Part 13

We have seen that Forestry has been reinstated, and under what pleasant, profitable circumstances it grows. Now my dream takes me on, and my spirit peregrinates in other localities and seeks enlightenment. Windswept moors, and places where bogs are prevalent, prove difficult antagonists to agriculture as generally practised. It is true that what the Italians call “_terra ingrata_,” literally translated, “unyielding soil,” is in England as well as in Italy an obstinate problem, which it will take time to solve. In such counties where there is much of this unyielding soil, science is trying to find remedies or uses to which it can be put. Science is busy with experiments. Effort is being made to discover what trees (if any) can be planted with advantage in such districts; so far, the pine is in favour. In the meantime, much more use is made of peat for many purposes, as fuel for instance, and manure for gardens and the growth of flowers and shrubs, which answer at once to its fructifying influence. Extending my spirit flight through the length and breadth of the land, I see that no land capable of growing grain is out of service. Grain for bread, grass for cattle and sheep, unpolluted rivers where ample supplies of fish are obtainable, and the nation is provided against starvation, even in time of another War.

§ 48

“We are looking ahead now,” said one to another. “We are facing, not avoiding, the consideration of anxious possibilities.” “Each Commune of Britain is busy with problems to solve which will make us safe in emergencies; the policy of ‘Wait and See,’ than which none could be more dangerous to welfare, is treated (as it should be) with contempt. ‘Up and doing’ has taken its place; we have had enough of fallacious epigrams as catch words for opportunists.” The River Severn, one of the most productive in England, has been taken from German hands and is producing a goodly yield of food. There was a prejudice against “coarse fish as an article of food; we are returning to an old English habit of using it.” In old days most of the monasteries were erected near a river; where that was not possible, lakes were dug out and plentifully supplied with fish. We have returned to use an important and nourishing food in localities where it can be employed, and a great and growing industry is proving a success, it is feeding a large section of the people. Sea fishermen did not like it at first; it appeared to be an innovation of their right, but since it has proved not to interfere with their business it is accepted.

§ 49

There are many “practical” schemes being initiated. My dream leads me now into matters not generally called “practical,” but are necessary to a great nation. We all know (any way), who have read History what we owe to-day to the Monastic system, which, with all its abuses, did save learning. Monasteries were the Cabinets of tradition, without which we might now be barbarians, and it was by no means all for good they were suppressed. To Henry VIII. is not due all the mischief which Cromwell completed. The lands belonging to the Church were regarded with envy by the State before the coming of those two powerful autocrates. Every one knows that, but every one does not realise the debt we owe to a concentrated life going on amid war and rapine. Good things, if once they have been proved good and useful, are apt to crop up again. If not used exactly as they were, if the principle which started them no longer prevails, if their recurrence is not on the lines of what was called the “religious life,” the results they achieved may be copied in a New Age and under a fresh inspiration.

§ 50

Action and reaction are inevitable. Extended activities lead to complications and concentrated action to simplicity. Thus men, inclined towards quiet more than to jostle in the crowd, find it necessary to retire to find peace to work out their destinies, and in groups--in groups because continued solitude is paralysing, as much to mental as physical activity. There be men who are born in scholarship whose intuition is to research, they are the vessels that hold learning, but not seldom they pour it out with difficulty. They give it out drop by drop; they are to a nation what foundations are to a building. In a sense they are passive. History, Archæology, indeed, all the ologies, Art in its various branches, and Science in hers, cannot get along without silent strenuous workers who are as disinterested a race as our social system provides. Mostly poor, they live in solitude, receiving little encouragement. If they happened to have a small steady income it was heavily taxed. What with income, super-taxes and rates, what remained of small income, at the best, was reduced to less than that of an unskilled labourer. The New Communes seek these valuable men, who, when found, are presented with a “living wage.” Thus, some of the most valuable servants of the State are, at least, placed upon a financial basis with unskilled labour.

§ 51

There is another group of indispensable servants to the State which was neglected, whose wages were less than the modern menial--the teachers. They are men whose education has been costly to their parents, who, in more cases than not, could ill afford the drain upon their resources. While miners, servants, even ignorant boys employed by publishers to wrap up books for distribution, were getting wages out of all proportion to the work they were doing, these “teachers” went quietly on with their useful labour, unnoticed and ill-paid. They formed a large class of intelligence and usefulness which constituted The New Poor!!! While the Government was conceding principle after principle to “strikers” and to a whole army of unreasonable discontent, the men who were working quietly for the cause of Education remained outside the sympathy of Government “Officials.” Under the New Commune a better and more just system is at work. They are treated, having been chosen and selected with care, as public servants, and as such they are paid; at least, they are now upon a scale of pay equal to the scullery maid of the past. “The profiteers,” often as ignorant as grasping, drove about the country in expensive motor cars, while the makers of England, from an intellectual point of view, were disregarded, even treated with contempt, because the balance at their bankers was small, probably nil, while that of Profiteers was such that their ladies were in diamonds and furs, and Borough Councillors thrived upon the Rates.

Now, let me remember and state what, in my dream, such men are doing, as public servants, for the previously unestimated value of education for that part of the community which is called Labour. In one of the most beautiful parts of Kent, once “the Garden” of England, under the slope of its backbone, on which is the Pilgrims Way, the road from London to Canterbury, is to be seen a straggling group of buildings, evidently erected gradually as accommodation demanded. The starting place was an old barn, one of those magnificent but simple buildings which were next to the church in importance and only second to it in noble proportions and dignified aspect. In a way, those old Tythe barns represented the people and their agriculture as faithfully as the churches their reverence and sacred traditions.

§ 52

Once the storehouse for grain, the Tythe barns were the meeting place for landlords, their tenants, and country folk; the flail made delightful music at threshing time. In them county dances were held and seasons celebrated. Before the Town Hall was, they were. In the new life the Tythe barn was used, in the first instance as a dwelling place for a kind of Franciscan order, not bound by an oath or dedicated to any sectarian creed; it is a place of retirement for scholars as well as for communal activity. By degrees the little community grew. New buildings, inexpensive but sanitary, have been added; surrounding land purchased and cultivated with the specialties common to the soil of Kent--Fruit and Hops. Hops especially, because the New World repudiates “Kultur,” and no longer substitutes for that fragrant and desirable fruit deleterious chemical products which agents interested in a “Company” exploited against the original article. The noisy, smoky threshing machine does not visit here; grain is threshed by the flail. The occupiers of these buildings subsist upon their own land; cows and goats give them milk; they make their own bread, and brew their own light beer, and wines got from the elder, the pear, apple and some sweet grapes grown and flourishing well in sunny aspects.

§ 53

The community established here is voluntary, mostly composed of men of small incomes, large intelligence, and varied pursuits. Being in a sense public servants, they only pay a nominal tax to the Commune for the use of the land, and no income _tax_ is levied from them. Intellect contributes what money cannot buy.

So interesting was the appearance of this little nest of disinterested men, so lively in surroundings, so snug in its suggestion of quiet concentrated life, that my spirit sought to examine it. It is high summer; the corn and fruit are ripening; the hop gardens are laden with fragrance. It is that time of year when repose seems to take the place of agricultural activity; the sun is hot, the air full of the hum of bees. It is the midday of the year when, as the old pagans told, the gods sleep. The sun, no longer hidden by smoke, is doing his work, preparing for the gathering time, fruitful autumn! Something after an old monastery it is. A refectory, and a kitchen built after the plan of that at Glastonbury, denote a goodly company to feed. Every member of the order has his sleeping cell. Those whose avocations are primarily studious have a study to themselves. It is noon, a bell rings. Soon the refectory is full, accommodated to hold fifty or sixty men of different ages and occupations. One could easily pick out the scholars from the active workers. There appeared to be no servants, so called; the cook was of the order; they waited upon themselves. What is the main business of the Order? It is “teaching.” The Prior, or he in priority, is a distinguished old man. I noticed or learnt by listening, that sectarian creeds did not exist here. They were just Christians, _i.e._, who work for others, give of their experience and knowledge freely and abundantly. The Athenic academy must have been something like this modern adaptation of Plato’s republic; who knows if there be not a Socrates among them?

There are artists and craftsmen as well as historians, and music plays its part, for in the refectory is an organ. Sweet music came from its pipes during dinner. The number I saw was not inclusive; many of the order were away in different parts of the county teaching. I heard that every county in Britain contains a similar Order of Teachers. The subjects taught, answer to the needs of the County. The Prior has power to choose from and send teachers where he pleases; in this sense he is an autocrat. The object is to instil Agricultural peasants with high Ideals of their life as such, and to enlighten Industrial districts by History. So much of the old agitation and mistrust on the part of the people was the result of _ignorance_. It was to combat ignorance and to place high ideals before the people that the Order was founded. Within an easy walk for the pedestrian, my spirit flew the distance in less than a second. I found myself in a village. It reminded me of one that in my waking youth I remember before the giant Industrialism had sprawled his uncouth body there, and with his great ungainly feet had trodden down grass, corn and fruit trees, pulled down ancient buildings to erect factories, and turned a place of gardens into ash heaps. The horrid remnants of his invasion have been eradicated. Everything seemed to record peace. The country at peace, the people at peace. I went into the village school; there I saw one of the order instructing. No birch rod was suspended on its whitewashed walls; I looked for it, remembering Dr. Johnson’s homage to the Rod, but saw none. The boys and girls were being led, not driven; interested, not forced; they were being taught the dignity of Labour and the criminality of laziness. Taught self-respect they were, and to abominate not only low actions, but dishonest impulses. From every cottage I heard the music of the loom. In the fields the sound of happy song prevailed. They rivaled the thrush and the blackbird, did those merry workers. They were merry with the birds, joining them in song.

§ 54

In dreams, seasons change places. Suddenly it is autumn, harvest time, a festival time when people are gay as they set out to gather the fruit of their ploughing and sowing.

It is the same village, but the aspect is in a degree changed. The repose of summer has given way to the activity of autumn, or rather to the approach of it. The harvest is in full swing. The male population is busy with _Sickle_ and _Scythe_. I did not see the mechanical cutter; the New Communes find that the old system provides more work for the agricultural class, which has grown numerically since it became evident that Britain must feed itself with its own products as much as possible. This has led to greater importance being attached to agriculture than to industrialism, which is now an aid, not an obstruction to agriculture. The village forge is busy; scythes and sickles are being ground, new ones are in the making, fresh shoes are preparing for farm horses; wheels, of great carts to carry the grain and straw, are being set in order. A merry place is the forge, with its lusty bellows, bright fire and brilliant sparks like stars, dancing up the chimney. Everybody is alert. The parson, the schoolmaster, the doctor and land owner will take part in the great event of cutting and storing the precious products of the soil. I noticed several of “The Order” have come up to lend a hand. The great Barn is prepared to receive the golden result of a fine harvest. It has been a summer of sun; the corn is so ripe it shines like copper. The straw is strong, good for hat makers and those occupied in the use of that precious material.

How they work, the strong fellows; with what a heart they gather their own from the beneficent earth; it shall not be sold elsewhere until enough has been stored for the use of the Parish. The New Communes have an excellent habit of looking after _their own people first_, a bad commercial economy, according to old habits, but it answers well because it is just. Plenty of pure light beer is brewed, and pure because brewers are not permitted to adulterate it (if they did so here they would be punished as “forgers”); casks of this, and of home-made cider, have been carted to the cornfields. If the workers do stagger a bit no one blames them; anyhow, they have not been drinking poison, as they did in the past. When the golden harvest moon rises full in a purple sky, they fall to dancing and merriment, and sing folk songs, but before midnight they are at rest, for at daylight they must be up and at it again.

When the corn harvest is reaped and stored, the English vintage begins. Hop gardens in plenty are cultivated here. Every woman and child, besides all grown ups, who can be spared from the farms, are engaged in gathering the lovely green fruit. Hop gathering is one of the pleasantest of all agricultural operations. The scent of the fruit produces a charm as the scent of poppies does, a lotus-eating charm of quiet not excitement. The alleys between the stately hop poles bending under the weight of fruit are dotted with tints as of flowers, for the women’s and children’s garments are bright coloured, woven at home and dyed by the village dyers. Here is seen _the natural life_, for which man was created, from the labour of whose hands bread shall be eaten. No pale, sickly faces are seen here, no discontented looks, no morbid longings for a rich idle life prevail; instead of that are ruddy cheeks, beaming smiles, neighbourly greetings and happy songs are heard “_through daylight hours_.” Winter comes, no less beautiful than summer, only different. Work changes its character. The fruitfulness of summer depends upon winter labour. Not only labourers plough, the parson, clerk and “Gentlemen” plough. This reminds me that in this Dream of a purified and clean England there is no class of “Gentlemen,” because all who labour are such. A man who did not take part in the manual labour (in some measure, at least) would not be regarded with respect. Even those whose occupations demand care of their hands put in a certain amount of hard labour. Practice being better than precept, and fraternity being best of all, this habit succeeds.

§ 55

Now, winter is in full swing, the days are short, evenings long, but not dull. The Village Church, well warmed, is used for concerts, when not for them educational addresses are given by members of “The Order.” The big schoolroom is used for dances and play acting. It is considered by Village Communes that their duty is to help recreation as well as encourage labour. Concise little plays have been written by scholars of “The Order.” They make no fuss about scenery; what they do take pains with is the playing, which, in winter, forms a conspicuous item of education. It has been deemed wisest that the plays shall be simple and, above all, CLEAN minded. It is the object of the Village Communes that their people remain simple, which means not stupid, but innocent. As far as I have travelled I have been made aware that “Cinemas” are under strict control. It has been argued and decided that amusements may prove fatal to development. In no sense of priggishness, but as a proper protection. Cinemas are not permitted to show crime; they are used, as other enjoyments are, to excite the nobler not ignoble features of life.

We need not go to Germany now for basket-weaving, straw-plaiting and so on. That ancient industry is restored to England, which had let it slip, with too many others, into the hands of the Teutons an industrious people when the English were getting idle and were trying to live on other people’s earnings and labour, and more shame to them for it. It is the object of the Community so to conduct affairs that the idle are the exception, not the rule as they were growing to be some time ago. While those occupied in the affairs of the Communes are strict (for what is the use of Government if it is ductile, compromising and weak?), they are not autocratic, save in the sense that having framed laws, with consideration they carry them into effect. They do not make a law until they are sure it is a just one, and one which is necessary for the good of the people as a whole, not only for a section of it.

§ 56

This principle has done away with Class Legislation, which was proving a grave danger to the well being of England. Of course, it stands for sense that every County is not ruled alike. There must be Industrial districts as well as Agricultural, but they are not permitted to invade each other. As far as possible Industrial districts are not divorced from Agriculture. Now that the smoke fiend is no more Industrial districts can have their gardens, and the people can grow their vegetables and fruit with security. This has been made possible, as we have seen, for each person is master of his own little bit of land, which he is taught to cultivate, and which if he does not it is taken away from him and given to someone else who will use it. Once a year (if necessary more often) the leaders of Communes meet in conclave somewhere in the centre of England. There they consider the laws. In that way conditions are kept clear from becoming stereotyped. Men of various adaptabilities shake brains with each other. This becomes a habit and prevents isolation, because the national interest is the County interest extended. If Agriculture is to be the first consideration the main essential without which the nation might starve, Industrialism had to be checked, but not destroyed. It had to be put in its proper place, not as an autocratic ruler, but a useful servant.

Nuisances produced by Industrialism are sternly dealt with. No factories are permitted in Agricultural districts or to be planted in the centre of towns among dwelling houses or where they might be a nuisance. There is no hardship in that decision, it is just, that is all. Borough and Village, as well as City Councils, are now so represented that jobbery is put out of court. Not only is the body of the people considered, but the soul of the Nation is encouraged to enlarge and expand. Men have got to see that, and to act on it. All forms of religion are equally regarded. There is no State Church or State monopoly. It was a blow to the narrow brain, this was; it wrenched power from inquisitors and took the wind out of the sails of doctrinaires. But it is proved to have been wise, because there is more, not less, religion than there was. It is simplified on the broad basis of belief in God. The Devil gets a poor look in now. Religious persecution was one of his choicest allies. The Devil found in it admirable matter for his schemes, for it promoted hate, not love. The noblest Greek philosophy teaches that love was the first created abstract power, and what philosophy is better calculated to make men of us than that is? The story of the Garden of Eden teaches us that God made perfect beauty, which, by folly, man, in his inquisitive, greedy pursuit of wealth, attempted to destroy.

He had to become poor to buy back what he had lost; he had to labour to create a new Garden, and that is what the New Life is struggling to do. Not a less, but a more beautiful Garden than the first is being created. Now it is to be made for the many. We have history to teach us what to avoid, and what to cling to, and it is one of the chief duties of men versed in history to teach it to their less favoured fellows, and that the New Order is striving to do.