from 
 China to drive the cramming machinery so 
 necessary alike to the production— and the 
 power — of the bureaucratic spirit he was then 
 creating. 
 
 ' Not, then, for the German the modest aim 
 of the Paris or London crammer and cram- 
 mist, to get 51 per cent, as a passman; nor 
 even the petty ambition of 76 or 81 per cent, 
 for " honours." With his interest kept fresh 
 and living upon the kernel of knowledge, 
 instead of its external shell, his scientific 
 curiosity and criticism — ^his real ambition also 
 — -awoke^ together ; and Jie recovered, and in 
 each of these ways, that child-like eagerness 
 of asking questions ; which had been too long 
 lost also in his own universities, like those of 
 other countries; but was never barred and 
 banned, as in these latter, by the dead 
 weight of fixed programmes, textbooks and 
 examinations. Not simply, then, to know 
 the subject as presented to him, and up to 
 its 100 per cent, level, but next with personal 
 contribution, became his working ambition; 
 and this he found, as every active mind must 
 ever do, to be more or less possible according 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 327 
 
 to his labour and powers. Often, therefore, 
 he notably increased his subject in its value, 
 even doubled it; in the great cases multiply- 
 ing it manifold, with flashes of intuition, 
 applied throughout a hfetime's strenuous, yet 
 patient, studious or experimental labour. At 
 the very least, and even as an undergraduate, 
 he could do something, say, to search back- 
 wards into the origins and bibliography of 
 his subject, to amplify its contemporary 
 aspects, glean illustrations, make comparisons, 
 and often, too, to search forward and find 
 something really new, perhaps some applica- 
 tion instead, or as well. Towards such maiden 
 effort his professor helped him, and not merely 
 as consulting tutor, but in library or labora- 
 tory, and best of all in keen and collective 
 discussions. Of these some, as Seminar, were 
 presided over by a teacher; but many were 
 free, among the students themselves; in 
 weekly or fortnightly gathprings of each 
 intellectual group — its Verein. There, bright- 
 ened by initial and final song, and with 
 the day's fatigue washed off by help of a 
 light (if capacious) glass, the problems and 
 suggestions of each were thrashe4 out into 
 the fuller sustenance of all; and thus with 
 better grasp— even life-saturation^ — of their 
 subject thereafter. 
 
328 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Of course there were abuses. The harshly 
 drilled and crammed school-life, which Prus- 
 sian war-needs had successfully imposed, 
 tended to have its rebound, too often into 
 intemperance (recalling that from Puritanism 
 in Britain), and also its exaggeration, which 
 turned young courage towards barbaric rites 
 of face-slashing, called duelling. Both these 
 evils have gone on as ,curses up to war-times* 
 and have there borne their appropriate and 
 conspicuous fruits. But in those great last- 
 century days' of German world-leadership, 
 temperate living, hard study and thinking ' 
 were in resA predominance : and that they 
 still had their compelling share in university 
 life and work up to the war, and even in 
 Berlin itself, deteriorated though this had 
 become, has been demonstrated to the world 
 by the intellectualized endurance, the varie4 
 inventiveness, the general efficiency which 
 non'e can deny to the enemy — qualities of 
 this great University system without which 
 we would have defeated the mere drilling 
 and bullying Junker, and the docile legions 
 of their Kaiser-godling in half the years our 
 victory required. 
 
 Return, however, to the bettef Germany of 
 a century ago, with its worthy planting and 
 tending, throughout well-nigh thirty univer- 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 329 
 
 sities, of this new and fruitful tree of higher 
 education, which was faring so poorly in other 
 lands, but here bearing copious and varied 
 fruit. Seeds and grafts were soon in demand : 
 not only Austria, Switzerland, Holland, but 
 all Scandinavia, even Russia, followed suit. 
 Coleridge and. Carlyle discovered for us Ger- 
 man philosophy, literature and history; and 
 next Scottish and Nonconformist divines 
 began with Oriental scholarship, and came to 
 modern criticism. Young America came over, 
 and soon by hundreds and more; and went 
 back to Germanize their own colleges and 
 universities to a freshened vigour; and even 
 our own more enterprising graduates dis- 
 covered where best to learn their chosen 
 subject anew. German missionaries increas- 
 ingly stirred us up at home, young Max 
 Miiller at their head, whose call of " Philology ! 
 Sanskrit ! India ! " into the ears of sleeping 
 Oxford marked a new epoch in her intellectual 
 history^ The manifold advances of Cambridge 
 schools, as notably of Biology, Economics, 
 Philosophy, History and more, are even more 
 deeply indebted to their fruitful importation 
 of modern methods. In summary j then, our 
 pre-Germanic education has everywhere ad- 
 vanced more completely towards an often 
 sub-Germanic stage; and, moreover, with a 
 
330 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 general devotion to the pan-Teutonic inter- 
 pretation of our island, as dating and owing 
 everything ^f human value in race, language, 
 character or evolution to its Anglo-German 
 conquest — ^which might now be a little em- 
 barrassing to its exponents up to 1914, were 
 there critics enough to remind them of their 
 former allegiance. 
 
 It is time, however, to reassure the patriotic 
 reader 'that, while the above appreciation 
 must be put forward even in 1919, its writers' 
 " spiritual home " these forty and thirty 
 years past and more has essentially not been 
 in Germany, despite these loyally acknow- 
 ledged debts, but in France.. For this very 
 reason they feel more free to speak — ^and 
 because — once more to do Germany justice 
 for her past — ^they have learned, and in both 
 countries, what a French History-profesioig 
 friend (whose long life-work has been domi- / 
 nated by preparation against the always 
 clearly foreseen German purpose of renewed 
 invasion) once well and truly expressed :— 
 " Every one of us, in all the Universities of 
 Europe, who really knows his subject, and 
 works at it, with full modern equipment of 
 bibliography, criticism, comparison and de- 
 tailed research, must honestly confess himself 
 as for these the intellectual son or grandson 
 
UNIVERSITIES AS THEY STAND 331 
 
 of a German ! " What wonder, then, that 
 such substantial learning, such progressive 
 science, not to speak of philosophic systems 
 unparalleled since ancient India, should have 
 stirred the universities of the other nations 
 from their academic routines. Still less should 
 we wonder that the corresponding technical 
 efficiency, arid in directions without number, 
 has imposed respept upon the worlds— the 
 more since manifested in commercial results, 
 and if not in national life, at any rate in the 
 great " Imperial State " which held this in 
 its hands ! Where, then, were we to look 
 for escape from this long-growing ascendancy 
 of Germany? And by what fresh lines of 
 advance? Where but to her continuous 
 antagonist, her frequent leader also, through 
 great initiative, France ? 
 
 In summary, then, as the medieval' univer- 
 sity took its form and centre in Paris, so also 
 did that of the Renaissance, at least after 
 the decay of Florence; and while the third 
 development, that on the wrong lines, was 
 due to the Napoleonic misapplication of the 
 Encyclopaedic movement (in terms of facts 
 to the learned), it is to Paris again that we 
 trace the development of the encyclopaedia 
 of knowledge as matters to be investigated, 
 which has given us the fourth type, the 
 
332 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 University Germanic, and compelled our own 
 medleys of the three previous systems to 
 become more or less Germanic — ^that is, sub- 
 Germanic. For France, however, the story 
 does not end here : and for ourselves also a 
 new chapter is opening. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY IN PROGRESS 
 
 The ship on the shield of Paris is not the 
 galley of War, nor yet the river-barge of the 
 old commerce of its isle. It is the bark of 
 Isis. It rides on stormy waves — ^and bears 
 the motto Fluctuai, nee mergituy 1 How many 
 the fluctuations of tlie city's bark, how often 
 near submergence, yet not submerged ! That 
 is the terse condensation of her history from 
 early days : but enough to recall 1789-93, 
 1800-15, 1830 and 1848, 1870-71, and now 
 1914-18. And these we recall not only for 
 Paris's dramatic history, nor as determining 
 that of France, but also (as little history 
 reading or reflection is needed to see) pecu-, 
 liarly entering that of all Europe, even of our 
 own would-be detached island. 
 
 Now just as the political history of Paris 
 or France did not end with the Revolution, 
 nor with the Napoleonic Empire, neither did 
 their intellectual life merely settle from the 
 encyclopaedic ferment into the two genera- 
 tions of official cram, much though this 
 
 333 
 
334 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 depressed it. Even at its worst, Ffencli 
 clear^iess remained; this machinery and its 
 mind-packing materials called itself "Public 
 Instruction," but, never "Education"! — a 
 confusion only possible with our loose use of 
 English, : a language we do not learn, nor 
 respect, as the French do theirs. French, 
 criticism (aiid what Frenchman or boy is 
 not something of a critic, what woman above 
 all?), looking as such critics do, through and 
 from a city life which, with all its faults,, 
 unsparingly exposed as they ever are,, is 
 fuller, deeper, ay, and nobler, than any 
 other country has yet developed, could not 
 but see limitations in the German culture- as 
 well as the excellences to which we here, as 
 they, have done justice. What, then, were 
 aiid are these limitations ? And how shall we 
 transcend them ? And why not even advance 
 beyond the excellences also ? i 
 
 Again a long story : but one limitatioiBts 
 stands first and foremost, the lack of adequate 
 sense and search for Unity in all their science ; 
 since their metaphysical systems, with all 
 .their grdndeur, failed in the needful reahsm^ 
 and hence have increasingly been left aside 
 by active German workers themselves. We 
 know their familiar sneer — "When our German 
 philosophers die, they go to Oxford ! " 
 
THE UNIVERSITY IN PROGRESS 335 
 
 Despite his great elements of scientific 
 initiative/ even Kant too much continued in 
 the philosopher's besetting sin, that of draw- 
 ing vast cheques on the Bzink of Facts, with- 
 out sufficient assets; and in this weakness 
 later philosophers — ^witness Hegel's History 
 or Esthetics for choice — ^have not only followed 
 but far surpassed him. We have all more or 
 less adiriired these changing cloud-castles, 
 these alluring mists; but we have also seen 
 their opening gleams of luminous heavens, 
 their glimpses of a world interpreted and of 
 an individual life enlarged to the same scale, 
 give place to the more enduring rain-clouds 
 of pessimism. With all this philosophizing, 
 too, there grew the philosopher's vice of 
 megalomania, one only too easily communi- 
 cated to his disciples : and complemental to 
 this speculative enlargement of the individual, 
 there grew into, and out of, this philosophical 
 culture, in well-nigh all its schools, as its 
 social and practical complement, a veritable 
 super-deification of " The State " (of course 
 in concrete terms, the German State), as 
 ultimate Authority infallible, as Power un- 
 controlled,' as Justice supreme in its own 
 cause. The union of these two megalo- 
 manias, of Individual and of State, their 
 enlargement beyond all familiar use in French 
 
336 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 or English, gave magniloquence in Hegel and 
 his peers, not a little impressive to the v(^orld : 
 but all this became popularized, egoized, 
 idolatrized, by smaller minds. Thus was 
 magnified, even multiplied, the jealous vanity, 
 the militant aggressiveness of the Prussian 
 ruli,ng caste. Similarly was justified and 
 strengthened their " national industry ,of 
 war," in their own eyek, in those of the ever- 
 enlarging bureaucracy (university trained to 
 a man) J and thus in time of the German 
 people, for too many of whom such congruent 
 philosophy and politics became also their 
 veritable Religion, with Treitschke as its 
 major Prophet, but also, with innumerable 
 minor ones. "^ In these, ways there emerged 'a 
 national congregation of well-illusioned Faith- 
 ful — not only Junkers, but People; not only' 
 philosophers and historians, but the Univer- 
 sities with too rare individual exceptions. . All 
 this has been plain enough to the warmly demo- 
 cratic but coolly critical spirit of Paris : though 
 too long it has been having its effects (and its 
 more insidious parallels) among ourselves. 
 
 Return, however, to the organization of 
 knowledge, thus sjeen as a social and political 
 need, as well as a philosophical one. Out 
 Universities and their associated education- 
 systems cannot be allowed to go on in their pre- 
 
THE UNIVERSITY IN PROGRESS 337 
 
 sent mingling of pre-Germanic survivals with 
 sub-Germanic Specialisms and philosophies. 
 But looking to the past, one must admit that 
 it was only too possible, even logical, natural, 
 increasingly easy and attractive, for them to 
 follow such eminent leadership towards the 
 analogous apotheosis of The State and The 
 Empire. In this debasement or perversion 
 of the university spirit Oxford has unceasingly 
 led the way, with Cambridge, London and 
 more, following hard in her steps. Where, 
 then, are we to look for fresh light and 
 towards ideals other than those which have 
 brought Germany to her present ruin? Or 
 are these now fully to dominate us in turn, 
 the end for which so many among ourselves 
 have been and still are labouring ! 
 
 In our Coming Polity we have already 
 pointed out, that the needed outhne of a 
 modern organization of knowledge has been 
 clearly initiated, not by German philosophers, 
 nor yet by our own, but by Auguste Comte. 
 The reaction of this on schools and univer- 
 sities is that education is no longer viewed 
 as alphabetically specialized on one side, and 
 polarized by and to the State on the other, 
 but is morally and intellectually, socially and 
 esthetically synthetized, and thus becomes 
 increasingly and comprehensively human. 
 
338 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 It is a consequence of that virtual boycott 
 of all but the most, conspicuous and com- 
 pelHng research and thought of France in 
 which England and America have for the 
 past half-century and more followed the 
 example of Germany, that we still realize 
 too little of the pioneering work France has 
 been doing in this period. Lister was both 
 proud and loyal in describing himself as the 
 disciple of Pasteur, and we have also heard 
 Kelvin as frankly relating the impulse of his 
 own essential career from Biot and Camot in 
 his student days in Paris : but both sui|[epn, 
 and physicist were of the Scots universities j 
 and traditions, which have far stronger ties 
 with France, and moreover less broken, than 
 has unhappily been the case of the pre- 
 dominant partner. Nowadays most plainly 
 since the discovery of radium, and since 
 the advance of automobiles and aeroplanes, 
 French initiative has been in the way of 
 recognition ; and now after the war, closing 
 proof of our realization of this better under-* 
 standing all round may be reasonably antici- 
 pated, and we may also hope with advantage 
 on both sides to our intellectual commerce 
 which ever gains by interchange. 
 
 Comte's fertile impulse has ranged far 
 beyond his immediate followers, the professed 
 
THE UNIVERSITY IN PROGRESS 339 
 
 Positivists in France or Britain; for as ex- 
 pressing this wide influence every continental 
 historian reckons not /simply those who like 
 John Stuart Mill and Bain acknowledged him, 
 but scarcely less fully Spencer and Huxley, 
 who alike fiercely criticized him; for their 
 sharpest dissents are now seen as magnified 
 personal equations, and as but of minor 
 difference within substantial agreement. And 
 similarly for Darwin himself, and substantially 
 for our other scientific leaders, little or nothing 
 though they may have read of Comte's 
 writings. For his view" and system was 
 essentially the rebound of the scientific mind 
 from all preceding metaphysical systems : in 
 fact to what are now current conceptions, as 
 notably (i) that the sciences have to be 
 systematized and unified within and among 
 themselves; (2) that they are thus no longer 
 limited to mathematics, physics and chemistry 
 as so many think, plus biology, or at most 
 with their respective applications; but that 
 they must also be related to all " the Human- 
 ities," and these- to them, in terms of a further 
 science — Sociology. That physical science 
 prepares for biology, aind even that both 
 may be fruitfully applied to the social sciences, 
 may seem to many nowadays almost com- 
 monplaces; so that there are substantial 
 
340 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 beginnings thereof, even in our own university 
 curricula, t"o say nothing of current books. 
 But our social studies are still too isolated; 
 with Economics and History as yet less 
 related than even in Germany, and so with 
 Geography and Anthropology^ with Law, 
 with Morals, and so on. To these steriliz- 
 ing isolations, our " Honours Schools " and 
 " Learned Societies " still testify, so wide 
 and longTenduring has been our submission 
 to the German intellectual empire, as most; 
 graduates of the former and elders of the 
 latter so plainly show. 
 
 In the gradual reunion of all these sub- 
 sciences of rnan into sociology, and this as 
 IVtistress-Science (b^^cause profoundly also, 
 however long unseen, their Mother-Sciencd;), 
 France has*- naturally long been leadings 
 though also too incompletely ; yet the long 
 and gallant efforts of the small English 
 Potitivist Society and its Review of that name, 
 throughout the past generation and more, 
 and the advent (however lainentably recent) 
 of the Sociological Society are evidence that 
 France has not been without allies even amidst 
 our long-predominating sub-Germanic culture. 
 
 But Comte, while most comprehensive 
 among the pioneers of a new education, 
 thereby remained too much in the abstract ; 
 
THE UNIVERSITY IN PROGRESS 341 
 
 his great outline, despite its diffused influence, 
 has lagged in realization accordingly, partly 
 also through his too early death. Let us 
 come down, then, half a generation later to 
 the debacle of 1870-71. Among the various 
 social bankruptcies thus disclosed, that of 
 " Public Instruction," and on all levels, was 
 far froni the least. In the consequent re- 
 construction the priinary schools were first 
 reorganized, revitalized also, and to a substan- 
 tial extent, the secondary : so that between 
 them, though still far from perfect, they have 
 now probably on the whole the largest pro- 
 portion of truly educative teachers, uniting 
 -intellectual qualities and moral purpose with 
 local and national outlooks, and both oftenest 
 humanized. But here our presentment is 
 essentially of higher education, and this 
 reached its next movement with the dissolu- 
 tion of the University of France in 1878-9, 
 and the renewal of most of the historic and 
 regional Universities in its place. Mont- 
 pellier, older even than Oxford, has perhaps 
 specially vindicated its independence from 
 Paris, to which not a few of its greatest 
 teachers no longer think it promotion to be 
 invited; but increasingly over the length 
 and breadth of France — from Lille and Nancy 
 to Aix and Marseilles, from Bordeaux and 
 
342 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Toulouse to Grenoble — ^their universities, re- 
 nascent or new, have been developing with 
 returning vigour and increasing (albeit still 
 insufficient) freedom. Thus Rennes for Brit- 
 tany has been reviving Celtic studies; but 
 among thenl all the recent history of Clermont- 
 Ferraijd is peculiarly encouraging, and the 
 more since this is one of the smallest and 
 poorest : said its group of teachers — " We are 
 not here merely to lecture and examine, nor 
 even to make scattered personal researches in 
 the old fashion : this Auvergne of ours, central 
 mountain mass and plateau of France, is a 
 region well worth exploring and interpreting i- 
 and through this its education will best be 
 advanced, and its constructive developraenta! 
 also prepared for. Let our geologists survey 
 anew and more fully its ancient rocks, its 
 magnificent earth-sculpture, from snows to 
 plain, and re-examine those many extinct 
 volcanoes great and small, which make our 
 region one of the wonderlands of geography. 
 Let our botanists and zoologists study its 
 flora and faUna, as notably of its crater-lakes, 
 each a long-isolated basin, and with who knows" 
 what evolutionary change. Our anthropolo- 
 gists have before them in their many valleys, a 
 medley and museum of race-migrations and sur- 
 vivals from all periods of the past, prehistoric 
 
THE UNIVERSITY^ IN PROGRESS 343 
 
 and historic, so that not only graves and 
 ruins, but language, in its dialects, legends 
 and folk-lore, customs and manners, offer 
 rich and varied gleanings, interpretations, 
 comparisons." 
 
 As these concrete researches went on, and 
 the reading of all these evolutions advanced 
 among their workers accordingly, the young 
 philosopher of the University acquired his 
 more general vision—" Creative Evolution " ; 
 and thence has stepped rapidly to his present 
 position as the most initiative thinker of our 
 times. 
 
 Here, then, at Clermont-Ferrand is an 
 example of a new type of University — 
 worthy to take rank as fifth in our historic 
 series; unquestionably post-Germanic, since 
 at once regional and interpretative ; and with 
 its concrete and abstract studies advancing 
 towards harmony. That this is no excep- 
 tional case is evidenced by the (probably 
 quite independent) rise of the same regional 
 outlook and activity in the United States, 
 and especially among the State Universities, 
 of which Wisconsin may be named as repre- 
 sentative and carrying on the work not only in 
 studies, but in applications also ; above all in 
 the diffusion of higher education throughout 
 its vast rural area. 
 
344 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 In that vivid time above referred to, from 
 1878 onwards, when the French regional 
 Universities were reappearing, Paris also was 
 rising -with them, not falling, as the senile 
 among her authorities had feared. Aniong 
 the many active httle papers which rise so 
 frequently in Paris, and run their cpurse 
 with their new, active group— without the 
 financial overlord, and the advertising back- 
 ing which still seems so indispensable, in 
 London or in America — one bright little 
 weekly boldly called itself L'Umvefsiti de 
 Paris. Why so? It explained broadly to 
 this effect : — " Because it is time to see, and {o 
 say to all, that this University of ours is not 
 merely the Sorbonne renewed from the Middle 
 Ages, the College de France continued from 
 the Renaissance, the Schools of Medicine' and 
 Law, ; the Ecole Polytechnique and so on ; 
 in short the established centres of higher 
 teaching. It includes, of course, the great 
 institutions of science — the Observatory, the 
 Jardin des Plantes, the Pasteur Institute and 
 the like ; but it is more than all these. ''Spiritu- 
 ally and educationally it has also a focus in 
 the National Library, and another in the yet 
 vaster treasure-house of the LouVre. Its 
 school of literature and language is not merely 
 of lectures : it is above all the" House of- 
 
THE UNIVERSITY IN PROGRESS 345 
 
 Molifere, the ^Coin^die Frangaise; and with 
 this many a minor theatre of Uving art. It 
 is the French *!\.cademy too; and the free 
 writers as well, the young poets even more. 
 Music, too, is part of this true modern Univer- 
 sity, as of old : and not only in the Conserva- 
 toire, but in the Grand Opera, the concerts 
 and more, wherever a young composer can 
 express his dream. The visible arts, too, 
 are part of this University proper; and not 
 merely in their great School ; ilor even in 
 the Salon, the rival and minor exhibitions ; 
 but above all in the studios. And there not 
 merely collective, but individual ; witness the 
 Impressionists ; witness tl;ie sculptors ; witness 
 too the architects^ who are striving to raise 
 ' our city beyond the meretriciousness and 
 monotony of its Second Empire style. The 
 University, then, is wherever two or three 
 are gathered together in the name of Pallas 
 or of the Muses, wherever Prometheus brings 
 the spark of thought and invention to Vujcan 
 at his iorge ; wherever Esculapius inspires 
 the physician with a fresh idea to help his 
 patient. Our true University is thus in the 
 City; nay more, it is the City, great Paris 
 herself. She is ever stretching out for us 
 her fresh ideas, in the liright conversations 
 of the salon and of thq pafe; and §9 she 
 
346 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 diffuses them into the intellectual'^tmosphere 
 and at every social level. The Universit|^ is 
 thus no specialized caste of culture : it is 
 sblidaire with all true citizens in all their 
 occupations, all their classes, above all, 
 then, with the People, whose sons we largely 
 are, from whom all classes rise, and whom 
 we students are in training to serve. Their 
 direct thought and forcible talk, their homely 
 wit and wisdom, are not indifferent to us : 
 that Voice of the People of the City, far more 
 than the eloquence of its Deputies and 
 Senate, expresses the essential spirit of our 
 city and natioh. So in this faith let us work 
 on, to develop City and University together, 
 augmenting, multiplying all their culture- 
 institutions, farther atid without end, yet 
 nev6r forgetting in our academic life their 
 larger civic and sjocial purpose; so that, 
 every citizen, that is every worker, woman 
 and. child among us, shall inereeisingly enter 
 in to^ their manifold inheritance, and continue 
 it for themselves in. their own day and way." 
 
 What wonder, then; that in such formative 
 atmosphere, with such spirit arouud us, we 
 should look back with more satisfaction to 
 student days in Paris than to those, spent — 
 albeit happily enough in their way alsQ — ^i^ 
 
THE UNIVERSITY IN PROGRESS 347 
 
 the chillier atmospheres, in Londoi> or Edin- 
 burgh, in Oxford or Cambridge, in Jena or 
 Freiburg, in Harvard, Columbia or Chicago, 
 though there was something to be learned in 
 each and all. For was not this Paris pro- 
 gramme, the University post-Germanic, let 
 alone post- American, post-Britannic? 
 
 But so thorough has been the sub-Germanic 
 training and loyalty, direct or indirect among 
 our -University teachers, so enduring, alas ! 
 our old hostility to France, our caricature 
 of Paris, and at its worst alone, that forty 
 years of subsequent effort on the part of one 
 of us to turn more of our students to France, 
 has been but of little success, numerically 
 reckoned. Still, so far as immediate personal 
 influence could go, we have been sending 
 students to .Paris, Montpellier, etc., all this 
 time, one's own young folk as well. Why? 
 Not only to be more fully aroused, awakened, 
 educated in this and that career before them, 
 but above all to be moralized more effec- 
 tively than has elsewhere been possible, either 
 at home or, abroad. How so ? First of all 
 by contact with those who had gone more 
 deeply than any others through the furnace 
 of affliction, and who were occupied there- 
 after in " remaking their country," as Ger- 
 
348 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 many had done two' generations before, and 
 so their pupils accordingly. Wherein else 
 does this moralization consist? In ijiany 
 things : but briefly take three. First, in 
 acquiring, in such peculiarly hard-working 
 and clear-thinking environment, an insight 
 into the nature of a day's wotk, with develop- 
 ment of habits accordingly. Secondly, to 
 acquire the desire and habit of seeing the 
 i thing as it is : and thirdly, the corresponding 
 purpose and endeayour of making it more 
 nearly what it should be. Without any 
 exception, the results of this oft-repeated 
 experiment have been successful, indeed most 
 encouragingly so : and it has been no small 
 loss and delay to our higher education and 
 its outcomes that the like have been as yet 
 so few. Now, however, after the war, these 
 vivifying contacts will become frequent,' with 
 invaluable and much-needed effects upon 
 our intellectual ajid professional life, our 
 social and political outlook, also, v 
 
 With the Peace, for instance, the time is 
 auspicious and ripe to renew the Scots College 
 of Paris, a foundation so old that Balliol 
 College, Oxford, was established as its com- 
 petitor, in the interest of that Anglo-Scottish 
 unity it has ever since less or more continued 
 to uphold. Robert the Bruce thereafter 
 
THE UNIVERSITY IN PROGRESS 349 
 
 strengthened the College des fecossais, and 
 it continued as a Uving educational force — 
 giving some seventeen rectors' to the Univer- 
 sity in the Middle Ages — and also serving 
 as a bond of the Franco-Scottish Alliance, 
 not only until the Union of the Crowns under 
 James VI and I, but until Jacobite days, 
 and indeed until the Revolution. It is still 
 preserved as one of the National Monuments; 
 but by its revival, and now in, the spirit of 
 the renewed and enlarged Alliance which 
 these four years of comradeship in war have 
 been cementing, it may again be niade 
 notably an active centre in that interaction 
 of French culture with Scottish v<^ich has in 
 the past been helpful to both — and this not 
 only up to the sixteenth century, as many 
 think, but increasingly in the seventeenth, 
 and eighteenth, up to the days of Hume and 
 Adam Smith, of Scott and Burns, and so on 
 to Lister and Kelvin, each an example at 
 once of the educative impulse of France on 
 Scotland, and its effective reaction as well. 
 So in these days of the renewing consciousness 
 of small nations, and their enhanced signifi- 
 cance in all eyes no longer prussianized, let 
 it be the part of this venerable and renascent 
 foundation not only to minister to Scottish 
 students as of old, but to take the hke initia- 
 
350 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 tive for their sister Universities as well, even 
 • throughout the Empire. American students 
 have had, for a good few years past, their 
 Institute in Paris : and the development of 
 both alike, and of more as needed, is thus 
 no trifling matter of that truly practical 
 politics which looks beyond the present genera- 
 tion in power to its successors, and' which 
 thus realizes that the vital League of Nations 
 lies not with us, but with them: and that 
 this will be far more strongly held togethet^; 
 by men of varied " origins, brought togethe^i 
 in their active-minded youth and formative 
 years, than by the best elaborated of legal 
 'conventions, treatises and courts, or by 
 legalists who think of "international police" 
 as supporting their system. But is there 
 not something in reviving the "student^ 
 nations" of old Paris? They did, indeed, 
 survive until the oth6r day in Scotland, as 
 still in Scandinavia ; . and now there would 
 be means and opportunity of giving them 
 fuller meafiing and responsibility than ever.. 
 Without such renewals of intellectual and 
 moral understanding among the nations, their 
 lawyers wUl league in vain." But after even 
 a. moderate experience of the life of the 
 wandering student one is thereafter^ more of 
 a European : yet returns to one's own country 
 
THE UNIVERSITY IN PROGRESS 351 
 
 to appreciate its qualities more clearly, not 
 merely its limitations. And thus it is, even 
 in the nationally too separated past, that for 
 so many of us the poet's boast has come 
 true — 
 
 " Un homme a deux patries; 
 Le sien, et puis la France ! " 
 
 Before the war, though the English student 
 wandered too little, and Germans too seldom 
 left their varied homeland, there were 200 of 
 the latter at Grenoble. Portuguese students 
 were many in Ghent, Bulgarians in Brussels, 
 and so on. Switzerland was, of. course, pecu- 
 liarly attractive. And. now after the war, 
 such international ties will begin to reopen 
 anew, and if we are wise we shall help to 
 multiply and vary them. 
 
' CHAPTER IV 
 
 STUDIES AND iPOSSIBILITIES 
 
 But it is not enough to go to foreign 
 countries : each country must aU the more 
 develop its own possibilities. The great and 
 famous German Universities have seldom been 
 as rich as ours, and have never approached 
 our ricRest : /so with all credit to their initia- 
 tives, they are not so much better equipped^ 
 nor more largely staffed than our own. But 
 one great superiority of theirs lies in this fact, 
 that there almost every senior student one 
 meets (*. e. of third, fourth or fifth years, let 
 alone the junior teachers) has been at more 
 than one Urii versify, and is usually medi- 
 tating some scheme of yet another fresh 
 experience before he graduates and settles 
 down to his profession. Thus he has been ■ 
 widening his studies by the viewpoints of 
 the successive masters he has elected to 
 follow, or the one to whom he looks forward. 
 Of the definite values and places of the 
 eminent teachers within the circle of his 
 studies he has commonly an intelligent and 
 
 352 
 
STUDIES AND POSSIBILITIES 353 
 
 critical knowledge, in our experience prac- 
 tically unknown among the undergraduates 
 of other countries. Moreover, he is repeating 
 and, increasing for himself, several times in 
 his student career, that main stimulus,, of - any 
 and every University, the sense and impulse 
 of personal responsibility in the fresh en- 
 vironment of a new culture-city, an expe- 
 rience which our British students seldom get 
 more than once, and then when too young 
 fully to appreciate it. So rare indeed is this 
 freshening experience, that when with us a 
 student goes from one University to another, 
 there are too often people who ask, "What 
 had he done to make him change? " There 
 was deep truth in Emerson's saying that 
 the essential University experience is for the 
 youth to find himself in a strange city, 
 where he has a separate chamber and fire of 
 his own ; but it has mainly been the Germans 
 who have fully utilized their opportunities, 
 by adapting to their Universities from yet 
 earlier times the wandering tradition of their 
 prentices and journeymen before their master- 
 ship. Aeademic degrees, of bachelor, master, 
 and doctor, directly derive from and corre- 
 spond to these : why should not they be in 
 this respect of at least equal value to those 
 of widely experienced workmen? In short, 
 
 AA 
 
354 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 theii) to promote and encourage this free 
 migration, and not merely of junior graduates, 
 but of undergraduates, too, instead of every- 
 where impeding and discouraging it, as at 
 present, is thus one of the definitely needed 
 vital elenients for bUr incipient educational 
 freshening. In editing a record of the great 
 names of Edinburgh University for its ter- 
 centeriary a generation ago,^ it was note- 
 worthy how many of these had also bene- 
 fited by experience of other Universities as 
 well. 
 
 Students cannot afford this? Nonsense; 
 a third-class fare anywhere, or better still, a 
 good bicycle journey, a tramp with camping 
 out, costs little, and teaches much; indeed, 
 the more the expenses, usually the less the 
 learning. Thus, for instance, it was, in long 
 » vacation foot journeys, from their famous 
 Moravian High School of Neuwied, on the 
 Rhine (where at that time George Meredith 
 was one of their class-fellows), to their house' 
 at Montauban in Southern France^ that two 
 of our old masters, Elisee and Elie Reclus, 
 served their best apprenticeship, the one for 
 his Geogrdf Me Universelle, and the other for 
 his vast grasp of history, even his wealth of 
 
 ^ P. Geddes, Viri Illustres. Edinburgh, 1886. 
 (Pentland.) 
 
STUDIES AND POSSIBILITIES 355 
 
 illustrations from folk-lore and customs, for 
 his chair of Comparative Religion. But the 
 most famiUar illustration is the life and work 
 of Goethe, work so fully prepared for and 
 stimulated not only by knowledge of Germany 
 and of Strasbourg (then French Alsatian, as 
 again happily now), but above all by his 
 later journey to Italy. This is plain in 
 Wilhelm Meister and etsewhere in his works. 
 How the life and work of Heine, of Nietzsche 
 (who with all his faults and shortcomings was 
 no mere Chauvinist Treitschke, but in some 
 ways a prophet, al'though a minor one), were 
 thus stimulated, is known to many readers : 
 but this selective variety of experience is 
 commonly missed in our Universities, which 
 therefore prefer to reproduce the stagnation 
 of routine with which they are wont to re- 
 proach the convents of the past ; and which 
 indeed is going on in these days (and beside 
 us as we write) in the neighbouring peaceful 
 Tibetan monastery, which only too quaintly 
 recalls home-universities^ 
 
 Returning to economics (in which the lesson . 
 of monasteries may now with advantage be 
 recalled to Universities), there remains yet a 
 fourth method for the poor Wander-student 
 (and one no less advantageous to the rich, 
 as per Kipling's Captains Courageous), that 
 
356 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 of wqrking his passage. Though of the very 
 opposite tganp to that of the classicists, our 
 studies of . cities have taught us what^ they 
 failed to impart, the enduring significance of 
 Rome, of Athens, of Jerusalem. , So if they 
 will not revive these pilgrimages in due 
 scholarly fashion, but still go on teaching 
 from books (with at best a few casts or photo- 
 graphs alone), ^we outsiders to ' their verse- 
 making wUl have to organize pilgrimages for 
 our boys ourselves; and run a trading-ship, 
 with British gojods from Forth and Clyde/ 
 Mersey and Thames, and so bring back 
 Italian and Greek wares, and Jaffa oranges; 
 and manned by mingled College crews from 
 the Universities of all these countries, ex- 
 changing lessons in languages ancient aiid 
 modern, in the intervals of the watch. Liye 
 tutors will soon not he lacking : and time 
 will be given to -visit appreciatively the con- 
 spicuous shrines, or even between voyages;: 
 to spend a term or more, say, in Edinburgh! 
 or Athens for Greek and Scot respectively, or 
 in Oxford or Jerusalem for Zionist and Eng- 
 lishman. There are no limits, in shorty to 
 the wandering student : with the-will he wiU 
 find the way. 
 
 Returnihg to the example of Paris as City- 
 University, how can that ideal be expressed 
 
STUDIES AND POSSIBILITIES 357 
 
 among ourselves ? The University of London 
 has of late years set great exarriples of de- 
 velopment beyond its traditional sub-Napo- 
 leonic examination machine, of which the 
 defects so gravely exceed the advantages. 
 The initiative taken for higher studies and for 
 public education, by its federation of London's 
 colleges (the great research-centre of the Royal 
 Institution unfortunately excepted, perhaps 
 by its own caution), and by its University 
 Extension system, is one of the most notable 
 of recent advances. But its great , task 
 still lies before it— and on the line just sug- 
 gested — above all by incorporating into its 
 ax;tive life and higher organization that 
 supreme University of London, which is still 
 only known by the too static name of the 
 British Museum. For of this, the whole 
 effective staff should be recognized as " Pro- 
 fessors Extra-ordinary " ; for thus would be 
 far more fully utilized their services as con- 
 sultants, their impulse as investigators, such 
 being indeed their essential status at present 
 as eminently learned public servants. 
 
 Again, in this connection the University 
 Settlements must not be forgotten : for 
 though unfortunately for Westminster, Toyn- 
 bee Hall lies far outside its limits, its example 
 has been widely followed throughout other 
 
358 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 cities, and even in other lands : indeed to a 
 degree almost rec9,lling the spread of the 
 Fraiiciscan friars. Though eulogy here be 
 brief, it is none the less real; and Canon 
 Barnett's career of influence is now too well 
 known to need exposition. 
 
 Still, even the Franciscans had their limita^ 
 tions, and so have these. Varied, loyal and 
 helpful though have been their contacts with 
 the east ends of great cities, there is room for 
 improvement. First in making the Settle- 
 ments more definitely scientific on one side, 
 that is not merely economic here and ethical 
 there, but sociological, expressing all this and 
 more, and through definite observation, inter- 
 pretation and application. In this w^ay they 
 Would become more truly practic^; for 
 beyond the many individual impulses they 
 have so usefully given (and received), they 
 would thus become definitely civic, and their 
 work of betterment and service become en- 
 hanced accordingly, just as public health 
 saves more illness than medicine cures. That ' 
 the active members of Settlements have thus 
 educated themselves towards social and civic 
 service is common knowledge, but a fuller 
 policy is still required, that of the Civic- 
 Settlement of sociological outlook, and initia- 
 ! five action, and thus a CivicoUege and Civi- 
 
STUDIES AND POSSIBILITIES 359 
 
 centre in one. And where a better field for 
 this than in Westminster — ^where even a 
 grander field, as its statesmen should long 
 ago have seen, and now after the War may 
 see? 
 
 Of such endeavours there have also been 
 beginnings, more definite than at Toynbee and 
 its congeners, though indeed latent or incipient 
 in them all. Here Chicago is peculiarly for- 
 tunate in civic workers under their head and 
 leader, Jane Addams, whose truly civic book 
 has been noticed above (page 304) : while ojir 
 own little group of University Halls in Edin- 
 burgh has also for the past five-and-twenty 
 years and more been working in its Outlook 
 Tower at the civic studies and endeavours, 
 and sociological interpretations and experi- 
 mental initiatives, of which the present Series 
 is largely an outcome. Both Hull House and 
 Outlook Tower thus stand for a programme of 
 regional and civic surveys and reconstructive 
 endeavours, even as far as Town-Planning 
 and City Design. Thus Burnham's famous 
 plan of Chicago has been largely initiated 
 from the one, and the itinerant " Cities and 
 Town-Planning Exhibition " from the other, 
 A scheme of such a civic observatorj^ and 
 laboratory as CivicoUege and Civicentre re- 
 quire to be, was also outlined to the Socio- 
 
36o OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 logical Society a few years ago;^ and the 
 present writers have pleasure in offering the 
 -reader all the service in their powers Jf : he 
 wUl now, in these more auspicious times, 
 take up the idea and purpose' of its better 
 fulfilment. For such a Westmiinster Outlook 
 (why not, for instance, from a tower of one 
 of the great institutions w^ have in the 
 previous Part been survejdng from below?) 
 might soon jtnake the Survey of Westminster; 
 — ^in its local detail and its wider relations 
 as well, not only an element in the growing 
 University of London, but its foremost Ex- 
 tension centre, educating even some x>i our 
 legislators as well as our fellow-citizens? 
 
 How different such neo'-academic outlooks 
 as those above outlined, from that of the 
 London or Edinburgh student where his con- 
 tacts with his teachers, his associaties, and 
 the culture-city around, him, are still com- 
 monly so. slender . and so few ; while, if a 
 studious fellow, his social experience, is only 
 too easily limited to exchange of greetings 
 with his landlady. Or again from those of 
 Oxford, where, despite far more brightness 
 so far as college life and its contacts are 
 
 ^ P. Geddes, "A Civic Museum," Sociological Papers^ 
 Vol. III. , (Macmillan & Co., 1907.) 
 
STUDIES AND POSSIBILITIES 361 
 
 concerned, his knowledge of city and citizen 
 
 is too often confined to their luxury-shops, 
 
 and depends, as to the people, upon that 
 
 " hasty generaUzation from his scout " which 
 
 so readily acquires fixity throughout his 
 
 career. For here it may be said, and with 
 
 certitude, that the separation and the tension 
 
 which have so unhappily arisen between the 
 
 Indian public, the intellectuals especially, and 
 
 their in many ways justly distinguished Civil 
 
 Service, have arisen far more largely than is 
 
 realized from the too frequent standardizing 
 
 by the latter of this unfortunate element of 
 
 public school and " Oxford manner " than 
 
 from larger administrative criticisms ; for to 
 
 a sensitive and high-bred people, proud of 
 
 their ancient culture and traditions, as well 
 
 as of their castes and families, assumptions of 
 
 superiority are ever affording the pin-pricks 
 
 of enduring and spreading exasperation; 
 
 whereas blunders and errors, even when 
 
 serious or extravagant, are far more readily 
 
 forgiven in an easy-going way than they would 
 
 be in Europe. There are now many signs of 
 
 readjustment upon the large matters of Indian 
 
 Government; but not less urgent is the 
 
 timely acquirement, by our next generation 
 
 of administrators, of something more of that 
 
 truly demQcratic, because social, feeling, 
 
362 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 which the student learns so much more easily 
 and naturally in France than as yet at home, 
 or elsewhere, not even excepting America. 
 So if Lord Curzon can here exert some in- , 
 fluence from his Oxford Chancellor'v^ throne; 
 
 . it may well be the n^ain service to the Empire 
 of his distinguished career : and the expiation t 
 of one of its main limitations as well. Further-^, ' 
 niore, that for India in the above paragraph 
 one may also- read Ireland, will before this 
 have suggested itself to the reader ftom the 
 sister isle. It is>, however, only just to point 
 out to one's Indian, and Irish friends, that 
 there were notable elements of this needed 
 mending of manners in Oxford and London 
 
 > too, before the War; and that these may be 
 depended on to prevail more extensively 
 after it. 
 
 Here, then, are such outlines as we have 
 space for as regards some of the educational 
 possibilities and outlooks whiclf lie before the 
 studious convalescent in body and mind after 
 the War. For resuming and advancing his 
 general pr professional education, such added 
 „ variety of experience, at home and abroad 
 as well, may be found profitable. Thus> 
 thbugh Germapy can no longer in our time 
 be expected to attract or to welcome him, 
 
STUDIES AND POSSIBILITIES 363 
 
 the surrounding countries present the same 
 advantages, and often more; and our old 
 intellectual and other contacts with Holland 
 and Scandinavia, with Switzerland and Italy, 
 wiU all be more open- than ever. Above all, 
 we repeat, those with France. And if science 
 be his aim, it may be worth his knowing that 
 he may at once realize his intellectual freedom 
 from that pressure of examination machinery 
 which will still for some time survive to 
 repress personal thought, and postpone original 
 work tillit-is often well-nigh or altogether 
 too late to undertake this with youth's fresh- 
 ness. For if he has an idea of bis own, and 
 prefers to employ his time, with courage and 
 patience, to work this up to satisfactory 
 demonstration, let him present this as his 
 thesis for the Dodorat Etranger of Paris; 
 and so win this highest of degrees in the 
 true medieval fashion; that which by its 
 wise preservation has given freedom and 
 productivity to the Universities of Germany. 
 This is now in Paris renewed upon a higher 
 modem level, and by that mother-University 
 to which our own oldest ones owe their birth 
 in the medieval past, their best stimulus in 
 repeated ages, and which now, in our own 
 day, has been rejustifying its leadership of 
 the opening future. The World- Amphictyony 
 
364 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 of Peace to which all peoples are now looking 
 forward will thus be increasingly fortified ; 
 and by ties deeper and more enduring than 
 are even the sti'ongest of national ones, and 
 thus most fully tending some day to make 
 the whole world one. As such truly post- 
 Germanic university life develops, not merely 
 international, but of the Internation, even 
 the present imperialized Gdrman culture will 
 be liberated into that bumanism which in 
 better days was its virtue, and enrich this 
 again by its contributions in better times 
 than have been ours. 
 
 But if all this hope of Universities,^ as 
 elements of the spiritual power heeded to 
 complement' and educate all tempbrail ones, 
 is to be justified, they too must rise to the 
 occasion, and this more fuUy even than in 
 the Middle Ages, at the Renaissance, the 
 Reformation, the Revolution, or with the 
 scientific and scholarly researches of the 
 nineteenth 'century. What fifth and even 
 greater world-impulse to outlook and to policy: 
 is now before them ? at once more S5mthetic 
 and more synergic than heretofore, more 
 widely and humanly sympathetic also ? That 
 of the opening Age of Reconstruction, 
 
CHAPTER V 
 
 RECONSTRUCTION 
 
 Reconstruction. Reconstruction first, of 
 course, for the ruined lands, the burned 
 villages, the violated and plundered, homes, 
 jthe wrecked towns and cities; and this not 
 only in Belgium and northern France, but in 
 Serbia, Roumania, Poland, Russia and beyond. 
 Reconstruction as material regeneration of 
 soil. for houses, for gardens, for agriculture, 
 for orchards and forests; Reconstruction for 
 the industries and the crafts. These plainly 
 need the help of all the sciences, of all their 
 organizing skill, all the energies that can 
 be mobilized, all the resources that can be 
 developed, all the natural powers that can be 
 utilized : and for this mobilization, all the 
 clearness and intensity that united national 
 characters, economics, aptitudes, and in- 
 ventive originalities can muster; exceeding 
 therefore in complexity even what they have 
 accomplished for the War. 
 
 Along with, yet above these vast material 
 tasks, costing their hundreds, even thousands, 
 
 363 
 
366 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 of millions, stands the yet more difficult task 
 of the renewal of the Jiumail societies and 
 groupiiigS shattered, disintegrated; ruined. 
 Though famUy losses are so far irreparable. 
 Life does not end with retrospect; and the 
 needs of the rising generation are thereby 
 the more clamant upon us as survivors; 
 and the consolation best worth having comes 
 with' the call and the response of the children. 
 Towards this human and social renewal our 
 mobilization has to be more thorough still : 
 all of goodwill are ready, and even those too 
 embittered or too apathetic have to be 
 aroused to it anew. What are our civiliza- 
 tion-resources for this ? The rehgious, what- 
 ever may seem to us their limitations, ever 
 produce individuals and groups of high social 
 effectiveness towards abating evils : and if 
 the sciences, so plainly needed, have also to 
 take adequate part, their exponents will need 
 to gain a kindred fervour of spirit, even to 
 arouse ilhem to thought and effort more 
 searching and intensive, more comprehensive 
 and profound than ever before in their 
 histbry ; in short, more synthetic and more 
 synergic, because more sympathetic also : 
 in a word, as science socialized.- 
 
 No longer, thefn, can we proceed on the 
 essentially paleotechnic lines so predominant 
 
RECONSTRUCTION 367 
 
 before the War, of Industry hei'e and Art 
 there, or nowhere : but now both together, 
 indeed, with the spirit of Art guiding all 
 material reconstruction, all technical renewal, 
 of industries and of homes alike, in true neo- 
 technic and eutechnic fashion. Why so? 
 ask the would-be utilitarians and economists ? 
 Because these things are effective utilities to 
 life, true economies as well. Similarly Public 
 Health is not one interest and Education 
 another, as wooden Ministeries and frosted 
 Faculties maintained them before the War : 
 for life in its full activity of body and brain 
 together, is neither merely organic nor merely 
 mental, but is both in one — ^in a word, 
 psychorganic : soul and spirit directing, 
 energizing and conserving body, and thus 
 reinvigorating them in turn; Above all, 
 Economics and Ethics are for Reconstruction 
 no longer distinct, like the " Business " and 
 " Philanthropy ". of our past paleotechnic 
 century which in separation became the first 
 sordid and the second mostly futile. Their 
 future is as Ethico-econoniics, that is Civics : 
 it is in proportion as this social renewal be- 
 comes manifest to all concerned, that indi- 
 vidual lives best and most speedily return to 
 vigour and health, and that arts and indus- 
 tries will advance together. For civics — 
 
368 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 thus raised beyond its too aldermanic associa- 
 tions — ^has to be, seen and shown (that is 
 planned) at its highest, recalling the noblest 
 past of human life : a past increasingly 
 inspiring as we look back through history^ 
 not only to Renaissance cities in their stately 
 beauty, their joy of life, and art, but-lo those 
 of the Middle Ages, in their communal and 
 their corporate life,' their lofty spirituality, 
 which were at best together. Beyond all 
 these, beyond even great Rome — ^Mdiich has 
 indeed too much served as model for nroderh 
 liiiperialisms with their conquests and ex- 
 pansions, without, and their decadence within 
 — ^let us look to the cities of Hellas, with their 
 freedom and beauty, their individuality, yet 
 also their multiple external ties_, Olympian, 
 Delphian, above all,' Athenian. True, the 
 Spartan, the Macedonian, the Roman, each 
 in turn overthrew them, as the modern would- 
 be imitator of all these — ^the Prussian — ^had 
 fain done for our cities, and even in part has 
 done for the moment : yet what real life can 
 there ever be in the League of Nations, if it 
 be not also again a League of Cities^ an 
 Amphictyony indeed, and in spirit Olympian; 
 Delphian> Athenian and yet more ? 
 
 This War, we all hope, may now end the 
 long cycle of the Barbaric Invasions which 
 
RECONSTRUCTION 369 
 
 have wrecked, or striven to wreck, the Mediter- 
 ranean civilizations once and again for these 
 three thousand years and more. Yet even 
 if this be so, what shall guard us against - the 
 internal decadence, which^ has ever tempted 
 the invader — that worst df barbarisms and 
 tyrannies which only too readily arise within, 
 and of which the elements are festering, , now 
 deep, now manifest, and often bpth, within 
 each and every town' and city (alas ! too much 
 in every village) of our Allied civilization, 
 and by which we all stand dishonoured in 
 each other's eyes even more than in our own. 
 Witness Paris herself, and London, New York 
 and all the rest, great and small as well. 
 
 For Reconstruction, then, we need nobler 
 examples than our current civilization can 
 yet offer. Recall, then, Athens after the 
 Persians had Uone their worst, leaving on its 
 shattered Acropolis no single sign of life among 
 the ruins ; for even of Pallas Athena's sacred 
 olive-tree there remained only the charred 
 stump. Yet from its base, there sprang one 
 small green shoot : pointing to this as sign 
 Gf hope, one brave spirit inspired the rest : 
 and it was in this high rebound from despair 
 that the Parthenon was built, and the nearest 
 to the golden age in human records was begun. 
 Again, from yet older days, recall Neherniah's 
 
 BB 
 
370 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 sage counsel in the rebuilding of Jerusalem's 
 walls, for though his external perils will not 
 now be ours, the kindred discouragements 
 may still appear within. Here, then, in such 
 tales — and there are many, and nearer our 
 own times — ^lies a vital lesBon for us of the high 
 significance pf history .: here, too, one of the 
 brightest inspirations for religion, for educa- 
 tion : or if these terms be chilled, since too 
 long degraded to priestdom and to prigdom, 
 like that of university itself to cramdom, 
 let us vitalize them anew, as Re-education, 
 Re-religion : with, idealism, ideation, and 
 imagery renewed to create things good, true, 
 and fair. This great human heritage, Hel- 
 lenic, Hebraic and more, jt has long been 
 the essential service- of the University to 
 continue; but now is the opportunity for 
 the, whole education-service, and in the widest 
 sense, frdm simplest village and school-; 
 masters, to highest man of letters, effectively 
 to renew the essentials of this for the sons and 
 daughters of every land in these opening 
 reconstructive years ! 
 
 In every age, the wreck of war has been 
 repaired : too often, alas 1 but imperfectly ; 
 yet at times sublimely. Thus for single 
 instance among many the great Cathedral 
 of small St. Andrews took its rise as national 
 
RECONSTRUCTION 371 
 
 memorial of recovered independence after 
 twenty years of wars had left her well-nigh 
 as bare as Serbia to-day : and Mestrovic's 
 noble memorial design for Serbian victories 
 of a few years past will in the same way yet 
 arise, and in even more glorious form. This 
 time we have more resources than ever before, 
 and these at once , material, scientific, and 
 technical ; so why not also, and on the same 
 enhanced scale, the moral intensity, the corre- 
 sponding genius ; and thus an age of Recon-^ 
 struction at once constructive and creative, 
 architectonic and evocatory? Let each and 
 all of these desolated regions, then, though 
 to-day a veritable Golgotha, be seen by all 
 awakened and reconstructive eyes, as now 
 offering at once the vastest and the highest 
 of opportunities before humanity in its 
 chequered history. 
 
 In this way, too, may best be initiated and 
 advanced that more general movement of 
 renewal, regional and civic, material and 
 spiritual, which is needed for each and every 
 country and its peoples. 
 
 "The New Age stands 
 Half-biiilt against the sky. 
 Open to every threat 
 
 Of storms that clamour, by : 
 Scaffolding veils the walls, 
 And dim dust floats and falls, 
 As, moving to and fro, their tasks the masons ply." 
 
372 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 It is in these days, of course,- already mani- 
 fest that all who are wont to veil from them- 
 selves their dulness as " common sense,*' their 
 roiitine habits as "practical," and their 
 ineptitude as "moderation," must naturally 
 for self-preservation's sake, sneer at all these 
 legitimate hopes, defining purposes, and even 
 actual plans and beginnings, damning them 
 with the epithet, " Utopian," meaning realiz- 
 able nowhere. But that they are, on the 
 contrary, Eutof)ian, realizable, that is (and 
 eyen partly in the way of realization, and in 
 the definite regions concerned), may be shown 
 to any needing change or convalescence from 
 the doubt, discouragement and depression of 
 the atmospheres generated by such deterior- 
 ated minds. 
 
 For a single illustration (one not specially 
 chosen, but simply that nearest at the 
 moment), we take up a recent number of the 
 Revue d'Etonomie Politique (July, 1918), a 
 journal and a science, certainly, not hitherto 
 reckoned Utopian, nor even idealistic, and 
 look through its contents. Here are, of 
 coutse, papers of the usual technical and 
 statistical type, but now of larger import 
 than before the War: one, for instance, 
 explaining much of that gigantic and thorough- 
 going internal economic organization by which 
 
RECONSTRUCTION 373 
 
 Germany has borne up her unexpectedly long 
 and heavy strain of war, and yet another the 
 colossal and keen-wrought scheme of one of 
 her master-minds of industry and com- 
 merce, by which he hopes to repair her 
 fortunes, and largely may do so. Another 
 deals with French railway systems, and with 
 much of the same comprehensiveness and 
 lucidity. 
 
 Bjit beside such economic developments 
 for the future, brief notes are given of two 
 notable civic developments to which Paris is 
 giving, her stamp, and so will contribute, before 
 long, as is her wont, her world-persuasive 
 example. One is her " ficole d'Urbanisme," 
 now started and with tenfold larger staff, 
 and purpose also, than those of our two or 
 three earlier established British or American 
 university departments, efficient though these 
 are in their smaller way. Beside this a further 
 organization is arising concerned with that 
 general and comparative study of Cities 
 towards which we have been striving and 
 pleading so long. This movement has not 
 only scientific purpose, but also views towards 
 guidance and application, alike in the Recon- 
 struction Area, to Paris, and throughout 
 France. Even it will doubtless influence the 
 world, which now needs the refashioning of 
 
374 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 Cities, from pre-technic or palebtechnic to 
 etho-politic and eutechnic forms. ^ 
 
 So much for Cities : but, since most * stUl 
 think in national and political terms -only; 
 and with little regard to any cities, save, of 
 course, their metropolitan ones, let us see 
 what is said of the national, political outlook 
 in France. Well, in ihis Review is a detailed 
 exposition of the next great transformation 
 wMch France is now clearly preparing for 
 herself, the most important since the Revolu- 
 tion, so why not also in time, like that, the 
 most wotld-influencing also ? , France has 
 long been more or less coming to realize that 
 through past centuries she has been over- 
 centralizing government and all else to Paris, 
 and thus to the grievous detriment of her 
 provinces. But here a well-informed writer 
 quietly makes a clear summary of the pro- 
 gress now being made, of the legislation and 
 the preparations being planned for a thorough- 
 going decentralization — ^towards the renewal 
 and regional reconstruction of the essential 
 and natural provinces, from Brittany, to 
 Provence, froin Pyrenees to Alsace-Lorraine, 
 which will, of course, especially need, and 
 demand, a Home Rule as full as may be._ 
 
 Here, then, is the needed complement 'to 
 the otherwise too abstract League of Nations'^ 
 
RECONSTRUCTION 375 
 
 by the renewal of that essential Life — ^that of 
 Regions and Cities — ^which we are constantly 
 pleading for in these volumes. The War, let 
 it here again be ^aid, has not been in its 
 essential and intimate origin and spirit that 
 of Germany, nor even Prussia, however fully 
 these have contributed : but profoundly that 
 of the hunger and pride of Berlin, so long 
 the most predatory of all great capitals : and 
 ably seconded, of course, by the corresponding 
 spirit of Vienna, and to be sure also by 
 Buda-Pesth, Sofia and Constantinople, as 
 smaller eagles. Petrograd has had only too 
 much historic similarity with these ; and so is 
 falling first into utter ruin, not so much by 
 Bolshevik misrule, but because the withdrawal 
 of its conquered kingdoms, its exploited and 
 misgoverned duchies a,nd provinces — from 
 Poland to Siberia, from Finland to Ukrania 
 a;nd Georgia^eaves it without its economic 
 means of support. It is kindred ruin which 
 Beriin has to resist; and this is plainly 
 overtaking Vienna and Constantinople in no 
 small measure also. But Paris {Fluduat nee 
 mergitur !) will again adapt herself to this 
 opening situation, one for the aUied Powers 
 as well. She can safely send back many of 
 her sons to their native provinces and towns ; 
 for her most vast financial centres will now 
 
376 OUR SOCIAL INHERITANCE 
 
 cease their wholesale exportation of the 
 national savings to be lost in Russia, or spent 
 against her in Germany, as so much hitherto ; . 
 but will direct them to the recolonization of 
 the French provinces, , the renewal of their 
 villages, towns, and cities. Yet — ^indeed thus 
 — as world-metropolitan culture-city, she will 
 become all the more eminent and esteemed 
 as a leader and foremost exemplar of the 
 Allied nations; alike as purified centre of 
 sister-cities, no longer bled white for her 
 over-luxurious abundance, but stirred to new 
 activity; and also in the reuniting world- of 
 peace as '' Ville-Lumifere." More fully so even 
 than Hugo deemed, since not only leading in 
 arts as in his day, or in ours so magnificently 
 in arms and in victory ;-but as pioneering once 
 more in Reconstructive Peace. This/too, not 
 only by creating Eutopia from her ruins, 
 ' but in her ever-growing fulfilment of Ihe high 
 ideals of her great past at each of its many 
 crises and turning-points, by her emancipation 
 and renewal of her lands, cities and peoples, 
 their reconstructed and renewed civilization. 
 
 Such matters are plainly not irrelevant in 
 Westminster. Where better should they be 
 discussed, understood, considered for adapta* 
 tion? For iiere, for single instance, there- 
 
RECONSTRUCTION 377 
 
 comes from France (instead of from Ger- 
 many) what must surely soon be seen and 
 grasped (in all three kingdoms alike for 
 themselves) as the long-sought principle of 
 solution of the Irish question, which has too 
 long been Westminster's standing failure and 
 disgrace, and now more than ever awaits 
 solution before the world. 
 
 On all sides people are anxiously asking, 
 Watchman, what of the night ? And though 
 it may be that many hours of darkness must 
 yet pass, youth at least will not weaken in 
 its unfailing expectation to hear that the 
 morning cometh. And for all, the keeping 
 of the vigil may be a means of possessing 
 one's soul. The universities may aid this 
 vigil by correcting and supplementing their 
 habit of the backward look by the forward 
 vision. That they may even hasten the 
 coming of the dawn, by preparing the trans- 
 lation of dream into deed, is the theses of 
 this section of our volume. 
 
ENVOI 
 
 Awakening to their deprivation, the Peoples 
 are everywhere demanding, their birthright 
 in the Social Inheritance. To make good the 
 inheritance of the People should in the nature 
 of things be constructive of the social order, 
 not disruptive. But with the present demand- 
 for restitution goes a grave indictment of 
 State and Church, of Education and Business, 
 as they are and have long been. The Chiefs, 
 Emotionals and Intellectuals of the existing 
 social order are accused by the People whom 
 they should serve, of betraying their Trust. 
 A court has been opened by the Peoples of 
 Europe for the- Grand Assize of Western 
 Civilization. But indictment is one thing and 
 restitution another. And beyond both is. 
 the vision of a new world, which could it 
 unite all men of goodwill, all parties of con- 
 structive aim, might be realized by an archi-- 
 tecfonic handling of the materials available. 
 For this let Chiefs plan and organize ; Emo- 
 tionals dream and energize ; Intellectuals 
 think and scheme. In the measure of their 
 
 378 
 
ENVOI 379 
 
 attainment will be restored to the People 
 that birthright in the Great Estate of Man, 
 from which they have so long been disin- 
 herited. 
 
 True, the criticism that is tonic must not 
 be neglected, nor the scrutiny and punishment 
 of evil-lje omitted. Least of all can we afford 
 to forget the impoverishment and suffering 
 of the People, or fail to practise those personal 
 exercises in sacrifice and purgation which 
 are at once the test of sympathy, and the 
 spiritual preparation for synergy. Given 
 these moral and intellectual prerequisites, the 
 imperative call of our times is for a mobilizing 
 of the resources available for rebuilding. 
 And that, as we see it, means the preparation 
 of definite Surveys, Reports, Plans, for 
 Regional and Civic Eutopias ; and all the time 
 their concurrent application by experiment, 
 steady, judicious, bold, to this, that and the 
 other, village, town, city, countryside. Surely 
 it is through this vibrant impulse of the 
 eutopian vision that a community, awaken- 
 ing into an age of science humanized, must 
 act, if it is to obey the inspired injunction 
 that bids us seek first the kingdom of -the 
 ideal. 
 
NOTE ON FIG. 3. CHAP. VI 
 
 The conventions used in these diagrams have doubt- 
 less become familiar to the reader from a study of Figs. 
 I and 2. As to Fig. 3, it will be seen by inspection that 
 each of the six social orders (three conventional cind 
 three insurgent) within the larger system is represented 
 by a pair of brackets. As before, it will be noted that 
 {n) an outside bracket stands for the Chiefs and Intel- 
 lectuals of each order, and an inside one for the People , 
 and the Emotionals of the same order. (6) The Tem- 
 poral couple (Chiefs and People) are indicated by a 
 thickening of the arms of their respective brackets, and' 
 similarly the Emotionals (Expressionals) and Intellec-' 
 tuals of the corresponding Spiritual Power are indicated 
 by slender arms. Ordinarily the temporal half of each 
 pair of brackets stands upperniost, the spiritual power 
 being shown below Uke an im^e reflected in a mirror. 
 But this convention is reversed for a special reason in 
 Fig. 3. There the' intention is to show the opposition, 
 yet parallelism, of Radicalism to Liberalism, of Socialism 
 to Imperialism, of Anarchism to Finance as essentially 
 one of ideas and emotions. Hence the respective 
 spiritual powers of all these social orders are brought 
 together in the diagram, and the arrows in each case 
 emphasize the clash of moral and intellectual interests. 
 The suggestion is that from this conflict of mind and 
 heart issues a revelation which sharpens and defines 
 the antagonism of other and more material interests. 
 Accepting an economic interpretation of history, one 
 may still claim a certain initiating impulse for the more 
 human and psychic aspects of life. 
 
 To compare all these diagrams as above with the 
 Arbor Saculorum (on the cover of the volume) turn 
 the diagrams sideways (through a tight angle). Thus 
 looked at the brackets have the appearance of branches, 
 as in the Arbor. It will be seen that the medieval, 
 
 380 
 
NOTE 381 
 
 renaissance, and later branches of the Arbor are analyzed 
 .in detail in Figs, i, 2, 3. 
 
 Again note that the Arbor gives a generalized pre- 
 sentment of the inheritance of occidental communities, 
 in each of whose historic cities occurs a local variant, 
 presented for instance in the case of Westminster, but 
 without analysis, in the pictorial diagram on p. 265. 
 
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