Part 15

You, whose eyes are able to read these tragic lines of blind John Milton, can you realise what they mean? Do you feel to the innermost core of your heart the blackness of that “eclipse without all hope of day,” which like a never-lifting cloud envelopes those from whom the blessing of sight has been taken for ever! Can you, even by the utmost exertion of your imagination, truly grasp what it would mean to you if all light and colour were blotted out from your consciousness, and you had to rely on a merciful guiding hand to lead you to and fro, to hold you lest you stumbled, and conduct you from places of business or pleasure safely back to your home? If you could not see beloved faces?--if the sunlight could never again reach those poor closed channels of the vision you once enjoyed?--if the skies, the lovely country, the woods and the ocean were all glories that should never again gladden your sight?--if this were so, would you not pray to God that being thus handicapped He would at least give you _friends_? Friends who would be eyes to you, hands to you--who would cheer you in dreadful moments of depression blacker than blindness, and who would help you to find occupation and train you to do useful work, although sightless, so that the days and years should not be so fraught with monotony and dull regret; and that life, after all, should not seem a barren and empty thing?

You have heard of St. Dunstan’s Hostel for soldiers and sailors blinded in the war? It is now one of earth’s “Holy Places”--holy because the benediction of heaven has made it a sanctuary--a sanctuary of love, patience, self-sacrifice and untiring devotion--holy, because the patiently endured martyrdom of a brave man has been and is its spiritual foundation. Sir Arthur Pearson--(some of you do not know it or think of it)--is himself blind. And what makes his sorrow darker for him, is that he has known all the blessings of perfect sight--he has enjoyed all the activities of an eager and vigorous life, and is still in the prime of manhood. “How sad for him!” murmurs the conventional Society voice--“Such a drawback!” Yes, how sad!--but what gladness for others he gathers from his own handicap!--what splendid results have sprung from his “drawback!”--what sunshine pours from the cloud of his night! The American essayist, Emerson, in advising one stricken with adversity, writes, “Be like the wounded oyster, _mend your shell with a pearl_!” With what a pearl of great price has Arthur Pearson mended his life’s wound! Knowing the bitterness of blindness, he has devoted all his energies to the care of the blind and to the lightening of their darkness, especially to those heroes who, in the very hey-day of their youth and manliness have gone unhesitatingly forth to face the foe in this wickedest of wars, and have been blinded by shot and shell explosions, losing all sense of vision in one cruel moment--a moment that rings down the curtain on all scenes and faces for ever! Shall we not, with all our hearts, help the sublime cause of “love to our neighbours,” and consolation to our self-sacrificing soldiers and sailors, taught to us by the example of this Englishman who does not protest, but _lives_ his Christian faith in a manner that Christ must surely approve? It would be trespassing on sacred ground to presume to guess how much heavenly light has been mystically shed on his own darkness by this noble dedication of his sorrow to noblest ends. But it may be reverently said that he has followed as far as is humanly possible the Divine Teacher who, in healing a blind man, “put His hands upon his eyes and _made him look up_.” In this we can all help. We can make our brave, blind friends, the soldiers and sailors, rendered sightless for our sakes, “look up!” We can make them feel they are not alone and helpless in a dark world; we can convince them that their welfare is dear to us, and that we are fully conscious of the immense sacrifices they have made for us and for the country. Let us all then do our utmost and best for St. Dunstan’s and strengthen the hands of its Founder, and let it never be said that we were guilty of the meanest vice known to humanity--Ingratitude!

SWEEPING THE COUNTRY

They say it does; and I hardly wonder! The broom is so long and searchful; it goes into so many holes and corners that surely not a single spider’s web is left unvisited. It gathers up the pale dust of British gullability with an admirable adroitness, and what is perhaps the best thing about it is that it pays for its sweepings. Not every broom does that! But I am told--I do not assert it or vouch for it--that it is a German broom; and no make of broom in all the world is more capable of industry or more resistless to wear and tear. Opposed as we are, and as we must be, to German militarism, German labour will, I fear, be always ahead of us, especially if the German worker puts in eight or ten hours where the British decides to give only four or six. This is a matter for future testing; in the meanwhile let us consider with attention, in capital letters “THIS MORNING’S NEWS ABOUT PELMANISM,” as it appears in that esteemed journal _The Sunday Times_, to which I have had the honour to contribute. It is but the other day that I was assured “on the highest authority” (as the bewildered press reporters at the Peace Conference have expressed it) that “Pelman” was originally spelt “_Poehlmann_,” and that at discreet intervals his “Magic Card” would be followed by another, inscribed “_Roth_.” Both names have the euphonious Teuton ring about them, and they both imply Money--money spent lavishly and magnificently on the “flowing tide of Pelmanism” by way of opulent and ceaseless advertisement in all the newspapers which joyously yield their columns to cash rather than to intelligent information, and give up whole pages to “Pelman” or “Roth” indiscriminately, in competition with a kindly Swedish masseur or exercise-man, who in equally lavish announcements and large type, promises health to the healthless even as “Pelman” and “Roth” promise brain to the brainless. Of “Roth” I know little except that according to advertisement “he is a remarkable man” (of which I am entirely convinced), but of “Pelman” I have learned something at first hand. I have learned, for instance, how it is that the spacious, tremendous, profuse, and overpowering advertisements of this system of brain-forcing flood every corner of the press, squeezing out by their size and the space they occupy legitimate news of interest to the public; of course, the first and chief reason is that they are paid for. Everything in every line of business, pleasure or social position, is paid for; even the clergyman who professes to show you the way to heaven is paid for. Then surely it follows that Pelman or Poehlmann must be a multi-millionaire? No! he need not be. As the controller of the “flowing tide” he may make others pay, and so may command cash without being personally wealthy. He no doubt realises the truth of what a certain frank proprietor of pickles assured me--“If advertising is done well and continuously it brings in double and treble the money it costs.” And the channels in which the “flowing tide” is set to run are cleverly prepared and delved out in the shifting sands of British innocence and credulity--two admirable traits of our national character. It is a touching thing to realise that the guileless Briton should so simply confess himself to “Pelman” as mindless and memory-less--and it is equally pathetic to discover in the “Census” of “Pelmanists” there can be counted one barmaid, one bacon-curer, and one “corporation official”! “Art and music and literature are being re-born,” says Pelman--and no doubt the Pelmanists are already in travail. It is all very clever and amusing; a little comedy in which the guileless Briton is the bear that dances to the Pelman pipings. I admire cleverness wherever I find it; it is a star in the general murk of stupidity, and I am the last person in the world to depreciate the brilliancy of its glitter. But it has interested me to study the movements of this particular scheme, and chance or fortune placed one or two threads in my hands which seemed to suggest a clue. Briefly then, I was offered Fifty Guineas to “write up” Pelmanism. The offer came through a very agreeable and enterprising journalist, employed, I presume, to secure fresh supplies for the “flowing tide,” and he added to his own personal and friendly entreaties a considerable quantity of literary matter setting forth the miraculous improvement in heretofore dull brains under the influence of Pelman or Poehlmann. I made a careful study of these documents, and the first thing that dawned on my own dim intelligence was that every would-be student of the “course” would be called upon to pay six guineas, either in one sum or by “easy instalments,” though one _can_ have a copy of the book entitled _Mind and Memory_ (which tell “all about” Pelmanism but does not instruct) _gratis_, and in that book are “particulars” showing how one can obtain the “course” at a reduced fee. Thanks to my journalist friend I had the _gratis_ book (in its forty-fourth edition, and for this reason called “The World’s Most Widely Read Book”--well! with all diffidence allow me to hint that this is incorrect, as I myself am the author of one or two books in their fifty-first editions), but the “Course” did not tempt me to disburse guineas, not even had I accepted the Fifty offered. (I may say here that I never accept “tips.”) But I could not, and cannot refrain from considering how, if the scheme works successfully, as of course it must, the British public are paying for these splendid advertisements! Paying so well that it is easy to understand how the Pelman promoters can afford to pay Fifty Guineas, more or less, to the obliging individuals who are ready and willing to praise the “system.” Canon Hannay (“George A. Birmingham”) for instance--does _he_ get Fifty Guineas? Or Mr. Spencer Leigh Hughes, M.P.? Or dear George R. Sims? Or Mr. Gilbert Frankau? Or do they send in their testimonials _gratis_? I feel that I cannot be the _only_ “eminent” (to quote advertisement) person who has received the munificent offer of Fifty Guineas, and _refused the same_! In the Pelman “Census” I note there are 339 accountants, 8 actresses, 490 clergymen, and--one archbishop! Whereby it would seem that accountants and clergymen need more brain-prodding than others. And if the “one Archbishop” should consent to “write up” the advantages of the “course” (like Mr. Will Owen, who declares that, artist though he professes to be, he had “hardly begun the first lesson in Pelmanism before he discovered something he had been drawing incorrectly all his life), sure His Grace would merit a Hundred Guineas for his good work at the very least? Anyhow his fee should be more than that of a “bacon-curer” or a novelist! In openly confessing the offer to myself of Fifty Guineas which I refused without a moment’s hesitation, I do so that I may call the attention and admiration of the public to the clever way certain people manage to make money through human gullability. The brain-prodders and memory-pushers are almost as astute as Government officials. The mass of people who never stop to think, still less to calculate, are their happy hunting-ground. Personally I think Pelman and Roth too “sharp” to be of the Anglo-Saxon race, though I do not assert them to be Germans, naturalised or _de_-naturalised. But they have the Teuton line of intelligence; that is, wherever they find a good thick soil of stupidity, they plant seed therein, fertilise it and make it grow. These special people who feed the coffers of journalism by purchasing whole pages of space for their advertisements, are so convinced of the thickness and richness of Anglo-American stupidity that they boldly offer to transmute it, like alchemists, into the gold of intellectual ability, and if this could be done ’twere a worthy thing. But one must pause at the idea they put forward--“If only we had 1,000,000 clever thinkers!” It is _too_ terrific! This poor earth of ours could not survive! Its rolling ball like a bomb would burst in space, overburdened by the sheer weight of brain! Be merciful, therefore, O munificent Pelman! spare us, gentle Roth! Do not instruct the bacon-curer or train the Archbishop beyond what we have the strength to endure! Do not compel us to bow the knee to the “barmaid” as another De Stael!--to the “corporation official” as a new Admirable Crichton! It is the American philosopher Emerson who writes, “Let the world beware when a Thinker comes into it!” But “1,000,000 thinkers!” The prospect is horrible--spare us, good Lord! We have much to be thankful for in Carlyle’s famous assertion “most fools,” for if our population were all wise, life would be dull indeed! Fools make the gaiety of nations--they are the staple support of all governments--the foundation of the press and the drama--the stock-in-trade of all authors, philosophers, and wits whatsoever, and Heaven forbid we should ever be deprived of their existence! We are always more or less in the position of Shakespeare’s “melancholy Jacques” and ready to say, “A fool, a fool, I met a fool i’ the forest! as I do live by food I met a fool!” and when we chance on company with this simple friend of all men should we “Pelmanise” or “Roth” him? Never! He is too valuable an asset to the world!

TO SAVE LIFE OR DESTROY IT?

A CHALLENGE TO CERTAIN CLERGY

(_Published in the “Pall-Mall Gazette”_)

Does the Christian Church profess to follow the teaching of Christ? Or the Law of Moses? That is to say: Is it Christian or Jewish? If Jewish, its “sabbath” should be kept on Saturday, in conformance with the rest of the Jewish world; if Christian, then, according to Christ, we may, if necessity compels, do imperative work on Sunday. But a section of our clergy are up in arms at the idea of “profaning the Lord’s Day” by allowing labour of tillage and planting the land on Sundays, for the necessities of the nation’s food. Where do these contentious persons get their authority? Not from their divine Master! Their spirit is that of the Scribes and Pharisees who “watched” Our Lord--“whether he would heal on the sabbath day, that they might find an accusation against Him.” The world has not outgrown that contemptible spirit. “That they might find an accusation” is often everybody’s aim and clearest business! “Then said Jesus unto them--I will ask you one thing: Is it lawful on the sabbath days to do good or to do evil?--to save life or destroy it?” And when the hypocrites could not answer Him, He healed the afflicted man who had sought His aid, whereat those who had “watched” Him, so says the Gospel narrative, “were filled with madness and communed one with another what they might do to Him.” But, despite His scorn of their narrow sectarianism, “He went out into a mountain to pray, and continued all night in prayer to God.”

No true servant of Christ can find the least excuse in any one of the Divine Teacher’s commands for a rigidly sectarian observance of Sunday. A seventh day’s rest was wisely and rightly instituted by Moses for the relief of the Israelites when they had been worked as slaves by their Egyptian taskmasters; but Christ never incorporated its observance as any part of the instructions He gave to His disciples. “What man shall there be among you,” He said, “that shall have one sheep, and if it fall into a pit on the sabbath day, will he not lay hold on it and lift it out? How much, then, is a man better than a sheep? Wherefore, it is lawful to do well on the sabbath days.”

Mark those last words! They were spoken by One “in whom there was no guile.” It is lawful to do well on the sabbath days. And yet, Oh! narrow and rigid men who “profess” Christ, you, who see and know that on the feeding of our population depends their health, their strength, and their ultimate victory over a barbarous foe, you would discourage the willing hearts and hinder the ready hands from virtuous and unselfish labour on Sundays in a time of unexampled national necessity! Shame! For the blessing of God must be on all such honest workers whose toil is for the help and honour of their country. Christ told us there were but two commandments, not ten--the first: “Thou shalt love the Lord thy God with all thy soul and with all thy mind and with all thy strength”--and the second: “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself. There is none other commandment greater than these.”

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Now what do the dogmatists make of this? If we truly love God, we surely know His “work” never ceases. We could not live a second without His sustaining principle. Every moment of every hour some active propulsion of creative force labours to produce a result which is perfect of its kind. On whatever day we sow our wheat we cannot stop its growing on Sundays. The energies of Divine beneficence never slacken. If they did, existence itself would be at an end. Our “love” of God must therefore include our consciousness of His unresting “work” for His creation. Then, if we are to love our neighbour as ourselves, it follows that we must care for his sustenance as well as our own. In times like the present we must help him to produce food for himself and his family, even if we till the land on Sundays, which, so employed, may be considered truly “holy” days. For “it is lawful to do well on the sabbath days,” and it is better to benefit a neighbour than listen to a sermon. That is, if we accept the teaching of Christ and assume to be Christians. The times are pressing; the necessity for food production urgent; and men owe it as a duty to the land God gives them that it should yield sufficient to keep the population in health and safety. Therefore, if this needful, noble work has to be done quickly, there is no sin, but rather great virtue and self-sacrifice, in working on Sundays as well as weekdays during a time of war and stress. If any of the clergy can quote a single one of Christ’s own words forbidding necessary work on Sundays, let them do so. Christ’s own words, remember! They are generally ignored by all Churches. Had they ever been obeyed, the purity and strength of a perfect Faith would, long ere this, have exterminated War. Now, all good “Christian” clergy, who object to necessary national work on Sundays, produce your Master’s warrant for such action--if you can! I say you cannot!

THE WAR LOAN

HOW IT MIGHT BE INCREASED

(_Published in the “Pall-Mall Gazette”_)

We are all bound for victory. Every nerve and sinew of every man and woman in Imperial Britain is bent on the task of winning it, not only for ourselves, but for the whole civilised world. America knows, and the intimidated and secretly tampered with neutrals also know, as well as we do, that the full triumph of the Allies means their great peace as well as ours--their advantage, their progress, their commerce, as well as ours. That brave and straight-speaking hero of science, Thomas Edison, recently said: “The people of the world have willed that they shall be their own masters, and what the people will is sure to come to pass.” True enough, it is the people only who can realise every aim, every ideal, every conquest; and in this matter of the War Loan they can raise a veritable mountain of gold if they so determine. But--there is a “but” in their willingness: an obstacle in the race--they will not give as much as they would if they have to realise that some of it or any of it may be used to pay wages and provide food for German foes dwelling in our very midst.

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Think of it! Is it reasonable, is it just, to ask this patient, docile, strong, and law-abiding people of Britain to give their lives, their homes, their children, their time, with all their service and money, towards the vigorous and incessant prosecution of the war, when they know that there are more than 20,000 German foes kept at large in this realm, free to do as they will? Twenty thousand, who go about in all towns and villages unchallenged, listening, spying, noting every coign and circumstance of vantage, and often (assuming to be English themselves) using persuasion to prejudice the Loan among the uninstructed classes.

Twenty thousand enemies, prepared and ready to work devastation at the first opportunity, while we “hush up” all that may seem unchivalrous or to the dear creatures’ detriment! Is it right that these same Germans should have their own meeting places and restaurants in London as freely as if they were in Berlin? And, to add insult to the injury of the whole position, is it even sane that our authorities should actually permit Germans to work in our munition factories? Germans who, when they leave the works and go to their eating houses, take off their munition badges and spit on them in token of their contempt for Britain, even while they are accepting British pay and eating British food!

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What does it mean, this employment of Germans in British munition factories? Death-dealing explosions, of course! What else can any one, not entirely a drivelling idiot, expect? Is it likely that a German will make shells absolutely as they should be made for the destruction of his own countrymen? No; he would rather burn down the whole factory!--and he does if he gets the chance. Nor can he be blamed; it is the authorities who are to blame for putting him in the way of temptation to murder. There is something so “dumb-driven, cattle-like” in the sheer stupidity of two or three of our Governmental Departments that one is fain to compassionate them as one might compassionate sheep bumping their heads against a stone wall and expecting to get through.

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If a house is threatened with burglary, is it reasonable to ask the burglar in on a “dine and sleep” visit? Yet that is what is being done with the Germans in our country to-day. And it is not possible that our people can or will rise to their full strength, either in service or in money, as long as they are affronted by the presence of the enemy in the centres of their business and social life. The extraordinary indulgence shown to the Huns in London is a perpetual worry to our French friends, who cannot understand it. They discuss it and deplore it as a sign of weakness. But whatever it is, we may be sure it will not be allowed to last. Once the people take the law into their own hands nothing will stop them. _Après ça le deluge!_

No spitting on British munition badges then! No extra allowances of food to German prisoners while British folk are ordered to measure their rations! No “official” posts for men with German wives! Taken as a whole, the position is more than scandalous. The British people have every right to demand that their own land shall be cleansed of all the associates of the pirates and murderers who slay their men, women, and children without mercy, and who yet remain here, living at the nation’s expense. Every German at large in these islands is a walking “wireless” of swift and useful information to headquarters. Each new device of Britain for worsting the foe is at once conveyed to those most interested, and our newspapers, frequently more zealous than discreet, lend their aid by giving details, and often illustrations, of the latest of our scientific inventions for warfare.

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