At first we are foolish enough to think that this mighty capital of our far-flung Empire should be an epitome of all our British virtues. Coming to the fountainhead, we expect the water to be pure. We soon learn that it is not a fountainhead of anything. It is a great bay of human life and action into which a thousand rivers, of different quality and force, empty themselves.
London is a magnified expression of the life of the whole Empire. The currents which we on the frontiers of the Empire set going all come pulsing towards this mighty mother of cities; but with the boundless generosity of a mother of nations, mature but still vigorous, she receives this inflowing life and sends it back again in responsive floods to the end of the earth.
The jaundiced critic treads this mighty city with the blinded eyes of ignorance, and seeing faults and sins, identifies her as 'Babylon the Great, Mother of Harlots'; but to those who look for goodness, London suggests the city of which it is written: 'And the nations of them which are saved shall walk in the light of it; and the kings of the earth do bring their glory and honour into it.'
Let us not hide the truth from ourselves. These chimney-pots of London, for all their ugliness, mean a lot of kindly comfort. They draw well, they are comfortable to live with.
You may find the worst in London, but you will always find the best also.
There is a warm sympathy for sorrow, a motherly helpfulness in need, a maternal solicitude for the welfare of the humblest, which stretches down from the throne, and is reflected in the kindness of the poor towards each other. No good movement will ever lack support here, and no stauncher friend to freedom is planted four-square upon this earth than the City of London, which so gallantly fought for its own freedom and so jealously guards it still.
If all these classic characters planned by fond parents had materialized right up to the very chimney-pots, they would probably have been less companionable and kindly. Purity of style does not always mean domestic harmony. Go into these houses with the distorted chimneys, and you will often find them 'all beautiful within,' carrying an atmosphere of peace and well-being which is refreshing to the soul. Think, too, of how many of them have been turned into hospitals for our wounded soldiers, and of others which dispense a hospitality to the men from overseas which helps them to forget or at least to bear their exile.
It is unreasonable to expect the discourse and decisions of the great mother of Parliaments to match the classic purity of the building in which it meets. Its members are men, swayed by many winds of interest and influence, and if they wobble a bit it is only natural. We youngsters would settle the Irish Question and the problem of the Drink Traffic monopoly very quickly! We would fix up the Suffrage for them and bring everything up-to-date very soon! We would indeed—until we get the over-sea mail and are reminded of our own lesser problems unsolved and see our own wobbling. If we have nicer chimneys it is because our climate is more kindly; and if life seems easier with us it is because we are so young. We did not have so much hoary feudalism to dig up; neither, however, have we such golden traditions and such a storied history. Our life is free, but is it so full?
Let us be very charitable to the homely chimney-pots of London. We have poured out our treasure and blood for the Empire in this great war gladly, but this one city has sent over a million of her sons to fight and given readily scores of millions of her wealth without a murmur, and is still giving out, giving out, without stint. It is the most heroic, adventurous city in the world, where men use big maps, think in millions, and build nationhood not for to-day only but for the centuries to come.
To speak of lesser things, where is there a more orderly, a more good-tempered crowd than the crowd of London? Paris has its gay beauty, Edinburgh its classic lines; but here they have dug parks out of the quarries of bricks and mortar. The trees, squares, little green patches, breathing-spaces, unexpected quiet nooks—all these are a surprise to us because they have cost so much, and they represent a city of ideals which embrace the past as well as the future.