The Egois Vol 1 No 2

7/27/2019 The Egois Vol 1 No 2

1/20

Published the 1st and 15th ofeach month.

T H E E G O I S TA N I N D I V I D U A L I S T R E V I E W .

Formerly theNEW FREEWOMAN.N o . 2. VOL. I. T H U R S D A Y , J A N U A R Y 1 5 t h , 1 9 1 4 . S I X P E N C E .

Assistant R I C H A R D A L D I N G T O N .Editors L E O N A R D A . C O M P T O N - R I C K E T T .

Editor: D O R A M A R S D E N . B . A .CONTENTS.

S K Y S C A P E S AND G O O DWILL.V I E W S AN D C O M M E N T S .M . DE R E G N I E R ' S L A S T B O O K .

B y Richard Aldington.A C U R I O U S H I S T O R Y . By EzraPound.

Serial StoryT H E H O R S E S OF D I O M E D E S .

B y Remy de Gourmont.( C h . 1 9 . ) L e a v e s .

T H E D R A M A OF I D E A S S I N C EI B S E N . By Storm Jameson.

T H E H O U S E K E E P E R . Poem. ByRobert Frost.

T H E P U B L I C O W N E R S H I P OFT H EA R T I S T . By Huntly Carte r.

O N I N T E R F E R E N C E WITH THEE N V I R O N M E N T . By StevenT . Byington.

A N T I - H E L L E N I S M . By Richard 35Aldington.

P E N U L T I M A T E P O E T R Y . By 36Richard Aldington.

T w o F R E N C H B O O K S . By 36Madame Ciolkowska.

C O R R E S P O N D E N C E . 38

S K Y S C A P E S ANDGOODWILL.

I F the skill of a doctor were bespoken to effect thecure of a madman, and he proceeded to attemptthe systematising of the insane ravings whilegiving no heed to the existence of the madness onewould say there was little to choose from in soundness of mind between doctor and patient. Ye t noone marvels when from all those wh o have a nostrumto offer as a cure for the disease of civilisation and itscomplications no voice is heard drawing attention tothe species of sickness which is its antecedent cause.It remains nameless and unsuspected, to be indicatedonly by a description of its symptoms.

It begins with the failure of the self-assertiveprinciple of the vital power : a failure of courage.Tolerated, it acts on the power of the heart andthins it out to a degree at which it is toolight to retain its seat there, and forthwith mountsto the head where transmutatio n begin s. T h e powero f the heart, already grown virtueless and thin,distills poison ous c lammy vap our s which emerg efrom the head. As they gro w denser they settle,a heavy cloud of mist about the herd. Descending,they breathe a film upon the eyes and dim thesenses. Within, the heart left tenantless of power iscontracted by ghostly handsthe hands of fear. Theface becomes pallid under the Thought-wreaths withthe chiliness of fear. The vapours become thebreath of his nostrils and are breathed in as Dutyand Circumspection. They penetrate each limb andfibre, inoculate with obedience and virtue. Thehands fold meekly: the man wal ks with c ircum spection. He is already civilised : he awaits merely theidiosyncracy of the particular civilisation.

A civilisation is the attempted working out of aScheme of Salvation : a plan of escape. It is the imperfect form built upfrom the perfected plan which thereligious philosophies of the "grea t" "cons t ruc t ive""thinkers " of its agehave projected. For it is notmerely that a race of men bleached white with thefailure of courage would do w e l l with a prelaidscheme of action : they refuse to move on withoutone. They bleat for a Deli vere ra grea t constru ctive thinkeras sheep for a shepherd. Beingwithout prescience, without inner compelling desire,they wait to be told. Thegreat world of audiencesputs out its distracted agitat ed tentacles, swayin gabout aimlessly, dumb appeals to be told how toexpend themselves, and where . Cultu re, traini ng inthe art of spending oneself, is the imperious necessityo f the bleached race, whether lettered or simple. L i f ewithout thecourage for it, is so bad a business thatthey must needs approach it with caution. Ear th iss o little to their taste that they demand the construction of a heaven. T o construct the"New Jerus alem,"work to the plan of the Deliverer, and make a heavenon earth is a task they can put their hands to. Butto l i v e for themselvesto lose "f ai th "? They wouldas soon not l i v e at all.

S o the heads steam with fresh purpose, and thethought-wreaths mount apace : until there is enoughand to spare to build Heavens without end, Hells tomatch and Attacking and Delivering Hosts ofThoughts to storm and defend. What thebattalions shall be named and how they shallbe drawn up is nobody's concern savethat of the "cons t ruc t ive" th inker whooutlines the vaporous sketch. He maps out a bold


2/20

2 2 THE EGOIST January 15th , 1914 .skyscape in smo ke , and the civil ised gro up thems elve sunder wh ate ver concept taste or convenience dictates.They fol low out the s cheme as a whole as they wou ldthe col our -s che me and reve lr ies on the floor of somegr ea t hall in imitation of its painted ceili ng. So arethe y safe : linked up with heaven . If their ea rthlyconcerns get neglected and somewhat mixed onaccount of conducting their affairs on a pattern pertai ni ng strict ly to a heave n of thought who is to saythey would not have been more hopelessly confusedhad their turned their feeble temper upon them : andwhat eve r befalls, have they not Faithin Hea ven ?A nd does not their bemusedness g i v e the earthly sorttheir chance to use them, for what they are worth?

It is the flexibility with appa ren tly unlimited powe rto ma ke adjustme nts acco rdin g to order in humannature which the Thought-weavers work upon whenr i gg in g out their canva ses. Human nature can beaccorded a summary treatment quite other from thatwhich is given to inert matter. If the Tha mes flowseast and the Severn west " t hi nk er s" wi l l acknowl edge and respec t the stubbo rn tendency ; buthuman nature mus t set itself to al l the poin ts ofthe co mpa ss if the Plan of Salvat ion demands it. Asit ca n if it wo rk s to it with Goodw ill . Th e Goodwi llc an in fact accompl ish all thi ngs . It is therefore thebase of every "constructive" scheme of thought. Itis the one factor indeed which makes them thinkable.Th a t is why it is so extolled. Wh at s ystem is therewhich does not g i v e the pa lm to the Goodwil l : the setintention to work to pattern. If the weavers ofshadows can count on this set intention, it is eno ugh .The result they can sa fe ly leave to the slow wearingdo wn of habit and const ant repetition. In time, withGo o dw i l l , the " plan " wi l l be plotted out in conductas quantities are on squared paper to g i v e a curve.Th i s " p l a n " plotted out by Goodwill into conduct wi l lsimilarly "reveal itself in our l i v e s . " The plansdiffer, and the " cu rve s " of civi lis ations differ incons eque nce , but Goodwil l is the same in them all.It is the amenabl e te achable wi l l : the flutteringtentacle, beating about uncertainly, charged withen er gy but without direction. It stands for theintention to follow if only directions are given to itif the ca nva s is stretched acro ss its sky.

The humani taria n sky sca pe under which wewa lk now ada ys and which we are all expec ted to be" re vea li ng in our live s " is the residue of rubbish leftover after the Revolution had enabled what there wasin it of ego is ti c tempe r to obta in the desired spoilunder exceptionally favourable circumstances. Thisvap our ous des ign is the maleficent legac y which hasbeen bequeathed to succeedi ng centurie s afterthe French bourgeoisie had acquired the solebenefits of the insurre ction. The lega tees havedone handsom ely by it, spread ing it out and patchingit up like old property, until now it is both neat andco mp ac t. It coul d be sketche d out on half a sheeto f notepa per and leave plenty of avail able spac e.

It dema nds first of cour se the Goodwil l which ista ke n for grante d but encour aged in well-doin g by anapot hes is of a sort. Goodwill is so essentia l that the

flutte ring little ten tacl e is elevated to the ra nk of thesacr ed, and as fraternity tak es its place in thehuman itar ian Ol ympu s. In the deification ce rem onyGo dw i l l unequivocally asse rts its intentions, andprov es itself so complete ly at the servi ce of theScheme of Things and above the l e v e l of suspicion, bydivo rci ng itself complet ely from its own selfishinte rest s, cutt ing itself off at the very outs et from thePlan's only serious r i v a l , the natural bent of theSelf. As the hymn puts it, it plumps for " None ofSe l f and all ofthe Pl a n . " (Th ere is no form ofliteratu re s o profoundly infor ming as a hymn-book .)The cere mony is the formal abandonmen t of the Self-wi l l by which Goodwill becomes Goo dwil l in e arn estas Fra ter nit y, in which rle it wi l l reappear later in thesketch as the divine parent of Huma nit y. Fr om thispoint all is plain saili ng. T o love one' s nei ghbouras oneself: to love the Public Good, i.e., all one'sneighbours put together, better than ourselves : thatis the fruitful spirit in which lis bego tte n the " morethan Brotherhood," the Oneness of Huma nit y and theR a c e , when we shall " a l l one body be . " Then shalleach little one be a s a limb to the gr ea tbody, each well-pleased that he pleases nothimself but serves the Whol e. Th e des igngrows. Dimension has entered into it, andwith it a gre at er and a less : a standa rd ofmeasu rement therefore and a seat of aut hori ty : ascale of values which indicates automatically when a"m em be r" offends. If the smaller frets the gr ea te r:perish the smaller or let it amend its w a y s . What isthe gre at er ? Wha t can it be but Huma nit y, theT y p e , the generalisation, the thing with capitals,high conception and lofty thought. How the headssteam, and thoughts mountrise to the " A l l , " the" each and eve ry " pounded out of reco gnit ion intosamene ss, bound together by the fraternal cementintoMan : the maste r-achi evement to accompl ishwhich we sink our mean differences and fo rge t ourinequalities. Has not each become equal in will ingness to serve Man. Equa l then, we are : withequal " righ ts " to protec tion of our " freedom " toperform our " d u t i e s " towa rds Man; receivingequal dues from a blindfolded " Just ic e " with ev enscales. The tableau gr ows complete : Goodwi ll :Frate rnit y : Humani ty : Pea ce : Order : L a w :Righ t s : Jus tic e: Libe rty : Manthe HumanitarianHeav en, so balanced and symmetric al that it requiresan unregar ding egoism to break into it. Unfor tunately for the picture's stability, the power ofGoodwill is not equa l to its inten tions. It islike the God of Arn old' s Empedoc les wh o" would do all things we l l , but sometimes fails in st re ngt h." Wh en it aban donsse l f -w i l l to enter the emp yrean of the god s, it doc snot annihil ate it, and the " obtuse unr eas on of theshe-in telli gence " which is the tempe r of men wh os eintelligence has had str ength to resist the torturings of intellectual feebleness, breaks regardless intothe pretty thought tight systems, only to leave themlying in the path of history broke n and awr y like shattered mechanical toys . Th e spik es and burr s on thegarm ent of the selfish man ri p into the gos sa me rthought meshes which stretch like cobwe bs ac ros s


3/20

January 15th , 1914 . THE EGOISTthe field of acti on. It is the selfish man who red ucesall the systems to inoperation : who is the despair ofthe "c on st r uc t i ve " thinkers. The power to annulany and ev er y tho ught -sy ste m is founded in theabsence of G o o d w i l l . The streak of self-determination cuts the selfish man off from the well -intentionedfrom the outset . Unless the docile temper is a v a i l able to work it on to the war p of reali ty, the " P l a n " isfutile. Its beginning and end rest on the G o o d w i l l ,which w i l l plod alo ng like an indust rious mole to" real ise " the " philosophic " scheme fashionable toits da y and gener ation. Tem per , which is ene rgyself-conscious of its direction, has plans and insight ofits own : it is not amenable to direct ion, or to moralsuasi on. Inst ead of an intention to serve Man, itsintention is to ser ve itself and i ts own soul as suitsitself : it has no " sta ndard " s ave its own sa ti sfa ction. It sa ves its soul a l i v e by resp ecting it ; bypreventing it from being merged with blunted character isti cs into anythin g elsethe whole or anythingother. It holds by the instinct that emergence fromthe herd is the proof posit ive that it is not of theherd ; that to be consci ous of its eme rge nce is itsdistinction and master achievement, and to maintainand accentu ate it is its supre me busi ness ; to make itmore and more of its " own " kind, unique; to weedout that which is alien to itself; to be " si nc er e"thr ough and thro ugh ; to free itself from all elementsnon-selfish : this is the work to which it finds it has anatural bent, and by it, it makes itself impregn able ;incapabl e of bein g broken into or broke n down. Itis the instinct for its own perman ence, its immo rtali tymay be, which, without reg ard, eat s up or cas ts outevery particle of G o o d w i l l . Hence the futility for allsave the herd, of all schemes of salvation based onG o o d w i l l , and the value which temper sets upon itsant ago nis ms equal ly with its attr action s. The one isas essential as the other for that light and shade inwhich indi vidual diffe rentiation finds itself clear . To beincapable of being repelled by any of the brethrenis at least as much death in l i fe as to be incapable ofbeing attr acted . Antago ni sm, not for what is badfor the fancy picturethe community and the racebut for that which repels the something within oneself, independent of its relat ion to the scheme ofvalues, is as valuablemore exciting if not as comfort ableas attr action. Oh univer sal brotherhood,universal l o v e , samenes s, monotony, extinct ion !Mankind pressing onward to Unity, swept forwardas by one impulse to the bosom of the Type ! L i k ethose swine which it says somewhere, were sweptinto the Ga dar ene Se a !

Happily the nightmare l i v e s mainly only inthe p icture : in real ity, individuals pai r off in twoand threes or scrap among themselves. Liniversalbroth erhood is mainly subscribed to by people verycap abl e of gi vi ng the salut ary cut to the simplebrother foolish enough to assume that they mean it.Th e fact which misl eads, and enc our age s the notionthat Goodwill is more than a thought -mist for any noto f the herd is the exte nsio n of the im aginat ive areaby the wid e sweep of the senses , wher eby th ing swhich one sees, hears or hears of, become part of themental landscape; and as such are subjected to efforts

which would change them to our liki ng. One mak eseffort to remo ve unsight ly feature s which disaffect usin those about us from a mot ive like that whichwould impel us to remov e an uns ightl y structurewhich faced one' s window. Not for the sak e of thestructure, but for the sake of our personal comfor t.But with more than that no one has truck with. Anything beyond that must be left to be indicated on the" Plan " : as n is left to indicate the power of anumber increased to infinity.

Wi th the brea king of the threa d of G o o d w i l l , thehumanitarian philosophy would unravel at a sing lepull, like a chain -sti tched seam would if the rig htthread were seized. Humanity is robbed of its"pr inc ip le" and dissolves soulless when egoists breakin upon frat erni ty. It f a l l s apart into its componentindividual s like the sand from mortar, if thecohering lime were removed. Its "p r og r es s, "become the prog res s of a non-entity, vani shes andwith it the source of authori ty which in its nameadvised and admonished individuals. What" progress " there may be, becomes a progres sio n inthe individuals themselves, which follows individuall a w s , each being a law to himself. Authori ty go ne ," protection " goes, and " rig hts " g o with it. The reare no righ ts without protect ion. Anyt hing of" rights " which is not might is " bestowed," " permi tt ed ," and only with the protec tion of Authori tycan there be adequate bestowal and permission.Author ity shatter ed, the only right is migh trig ht towhat one can get, that is : one 's just dues. Th eeasy assumption that one has a rig ht to anyt hin g,livelihood, " equitable ret urns ," comfort, liberty, orl i fe itself shrink like phantoms in day light . Wh enGoodwill is gone rights can be had for the command ing for the power to enforce the mand nocheaper.

Liberty too is impossible without protection. Lib ert yis nine parts coercion, and the coercion of the weak,the only ones who make appeal for libertyis exercised through authori ty. Lib ert y, the plaint of thefeeble, is the "assu mpt ion " that the strong must staythe stren gth of their a rm : if they refuse, autho ritymust compel them. Of cou rse authori ty and thepowerful run together, as like to l i k e ; but that doesnot enlighten the liber taria ns. The y still appeal thatthe right hand shall shack le the left : it is thei rtrustfulness.

Th e tenth part of liberty is the claim to be " f r e e . "A ll clai ms are ea sy, but the clai m to be tree is eas yof enforcement : which not all claims are . By thesimple process of abandonment , one can be free ofmost things. R e l a t i v e l y very few persons a re heldcaptive in prisons or bele agured cities. Most canhav e as much freedom as they wan t : the truth isthat they do not want it. Freed om even as aconcept is neg ati ve, and the th ing s one t rulywants are posit ive. People are not gre atl y agit ate dby that which they desi re to be rid of ; it is the des ireto have possessi on which makes their prob lem, andthose who call out for freedom desire, not free dom,but property, and property is won and held only invirt ue of the possess ion of power. Th e plaintiv eappeal s of those who say they want liberty but whomean that they want to be pre sent ed with proper tyand to be supported in its pos ses sion can De met only


4/20

24 THE EGOIST January 15th, 1914.when the path etic ple ader s decide to increase theirpo wer to get and hold ; or to support in power ast ro ng auth ori ty to whic h they can mak e appea l forappr opr iat ion and protection ; or to pers uade thepowerful alr eady in poss essi on to a volunt ary act ofgrace towards the weak and non-possessing.

Th e second method has been tried, is being and islikely to be for s ome time to come ; the th ird is themetho d which by common consent of all orators andclergy sound s the best : on all occa sions sa cred orprofane : it is the method firmly beli eved in by all thefeeble and none of the strong. It is the milleniumarrived at by way of Liberty, L o v e and Humanity.

The first is the one the poor in spirit and pocketha ve no hea rt for ; it has no friends ; it di sma ys therich as much as it sickens the poor, and in the longinterval which is likely to elapse before it is put onits tria l, the rav ell ing thread of the humanitariancanvas w i l l be cau ght up and the arr ay of va porouscombatants in the army of Humanity, the entireassemblage of the Delivering Hosts of Thought w i l lwrea the themselv es out like a painted battle until thereal flesh and blood combat is ready to beg in. Th epoor w i l l continue to lay cla im to right sto look for

the advent of a liberty they can never see; they w i l l" clai m " an equal ity with those with whom they arenot equal ; cla im the " just ice " which as sumes a non-exi sti ng equal ity : a just ice which is not jus t. Andas they assume their possession of " r i g h t s " in theseclaims, they will-being in truth a humble and indoctrinated peopleassume the duties to correspond,and perform the serv ices . Thei r servi ces w i l l beaccepted : the clai ms rejected. The quid pro quo theywil l obtain w i l l be a clear title to the vir tue s, thereward for which is laid up in He av en , high and awaybehind the Sky-scape and the stout form of Humanity.

Of the property which they want when they ask forlibert ynot one jot. To get that they would requireto seize and thieve, and thieving is not presc rib ed onthe S k y - s c a p e . Nor is it comp at ibl e with vir tue whenexercised on a humble scale, and who can hope theywil l ever rob on the noble one, generously and likegent leme n? If one of them were cau ght red-handed, he would be found to be smug gl in g away acan of milk : which is hopeless as th ie ving.S c a r c e l y in our time w i l l they need to take in andpack away the humanitarian canvasunless indeedthere is force and a sting in irony.

V I E W S AND C O M M E N T S .T HI S time it is hedonism. It was nominalism, andhas been realism, intuitionism, individualism,

Socialism. G i v e n time, and the catholicity ofthese pages, we shall in the opinion of one or otheroff our readers rehearse the entire procession of ismsand sch isms , whether ancient, mediaeval or modern.Th e complime nt paid to the wealth of our eruditionwould no doubt be plea santand wholly undeser veddid it not clash with our egoistic temper, whichcompe ls us to protest as to our status. Our modest ynotwithstandi ng, we protest that we brew our ownmalt : we are not bott lers and ret ail ers : we are in thewholesale and produ cing line of business . If ourbeer bear s a resembla nce in flavour to other bra nds,it is due to the simila rity of taste in the make rs." Sti rne ria n " therefore is not the adejective fittinglyto be applied to the egoism of T H E E G O I S T . Whatthe appro priate term would be we can omit to state .Having said thi s, we do not seek to min imise theamou nt of Sti rne r which may be traced herein. Th econtrary rather, since having no fear that creativegeni us folded its win gs when Sti rner laid down hispen, we woul d glad ly credit to himunlike so manyof the individ ualis ts who have enriched themselvessomewhat at his handsthe full measure of hisast ound ing creat ive ness . Fo r it is not the smallnessin measure of what one takes away from genius oneadmi res which is credi table. It is a very old storythe comedy of disci plesh ipthat thoug h the banqueto f wisd ow is spr ead and open to al l-comers thenumb er of the fooli sh abroa d does not materi allydiminish. W e may tak e from wher e we please , but" how much " dep end s on how much we can . Th eweal th of the feast is the a f f a i r of the hosts : capacityto tak e from it conc erns only the guest . Since thenwe recognise his value, why protest that we havedrawn at the stream of his creation into thimbles?W e ta ke what we ca n, and our capac ity is notmeas ure d by thimbleful s. And becau se it is not," Stirnerian egoism " has not as Mr. Meulen suggestsin the corr espo nden ce columns " t a k e n such a firmhold " of us. If that appears a paradox to ourcor respo nde nt we ask him to wor k it out. It is real lyvery simple and str aig htf orward if he w i l l bear inmind that we are very great pots and can thereforeafford to be honest. S o few people can.

We can now consider Mr. Meul en' s dictum that" e g o i s m is the doctrine that the motive of everyhuman action is the pleasu re of the pe rf or mer ."T H E E G O I S T is an odd quart er wherein to present aword li ke " Pleas ure " as the main te rm in a definition. What is "P l e as ur e? " The text-books evenw i l l point out that there is a confusion : that thereare concret e act ivit ies which may be call ed"pleasures," which however vary with person, moodand circumstances, and if insisted upon are likely tobe cla ssed as nuisances and a bore. But " Ple asu re "the vague generalisation it is impossible to define.It is of the order of the stat ic concept which have thefunction of tombstones among wor ds. Tom bst one s,as Mr. A l l a n Upward points out in his illuminating"Divine My st er y, " are intended to keep the spiritdown : imprisoned underneath in the vault, and thatis what words like "P l ea su r e" man age to do. The yblur over with an abstract generality the positiveactive element in that which they pretend to name.Their only use is to cre ate se eming ly irre concilab leopposi tes, pl ayi ng with which ma na ge s to keep theprofes sors and schol ars from swell ing the ran ks ofthe unemployed. Th ey g o in pai rs : and " self-sacrifice" is the verbal opposite which nicely balances" Pl ea sur e. " Both represent mental confusion, andwe suggest to Mr. Meulen the advisability ofabandoning both to the exclusive use of scholars andclergymen : putting in thei r plac e the act ive ver balform which comes nearest to ex pr es si ng wha t theysuggest rather than what they poss ess of mean in g.To " please " oneself is to set on e' s en ergiesmovi ng in a channel in which they run rea dil y andwith comfort : that is a definition which for themoment w i l l do for " Pleasure " ; to sacrifice oneselfis to set them on enter pris es wher e they movereluctant ly and with hardsh ip. Th e motor- power inboth cas es come s from the s e l f : the motive is self-satisfaction and fulfilment. Whe th er the iss ue issati sfact ory or not is more or l ess accidenta l : wit hjudgment it tends to become less rather than more.To " ple ase onese lf " and to " sacrif ice onese lf " arein the main, activ itie s by the way , li ke the pa ss in gthro ugh roads of va ry in g quality in the cou rs e of along journey. A sturd y tra vell er w i l l take them as


5/20

January 15th , 1914 . THE EGOIST 2 5over a favourable tract w i l l be undertaken and repea ted solely to enjoy the ea se and facili ty with whic hit ca n be cov ered : as in ad va nc e the dance rs w i l lmove con ti nuo usl y round the floor. And on the otherhand, a difficult stretch w i l l be under taken andrepeated in order to enjoy the ultimate satisfaction atnot h av in g been defe ated by its rig ou rs : as in themore difficult feats of mountain-climbing or in anyof the " task s " of " self-sacrifice " which men w i l lset themselves to prove they can go through withthem. It is a healthy method of hardeni ng andwea th er in g, and grea t fun as lon g as no one is mistaken by it. Whether men are " p l e a s i n g " themselves or " sacri ficing " them selv es they are enjo yingthemselves very w e l l indeed, particularly in thelatt er if they ha ve an audienc e. Proba bly bec aus e inthe lon g history of exper ien ce the " hardeni ng "process makes men more fit and inclined to ventureinto new fields than does the lingering over the facileand comf ortable , the " harden ing " alway s win s theappla use of gener al common-sens e, and it is beca useof this that instead of calling itself doggedness orsport, the " hardener s " have become accustomed toget thei r solat ium in a left-handed way by cal lin gtheir form of amusement "sel f- sac ri fi ce. " If anyonespeaks of "s el f- sa cr if ic e" it is a certainty they arespeak ing to an audience, real or imag inar y. The yare get ti ng at someon e. Th ey would call it agood old sport if they felt they were quit e, quitealone.

W e hav e of cou rse been spe aki ng of " plea sures "definitely enter ed upon as di versi ons and " self-sacrifice " adop ted as a tonic with a str ong probabi lityof amus emen t in the form of applaus e roundin g it offat the finish. Both are hobbie s, off the tr ack of li fe 'smain courses. The "s el f- sa cr if ic e" which hassprung up by instinct and veined itself into the meshof l ife without any thought of pleasure or an audienceis not so eas y to expla in. Per haps the featurewhich best helps to explain it is the fact that it neverreg ard s itself as " sel f-sac rif ice." The term is appliedby onl ooke rs after the even t. Th e " sacrifices " oflove in any of it s fo rms in the eye s of the mak ersof them are desires whose frustration would beresent ed in a deg ree which itself explains the sacrifice.Of the desi re to alle viat e suffer ing, and the supposedexist ence of goo dwill we have already spoken. Inrelation to the former it is to be noted that sensitiveness, the form to which vi tal power runs , and thepower to inflict suffering is curbed by the sensitivenesswhich makes the imagination of the suffering causedproporti onately hateful. W e mind our manners andou r way s for our own sak e. As for good wil l, it hasno real exist ence. Sens iti venes s, stupidity, and fearexplain ever y form of its seeming appearance . Thefeeble or unintelligent man is read y to be pers uadedinto a belief that it ex is ts beca use the s chemes whichare erected on it as a basi s seem to meet hisdifficulties. But he is thinkin g of good wil l as e xist entnot so much in himself as in the powerful : he expectsthem to adopt its precepts : whereas they, on the contrary, merely see in it, a happy psychology for"g ov er nm en t by consen t." The poor expect " goodw i l l " to g i v e them " liberty " ; the rich look to it tosecure a docile ser vin g commu nity . In a fewthousand years, after experimenting with every"c ons tr uct iv e" scheme of government, " d i v i n e "and human, men w i l l begin to understand that theonly w i l l existent is S e l f - w i l l .

Th er e remains the concept of chiv alry : thest ro nge st evi denc e to be offered in support of " self-sacrifice." If we allo w the activi ty sug ge sted bychivalry to emerge from under the weighty slab ofthe concept , it stan ds as the fairly habit ual pra cti ceamon g men and wome n of volu ntar ily stepping intoa posit ion of da ng er in orde r to al low some otherweaker than themsel ves to take up the more advan tag eou s position. Th e difficulty about chival ry is thatthe chivalrous are at once so noble and modest that

they really cannot be run through a cross- exami nati on.One is thrown back upon one's own feebly chivalroustendencies abou t which to be brutal ly honest.First,perhaps foremoston spectacular occasionsat any rate, one is chivalrous because it is thetradit ion : one is cou ra geo us for l ack of the p luckto be a co ward . And then its action is not reli able :it is jumpy and at the mer cy of ne rves : it is notlikely that there are m any " heroe s " who canno tconceive the possibility of maki ng one in a st ampe de.

Nerves," in fact, appe ar to be an integra l concern(" nerves " in the popu lar sense , that is) inchivalrous conduct. Unless caugh t in one' s feeblermoments, there is something steadying in thespectac le of dis tr aug ht nerv es in another person :even when they are occasioned by a danger in whichboth share. Terr or has the appea rance of being outof all proportion to the occasion, no matter howseriou s : and the feeling puts the situation in a newperspective. Whatever the danger is, so great a fearappears e x c e s s i v e . It is st ran ge how comm onpl acea matter death may look upon occasion, and it is onan occasion when the terr or of others has made itassume such diminished significance that the genuinelychival rous action is performed. It is prompte d bypity and a sense of superior tranq uil ity; and the actof " sacrifice " becomes easi er than the imaginationof another 's excessi ve distr ess. " Chiv alry " becomesa question of sensitiveness therefore, which acceptsthe lesser of two e v i l s . If that is not the frame ofmind of " chival ry " one would like an a ccount of itfrom one who is chivalrous.

The " way s of men " are complex and var io us,but they are not past finding out. Sp ea ki ng humblyas in the presence of " const ruct ive " thin kers, onewould suggest that, observed as an artist observesand not as a moralist, they would be as explicit asthe " way s of th in gs, " that it is only the overlayingby the " constructive " plan that confuses the simpleself-assercive principle. Re mo ve the plan, with itsunreal labels of sins and virtu es, its duties , its" oughts " and " shoulds," and the human riddle w i l lhave its chance to declare itself.

Mr. Tucker has informed us that the argumentcannot proceed until we hav e expl ain ed somet hing ,and on looking thro ugh the issue s of October 1 s t ,November 15t h and later, to find the some thi ng, wegather that Mr. Tucker "thinks that we t h i n k " itis a sign of insanity for people to " asso cia te formutual protection on a bas is of a contr act definingthe protective sphe re, " because we said Pro udho n'soutline of the S o c i a l Contract with the pains andpenalties attaching thereto seemed as valuable as ascheme for " building a block of flats as high as St.Paul's with lily-stalks for materials, with a prospectus describing the j o y s of liv ing therein and thepenalties for occupants who damaged the joinery."Weil our commen t implies nothing of the kind. Itis as natural to make contractswhich are nothingmore than mutual promises writ impressive withpenalties at tache das it is for men to lau gh,talk and sigh or do gs to bar k. Th at menmake promises anew in face of a world ofbroke n promises shows how inera dicabl e the instincti s . But as a matter of fact we had not arrived atthe point of considering whether contracts weregood or bad. The theatricality of P rou dho n'sstyle with its faked matter and pompous mannerrendered it imposs ible. One would ha ve hadto ima gin e oneself Cromwell refusin g the c ro wn,or Mr. Beerbohm Tree , or a poached e gg ,before ente ring into its spirit . As for the l i l y -stalks (it is as horrible as a dental operation to haveto apply a two-month- old joke ) they were intendedto refer to M. Pro udho n's assu mpti ons re gar di nghuman nature. W e meant that the kind of peoplehe describes never walked on earth : that they wereunrea l : figures with no genuin e insi des , stuffed outwith tracts from the Church of Humanity and theEthical Society.


6/20

26 THE EGOIST January 15 t h , 1914 .

M . de R g n i e r ' s Last Book.W I T H the modesty natural to a man with a European reputa tion and with the same langu idgrace he used in offering us his "C or be il le sdes Heur es, " M. de Rg ni er * now beckons a slav e tol a y before us a lacque red tray. Le Plat eau de La qu eis not the mos t si gnifi cant of the wor ks for which heha s found an aesthetic title, but it cont ains manycurious trifles and not a few beautiful little pieces.Someone once spoke of the Greek Anthology as the" c a r v e n cherry-stones" of Greek poetry; the Plateaude La qu e contai ns the carven cherry-st ones of M. deRgnie r ' s prose. E v e n a foreigner could neverf a i l to preceive and delight in the workmanship ofthese sketc hes ; howe ver slight they are, howe verincredible or bizarre, you have al way s in read ingthem the ple asu re of their incompa rabl e styl e. Ifyo u would know how to make a little story out oftwo old ladies playing bezique, out of an old bachelorin lov e with an ac aci a tree, out of the most artificialof Vene tia n incidents, you must exami ne the bric-a-brac extended on this lacquered tray and note carefu l ly the method and exp res si on of the artist . Itwould have been very easy to make them banal; itwa s difficult to make them effective; but in spite ofthe " d e l'Ac admie F ra n a i se " after his name, inspit e of the cl amo urs of les jeu nes, an impar tialreade ror one prejudiced in his favou rwill allowat once that M. de Rg ni er has lost neither hisima gin ati on nor his techni que. If we do not recommend him for the Nobel prize it is because we feelhe may be more fittingly honoured in the lofty seclusion of those old Italian gardens assigned to him byone of his contemporaries.

M . de Rg ni er is ver y imagina tive ; he loves thepas t with an epicu rean reli sh, and toler ates thepresent with a kind of polished contempt. Itamu ses him to supply the deficiencies which bel ongto every present time by means of this l i v e l yfaculty ; he finds, I should imag in e, little pleasu rein ca ta lo gu in g the types of the banlieu or theappe ara nce of the houses in the Boule vard Rasp ail .It is for this reason that he prefers Venice to everyother city in the world and invents a mythical Chinaand a fabulous Orient as a stage for his imaginarycha rac ter s. His love of Venic e is quite touching ;he see ms to know ever y rio and calle, is as much athome in the Za tt er e as in the Piaz za of Sai nt Ma rk .He seems never so happy as when setting out in hisgon dol a to some imag ina ry gard en on the Giudecca,or perhaps to the real one there which he concealsunder another name.

The Venetian stories in Le Plateau de Laque aresom e of the best in the book. The Tes tam ent ofCount Armi nat i is quite the sort of gr isl y story onewould expect to hear of the crumbling palaces ofV e n i c e , and the idea of hiding the skeleton underthe clothes of the maske d mannekin w as admira ble,especially to anyone who knows the wax figures atthe Museo C i v i c o , which M. de Rg ni er assu res uswere the companions of this other horrib le one. Andthe curious tale of the maniac, and the other halfcynical one of the " Colli er de Ver re " ar e a dmir ablyVenet ian. The re is a great deal of Veni ce in thisshort description :

" E l l e (the v i e w ) offrait toujou rs mes y eu x lecanal de la Giudec ca avec ses gro s bateau x amar rsle lon g du quai, et, au del du cana l, dominant lesfaades barioles de l 'autre r i v e , les nobles archi-

* L e Plate au de Laq ue, par Henri de Rgni er, del 'Acadmie Fran ais e. Pari s Mercure deFrance.

tecures palladie nnes de l' gl is e du Redent ore, dontles cloches mlent si bien leurs harmonies arie nnesaux sifflets des vapore tti et au gmi sseme nt d essirnes marines."

I do not think M. de Rgnier would offer this book asthe flower of his genius ; it contains his " epidciktika"that is, pieces writt en to dis pla y a deli cate talent ofdescription. Th e story called " E x - V o t o " is far tooslender to be anything more than a brillia nt techn icalaccomplishment, and I feel almost certain that L eSabre wa s writt en solely for the purp ose of permitting M. de Rgnier the pleasure of describing abazaar at Dam as cu s which he had never seen. Onthe other hand, it might be asse rt ed that the" Revol t of Tai'-Pou " is almos t diada cti c, if it hadnot such a perfect ly acceptab le mora l. Th e reflections and acts of Ta-Pou are admirable in theextreme. To power, he s a y s , it is permit ted us t osacrifice virt ue and love and oneself, but bea utyshould be preferred to ever ythi ng. Ma y we suspectthat this also is M. de Rg ni er 's belief? I shouldbe happy to think so, for beauty has now become avery deserted queen indeed.

R I C H A R D A L D I N G T O N .

A Curious History.T H E following statement having been received byme from an author of known and notab letalents, and the state of the cas e bei ng now,so far as I know, preci sely what it wa s at the dat eof his last letter (November 30th), I ha ve thoughtit more appropriate to print his communicationentire than to indulge in my usual biweekly commentupon books published during the fortnight.

Mr. J o y c e ' s statemen t is as foll ows :Th e followin g letter, which g iv es the hist ory of a

book of stories , was sent by me to the Pr es s of theUnited King dom two year s ag o. It was publishedby two newspapers so far as I know : " Sin n Fe in "(Dublin) and the " Northern Whig " ( B e l f a s t ) .

V i a della Barriera Vecchia 32 III.,Trieste,

Austria.S I R , M a y I ask you to publish this letter, whichthrows some light on the present condit ions ofauthorship in Eng lan d and Ir ela nd?

Nearly six years ago Mr. Grant Richa rds,publisher, of London, signed a contract with me forthe publicat ion of a book of stories wri tten by me ,entitled "Du bl in er s. " Some ten months later hewrote a sk in g me to omit one of the s tori es andpassages in others which, as he said, his printerrefused to set up. I declined to do either, and acorrespondence began between Mr. Grant Ric har dsand myself which last ed mor e than three months.I went to an international juris t in Ro me (wher e Il i ved then) and was advi sed to omit. I decli ned todo so, and the MS . wa s returned to me, the publ isherrefusing to publish, notwithstandi ng his pl edgedprinted word, the contract remaini ng in my poss ession.

S i x months after wards a Mr. Hone wro te to mefrom Marseilles to as k me to submit t he MS . toMessrs. Maunse l, publishers, of Dublin. I did so ;and after about a year, in J u l y , 1909, Messrs.Maunsel signed a contract with me for the publicationof the book on or before 1st Sept ember , 1 9 1 0 . InDecember, 1909, Messr s. Mauns el's manage r beg gedme to alter a passage in one of the stories, " Ivy Dayin the Committee Ro o m, " wherein some referen cewa s made to Ed wa rd V I I . I agre ed to do so, much


7/20

January 15th , 1914 . THE EGOIST 27against my w i l l , and altered one or two ph ras es.Messrs. Maunsel continually postponed the date ofpublication and in the end wrote, asking me to omitthe pa ss ag e or to change it radically. I declined todo either , pointing out that Mr. Grant Richards, ofLondon, had raised no objection to the passagewhen Edward VI I . was a l i v e , and that I could notsee why an Irish publisher should raise an objectionto it when E dward V I I . had passed into history.I suggested arbitration or a deletion of the passagewith a prefatory note of explanation by me, butMessrs. Maun sel would ag re e to neither. As Mr .Ho ne ( who had wri tte n to me in the first inst ance)disclaimed all responsibility in the matter and anyconnecti on with the firm I took the opinion of asolicitor in Dubl in, who advised me to omit thepassage, informing me that as I had no domic ile inthe United Kingdom I could not sue Messrs. Maunselfor breach of cont ract unless I paid 100 into cou rt,and that even if I paid 100 in to cour t and suedthem, I should ha ve no chance of get ting a verdic tin my favour from a Dublin jury if the passage indispute could be taken as offensive in any way to thelate K i n g . I wrote then to the present K i n g ,George V . , enclo sing a printed proof of the sto ry,with the passage therein marked, and begging himto inform me whether in his v i e w the passage(certain allusions made by a person of the story inthe idiom of his social cla ss) should be withheld frompublication as offensive to the memory of his father.His Maj est y's priva te secretary sent me this reply :

Buckingham Palace.The privat e secretary is commanded to ack now

ledge the receipt of Mr. James J o y c e ' s letter of the1st instant, and to inform him that it is inconsistentwith rule for his Majest y to exp re ss his opinion insuch ca ses . Th e enclosur es are returned herewith.

11th August, 1 9 1 1 .(The p as sa ge in disput e is on pp. 1 93 and 194 of

this edition from the words But look to the wordsplay fair.)

I wrote this book seven year s ag o and hold twocontr acts for its publicat ion. I am not even allo wedto explain my case in a prefatory note : wherefore,as I cannot see in any quarter a chan ce that my rightsw i l l be protected , I hereby g i v e Messrs. Maunselpublicly permission to publish this stor y with whatch ang es or deletions they ma y please to make , andshall hope that what they may publish may resemblethat to the writing of which I gave thought and time.Their attitude as an Ir ish publ ish ing firm may bejudged by Iri sh public opinion. I, as a writ er,protest agai nst the sy stems (legal, social, and ceremonious) which have brought me to this pass.

Tha nki ng you for your court esy,I am, Sir,Y o u r obedient servant,

J A M E S J O Y C E .1 8 t h August, 1 9 1 1 .I waited nine months after the publication of this

letter. Th en I went to Irel and and entered intonegoti ations with Mes srs . Maunsel . The y askedme to omit from the collection the st ory , " AnEnco unt er, " pass ages in " Two Gall ant s, " the" B o a r d i n g Hou se ," " A Painful C a s e , " and toch an ge eve rywhere throug h the book the names ofresta urant s, c ake-s hops, rail way stations, public-house s, laundries, b ars, and other places of business.A f t e r having argued against their point of v i e w da yafter da y for six wee ks and aft er h avi ng laid thematter before two solici tors (who, whil e they informedme that the publishing firm had made a breach ofcont ract , refuse d to ta ke up my case or to allowtheir n ames to be assoc iate d with it in any way) , Icons ented in des pai r to all these cha nge s on conditionthat the book wer e broug ht out withou t delay andthe or ig in al text were restored in future editions, if

such were called for. Then Me ssr s. Maunse l askedme to pay into their bank as security 1,000 or tofind two sureties of 500 each. I declined to doeither ; and they then wrote to me, informing me thatthey would not publish the book, altered or unaltered, and that if I did not make them an offerto cov er their losse s on print ing it they would sueme to recover same. I offered to pay sixty per cent,of the cost of pr int ing the first edi tion of onethousand copies if the edition were made over to myorder. Th is offer was accep ted, and I ar ran ged withmy brother in Dublin to publish and sell the. bookfor me. On the mornin g when the draft and ag re ement were to be sign ed the publisher s informed methat the matter was at an end becau se the print errefused to hand over the copi es. I took lega l advi ceupon this, and was informed that the printer couldnot claim the money due to him by the publisheruntil he had handed over the copies. I then wentto the printe r. His fore man told me that the printerhad dec ided to fo re go all clai m to the money due tohim. I ask ed wheth er the printe r would hand overthe complete edition to a London or Continent al firmor to my brother or to me if he were f u l l y indemnified.He said that the copies would ne ver le ave hisprinting-house, and added that the type had beenbroken up, and that the entire edition of onethou sand copies would be burnt the nex t da y. I leftIrel and the next day , bri ngi ng with m e a printedcopy of the book which I had obtain ed from thepublisher.

J A M E S J O Y C E .V i a Donato Bramant e 4, I I ,Trieste,

30th November, 1 9 1 3 .

The other e vents in the world of public ation havebeen the appea rance of a new vol ume of poems byArth ur Sy mo ns . Th e publish er neglect s to send it tous for revi ew. A simil ar compla int agai nst himappeared recently in " T h e Outl ook ," over a popularnovel.

" The English R e v i e w " for the month containsthe outpourings of Messrs. Crowley, Edmund G o s s e ,and Georg e Moore. Mr. Moor e has succeeded infalling below eve n his usual l e v e l of mendaciouspusillanimity.

E Z R A POUND.

S O N G 0 ' L O V E .W e w i l l go out together, you and I,To look at the flowers ;W e w i l l walk over the white rocks,L o v i n g the grass blades,And look together at the creek-ripplesWhere they sing to the water-cress;And the lit tle blue flower under the rock ledg eWill be a friend to us.W e w i l l go out together, you and I,Where are new flowers.W e w i l l say soft thi ngs to the little white on eWith the five petals,And whisper the mysteryTo the blue-bells,And the apple of the c actu s-p lantW e w i l l not forget.W e w i l l go out together, you and I,Wh isp er in g to the flowers.W e w i l l say wonderful thi ngsTo the golden-rod,And tell it allTo the mint-flower;And over the little dead thing that theW e w i l l say a mas s. [weeds chokedOne day, we w i l l go out toget her, you and I,To lo ok at the flowers. Jack M C C L U R E .


8/20

2 8 THE EGOIST January 15th , 1914.

"The Horses of Diomedes."B y R E M Y DE GOURMONT.(Translated by C . Sartoris,)

X I X . L E A V E S ." Oh ! how my l i fe is shedding its leaves."

O N coming out of the cemetery, Pellegrin joinedtheir han ds. Alo ne of men, Diom ede s, thevagabond poet, and the chance priest hadfollowed the little pa upe r's hea rse in the shape of acof fe r that candid flowers made f a l s e l y vir gina l ; allthree went under the bower of green leaves whencethe sight of recumbent slabs vouched for the certainand dignified end of all activity and of all l o v e .

Pell egri n, remem bering a previous meeting, introduced l'ab b Quentin as bein g an unparalleled priest,fa r supe rior to the clerical herd ; but the priest protested, affirming himself the most modest of apostlesalbeit torme nted by the s ingu lar ideas of art, of libertyand of bea uty. Tu rn in g tow ard s Diome des he said :

My attitude in the presence of death may haveseemed strange to you, Monsieur, for it is probablethat you are neither ignorant of the liturgies nor oftheir magic formulae? Tha t power howeve r canexe rcis e itself only on intelligenc es capable of understanding both the reci ted words and the intention alvalu e of the formu la. Th e simple wor ds " Yo u aresaved " can s a v e , but their strength is intellectual,not verba l. Th e syllables that the mind does notspiritualise are without power, either to condemn, orto absol ve. It is not the priest who delivers fromsin, it is the si nner who frees himself by the kno wledge that his bonds have just been torn asunder ; tothat voluntary act the priest brings but the aid of hishand s and the enco urage ment of his presenc e and ofa tone of solemnit y. Th e people, that is to say, allmank ind, belie ves eternall y in mag ic : believe s thatit is the words that are important ; that there are inthe code and in the ritual rubrics of which the recitation se als a mar ri age ; that one needs a costume forkilli ng and a costume for blessi ng ; that a piece ofstuff flying at the end of a staff is pro tect ive ; thatsilk is to be wor shi pped when embroidere d with thefigure of a woman in white (and linen, admirable asa tricol our, is, whe n of one hue, nothing but acurtain) ; that the communion with the infinite requiresbre ad sta mpe d with the seal of God ; that watercombine d with salt is puri fying, and combined with across, exorcising ; that a bridge would collapse if itsfirst s tone wa s not laid with ceremonial gestu re s.There is a papal magic, a state magic, and a popularmagic. All three despi se one another without understanding that they are but one and the same chameleon, va rie d in colours but unique in name : Fai th.It is beautiful b ecau se it is cordial , human, naturaland univ ers al. Hap py is he wh o believe s ! Thesimplicity of his Soul asserts the accomplishment ofhis Salvation, according to the modus by which hecan be sav ed . But let that one who does not believe,act as if he did believe, so as not to break away fromha rmo ny and so as not to die alone on the sand li kean acaleph washed up by the sea.

He spok e gently, in a slow, prec ise, and somewh atoratorical v o i c e , without hesitati on or pause exce ptwhe n intentional. Pel leg rin drank in his wor ds.Dio med es listened attenti vely, intere sted al so by thewi l f u l chin, the broad mouth, the firm nose and thearc hed fo rehead under which the ey es were fitted likepre ciou s stones in the tiara of a barb aric kin g.

He continued :One day I terrified a curate, occupied in practices

of which we could hardly justify a negro, by sayingto him : God is not as stupid as you think him to be.

I wa s wr on g. Intel ligen ce and stupidity are , withoutdoubt, forms and not degr ees of the mind. Th esuperstition which shocks us, and the act of libertywhich moves us, can have equally deep or equallyvoid meani ngs. . . . Wh at do you think ?

He had stopped suddenly, looking at Diomedes,who answered :

I think that you have just contradicted yourselfand that you are aware of it. Yes , yes . . . . I would wish to b lend con

tradict ions, I would wish to unite Faith and Intelligence.

- In disclaiming intelligence ! No , I hav e spoke n nonsen se. . . . An d ye t? It is not nonsens e, re sumed Di om ed es ; it is one

wa y of looking at things and quite tenable, forintelligence is a ladder and stupidity is a wheelbarrow. . .

Pelle grin beg an to laugh : My dear Diomed es, if you inte rwea ve meta phor s

in a philosophical discussion, night wi l l f a l l , a nightthronged with dreams. A night throng ed with dre ams. . . . Th at ,that is truly the semblance of my l i fe .

And of all l i v e s , resumed l'abb Quentin. A ssoon as a brain wishes to think, twilight descends onit. One see ks, amidst the dark nes s, one's fallenk e y s .

Y e s , said Diomedes , you would wish to openthe door of the cham ber in which Trut h con templa tesherself eternally, in sever al mirro rs hung upon thewa l l s . She smile s at herself and trifles with hercompanions whom she despises, for she is Truth.

Hav e you read Pal afo x ? Yo u must readP a l a f o x . Yo u drive me back towards magi c, Monsieur,answered the priest who thought he perceived a

raillery. But I kno w what I want . I want to helpmen to suffer and I wil l help them to unburden themselves of suffering. Tha t is why I spok e to you rdying friend the words that you heard.

But that was magic, that als o ; it wa s aconjuration.

No , it wa s the encoura gement of a soul to asoul. Wa s I rig ht?

Y o u r little poem was agreeable, Monsieur,answered Diomedes, but less so than the words ofthe litu rgy. And precise ly in that, it seemed to methat you exiled yourself from harmo ny. Th in k that,of these words, many doubtless are older than allknown religions, very old stammerings of the primitiveterror ! That which you disdainfully qualify as formulasis really verbal beauty crystallised in the memory ofthe centuries. The re are in the Ze nd -A ve st a, a fewsentences that could still console me and bless my l i feand my bread ; but they ar e unused and pe rhapsineffectual.

Words have their magic, Monsieur, and I verysincerely believe that some verses of Virgilius haveproduced incantations.

The priest seemed to pursue some inward discourse.He uttered with an insp ired look : God and l i fe . . . . L i f e within God, serious,cordial, rich with love and j o y s . . . . It is death

that made me love l i f e . It is throug h s eei ng de aththat I came to underst and how solemn l i fe is and howhappy it should be, to justify death. Ha vi ng kn owninjustice, I believed in the infinite where all isannulled and in the supremacy of God who is infinitepain and the absolute of our suf fer ings. God suffersfrom not being able to know himself and we sufferfrom not being able to kno w God. Le t us love Go d,and we shall know him ; let us go to hi s re scu e ;beloved of men, he wil l kn ow himsel f in the lov e ofmen and all l i fe of suffering shall cease and all souls,human souls and the divi ne soul, shall be beatifie d inthe Infinite. Th e creat ion of l i fe is the means ofsalvation that God in the beg inni ng of centu ries


9/20

J a n u a ry 1 5 t h , 1 9 1 4 . THE EGOIST 29ch os e for himself ; it is the mi rro r in which he wis he dto see himself but the wicke dne ss of mank indob sc ur ed the face of the ear th. An d in face of death,I dream of the uselessness of suffering and of allthese anguished lives, eternally sacrificed. I awai tthe reign of Love. And when a soul is severed fromth e life of flesh, it go es in the peaceful dar kn es s toawait the reign of Love. It suffers not, it waitsand not in vain.

Dio med es pra ised such sentiments, finding h owe verthis theology somew hat curious. Secretly he judge dthe eccle siast ic as being rather incoherent, and wouldhave preferred a country curate capable of playing" b o w l s . "

Then :" A bad tempe red opini on. . . . W ha t a dis

paraging mind I have!"Then :" Still another day during which I shall have

thought very l it tl e of myse l f. . . . A l et te r f romNo awaits me, certainly. Also, I must take awaymy portrait and those of Fanette before the adventof stupid heir s. . . . The rei gn of Love. Fanet tew as thatrather. Po or child ! "

Abruptly, he deserted Pell egr in and the priest :after a few steps, he repented : I should hav e kept Pelleg rin. I shall bore

myself to tears.He ca me back ; they had gon e." Oh ! how my life is shedding its leaves ! "He did not dare go back to Fanette's apartment,

to see once more the forlornness of the bed and thatarm-ch air in which the Sis ter of Mercy seemed tohave seated herself for all eternity.Wh er e could such vocation s be recruited, he mu sed.Wh at ho rn, s ound ing in the nigh t, could sound loudeno ugh to call tog eth er a herd of such woeful women ?T o give the whole of one's life up to death, to haveno other care than the dressing of corpses, thesolitary vigil near rigid bodies and cold faces wherethe shadow of the nostrils marks an immutable houron the putrefac tion of the cheek !

These creatures chose such a painful task probablyfrom several motives. First ly it was necessary andtraditional, inherited from the ancient mortuary corporations whose pious spade had delved so manycata comb s. The n Diom ede s admitted the impera tiveneed for salvation which inclines beings eithertowa rds sa crifice, or towar ds crime, if, as with theMussulmen, crime is one of the paths to Paradise .But especi ally the reas on of such a choice, wa s vocation, the instin ctive mar ch ing at the call of the horn,the absurd human tendency to obey the Voices. . . ." These Sisters and the men who live similarly on

death, are the coleopterous beetles of humanity.Their destiny is insuper able. The ir nerves thrill atthe perfumes of decay as other nerves thrill at all theperfumes of life, and, as l 'abb Quentin said, it isbeautiful bec aus e it is cord ial and hum an. . . . "

Pondering over males and females l iving thustoget her without c orpora l commu nion, in colonies ofone only sex, Diomedes succeeded at last in understa nd ing : bei ng of different sexes, their dermarecoile d, being of the sam e se x they attra cted eachother but chastely, as the motive of such an exilewa s precis ely sex ual inaptitude." Chas tity is by no mea ns the neces sar y compa nion

of inte llige nce , and ye t it is per hap s one of intelligen ce' s least equivocal friends. Th e principalpleasure of that state be ing the total absenc e ofsentimentalism, a state upon which souls freed fromvice, can glorify themselves . Vice is sentimentaland, perhaps, that alone makes i ts ugliness."

Then Diomedes judged himself with severity,as ha me d of ha vi ng neglecte d ideas for sentiments ,of ha vi ng accomp lished acts of love in which he had

woven that sort of pity that women wish to contemplate on bended knees before the altar of their grace.He resolv ed, without ne glect ing any of the socialattentions that hi s attitude towards Nobelle renderednecessary, to treat her only as an intellectual animalwithout other surrenderings than tho se of the fleshand of the mind.

Y e t almost immediately he thought himself stupid :" Thus I should be the dupe of my principles and

I would suffer that a concern of what is logical shoulddictate my cond uct? No ! I shall contradic t myselfif I pleas e. Bes ide s which I must experie nce eve rysentiment as well as every sensation. Nothing mustsurprise me but nothing must be indifferent to me.T o set the sail and await the wind's pleasure and ifit heads me towards a reef and towards a shipwreck,I shall still be superior to those who have never sailedbut on the saddened waters of canals choked withdead l eav es. "

(To be continued.)

The Drama of Ideas since Ibsen.T H E dramatists of the North girded up their loinsto pilla ge Ibsen . Fr om the outer ring of theimmortals, his spirit, bending to watch them,smiled, serene in the kno wle dge of their va nity .Exu lta nt or doubtful, they bore aw ay an emptychalice. So me of them wer e diss atise d with its form,and made clum sy efforts to resh ape it. All wer eassured of one thing : that it had held Rea lity . Andinto a thou san d cop ies of it they be ga n to pour theirmeasure of dramatic truths. One and all, they we reignor ant of its high sig nificance, and dra ma thatwailed or grimaced within their Theatre was a thingwithou t soul or form. Fo r Reali ty is of the spirit,born of a need to give form and meaning to the disorde r confronting the inartistic view of life. Thedrama of these men was born of intellectualrestlessness, or a des ire for ea sy fame,or a belief in the va lu e of their simi anskill. At the best, they offered a partialReality of the intellect, rep lac ing the sp iritu alcoherence of Ibsen's art by the conflict of opinion.At the wor st, they copied fact s, and imitated ges tur esand habits of speech. L i f e , in their play s, san k froma spiritual vision to an idea or an un mea nin g collection of small events and small people.

Magn anim ous, we set aside those early playwrights who attempted psych ologica l study after theNorwe gian fashion. Mag nan imou s in ver y truth,since still we suffer the dr ear y pro cess ion tha tstretches from Paula Tanqueray and Agnes Ebbsmith.In these play wrig hts wa s l i t tle unders tanding andno vitality . Bu t there were others who seized theher itag e of Ibse n's gen ius with firmer hands andclearer brains. Of these, some we re cons ciou s alik eof their deficiency and the need for con cea lin g it.They had neither the power of personality nor thesupreme dramatic vision to master the life they took.They relinquished the attempt, and concerned themselves with its conditions. Mr . Sh aw bro ugh t to thetask intellectual grea tne ss : life in his drama is tornin ra gs by the dis inte gra ting forc es of his idea s. Y e this play s remain the high est ach ieve ment of thistheatre of " int e l le ctu als . " Further , he and otherswith him mad e use of a trick much in fav our withwriters of the secondary dra ma. Th ey cried Rea lis man d Social Reform, filling the Theatre with theshouts of the market-place and the political cockpit.Mar ria ge and sexual disea se, the housing of the p oorand the evils of bettin g, free love and forced mothe rhood : anyth ing that mig ht be forced with in thelimits of a "p r o b l e m , " finely human or stupidlyban al, they took to mak e their petty conflict of the


10/20

30 THE EGOIST January 1 5 t h , 1 9 1 4 .debat ing-room and the Fabi an Kindergar ten. Outside the porta ls of their Littl e The atr es, tra ged y andcom edy , grav e-b rowed, gav e their Ave atque Vale tothe hig h go ds and the gre atn ess of man. Fo r withini s neither divin e nor human significance, only thearrogance of restless minds and the prying stupidityof the district visitor.

Th at is the dram a of ideas. Other playwrightsthere were , hone st men, who disda ined the doubtfulmeth ods of the reform ers. Th ey claimed a curiou squality of sincerity, intimating that although theyhad no power to re-create life, they could yet copyfaithfully their partial view of it. T o their dr am a, aflickering visi on lends wha t mea sur e of cohe rence ithas . He re , one of them holds for a mome nt thespirit of the social system, his drama at the sametime indictment and warn ing . The re, another, fairpoet and incompetent p lay wrigh t, brea ks the restlessgrace of his art in the h ard ser vic e of the sta ge .These have not that supreme need to create newforms which is the drama tist 's gift to life. But atleast they have known that life is more than thedialectician's idea of it, more than the disorder of itsconditio ns. By virtue of that kno wledg e, the giftsof their wor k are a little orde r in disor der, partialinter preta tion , and a dim vision of realit y.

After them, co me the m any who hav e no suc hunde rstand ing of dramat ic truth. With more orless skill, these harnessed life and the " new "ideas to the business man's demand for an effectiveplay, and the va gu e need s of the pseudo-in tellectual.They exploited life, addin g an app earanc e of socialphilo soph y to the sens ation and false emotion of thehigher melodrama. In this way they flattered theadva nced and delighted the plain man. Chara cterto these clever charlata ns is no more than the pegfo r an emotional appeal, the means to a pre-arrangedclimax. Th ei r dra mat ic form is not beaut y of line,the restraint of strength, but the mechanical neatnessof a comm ercia l pla ywright . Real ity is sacrificed toan appearance of real life, dramatic truth toa bou rgeo is morality and a bourg eois notionof art . To this exploitation of life inthe se rvic e of effect, othe r pl ay wrigh ts added theba bb lin gs of a queru lous intellect. Th e impotentopinions of immature people take the place of significant speech. Th e position of women , the divo rcelaws, anything that will rattle in a vacant mind, arediscussed with as much charity of thought , as muchunde rstand ing, as may be found in a Fab ianpamph let or a Tr ad es Union Con gre ss. No orderedvision or hum an signific ance com es to disturb theirsweet futility. Reje ctin g the false gra ce of prearr an ge d effects, these less competent ex ploiters haveattained a gra cel ess monotony. Pea ce be with them :their pl ays do not pay.

Lower yet come the dealers in little problems ofs e x or sentime nt, h awke rs of uninspired stud ies incharac ter. The sexual arrangements of commonplac e people ar e treat ed with a gra vi ty due to hig hmat ter s. A pl ay wrigh t of estab lishe d reputati on isperm itted to va ry the problem of ma rr ia ge and freelove by the treatment of adul tery . Hi s work is" searching " when it is dull, " powerful " when it ispleasingly exci ting . If the char acter s of these playshave any distin ction at all, it is the une nvia ble distinction of the unb alan ced mind. Hys ter ica l wome nand neurotics of every kind shriek their views an dparade their mental impotence in the high name ofdrama, their nervous instability providing what thereis of plot and motive . Fr om within adv anci ngshadows, Hedda Gabbe r, arch-degenerate, drawsasid e her skir ts from the rabb le of her following.Under some form or other, se x, in its nar row phys icalinte rpret ation , is the content of this worthless problemdrama, degraded offspring of the drama of ideas.Pass ion in the true sense there is not : the pas sionthat inspires to high deeds and noble words, and initself is more than appetite. Distrac ted emotion, too

feeble to rea lise itself, the produ ct of ja de d min dsand excited nerv es, tak es its place. Ph ysi ca l need,repu gna nce, d ege ner acy , complete a weary tale ofthe exploitation of sex . Fi rst , more offendingbecau se more pretentious, come those who exp loit itin the nam e of refo rm or intellec tual sa tisfa ctio n ;and through the door opened by these ignorant worshippers, sexual disease stalks naked in the theatre.N o power of vision or bea uty of form rem ove s it fromthe medical treatise and the Lock Hospital . I t servesneither art nor life, but only the garrulous intellectualand the old mai ds of either se x. To ge th er with thispseudo-scientific dra ma, one more disc ursiv e burble sof sex ual relatio ns, te arin g at the skeleton of aphilosophy based on the unphilosophic belief that themarital and pre-marital complica tions of ordin ary folkare of gen era l val ue and interest. Me n and wom enof third-rate intellect expound an aesthetic disdainborn of physical degen eration . The ir pitiful gra vit ywould be humorous were the sense of irony a lessrare and dubi ous qualit y. As it is, they rem aindamnably dull.

A s stupid, but less limpi ng, are the deb auch ed sentimentalists of the second cla ss. Gi ng er is hot i' themouth, but my lo rd' s dar k ey es are trouble d. Mylady is as ice-cream to her world, but when she fallson her lover' s breast her passi onate breath is heardin the gal ler y. He is disho nour ed and flies. Shefollows a scene behind, a nd they die tog eth er, toohoa rse to go thro ugh a fourth act. Or she co me stoo late, and must act aga inst a corps e. A su gg es tion of noble purpose and spiritual torment masksthe leer of these sorry Bacc ha na ls : perc han ce a comfortable domesticity ends the play ; per cha nce aspirit ual crisis rids the woma n of her me ttl eso meadmire r. Ho weve r it be, the sense s are glutt ed, theimagination st arve d, and the sex-obse ssed look upand are fed.

In two ways only, might the vast second-rate t reatthe subject of sexu al pass ion and be safe from melo dram a as from discur sive inanity. Th e Loveromantick is beyond them ; the po wer that madedrama of incest far above them. Their prayersshould be for sanity , and se nse to see ov er the topof sexual love. Further than that, their need isgrace to know that the high cr ag s are not for theirslight wings. Se x, for them, must needs be subordinate, one motive among others, a trifle or a jest.S o only may they handle it and achieve an exquisiteart, some frag ile distinction. F o r the or gy is ended ;the chali ce shattere d ; the wine a memor y. Inmediocrity and cha os ends the modern dra ma ofrealism, reachin g its last degrad atio n in thosetragedies of maudlin peasants and doss-housecriminals that follow wear ily the isola ted po wer ofStrind berg. Dise ase , pove rty, curs es and drink ,mingle in an unnatural monotony. Wh er e the littleproblems merely failed to inspire, these dep ress ,making what is ugly in life uglier. S o in inartisticimitation and drab falsity, the theatre of the Northendure s the hour before the da wn. So lit ary and dim ,the half-gods wait. In Ru ssi a, a measu re of spiritualrhyt hm, in Austr ia the glo ry of a dist inc tive form :these stand at the doo rs of the future .

S T O R M J A M E S O N ,

BOOKS on all subjects, Sec ondh and, at Half-Prices. New, 25 per cent. Discount. Ca tal og ue 761free. State Wants , Books B o u g h t . F O Y L E , 1 2 1 ,Char ing Cross Road, London,


11/20

January 1 5 th , 1 9 1 4 . THE EGOISTThe Housekeeper.

I let myse lf in at the kitchen door." It 's yo u , " she said. " I can't get upforgi ve me

Not answeri ng your knock. I can no moreL e t people in than I can keep them out.I' m ge tt in g too old for my size, I tell t hem.M y fingers are about all I' ve the u se ofS o ' s to ta ke any comfort. I can se w:I help out with this bea d-work what I ca n . "

" Th at 's a smart pai r of pumps you' re beadi ng there.Who are they for? "

" Y o u mea n?oh , for some miss !I can' t keep track of other people' s dau ghte rs.Lord, if I were to dream of everyoneWhose shoes I primped to dance in ! "

" And where's John? "" Ha ve n' t you seen hi m? St ra nge what set you offTo come to his house when he's gone to yours.Y o u can' t ha ve passe d each other on the r oad.

He mus t h ave cha nge d his mind and go ne toGarland's .

He won't be long in that case : you can waitThough what help you can be or anyoneIt's gone so far. Y o u ' v e heard? Estel le's run off."

" Yes , wha t' s it all abou t? Wh en did she g o? "" Two weeks since."

" She 's in earnest, it appear s."" I am sure she won' t come back. Sh e' s hiding

somewhere.I don' t know whe re myself. Joh n think s I do.He thinks I only have to say the wordAnd she' ll come bac k. But, bless you , I'm her

motherI ca n' t t alk to her, and Lo rd , if I could . . .I kn ow she isn' t holdi ng out for te rms,Nothing like that. I gave that up this mor nin g."

" It w i l l g o hard with John . Wh at w i l l he do?He can' t find anyone to take her pl ac e. "

" Oh, if you a sk me that, what will he do?He gets some sort of bakeshop meals together,With me to sit and tell him everything,Wh at ' s want ed and how much and where it is.But when I 'm gon eof course, I can 't sta y here :Estelle's to ta ke me when s he' s settled down :He and I'd only hinder one a nother .I tell them they can 't get me thr ough the door ,

though :I 've been built in here like a big church organ :W e ' v e been here fifteen years."

" Tha t' s a long timeTo have lived together and then pull apart.How do you see him living when yo u' re go ne ?T w o of you out w i l l leave an empty house."

" I just don't see him living many years,L e f t here with nothing but the furniture.I hate to think of the old place when we're gone,Wi th the brook go in g by below the yar d,And no one here but hens blowing about.I f he could sell the placebut then, he can't :No on e w i l l ever l i v e on it againIt 's too run downthis is the las t of it.Wh at I think he w i l l do is let things smash .He'l l sort of swear the ti me away he ' s awful !I nev er sa w a man let family tr oubl esMake so much difference in his ma n' s affair s,

He 's just dropped every thin g. He 's like a child.I blam e his being broug ht up by his mot her.He's got hay down that 's been rained on three

times.He hoed a little yest erday for me :I thou ght the gr owin g thi ngs would do him go od.Som ething went wro ng I saw him thro w the hoeS k y high with both hands. I can see it no wCome her eI'l l show youin that apple tree.That's no way for a man to do at his age.He 's fifty-five you know if he's a da y . "

" Aren 't you afraid of hi m? Wh at ' s that gun fo r? "" Oh, that's been there for hawks since chicken time.

John Hal l touch me? Not if he kn ows his friends.I'll sa y that for him, Jo hn 's no threatener,L i k e some men folk. No one 's afraid of him.A ll is, he's made his mind up not to st andWh at he has got to sta nd. "

" Wher e is Estelle ?Could n't one talk to her ? Wh at does she s a y ?Y o u say you don't kno w where she i s? "

" Nor want to.Sh e thinks if it was bad to l i v e with him,It must be right to leave him."

" Which is wrong."" Yes , but he should have married he r. "

" I know."" Th e str ain 's been too much for her all these year s :

I can't explain it any other way.It's different with a man, at least with John :He knows he's kinder than the run of men.Better than married ought to be as goodA s marri edthat's what he has al way s said.I know the way he 's feltbut all the same . . . "

" I wonder why he doesn't marry herAnd end it."

" To o late now : she woul dn' t have him.He's given her time to think of something else.The re 's his mist ake. Th e dear knows my interestHa s been to keep the thin g from br eak in g up .This is a good homeI don 't ask for bette r.But when I've said, why shouldn't they bemarried ?He'd say, why should they?no more words than

tha t ."" And in a way why should the y? Jo hn ' s been fair ,

I ta ke it. Wh at was his was al ways hers .The re was no quarrel about pr ope rt y. "

" Rea son enou gh ! there was no propert y.A friend or two as goo d as own the fa rm ,Such as it is. It isn't worth the mor t ga ge . "

" I mean E stel le has al ways held the p ur se ."" The rights of that are harder to get at.

I guess Estelle and I have filled the purse.'Twas we let him hav e money not he us.Jo hn 's a bad far mer I'm not blaming him Take it yea r in year out, he doesn 't ma ke much.W e came here for a home for me you k no w,Estelle to do the housework for the boardOf both of us. But see how it turns out :Sh e seems to have the housework and besidesHalf of the outdoor wor k, tho ugh as for thatHe 'd say she does it more becaus e she likes it.Y o u see our pretty thin gs are all outdo ors.Our hens and cows and pigs are always betterTh an folks like us have any business wit h


12/20

32 THE EGOIST January 15th , 1914 .Better than what we have to keep them in.Farmers around twice as w e l l off as weHav en' t as good. They don ' t go with the place.Th at ' s what you can 't help liking about John :He ' s fond of nice th in gstoo fond, some would

claim.But Est ell e doesn 't mind : she' s like him there :She wants the hens to be the best there are.I guess you've seen this room before a show,F u l l of lank, shiver y, half-dr owned birds,In separate coops, having their plumage done.T h e smell of the wet feathers and the heat !Y o u spoke of John's not being safe to stay with.Y o u don ' t kn ow wha t a gen tl e lot we ar eW e wouldn' t hurt a hen. You ou ght to see usMoving a flock of hens from place to place.We ' r e not allo wed to take them upside down,A l l we can hold togeth er by the l e g s .T w o at a ti me' s the rule, one on each arm,No matter how fa r and how man y t ime sW e have to go . "

" You mean that 's John's idea? "" And we l i v e up to it, or I don ' t know

What childishness he wouldn't g i v e way to.He man ag es to keep the upper hand.W e fence our flowers in, and the hens ra nge :Not hi ng' s too good for them. W e say it pays.John like s to tell the offers he has had.Twenty for this cock, twenty-five for that.He never tak es the money . If th ey' re worthTh at much to someone els e, they are to him.B l e s s you it 's mostl y out go. Rea ch me downThe litt le tin box on the cupb oard shelfThe upper shelfthe tin box . Th at 's the one.I'll show you. Here we ar e. "

" What's this? "" A bill

For fifty dollars for one Langshan cock,Receiptedand the cock is in the yard."

" Not in a glass case then? "" He'd need a tall one

He can eat off a barrel from the gro und.He 's been in a gla ss ca se as you may sa y,The Crys tal Pala ce, London. He' s imported.John bought him and we paid the bill with beadsWa mp um , I call it. Mind, we don't complain,But you see, don't you , we tak e care of h im ."

" And like it, too ! It mak es it all the wor se . "" It seems as if. And that's not all. He 's helpless

In ways that I can hardly tell you of :Sometimes he gets possessed to keep accounts,To see where all the money go es so fast.Y o u kn ow how men w i l l be ridiculous ;But it 's ju st fun the way he get s bedevilled. I f he's untidy now, what w i l l he be ! "

" It mak es it all the worse. You must be blind ."" Estel le's the one that's blind. Don 't talk to me . "" Can't you and I get to the root of it?

Wh at 's the real trouble? What w i l l satisfy her?John ' s a good man to s a v e , it seems to me."

" It' s as I say. Sh e' s turned from him, that 's a l l . "" But why when she's w e l l o f f ? Is it the n eigh bour s?B e i n g cut off from friends? "

" We ha ve our friends:Tha t isn't it. Fol ks aren' t afraid of us . "

" Sh e lets it wor ry her. You stood the str ain,And you'r e her mother ."

" But I didn't a l w a y s .I didn't relish it along at first,But I got wonted to it. And besi desJohn said I was too old to ha ve gran d-c hildren .But wha t' s the use of tal kin g when it' s don e?She won't come back it' s even wors eshe c an 't ."

" Why do you speak like that? What do you know?Wh at do you mea n? Sh e' s done harm to herse lf? "

" I mean, she's marriedmarried someone else."" Oho, oho ! "

" You don't believ e me ? "" Yes, I do.

Only too w e l l . I knew there must be something !S o that was what was back . Sh e' s bad, that 's a l l . "" Bad to ge t married when she had the ch an ce ? "" Nons en se ! Se e what she 's done. But who, but

who" Who'd marry her straight out of such a mess?S a y it right outno matter for her mother.

The man was foundI'd better name no names.John himself won' t imagine who he i s . "

" The n it's all up. I think I'll get away.Y o u ' l l be expect ing John. I pity Est el le :I suppose she deserves some pity, too.Y o u ought to have the kitchen to yourselfTo break it to him. You may have the j o b . "

" You needn't think you're going to get away.John's almost here. I ' ve had my eye on someo neComing down Ry an 's hill. I thought 'twas John.Here he is now ! Th is box . Put it away .And this bill ."

" Wha t' s the hurr y? He'll unhitch."" No, he won' t, either. He' ll just drop the reins ,

And turn Doll out to pasture, rig and all.Sh e won' t get far before the whee ls hang upOn somethingthere's no harm. See , there he is !M y , but he looks as if he must have heard ! "

" How are you, neighb our? Ju st the man I'm after .Isn 't it He ll ? " Joh n said . " I want to kno w?Come out here if you want to hear me talk.I'll talk to you , old woma n, aft erward.I 've got some news that maybe isn't news.Wh at are they tr yin g to do to me, these two? "

" Do go along with him and stop his shouting ! "She raised her voice aga in st the closi ng door :

" Who wants to hear your news, you dreadful fool? "R O B E R T F R O S T .

The Public Ownership of theArtist.

PERHAPS Art and Soul are one, and Art andSoul are in themselves neither good nor bad.Perhaps Art exalts and transforms natural man,

and man has become unnatural (or what we termcivilised) because he has not realised in himself thetransforming power of Art, but has sold his birthright to a mass of deputies. And whereas he mighthave ascended to Heaven by means of Art, he hasdescended to Hell for lack of it.


13/20

January 15th , 1914 . THE EGOIST 3 3Such is my gu es s as stat ed in the Dece mbe r 15 th

issue of this jour nal. I said it is verifiableby exper ienc e, and the whole of my experi encestr engt hens it. I call it my gues s though Ido ubt whet her I am entit led to do so.Pe rh ap s its ge rm - seed was born in me . Iremember hearing that my father devoted almost alifetime to the problem of the reconstruction of theworld. He followed the example of original mindsand aime d to reco nstr uct it in his own lik enes s. Asa painter who was also an artist (a very rare combination n owada ys ) he drea med of a Utopi a thatshould be as near pure spirit as it is possible for aworld of men to be. He had formulat ed somehyp oth esi s, but I canno t say wha t it was . It mayhave been : Art is pure spirit; the artist is a highlysensitised instrument for receiving and transmittingpure spirit. Given a world of artists and the resultmust be a world approximating to pure spirit.Though I use the word pure let it not be imaginedthat I think it nec ess ary. T o me it is a puzzli ngword that has been devised to make an absolutedistinction wher e none exi st s. Le t me say instea d ofArt is pure spirit, Art is the Spirit of L i f e , that is,that substance which informs matter and immortalises form. Thu s Art- form s are Spiri t-fo rms andfor the matter of that, Soul-forms. Metaphysicwithou t any definition is fiendish. And here I am ina very Maelstrom of metaphysical termsSpirit,Substance, Matter, L i f e , Form,all demandingdefinition. I w i l l define them as I pro ceed. As Isaid, I do not kn ow whether the for ego in g was myfather's suggesti on. I only know that he regardedeverything really, that is, ever last ingl y, gre at in theworld as of spiritual origin.

I need not go into my fat her 's plan. It was notso far a s I know deficient in common sense ; not astiff flattery to holl ow-hea ded under lin gs, li ke one ortwo sha ll ow and unworka ble schemes of recon struction now being ventil ated in the six penn y press.Underlying it was the truth to be found in thissyllogism. The desire for material power is immoral;present-day man's desire is for material power ; therefore present-day man is immoral, and will remain sotill his desire is altered. Here the suggestion is, Ithink, that as soon as men cease to call themselvesmen and begin to call them selv es souls, the c han geis wro ug ht . And noth ing but the blin dness, cowardl iness, and impoli cy of " leaders " prev ents the c han gebeing wrought.

But tho ugh I am uncer tain whethe r I inherited thesaid seed-germ, I have no doubt whatever that at avery early period of my history I found myselfmaki ng guess es. Here is one. Perhaps there wasonly spirit once. Perhaps matter is devitalised orimpure spirit. Perhaps there will be only spirit again.Her e Spir it is conceived of as Substa nce, and Matt eras the typocosmy apparent to the senses, and whichwe cal l the worl d. Th is was my earl iest gu es s and Ibelieve it led to the theorem : Sensation is Spirit;primitive Man is a high order of sensationalcreature; therefore nearest Spirit. His Ego iscapable of infinite extension. Intellectual Man is alow order of sensational creature, therefore remotefrom Spirit. He is an Ascidian plus reasoningfaculty, and capable of no infinite extension seeingthat intellectuality is finite. Future man will be ahigh order of sensational creature, i.e. man set freeto his senses again. It w i l l be seen that I held a lowopinion of intel lectual man. I consi dered him withhis highest form of achievementdiscipline oftho ught as indeed no better than a poor sort of

devil in a str ait wais tco at. And I still feel that ou rdescendants w i l l discuss their descent with amazement and disg ust. The y w i l l repudiate us.

This theorem led me in turn to the habit ofrealis ing the Arti st as the revi tali sing medium. Iconceived the Artist to be primitive Man, that is, ahigh order of sensational creature through whom theArt or Spirit-current moves harmoniously to its endin Art or Spirit -form. Then there was another wayout. I concei ved the Art ist to be not an imit ator buta creator, and therefore nearest the shadowy creativeworld, that is the world of Spirit, S o u l , Art, orwhat eve r we ple ase to term it. It was clea r to methat the Artist, as a creator, must have a world ofthis sort to work in, for he could not possibly workin a concrete material world where everything hadalready been "c r ea t ed ." Thus I came to regard theArtist as a purity, for I knew that as soon as amedium becam e impure all hope of its tra nsmi tt ing apurity is lost. It seemed to me that the differencebetween the Artist and non-Artist (the two classesinto which men broadly fal l) is one of purity andimpurity, and it may be stated this way. The Artistis a corporeal personification of vital or spiritualforcea force constantly working through him whichflashes a light around the Infinite. The non-Artist isa personification of material forcea force constantlyworking through him which reminds him of thematerial world and its affairs. The Artist exists andhas his Being in the Infinite. Th e non-Artist is conscious only of the world of man's five primary needsFood, Shelter, Clothing, Transport, and Sport(which I w i l l anal yse in a later article). Lo ng agothese needs degenerated into luxuries out of whicharose the present world of accumulated survivals andrecapitulations of the past in the present, a worldgoverned by A v a r i c e and Sensual Pleasure. Thusthe Art ist is a spiritua l sy mbol ; and the non-Arti stis a material symbol. The latter is in fact an impurityrunning about with civilisation balanced on the tip ofhis nose.

. .

S o from asking the question, If there was nothingbut Spirit once, and if Matter is Spirit devitalized,how can we return to Spirit? I cam e to theconclusion that the only solution appeared to be therevitalising power of the Art ist . I kno w that someexcellent personnot without gui lewill inqui re," How on earth do you propose to set the Artistdoing the good work of revitalisation when he isdevitalised by a soci al syst em of which he is a par tand which has reduced him to sl av er y? Ha ve younot seen that he is that part of the vast socialmachine which society has constructed to do theopening of windows on material things for thosewhose vision has wasted and hands have lost skilland for ce? Ha s it not occur red to you that this vastsystem of machiner y was actually so constructed asto compel the Artist to move in a mass, to lose hisidentity and fre e-will? Are you not aware that theArtist may not deliberately choose what shall comeinto his mind, nor say what his subject shall eventually turn into, and that he chooses according to amar ket whic h is stri ctly ruled by the pub li c? Don 'tyou know that civilise d society has been ta kin g Artout of the Art is t' s hands thes e man y cent uri es, andhas moulded him to manufacture the so-called Art-forms of the nation , a nd to endo w it with colour andline to suit the whim of the mo me nt ? Ha s notcivilisation closed the field of his own ener gi es to t heArtist? Is it not true that it can deal with him as itpleases, has made him its creature, its plasticmaterial to which it can g i v e any shape it li ke s? Ina word has not civi lis ati on depr ived the Arti st of allindividuality? If then the Artist is a part of a


14/20

3 4 THE EGOIST January 15th , 1914 .mac hin e constru cted to act upon him, how in Go d' sna me is he goi ng to act upon the mach ine ? T e l l met h a t . " And I rep ly. " Ho w do I pro pose to destro ypubli c owners hip of the Art is t? Ho w do I proposeto deta ch h im , from the ma chine and restore to himhis own inner appar atu s of moti ve po wer? Ho w, inshor t, do I prop o

The Egois Vol 1 No 2

Documents