WHY DID I——?
I should not presume to write this answer to numerous correspondents, had it not been for the precedent given by Mr. Garvin, the erudite editor of the Observer, who recently allotted several columns of his own paper to the praise of his own book. Wherefore, gladly accepting this “lead” from one who knows so much more about literary “management” than I do, I take the opportunity of replying to several letters demanding “Why” I wrote my last published novel, The Young Diana. Why? Well, because (like Mr. Garvin on himself) I think it a good idea! Moreover, I wanted to be one of the first in the field to suggest a discovery which is approaching us in the near future; which is, so to speak, “glimmering” ahead of our scientists like a brilliant streak of sunrise in a summer sky. Following the example of Mr. Garvin, who urgently recommends the public to read his book, I, with equal urgency recommend the public to read mine. I should not have dared to do so unless Mr. Garvin had shown me the way, and he is such a noted authority in journalism that I feel I cannot do wrong in copying him as much as possible. Therefore, dear public!—good readers all!—I assure you that The Young Diana is a remarkable book. It is, really! Mr. Garvin says his is a remarkable book, and I feel that mine is equally remarkable. It is full of new ideas, happily expressed. Garvinly speaking, it is a compendium of hope for mankind, or rather womankind, because it shows how possibly the youth and beauty of the fairer sex may be retained indefinitely, to say nothing of the prolongation of life. Nobody wants to grow old, not even Garvin; as a matter of fact nobody does grow old nowadays: witness our beautiful Queen Alexandra and the ever lithe and lissom “Tiger” Clemenceau. To read The Young Diana, you need a little intelligence, of course. So you do when you read The Economic Foundations of Peace by Garvin. His book costs 12s. net—mine is only 6s. 9d. His treats of “the policy upon which the safety, the prosperity, the very physical survival of humanity depend.” Mine treats likewise of all these things, vested in fair Woman, upon whom the physical existence as well as “survival” of man depends. His, according to his friends on the press, is “a great idea brilliantly presented.” So is mine. It is, to quote another friend’s criticism, “a practical and passionate effort to save the world alive.” Oh, friends! this is exactly what my book is!—only it is a practical and passionate effort to save Woman alive!—beautiful and exquisite Woman!—the Mother of all Man! It is “filled with cogent argument and luminous illustration”—I copy Garvin critiques because I shouldn’t know how to lay on the butter so felicitously as the friends of “this remarkable book by a great journalist”—but I have occasionally been called “a great novelist,” by semi-crazed folk, of course, and I feel justified (after Garvin) in calling attention to my “remarkable book.” Garvinly speaking, “it is a timely, wise and nobly-inspired book”—you see I haven’t a newspaper of my own in which to blow my own small trumpet, so I catch the silvery echo of Garvin’s glorious and mellow horn and trust to my readers to catch the sound and the meaning thereof! So read The Young Diana!—if she had only been at the Peace Conference all would have been well! Diana is a book “which will leave the reader with a better hope of the future”—(vide Observer)—yes, indeed, it will! Women will radiate under its influence; beauty will have no fear of perishing; life will be “a joy for ever,” and all this for six shillings and ninepence! Think of it! Had I a journal of my own I would have out-Garvined Garvin in self-adulation, but this is only a reply to my numerous correspondents who ask, “Why did you write The Young Diana?” and my answer is because, like Garvin, I seek to re-invigorate, reform, and re-establish the world! Amen!
IN THE HUSH OF THE DAWN
A THOUGHT
Silence now where so lately the guns thundered their terrific message,—silence, beautiful and wonderful, where just a while ago the bursting bombs and shrieking shells tore the air on their errands of doom. Silence!—peace!—the hush of the dawn before the rising of the sun! Nothing in nature is perhaps more impressive than this dumb spell which precedes approaching morning,—when every blade of grass, every leaf on every tree seems to wait attentively for the day. And nothing in the condition of human affairs is more awe-inspiring to the thinker and idealist than the dramatic pause of a break between battles,—an armistice, which may or may not lead to lasting peace. We feel, as it were, the slow passing of mist and cloud across the sky—we watch pale glimmerings of gold and rose in the lightening east—we think we see the morning glory on the distant hills! For those who view the pageant of history with living interest, and notably for us who are permitted to witness the most marvellous scene ever enacted in it, this is not a time for wild whirling to and fro in a round of social excitement and foolish chattering,—it is far more a time for prayer. Even as the Eastern worshipper prostrates himself on the earth and waits for the rising of the sun, so should we both spiritually and intellectually prostrate ourselves in humility before the shining hope of the wonderful Light which promises to illumine the world’s darkness,—the light of peace and unity which shall make war impossible. For, though we may dance and sing and shout “Victory!” at the top of our voices, that Light does not as yet shine,—that sun has not yet risen! Men are not yet of one straight mind. A great majority “love darkness rather than light because their deeds are evil.” Could we call our nation one of absolute unity in purpose, resolved to put aside personal prejudices and interests for the good of the whole State, we should be certain of a real “sunrise”—we should almost touch the millennium! But though we deem the cruellest war of all time ended, and though the Supreme Power has given to our arms a victory so sudden and miraculous that we are left, as it were, breathless and staring, half in doubt as to whether our fortune be truly real, we are not able, apparently, to stand still in our mercifully un-invaded country and look each other in the face without quarrelling. Much talk there is of reform and betterment, but if each man who advocates these things begins the work by arguing foolish details with his political rival, there is little hope of any useful action ensuing. Should we not call a “hush” on these agitating folk?—a request for pause before they cast up dust into the clear spaces of the dawn? Let us have a pure and open sky! Let us watch the colours of hope and gladness deepen softly and surely on the long-darkened horizon—and let no murky miasma of discontent and disloyalty mar the happiness of the rising sun! A nobler People,—a better, grander, stronger Empire!—this is what our king and all our wisest men appeal for in this “hush of the dawn.” Surely it is the highest privilege in the world to know that we can all help in this work of Peace as we have helped in War,—we were all at one in making munitions for death;—let us all be similarly at one in making munitions for life. We are given our freedom by the sacrifice of thousands of brave men,—we shall not honour their memories now by ceaseless disputations as to our own material advantages. We desire surely that their dauntless and noble spirits shall know that our gratitude for their heroism inspires us to build up a nobler civilisation than we have ever had before,—and to this end we pray God who hath given us the victory,—so far!—in the hush of the dawn!
Transcriber’s Notes
Punctuation and hyphenation were made consistent when a predominant preference was found in the original book; otherwise they were not changed.
Simple typographical errors in English were corrected; unbalanced quotation marks were remedied when the change was obvious, and otherwise left unbalanced.