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   were to be conquerors we must be less tender and more ruthless. Shaw answered with really avenging irony, "What a light this principle throws on the defeat of the tender Dervish, the compassionate Zulu, and the morbidly humane Boxer at the hands of the hardy savages of England, France, and Germany." In that sentence an idiot is obliterated and the whole story of Europe told; but it is immensely stiffened by its ironic form. In the same way Shaw washed away for ever the idea that Socialists were weak dreamers, who said that things might be only because they wished them to be. G. B. S. in argument with an individualist showed himself, as a rule, much the better economist and much the worse rhetorician. In this atmosphere arose a celebrated Fabian Society, of which he is still the leading spirit—a society which answered all charges of impracticable idealism by pushing both its theoretic statements and its practical negotiations to the verge of cynicism. Bernard Shaw was the literary expert who wrote most of its pamphlets. In one of them, among such sections as Fabian Temperance Reform, Fabian Education and so on, there was an entry gravely headed "Fabian Natural Science," which stated that in the


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   Socialist cause light was needed more than heat.

Thus the Irish detachment and the Puritan austerity did much good to the country and to the causes for which they were embattled. But there was one thing they did not do; they did nothing for Shaw himself in the matter of his primary mistakes and his real limitation. His great defect was and is the lack of democratic sentiment. And there was nothing democratic either in his humanitarianism or his Socialism. These new and refined faiths tended rather to make the Irishman yet more aristocratic, the Puritan yet more exclusive. To be a Socialist was to look down on all the peasant owners of the earth, especially on the peasant owners of his own island. To be a Vegetarian was to be a man with a strange and mysterious morality, a man who thought the good lord who roasted oxen for his vassals only less bad than the bad lord who roasted the vassals. None of these advanced views could the common people hear gladly; nor indeed was Shaw specially anxious to please the common people. It was his glory that he pitied animals like men; it was his defect that he pitied men only too much like animals. Foulon said of the democracy, "Let them eat grass."

Shaw said, "Let them eat greens." He had

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328 In representing this subject to your Lordship I conceive myself discharging a solemn duty which I owe to my countrymen, and also to that enlightened sovereign and legislature which have extended their benevolent care to this distant land, actuated by a desire to improve its inhabitants, and therefore humbly trust you will excuse the liberty I have taken in thus expressing my sentiments to your Lordship.

I have the honour &c. RAMMOHUN ROY.


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   more benevolence, but almost as much disdain. "I have never had any feelings about the English working classes," he said elsewhere, "except a desire to abolish them and replace them by sensible people." This is the unsympathetic side of the thing; but it had another and much nobler side, which must at least be seriously recognised before we pass on to much lighter things.

Bernard Shaw is not a democrat; but he is a splendid republican. The nuance of difference between those terms precisely depicts him. And there is after all a good deal of dim democracy in England, in the sense that there is much of a blind sense of brotherhood, and nowhere more than among old-fashioned and even reactionary people. But a republican is a rare bird, and a noble one. Shaw is a republican in the literal and Latin sense; he cares more for the Public Thing than for any private thing. The interest of the State is with him a sincere thirst of the soul, as it was in the little pagan cities. Now this public passion, this clean appetite for order and equity, had fallen to a lower ebb, had more nearly disappeared altogether, during Shaw's earlier epoch than at any other time. Individualism of the worst type was on the top


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   of the wave; I mean artistic individualism, which is so much crueller, so much blinder and so much more irrational even than commercial individualism. The decay of society was praised by artists as the decay of a corpse is praised by worms. The æsthete was all receptiveness, like the flea. His only affair in this world was to feed on its facts and colours, like a parasite upon blood. The ego was the all; and the praise of it was enunciated in madder and madder rhythms by poets whose Helicon was absinthe and whose Pegasus was the nightmare. This diseased pride was not even conscious of a public interest, and would have found all political terms utterly tasteless and insignificant. It was no longer a question of one man one vote, but of one man one universe.

I have in my time had my fling at the Fabian Society, at the pedantry of schemes, the arrogance of experts; nor do I regret it now. But when I remember that other world against which it reared its bourgeois banner of cleanliness and common sense, I will not end this chapter without doing it decent honour. Give me the drain pipes of the Fabians rather than the panpipes of the later poets; the drain pipes have a nicer smell. Give me even that


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 Suavia. Romantic creature, is she not?—a young lady in waiting, whom the Princess retains in the family so that Prince Florencio may entertain himself at home, and not create such scandals in Suavia.

. Poor Prince! He is very susceptible; a lover of art, indefatigable in the pursuit of beauty.

. Entirely too much so. Was he not a lover of Imperia before his uncle?

. I may have heard talk.

. And after you?

. She was only my model; I was never her lover. She took her name, Imperia, from one of my statues. It was at my studio in Rome that she met Prince Florencio.

. Who left you without a model? You see I am taking your word. Then you fell sick.

. With malaria.

. And changed your life completely. Your art suffered a collapse. Is it true that you broke into pieces a great block of marble which you had prepared for a gigantic statue, The Triumph of Life? It was to have been a work of genius, and surely not the last. Italy then might have boasted two Leonardos, equally great.

. Leonardo! You have no idea how the name has obsessed me ever since I was a child. It has been to me like some preternatural portent. My father admired the divine da Vinci, so he gave me the name—my father was a lover of beautiful things, an idolater of great artists. It was a mighty name which compelled me from my boyhood's days to dream great dreams. But you see how it was: a great ideal can be realized only when it has been reduced to our scale, shattered into parts. From that block of Carrara marble from which I intended to carve my masterpiece, I cut a thousand figurines, such as you have seen in the


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5. years ago, as now they commence the day with midnight, as the Europeans do in their civil life, in the middle of the chineseChinese [sic] hour Tsze. That the Chinese in their Calendar and civil life commence the day exactly with midnight and notwith any other time near midnight as 11h P.M. or 1h A.M. may be easily proved by reference to the Chinese Calendars and Ephemerides, published by the astronomical board at Peking, where the first day of the month is sometimes erroneously marked, when the Newmoon happens near midnight. (cf. chapter 17).

Every chineseChinese [sic] hour, called Shi 時, is again divided into two equal subdivisions, distinguished from each other by the additions of c'huh 初 and cheng 正 to the characters of the duodecimal cycle. Finally every chinese hour contains 8 equalparts, called K'eh 刻, every K'eh being equal to 15 minutes. The following table exhibits the order, in which these divisions of time are arranged, with their subdivisions corresponding to the European solar hours:


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 windows and at the exhibitions, or afterward in the parlors and boudoirs of the rich—graceful, if you will, they were charming; the public was pleased, and they sold very well. Instead of a dazzling flash of inspiration in a single work, a spark of artful grace in a thousand toys; instead of a monument to immortalize an heroic deed and embody beauty to posterity, a paper-weight, perhaps, or a bibelot to support an electric light. And people thought that I had realized my ideal! They judged my soul by my work. They see the grains of sand, but they do not know that in their making a mountain crumbled into dust!

. But suppose the ideal is one of love, as mine is?

. You know the secret. Break the block of your illusions and content yourself with figurines. Love all as you would have loved one.

. Loving much is not the same as loving many. Consider your experience. You broke the marble, but have you been able to forget your model, your Imperia? Why are you here if it is not for her?

. We are all here for something.

. Which we do not tell. We fly from ourselves, from the false lives which we lead, which our position in the world imposes. That is why we huddle together in this promiscuous place where everybody sees and knows everything, but where everybody agrees to see and know nothing. To-night we are cowed into respectability by the presence of the Princess; we are in another world, where we are bored beyond speaking. We would give an eternity to be free as our thoughts are at this moment.

. We are shadows of ourselves as we pass through the world. We see those who walk beside us, yet we know nothing of what they are.

. [To ] I must go with


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 mother. It will never do to have her worry. I can give out that I have gone to bed, and join you later. Will those people be there?

. We might stop for them at the theatre. Do you know Mr. Jacob's new theatre? A gorgeous music-hall, in the worst possible taste, but diverting. Of course it has less character than the old puppet-show by the port, with its sailors and stevedores, open-mouthed at the sight of the fine ladies adventuring slumming. But Cecco's tavern is still there. He gives foreigners their money's worth, too—the whole performance, popular dances, a duel with knives, winding up with a raid by the police, all engineered and directed by Cecco. You would swear it was the truth.

. We might take supper there. It will be more amusing than these eternal midnight cafés.

. I think so, too. We can have the performance suppressed. He knows we are in the secret.

. [To ] I felt sure that you were sympathetic, but this intimacy with the Prince was disconcerting. My husband may be appointed Ambassador to Suavia. It would never do to have these people suspect anything. Otherwise, I should have consulted the Prefect.

. The Signore? How could you be so foolish? This place would be a paradise but for him. Every winter he imports the picked rogues of Christendom; then they pay him to keep an eye on them; so he contrives to earn his salary. However, leave it to me; there is no occasion to worry. You say he works in a music-hall?—an acrobat, a brute of a fellow?

. A brute, but wonderful! You understand; you, too, are an artist.

. Is he threatening you with an open scandal?


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No. 19, 2023

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. I am in for five thousand francs.

. It seems incredible. You have been foolish in more senses than one.

. Not a word of it to anybody.

. No, everybody knows it already. Don't imagine that everybody hears from me what I hear from everybody.

. But do they know?

. Oh! I should not bother. The same thing happened to Lady Seymour with one of her grooms. Now she envelops herself in the British flag, without condescending to notice you during the entire evening. We become impossible socially, not because of what people know about us, but because of what they imagine we may know about them.

. Precisely. We ought always to say what we know about everybody, not out of malice, but in the interest of truth and good feeling. All of us are made of the same clay. Virtue consists merely of those vices which one does not possess. If it had been virtuous not to eat apples, and I had been Eve, man would never have fallen. I cannot abide the sight of apples; although I do not complain of those that eat them. No doubt they have good reasons.

. They seem good to them.

. [Rising] It is growing late; it is time to retire. [To ] Will you lunch with us to-morrow?

. Without fail. And we shall write to the Emperor.

. [To a ] Her Highness's carriage. Gentlemen, her Highness retires.

. Good evening to all. It has been pleasant to meet old friends.—My lady, I may count you among them.

. Your Highness compliments me to say so.

. Countess… [To ] My dear artist,


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 your works have become indispensable in my house. I trust that you apply yourself now? Your new style is entrancing. Like the old masters, you combine art with utility. Even the necessities you make charming. Good afternoon.

. [To ] Don't be long.

. I shall be there before you. Good night.

. Good-by, uncle.

. Be careful of your health! Have some regard for your mother.

. Yes, I remain at home this evening.

. So Florencio has promised me.

. The Princess is remarkably well preserved.

. She almost looks young.

. She leads the life of an anchorite—a good thing for the poor.

. Very popular, too, I am told, in Suavia.

. The virtues of the Princess prove more embarrassing at court than the vices of her son. That is the reason they advise them to travel.

. I never meddle in foreign affairs.

. An artist, my lord, must communicate his impressions. It is a matter of habit.

. Damn bad habit! [To ] I shall accompany you, my dear. Where do you pass the evening?

. At the Villa Miranda. There is to be chamber-music. You know what that is…

. The Princess was delighted to meet you again.


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 the purpose of explaining any branch of natural philosophy, and who, therefore, insisted on the necessity for observation and experiment, as the only basis of true science. To the influence of his irresistible arguments, we owe the diffusion of that spirit which led to the foundation of the Royal Society, and other institutions of a similar nature. The sublime discoveries of Newton followed, disclosing the universal laws of matter. A vernal and reviving warmth breathed over the frozen hills of science, and unlocked their ample stores. Every branch of natural philosophy received a new and efficient impulse. Experiment and discovery went on every where. Anatomical knowledge received the most important additions.


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. Apparently everybody delights the Princess. Good evening, your Highness. Did you receive the invitation to my concert?

. A concert such as could be arranged only by an artist of your taste.

. You noticed that she did not invite me? However, it makes no matter. I don't need her invitation.

. You will go without it, of course.

. Depend upon me.

. Never permit yourself such a liberty with an Englishwoman; the risk is too great.

. I shall present myself upon the arm of one of her grooms.

. I should advise you not to meddle in foreign affairs.

. Ah! Do you defend your hypocritical society after having become the victim of it?

. I do not complain; I do as I like, and others do the same. I scandalize England, but the world is before me.

. You scandalize the world.

. The world is too dull to be so easily scandalized. Fancy, if one were obliged to please everybody!—Do you please everybody?

. The Countess does, and no complaints.

. I am excessively careful about what people think of me.

. As everybody knows.

. Without joking.

. Seriously. Of course everybody knows. But I say, if you were not careful!

. Prince Florencio will be waiting.


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 mid of ghostly carcasses, that fell over him and each other, and lay a rolling chaos of animated rotundities, sprawling and bawling in unseemly disarray, and sending forth the names of all the saints in and out of heaven, amidst the clashing of swords, the ringing of bucklers, the clattering of helmets, the twanging of bow-strings, the whizzing of arrows, the screams of women, the shouts of the warriors, and the vociferations of the peasantry, who had been assembled to the intended nuptials, and who, seeing a fair set-to, contrived to pick a quarrel among themselves on the occasion, and proceeded, with staff and cudgel, to crack each other's skulls for the good of the king and the earl. One tall friar alone was untouched by the panic of his brethren, and stood steadfastly watching the combat with his arms a-kembo, the colossal emblem of an unarmed neutrality.


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 Harvey demonstrated the circulation of the blood. Asellius proved the use of the lacteals. Pecquet traced the thoracic duct. Rudbeck, Bartholin, Nuck, Dr. Richard Hale, and others, observed parts of the lymphatic system. The art of injecting the vessels was invented; the microscope was applied to anatomical uses; and Chemistry unveiled countless objects of research, in every department of natural history. Science is like an alpine region, where the attainment of one eminence is sure to bring others into view, though the summit may be still veiled by impenetrable clouds, or cut off by untraversable chasms. The true philosopher exults in the sublimity of the extending prospect, and feels doubly


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 At length, through the midst of the internal confusion, the earl by the help of his good sword, the staunch valour of his men, and the blessing of the Virgin, fought his way to the chapel-gate: his bowmen closed him in: he vaulted into his saddle, clapped spurs to his horse, rallied his men on the first eminence, and exchanged his sword for a bow and arrow, with which he did old execution among the pursuers; who at last thought it most expedient to desist from offensive warfare, and to retreat into the abbey, where, in the king's name, they broached a pipe of the best wine and attached all the venison in the larder, having first carefully unpacked the tuft of friars, and set the fallen abbot on his legs.

The friars, it may be well supposed, and such of the king's men as escaped unhurt from the affray, found their spirits a cup too low,


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25 excited to labour, and to encourage others to labour, in this boundless scope for the exertions of all.

Anatomy was cultivated with considerable ardour, by some intelligent persons in England; but the schools in which it was taught were few, and miserably defective; both as it respected the plans of the teachers, and the facilities afforded to learners. To what a lamentable degree these deficiencies continued to exist, down to the time of Dr. William Hunter, who began to lecture in 1746, and was admitted a Member of the Corporation of Surgeons, in 1747, may be judged of, by the following extract from one of his introductory lectures*——“In the

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26 course of my own studies,” he says, “1 attended, as diligently’ as the’ generality of students do, one of thé most reputa- ble courses of Anatomy in Europe. There E- Jearned a ‘good’ deal -by ‘my ears, but almost nothing: by: my eyés; and- there- fore, hardly any>thing to the purpose. The defect: was, that the professor was obliged. to. demonstrate’ all the parts of the body, except the bones, neryes,:‘and vessels, upon one dead body. . There was a footus for ‘thé nerves and blood. vessels, and the operations of Surgery were. ex- plained, to very little: purpose indeed, up- ona dog.’ And inthe only course which I attended in London, which was by far — the most reputable -that was given ‘here,

the professor used only two dead bodies �


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RV 108 (LONDON AT LEISURE) hands. They had had five men like him already in the yard that same morning.

This particular man appealed to me—and upon the whole you cannot hope to find in London anything much more pathetic, in a small way, than the peculiar "action" of a genuine labourer seeking work, his slow and heavy movements, his vacant and undecided air, his evident not knowing what to do with his hands, and all the signs that go to tell of a hungry and undesired leisure, and the fact that, as a rule, you cannot do anything in the world really to help him. This man was one of a great many employees in a soap factory that the vagaries of one of our Napoleons of Finance had lately caused to "shut down". It was a hopeless bankruptcy at a time when trade was too slow to make it feasible for the debenture-holders to carry on the work. All the hands had been thrown as if out of a barrow to find other holes somewhere in London. This man had been for a fortnight without a job, and he said it seemed precious likely he wouldn't get one for a good bit.

He had walked that morning from East Ham way right across to Hammersmith but his case was not a particularly poignant one. He had a missis but no kids, and his missis did a bit of charing for a Mrs. North and a Mrs. Williamson. He had been, as a boy, a wagoner's mate—one of those boys who walk with a brass-bound whip beside a team either in the cart or in the plough—in Lincolnshire. But things had seemed a bit slow down there and he had come up to London 108

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RV 109 (LONDON AT LEISURE) to find shorter hours, lighter jobs, better pay, and the chance to save a bit—to find, in fact, these streets paved with gold.

"Mart's well be back there," he said, with a humorous smile, as if the idea were absurd. For London, if its work, even from the outside, have the mysterious and magnetic attraction of an immense gambling table, may, and inevitably does, rob those it attracts of that tremulous and romantic idea. The gambling becomes a hard and almost unceasing struggle, with the pay proportionately worse, with the hours really longer because the work is so much more strenuous. But London itself and for itself takes a hold of the hearts of men; along with disillusionments grows up a hunger, like a new sense, for London only. These men in the mass never go back. When I offered to this particular man to write to a farmer who I knew was in want of a hand he looked at me as if I must be joking. He groped in his mind for a reason. "The missis would never hear of it," he said. "Besides—" His power of invention seemed to break down till he got out: "Oh, London's the place!" His eyes roved along the sides of a cab that was passing and up the front of an establishment called, I think, the West London Stores. "London's the place," he repeated. I objected that he could not see much of London inside a soap factory. He considered for a moment and said: "No, but it's the Saturday afternoons and Sundays." He paused. "It's when ye have your leisure." He continued with the air of one trying to explain something difficult to a 109

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 sir?"—"Never mind, sir." "Did I offer to say anything to the young woman, sir?"—"Never mind, sir?" "Do you want your head knocked up against that wall, sir?"—"Never mind, sir." It is observable, too, that there would appear to be some hidden taunt in this universal "Never mind," which rouses more indignation in the bosom of the individual addressed, than the most lavish abuse could possibly awaken.

We do not mean to assert that the application of this brevity to himself, struck exactly that indignation to Mr. Pickwick's soul, which it would infallibly have roused in a vulgar breast. We merely record the fact that Mr. Pickwick opened the room door, and abruptly called out, "Tupman, come here!"

Mr. Tupman immediately presented himself, with a look of very considerable surprise.

"Tupman," said Mr. Pickwick, "a secret of some delicacy, in which that lady is concerned, is the cause of a difference which has just arisen between this gentleman and myself. When I assure him, in your presence, that it has no relation to himself, and is not in any way connected with his affairs, I need hardly beg you to take notice that if he continue to dispute it, he expresses a doubt of my veracity, which I shall consider extremely insulting." As Mr. Pickwick said this, he looked encyclopædias at Mr. Peter Magnus.

Mr. Pickwick's upright and honourable bearing, coupled with that force and energy of speech which so eminently distinguished him, would have carried conviction to any reasonable mind; but unfortunately at that particular moment, the mind of Mr. Peter Magnus was in anything but reasonable order. Consequently, instead of receiving Mr. Pickwick's explanation as he ought to have done, he forthwith proceeded to work himself into a red-hot, scorching, consuming, passion, and to talk about what was due to his own feelings, and all that sort of thing: adding force to his declamation by striding to and fro, and pulling his hair—-


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 "That," said the middle-aged lady, rising from her seat, and averting her head, "that I would not reveal for worlds."

"I understand you, ma'am," said Mr. Pickwick, "and respect your delicacy; it shall never be revealed by me, depend upon it."

"Upon my word, ma'am," said Mr. Magnus, "considering the situation in which I am placed with regard to yourself, you carry this matter off with tolerable coolness-tolerable coolness, ma'am."

"Cruel Mr. Magnus!" said the middle-aged lady; here she wept very copiously indeed.

"Address your observations to me, sir," interposed Mr. Pickwick; "I alone am to blame, if anybody be."

"Oh! you alone are to blame, are you, sir?" said Mr. Magnus; "I—I—see through this, sir. You repent of your determination now, do you?"

"My determination!" said Mr. Pickwick.

"Your determination, sir. Oh! don't stare at me, sir," said Mr. Magnus; "I recollect your words last night, sir. You came down here, sir, to expose the treachery and falsehood of an individual on whose truth and honour you had placed implicit reliance—eh?" Here Mr. Peter Magnus indulged in a prolonged sneer; and taking off his green spectacles—which he probably found superfluous in his fit of jealousy—rolled his little eyes about, in a manner frightful to behold.

"Eh?" said Mr. Magnus; and then he repeated the sneer with increased effect. "But you shall answer it, sir."

"Answer what?" said Mr. Pickwick.

"Never mind, sir," replied Mr. Magnus, striding up and down the room. "Never mind."

There must be something very comprehensive in this phrase of "Never mind," for we do not recollect to have ever witnessed a quarrel in the street, at a theatre, public room, or elsewhere, in which it has not been the standard reply to all belligerent inquiries. "Do you call yourself a gentleman,


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RV 110 (LONDON AT LEISURE) stupid person or a child: "It's the dinner hour with your mates and the snacks of talk between whiles loading barrows. Don't you see?" He paused again for a long time and then added: "London's the place." He could not think of going back.

Thus what London attracts with the mirage of its work shining across the counties and the countries, London holds with the glamour of its leisure. We never go back, never really and absolutely: London for those who have once, for however short a space, been Londoners, is always on the cards, is always just beyond the horizon. We may "go back" to the country for our health's sake, for our children’s health's sake, if we can. We may "go back" in a sense to the Colonies because we are not fitted for life or for work in London. But all the time London is calling; it calls in the middle of our work, it calls at odd moments like the fever of spring that stirs each year in the blood. It seems to offer romantically, not streets paved with gold but streets filled with leisure, streets where we shall saunter, things for the eye to rest on in a gray and glamorous light, books to read, men to be idle with, women to love.

If the idea of the "working classes" seems to call up a picture of the black plains of the East End, the picture when the "leisured classes" are in consideration is that of a circumscribed parallelogram of rows of tall buildings. It is a square block like a fortress that we all, more or less, are besieging—the little plot of ground bounded on the south by Piccadilly, on the west by the 110

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RV 111 (LONDON AT LEISURE) railings of Hyde Park, on the north by Oxford Street and on the east by Bond Street. It stands fairly well for where we should all live if we were "really rich", it represents, as far as London is concerned, our castles in the air whether we should be contented with a small, bright house in one of the angles of Mayfair, with a suite of rooms in the P that overlooks the Green Park, or whether we should be contented with nothing less than one of the palaces in Park Lane.

These streets are quiet, for London, and bright and well swept and almost joyous. From their exclusiveness one steps out so easily into Rotten Row, which stands for the high-water mark of out-of-doors laziness in the modern world; and, if the clubs from which, as from an opera-box, one looks out across the parks towards Buckingham Palace—if those clubs are not, for social traditions, for standing, for gravity, or for place, "in it" with the older clubs near Pall Mall or about Whitehall, they are at least more pagan in the sense of being more humanly enjoyable to the uninitiated. A man can, in these places, lounge so utterly and entirely.

And that, in essentials, is the charm of social life in London. There are not any really rigid barriers; one has so immense a choice within the limits of any purse. There are in London institutions that are rigidly exclusive, but these are so rare as to be merely the spice of the large dish. This, of course, is only the case comparatively with the other capitals of the world.

It is, for instance, impossible for a French outsider 111

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RV 112 (LONDON AT LEISURE) to "get into" the real society of the Faubourg St. Germain; a relatively great number of quarterings are needed, a certain tradition, a certain habit of mind, a certain, let us say, inanity. It is also relatively impossible in Berlin to "get into" the military, or the blood aristocracies. Money cannot do it, or personal charm, or immense talents. It is absolutely impossible in Vienna where society is ruled by a Court, and that Court absolutely insists on quarterings as a social qualification. It is, I should say, with certain modifications the same in St. Petersburg and in Rome. It is almost more markedly so in Madrid and Lisbon. In all these places a man is "placed"; he knows his place and it is known for him.

But in London, comparatively speaking, a man stands pretty well by what he is or by what he has. He cannot, or course, occupy the throne but, given the temperament or the wealth he can sit in almost any other chair. Essentially, the other capitals ask a man to be something; London society asks him to give something—whether dinners or personal charm, whether financial tips or a soothing personal effacement.

It is probably this last characteristic that is the most essential, or, at least, the most attainable. It is that that, as it were, gives every man his chance. Paradoxically enough the reason for it is that London society is made up of such intensely individual types that the comparatively characterless man is absolutely essential. He fills up holes, he tones down dinner parties, he may be relied on not to jar, not to shine—not to worry one's 112

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RV 113 (LONDON AT LEISURE) nerves. In a society which is made up very much of strong individualities more or less constantly at war, self-effacement has a charm; the listener grows very precious.

And, upon the whole, in the other capitals of the world the thing is very exactly the other way round. In societies where the essential quality is birth, individuals are rare. In those closed ranks men are very much alike, and women—in character, in point of view, in gesture, in speech. In consequence an individuality tells. It is not, as in London, questioned, doubted and mistrusted; it is, if the individual belongs to the society, welcomed as a rather pleasant relief from the dead level.

The fascination of life in London is essentially its freedom. In society of the one type you may do very much what you like short of eating peas with a knife, wearing a felt hat with a frock coat, or a coloured tie with evening dress. You may, in the realm of ideas, be as heterodox as you please; you may "pass" being a Roman Catholic, a Buddhist, even a Jew or Mohammedan. (Obviously it is not good form to intrude your personal views in mixed company, but you are allowed your freedom of private thought.) But in, say, Catholic circles in France, entry is barred to a man suspected of being a Protestant or a Republican.

But if, on the one hand, private freedom of views is permissible in London, the rule that you must not express in Society any views at all is so rigid, that any infringement of it causes a shudder. It is a want of 113

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RV 114 (LONDON AT LEISURE) tact. Examined into minutely, you will find again, as the basis of this characteristic, the individual unit. There is not any London type. London is a meeting place of all sorts of incongruous types, and, if you must not utter your views, it is simply because you run so sure a risk of hurting the feelings of every individual near you. In Catholic circles abroad you may talk freely of the Deity, the Virgin, the Saviour, or the Saints, because what is thought about these divinities is rigidly defined. In London society you may be—it is considered commendable to be—devout in private, but it is a shuddering offence to mention the Deity in company. Similarly all metaphysical topics, all political matters going below the surface or likely to cause heat, the consideration of sexual questions, the mention of the poor or the suffering, are avoided. This is, in origin, because your neighbour at dinner has his or her private views, and has a right to them. You do not enquire into them, you do not know them, and you cannot air your own views because they will probably give offence.

The net result is to make London conversations singularly colourless; but they become singularly unexhausting. No call is made upon your brain or your individuality; it is precisely not "good form" to make any kind of display. You may be yourself as much as you please, but it must be yourself in a state of quiescence. No strain at all is put upon you, because it is the height of good manners to have no manners at all.

114

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Runo I]

Then the Frost his songs recited,

And the rain its legends taught me;

Other songs the winds have wafted,

Or the ocean waves have drifted;

And their songs the birds have added,

And the magic spells the tree-tops.

In a ball I bound them tightly;

And arranged them in a bundle;

On my little sledge I laid it,

On my sleigh I laid the bundle;

Home upon the sledge I brought it,

Then into the barn conveyed it;

In the storehouse loft I placed it,

In a little box of copper.

In the cold my song was resting,

Long remained in darkness hidden.

I must draw the songs from Coldness,

From the Frost must I withdraw them,

Bring my box into the chamber,

On the bench-end lay the casket,

Underneath this noble gable,

Underneath this roof of beauty.

Shall I ope my box of legends,

And my chest where lays are treasured?

Is the ball to be unravelled,

And the bundle’s knot unfastened?

Then I’ll sing so grand a ballad,

That it wondrously shall echo,

While the rye-bread I am eating,

And the beer of barley drinking.

But though ale should not be brought me,

And though beer should not be offered,

I will sing, though dry my throttle,

Or will sing, with water only,

To enhance our evening’s pleasure,

Celebrate the daylight’s beauty,

Or the beauty of the daybreak,

When another day is dawning.

I have often heard related,

And have heard the song recited,

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RV 115 (LONDON AT LEISURE) This of course is most noticeable abroad, where the Londoner is celebrated for his atrociously bad manners. He does not bow over his hat on entering a room; he sits down on any chair, he has no gesticulations of pleasure, he stops short at being well groomed and undemonstrative. There is not, in fact, any etiquette in London, there is only a general rule against obtruding your personality—a general rule against animation in society. "Die verstaendigste and geistreichste aller europaeischen Nationen hat sogar die Regel, 'never interrupt', das elfte Gebot genannt," says Schopenhauer. But obviously if you never interrupt you must have schooled yourself to care little for the discussion you have in hand, or you must avoid the discussion of subjects you care for.

Essentially we may say that the other great societies of Europe prescribe rigid codes of manners, and a member of society attains to self-respect by his knowledge of these codes. He tries in fact to do something. London society has no code, it prescribes an attitude of mind. You do not enter a London drawing-room with one, three or six bows; you do not kiss your hostess's hand. But you lounge in and get through that ceremonial contact as best suits you. You try to show no impressment at all. For it may be said that, in London, the mark of the leisured class is to be without 115

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RV 116 (LONDON AT LEISURE) restraint. One may go even further: to be conscious of any restraint is to be guilty of bad manners.

For supposing a severe moralist frown, at a dinner, because the guests, being all intimate, calling each other by familiar nicknames, sit unbracing genially, ladies and all, with their feet on the table. The frown will—and, after all, quite rightly—be set down as a piece of "unsoundness". For, in the first place, what does a moralist—a man with an occupation or a mission—seek in this particular galley? It is—this particular leisured class—circumscribed and walled in; it circumscribes itself, too. It is, as it were, a deer park within London; a Zoological Gardens within the ring of a Regent's park.

If we may call the very poor—the sweated workers—a caput mortuum of the body politic, beyond hope of being raised, beyond hope of being moralized upon because they are always at work: so, in the London of Leisure we may call this other class above hope of being touched, above hope of being moralised upon—because they are always at leisure. It is unprofitable for the moralists to worry about them: they have reverted to savagery, really. Having no work they must needs disport themselves—and the occupation of the idle must necessarily tend towards display. Emulation in display tends, humanity being poor humanity, towards barbarism. (Not towards primitive barbarism, be it said, for that devotes all its energies towards the straitening of its tribal laws, of its moral and ceremonial observances. It veils its women; prescribes fasts; 116

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RV 117 (LONDON AT LEISURE) enjoins hygienic ablutions, abstinence from certain meats, usuries, fornications, and the depicting of actual objects.)

But this other barbarism, which comes after a race, a Society, or a family, has passed upwards through the painful strata of observances and of tribal laws, is a breaking of all bonds. It is humanity drawing a deep breath, "going fanti", running amuck through the laws of public opinion. It is the man that is in all of us breaking loose and seeking to wallow. It may not go further than putting our feet on the dining table, than pouring champagne cup upon our host's head, or, as an amiable bishop put it the other day, "neighing after our neighbours' wives," but, having arrived at that stage, these "sets" begin again to evolve their tribal laws, so that not to put up our feet, not to pour champagne cup, or not to "neigh" is to be an enemy to that particular republic. This phenomenon does not matter, it is past banning and past curing. You cannot learn any moral lesson from a Malay running amuck—and, as the Chinese proverb has it, "It would be hypocrisy to seek for the person of the Sacred Emperor in a low tea house." Thus it is really much better for the moralist not to think about them. If, in the guise of a Savonarola, he fill them with fear for their immortal souls, it will not mean any more than a hysterical revival. In the body politic they do not "count", they are a shade more hopeless than the very poor, they will run their course towards ruin, physical decay, or towards that period of life when 117

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4 How the nights closed ever lonely,

And the days were shining lonely.

Only born was Väinämöinen,

And revealed the bard immortal,

Sprung from the divine Creatrix,

Born of Ilmatar, his mother.

Air’s young daughter was a virgin,

Fairest daughter of Creation.

Long did she abide a virgin,

All the long days of her girlhood,

In the Air’s own spacious mansions,

In those far extending regions.

Wearily the time passed ever,

And her life became a burden,

Dwelling evermore so lonely,

Always living as a maiden,

In the Air’s own spacious mansions,

In those far-extending deserts.

After this the maid descending,

Sank upon the tossing billows,

On the open ocean’s surface,

On the wide expanse of water.

Then a storm arose in fury,

From the East a mighty tempest,

And the sea was wildly foaming,

And the waves dashed ever higher.

Thus the tempest rocked the virgin,

And the billows drove the maiden,

O’er the ocean’s azure surface,

On the crest of foaming billows,

Till the wind that blew around her,

And the sea woke life within her.

Then she bore her heavy burden,

And the pain it brought upon her,

Seven long centuries together,

Nine times longer than a lifetime.

Yet no child was fashioned from her,

And no offspring was perfected.

Thus she swam, the Water-Mother,

East she swam, and westward swam she,

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RV 118 (LONDON AT LEISURE) ginger being no longer hot in a mouth that has lost all savours, they will become aged devotees and perhaps make for edification.

No doubt to the passionate reformer, of whatever code, the idea of so many individuals living the life of beasts is horribly disturbing. (I know, indeed, one reformer who was driven to fits of rage at the waste of time in a family of the leisured class. They had lived at this particular reformer's house in the country, and apparently washed themselves ten times a day.) But no doubt, too, this phenomenon makes for good to the body politic.

Work is the original curse of mankind because it is the original medicine. We may go on working till we drop, occupying our minds, keeping our bodies sound—but the moment we drop work our minds decay, our bodies atrophy, it is all over with us in this world. As with individuals so with the Body Politic, or with London, the modern World Town.

Whilst, in essentials, it is a Town of Work it keeps all on going; it sweats out at the top these atrophied individuals, or it sweats them out at the bottom (they hang around the street posts and make books outside the doors of public houses); and thus Work, the medicine, purges the unhealthy corpuscles of the blood or revenges itself of the too healthy. For if we may call the poor loafer the unhealthy, we must call the rich leisured class the too healthy. In one way or another their ancestors, their family, their gens, have worked too much for them: they are left without the need to 118

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RV 119 (LONDON AT LEISURE) labour. If, then, these families, these "sets", could preserve a stolid middle course, if they could live for ever within their incomes, restrict their families, and remain leisured for ever, the end of London would indeed be near. But human nature steps in.

So whilst there is emulation there is hope. We shall, it is to be trusted, go on, "cutting dashes" until we drop out, until our children sink down to rise up again fighting, or until we die out, childless and forgotten, unhealthy corpuscles, purged and got rid of. There would be a greater danger to London if this Leisured Class were to spread very far; but that, for a city so vast, must mean an accumulation of wealth inconceivable, and in these latter days practically impossible. Rome decayed because, being mistress of the world, she robbed the whole world and lived profusely, rioting for centuries upon the spoils of primeval empires. But there is no such hope any longer for London; she has her too urgent competitors, and the primeval empires have been by now too often gutted to leave any very substantial pickings. So that the wealth of London has to be gained by work, and this fortress of the leisured class remains as a lure, as a sort of Islands of the Blest, glamorous in the haze above Park Lane and Mayfair, an incentive to health because wealth means leisure; wealth means work, and work health. A nobler incentive would of course be nobler, and no doubt it might be more valuable when attained. But perhaps an all-seeing Providence arranges the world in the best way for the child that is man, for 119

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Runo I]

Swam to north-west and to south-west,

And around in all directions,

In the sharpness of her torment,

In her body’s fearful anguish;

Yet no child was fashioned from her,

And no offspring was perfected.

Then she fell to weeping gently,

And in words like these expressed her:

“O how wretched is my fortune,

Wandering thus, a child unhappy!

I have wandered far already,

And I dwell beneath the heaven,

By the tempest tossed for ever,

While the billows drive me onward,

O’er this wide expanse of water,

On the far-extending billows.

“Better were it had I tarried,

Virgin in aërial regions,

Then I should not drift for ever,

As the Mother of the Waters.

Here my life is cold and dreary,

Every moment now is painful,

Ever tossing on the billows,

Ever floating on the water.

“Ukko, thou of Gods the highest,

Ruler of the whole of heaven,

Hasten here, for thou art needed;

Hasten here at my entreaty.

Free the damsel from her burden,

And release her from her tortures.

Quickly haste, and yet more quickly,

Where I long for thee so sorely.”

Short the time that passed thereafter,

Scarce a moment had passed over,

Ere a beauteous teal came flying

Lightly hovering o’er the water,

Seeking for a spot to rest in,

Searching for a home to dwell in.

Eastward flew she, westward flew she,

Flew to north-west and to southward,

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6

But the place she sought she found not,

Not a spot, however barren,

Where her nest she could establish,

Or a resting-place could light on.

Then she hovered, slowly moving,

And she pondered and reflected,

“If my nest in wind I ’stablish

Or should rest it on the billows,

Then the winds will overturn it,

Or the waves will drift it from me.”

Then the Mother of the Waters,

Water-Mother, maid aërial,

From the waves her knee uplifted,

Raised her shoulder from the billows,

That the teal her nest might ’stablish,

And might find a peaceful dwelling.

Then the teal, the bird so beauteous,

Hovered slow, and gazed around her,

And she saw the knee uplifted

From the blue waves of the ocean,

And she thought she saw a hillock,

Freshly green with springing verdure.

There she flew, and hovered slowly,

Gently on the knee alighting,

And her nest she there established,

And she laid her eggs all golden,

Six gold eggs she laid within it,

And a seventh she laid of iron.

O’er her eggs the teal sat brooding,

And the knee grew warm beneath her;

And she sat one day, a second,

Brooded also on the third day;

Then the Mother of the Waters,

Water-Mother, maid aërial,

Felt it hot, and felt it hotter,

And she felt her skin was heated,

Till she thought her knee was burning,

And that all her veins were melting.

Then she jerked her knee with quickness,

And her limbs convulsive shaking,

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 * The 211 multiple-bias incidents reported in 2019 involved 257 offenses, 260 victims, and 138 known offenders. (See Table 1.)

Single-bias incidents (Based on Table 1.)

Analysis of the 7,103 single-bias incidents reported in 2019 revealed that:

 * 55.8 percent were motivated by a race/ethnicity/ancestry bias.

 * 21.4 percent were prompted by religious bias.

 * 16.8 percent resulted from sexual-orientation bias.

 * 2.8 percent were motivated by gender-identity bias.

 * 2.2 percent were prompted by disability bias.

 * 1.0 percent were motivated by gender bias.

Offenses by bias motivation within incidents (Based on Table 1.)

Of the 8,302 single-bias hate crime offenses reported in the above incidents:

 * 57.6 percent stemmed from a race/ethnicity/ancestry bias.

 * 19.9 percent were motivated by religious bias.

 * 16.8 percent resulted from sexual-orientation bias.

 * 2.7 percent stemmed from gender-identity bias.

 * 2.0 percent resulted from bias against disabilities.

 * 1.0 percent were prompted by gender bias.

Race/ethnicity/ancestry bias (Based on Table 1.)

In 2019, law enforcement agencies reported that 4,784 single-bias hate crime offenses were motivated by race/ethnicity/ancestry. Of these offenses:

 * 48.4 percent were motivated by anti-Black or African American bias.

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 * 15.8 percent stemmed from anti-White bias.

 * 14.1 percent were classified as anti-Hispanic or Latino bias.

 * 4.3 percent resulted from anti-Asian bias.

 * 3.6 percent were a result of bias against groups of individuals consisting of more than one race (anti-multiple races, group).

 * 2.6 percent were motivated by anti-American Indian or Alaska Native bias.

 * 2.6 percent were classified as anti-Arab bias.

 * 0.5 percent (25 offenses) were motivated by bias of anti-Native Hawaiian or Other Pacific Islander.

 * 8.2 percent were the result of an anti-Other Race/Ethnicity/Ancestry bias.

Religious bias (Based on Table 1.)

Hate crimes motivated by religious bias accounted for 1,650 offenses reported by law enforcement. A breakdown of the bias motivation of religious-biased offenses showed:

 * 60.3 percent were anti-Jewish.

 * 13.3 percent were anti-Islamic (Muslim).

 * 4.0 percent were anti-Catholic.

 * 3.6 percent were anti-Other Christian.

 * 3.0 percent were anti-Sikh.

 * 2.8 percent were anti-Eastern Orthodox (Russian, Greek, Other).

 * 2.5 percent were anti-multiple religions, group.

 * 1.5 percent were anti-Protestant.

 * 0.8 percent (14 offenses) were anti-Mormon.

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 * 40.0 percent were intimidation.

 * 36.7 percent were simple assault.

 * 21.0 percent were aggravated assault.

 * 1.5 percent consisted of 51 murders and 30 rapes. (See Methodology for more details about changes in the definition of rape in the UCR Program.)

 * 0.7 percent involved the offense category other, which is collected only in NIBRS.

Crimes against property (Based on Table 2.)

 * Most of the 2,811 hate crime offenses that were crimes against property (76.6 percent) were acts of destruction/damage/vandalism.

 * The remaining 23.4 percent of crimes against property consisted of robbery, burglary, larceny-theft, motor vehicle theft, arson, and other crimes.

Crimes against society (See Table 2.)

There were 236 offenses defined as crimes against society (e.g., drug or narcotic offenses or prostitution).

By victim type (Based on Table 6.)

When considering the 8,559 hate crime offenses and their targeted victims:

 * 78.6 percent were directed at individuals.

 * 5.9 percent were against businesses or financial institutions.

 * 3.1 percent were against government entities.

 * 2.8 percent were against society/public.

 * 2.5 percent were against religious organizations.

 * The remaining 7.1 percent were directed at other/unknown/multiple victim types.

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 * 53 offenses were reported as anti-physical disability.

Gender bias (See Table 1.)

There were 80 offenses of gender bias reported in 2019. Of these:

 * 62 were anti-female.

 * 18 were anti-male.

By offense types (Based on Table 2.)

Of the 8,559 reported hate crime offenses in 2019:

 * 25.8 percent were intimidation.

 * 25.1 percent were destruction/damage/vandalism.

 * 23.6 percent were simple assault.

 * 13.5 percent were aggravated assault.

 * The remaining offenses included additional crimes against persons, property, and society.

Offenses by crime category (Based on Table 2.)

Among the 8,559 hate crime offenses reported:

 * 64.4 percent were crimes against persons.
 * 32.8 percent were crimes against property.
 * The remaining offenses were crimes against society. (See Data Collection in Methodology.)

Crimes against persons (Based on Table 2.)

Law enforcement reported 5,512 hate crime offenses as crimes against persons. By offense type:

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Runo I]

Rolled the eggs into the water,

Down amid the waves of ocean,

And to splinters they were broken,

And to fragments they were shattered.

In the ooze they were not wasted,

Nor the fragments in the water,

But a wondrous change came o’er them,

And the fragments all grew lovely.

From the cracked egg’s lower fragment,

Now the solid earth was fashioned,

From the cracked egg’s upper fragment,

Rose the lofty arch of heaven,

From the yolk, the upper portion,

Now became the sun’s bright lustre;

From the white, the upper portion,

Rose the moon that shines so brightly;

Whatso in the egg was mottled,

Now became the stars in heaven,

Whatso in the egg was blackish,

In the air as cloudlets floated.

Now the time passed quickly over,

And the years rolled quickly onward,

In the new sun’s shining lustre,

In the new moon’s softer beaming.

Still the Water-Mother floated,

Water-Mother, maid aërial,

Ever on the peaceful waters,

On the billows’ foamy surface,

With the moving waves before her,

And the heaven serene behind her.

When the ninth year had passed over,

And the summer tenth was passing,

From the sea her head she lifted,

And her forehead she uplifted,

And she then began Creation,

And she brought the world to order,

On the open ocean’s surface,

On the far extending waters.

Wheresoe’er her hand she pointed,

There she formed the jutting headlands;

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 point where it is equal to, if not better than, Great Britain's navy. There must be no guess-work about it. Great Britain's policy has been two keels to one: and even this is thought by many Englishmen to be not enough. Well, let our naval program call for two keels to one. Let us at last be thoroughly prepared.

But there is one little question that emerges right at this point. Can we ever catch up? Suppose that Great Britain's navy, for instance, remained precisely as it is for a period of years. Suppose, too, that we built battleships as fast as we could. How long would it take to create a navy as efficient as that of Great Britain, let alone a navy so much larger that there would be no question of its superiority? And with such a naval program before the world, known to be directed against Great Britain (and of course everybody would know it), what would Great Britain be doing all this time? Would she suddenly abandon her own traditional naval policy? Or, would she add to her navy as fast as she could to meet the new international situation which we had created? It is inconceivable that she would not. If she did this, then how long would it take for America to catch up? We could not catch up at all on the basis of the relatively meager program advanced by our agitators for national defense. And on any program at all we could not catch up in from fifty to one hundred years.

But suppose we could catch up in fifty years. Would Great Britain wait for us? Why should she, when now, according to the agitators for defense, we are totally unprepared against her? No, it seems reasonable to suppose that if the United States announces to the world her entrance into the armament competition and a policy of building up a greater military strength than


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 * 0.4 percent (7 offenses) were anti-Hindu.

 * 0.4 percent (7 offenses) were anti-Jehovah’s Witness.

 * 0.4 percent (6 offenses) were anti-Atheism/Agnosticism/etc.

 * 0.3 percent (5 offenses) were anti-Buddhist.

 * 6.5 percent were anti-other (unspecified) religion.

Sexual-orientation bias (Based on Table 1.)

In 2019, law enforcement agencies reported 1,395 hate crime offenses based on sexual-orientation bias. Of these offenses:

 * 62.2 percent were classified as anti-gay (male) bias.

 * 24.5 percent were prompted by anti-lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender (mixed group) bias.

 * 10.2 percent were classified as anti-lesbian bias.

 * 1.9 percent were classified as anti-bisexual bias.

 * 1.2 percent were the result of anti-heterosexual bias.

Gender-identity bias (See Table 1.)

Of the single-bias incidents, 224 offenses were a result of gender-identity bias. Of these offenses:

 * 173 were anti-transgender.

 * 51 were anti-gender non-conforming.

Disability bias (See Table 1.) There were 169 reported hate crime offenses committed based on disability bias. Of these:

 * 116 offenses were classified as anti-mental disability.

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 Great Britain's, so that she will be able to defeat Great Britain in any possible war with her, the latter will surely strike during the long period of preparation and not wait until her case is hopeless. If you reply that there is no danger of any attack from Great Britain anyway, and that Great Britain is really our ally, then, of course, the whole question of any new military program of magnitude on the part of the United States falls with the fears in terms of which it was urged.

But how about Germany? Is not Germany likely to attack us, especially if she emerges as victor from the European war? Well, of course, anything is possible: but very few indeed who make a study of international relations think that there is any probability that Germany would attack us, even supposing she is victor, and these few are almost unanimous in placing the degree of probability extremely low. The fact is, there are no probabilities at all sufficient upon which to base a huge military program. They are so slight, if they exist at all, that our efforts should rather be directed to eliminating them. And the easiest way to eliminate them is surely not by aiming a naval program at Germany. The best way is to continue to cultivate a cordial friendship and understanding. There is still less reason to discard this policy now, when Germany, no matter whether she wins or not, will be in no condition to begin a war of aggression upon the best friend that she has among the nations. No, the burden of proof still lies with those who base an anachronistic military program, involving billions of dollars and a certain unsettling of international friendships, upon a speculation so wild that it transcends in its visionary character any so-called dream that any


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 peace advocate ever had in his most somnolent moment. If it can be proved that there is a real probability that Germany will attack us, and that no diplomacy of an honorable sort could remove the probability, then let us regretfully abandon the American way and spend our billions in preparing a military program against her with whom we have co-operated so long!

And if this remote thing happens—that we are ever obliged to be "prepared" on a grand scale against the attack of any nation—let us at the same time work all we can to do away with such an abominable international situation as is based upon the futile doctrine that any great national interest is really subserved by murderous aggression or that any international problem can be permanently or rightly settled by other than rational means. This is what a sane peace movement means: relentless war upon the war system,—but, in the meantime, of course, whatever defense is truly necessary against any genuine peril to our country's integrity which the war system may create.

But amid all such suspicions which are so likely to result in militaristic hysteria, let us remember the main fact that many American thinkers, as well as many European thinkers, see that if there is any one thing which the European war has proved, it is that the sort of diplomacy which relies upon the never-ending competition in armaments is a diplomacy which leads directly toward war, not away from it. America will not be so anachronistic as to adopt the European way. Our strongest defense against Great Britain and Germany and Japan is our friendship, our mutual understanding, which results in a constructive international co-operation rather than a destructive international rivalry. In this day and


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 age it is not a question whether nations want to co-operate or not. Economic conditions alone have become so complexly interrelated that nations will more and more be forced, in self-defense, to understand each other and work with each other for common international interests, rather than to destroy those interests through a mutual attempt at annihilation. This is the great lesson of the European war, and there is absolutely no doubt that Europe will be compelled for the sake of its very life to read that lesson in such a way that she will henceforth see the utter futility of adopting barbaric methods for the solving of civilized questions in an age which has entirely reorganized the financial and cultural relations between peoples. The facts of this financial and cultural interrelation were in existence before the war began: but it was necessary that the peoples of the world have a thorough consciousness of these facts before the facts themselves could count efficiently in the achievement of a new international situation. This consciousness is growing every day. America can help it to become a conviction by her own international policy. She is at the parting of the ways. America can follow Europe and adopt an international outlook now fast becoming obsolete even with Europe herself: or America can help to lead Europe to a new internationalism and a new world order, based upon the new and unquestioned facts of the new international life that has arisen during the last half-century, together with its new international obligations and ideals. Either America will adopt the European way, or Europe will adopt the American way. Which shall it be? More than we realize, it depends upon America s own far-sightedness.


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8

Wheresoe’er her feet she rested,

There she formed the caves for fishes;

When she dived beneath the water,

There she formed the depths of ocean;

When towards the land she turned her,

There the level shores extended,

Where her feet to land extended,

Spots were formed for salmon-netting;

Where her head the land touched lightly,

There the curving bays extended.

Further from the land she floated,

And abode in open water,

And created rocks in ocean,

And the reefs that eyes behold not,

Where the ships are often shattered,

And the sailors’ lives are ended.

Now the isles were formed already,

In the sea the rocks were planted;

Pillars of the sky established,

Lands and continents created;

Rocks engraved as though with figures,

And the hills were cleft with fissures.

Still unborn was Väinämöinen;

Still unborn, the bard immortal.

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,

Rested in his mother’s body

For the space of thirty summers,

And the sum of thirty winters,

Ever on the placid waters,

And upon the foaming billows.

So he pondered and reflected

How he could continue living

In a resting-place so gloomy,

In a dwelling far too narrow,

Where he could not see the moonlight,

Neither could behold the sunlight.

Then he spake the words which follow,

And expressed his thoughts in this wise:

“Aid me Moon, and Sun release me,

And the Great Bear lend his counsel,

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In Washington is the marble palace of the Pan American Union. This building, without doubt the most beautiful in our capital city, is a significant symbol of the new internationalism as exemplified in the friendship and co-operation of the twenty-one American republics whose diplomatic representatives at Washington meet there every month rationally to discuss their common interests and common ideals. The Secretary of State of the United States is ex officio Chairman. The purpose of the conferences is to develop and conserve "peace, friendship, and commerce" among these, all the independent nations of the Western Hemisphere. Through these conferences the peoples represented are rapidly achieving a mutual understanding which they could have attained in no other way,—certainly not through mutual fear and suspicion and a diplomacy backed by competitive armaments. The activities of the Pan American Union are already so various and far-reaching that it would require an entire book to describe them. It points the only practicable way to permanent international peace: for, as its efficient Director General, John Barrett, lately remarked to me, "The greatest achievement of the Pan American Union is the gradual growth of understanding and friendship between the republics of the Western Hemisphere; and it is chiefly through such a friendship that we shall gain any genuine constructive co-operation and any permanent peace."

Only the evening before, Secretary of State Bryan had expressed the same thought to me in different language. "Not through mutual fear will peace come to the world," he said. "You remember the words of the angels' song,


text:
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 {|style="width:100%"
 * style="border-right:1px solid black; width:10%"|Seal of the Federal Bureau of Investigation.svg
 * Uniform Crime Report Hate Crime Statistics
 * }
 * }

The Uniform Crime Reporting (UCR) Program collects data about both single-bias and multiple-bias hate crimes. For each offense type reported, law enforcement must indicate at least one bias motivation. A single-bias incident is defined as an incident in which one or more offense types are motivated by the same bias. As of 2013, a multiple-bias incident is defined as an incident in which one or more offense types are motivated by two or more biases.

Important note about rape data

In 2013, the FBI’s UCR Program initiated the collection of rape data under a revised definition within the Summary Reporting System. The term “forcible” was removed from the offense name, and the definition was changed to “penetration, no matter how slight, of the vagina or anus with any body part or object, or oral penetration by a sex organ of another person, without the consent of the victim.”

In 2016, the FBI Director approved the recommendation to discontinue the reporting of rape data using the UCR legacy definition beginning in 2017.

The offenses of fondling, incest, and statutory rape are included in the crimes against persons, other category.

Rape totals are provided in Tables 2, 3, 4, 7, and 11 of Hate Crime Statistics, 2019. (See the Methodology for more information about this program change as well as others.)

Overview

 * In 2019, 15,588 law enforcement agencies participated in the Hate Crime Statistics Program. Of these agencies, 2,172 reported 7,314 hate crime incidents involving 8,559 offenses. (See Tables 1 and 12.)

 * There were 7,103 single-bias incidents that involved 8,302 offenses, 8,552 victims, and 6,268 known offenders. (See Table 1.)

Rh

title: Page:Incidents and Offenses.pdf/1


text: Page:Jay William Hudson - America's International Ideals (1915).djvu/5


text: America's International Ideals

title: America's International Ideals


text:
Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v1.djvu/29

Runo I]

Through the portal that I know not,

Through the unaccustomed passage.

From the little nest that holds me,

From a dwelling-place so narrow,

To the land conduct the roamer,

To the open air conduct me,

To behold the moon in heaven,

And the splendour of the sunlight;

See the Great Bear’s stars above me,

And the shining stars in heaven.”

When the moon no freedom gave him,

Neither did the sun release him,

Then he wearied of existence,

And his life became a burden.

Thereupon he moved the portal,

With his finger, fourth in number,

Opened quick the bony gateway,

With the toes upon his left foot,

With his nails beyond the threshold,

With his knees beyond the gateway.

Headlong in the water falling,

With his hands the waves repelling,

Thus the man remained in ocean,

And the hero on the billows.

In the sea five years he sojourned,

Waited five years, waited six years,

Seven years also, even eight years,

On the surface of the ocean,

By a nameless promontory,

Near a barren, treeless country.

On the land his knees he planted,

And upon his arms he rested,

Rose that he might view the moonbeams,

And enjoy the pleasant sunlight,

See the Great Bear’s stars above him,

And the shining stars in heaven.

Thus was ancient Väinämöinen,

He, the ever famous minstrel,

Born of the divine Creatrix,

Born of Ilmatar, his mother.

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text:
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RV 120 (LONDON AT LEISURE) the child that will train, harden itself, strive and race—upon no matter what cinder track—for a prize cup that is of no intrinsic value, for a championship that carries nothing with it but the privilege to struggle and retain the honour, or to rest, grow fat, and decay.

So, save for the very few whom the reformers influence, and save for the very few whom philosophy really makes wise, and the very few whose wings have been singed—for all the really healthy and not self-conscious humanity of the world that is London, this mirage of the Leisured Class, hanging above the smoke of the roofs, appearing in the glamour of the morning dreams, gilding how many castles, in how many airs, is the incentive to life in London.

"It takes a good deal out of you", this leisured life of display. You rush more or less feverishly, gathering scalps of one sort or another; being "seen" in the record number of places where anyone who is anyone can be seen; you pack your days with drives on coaches, fencing matches, luncheons, afternoons, dressings and re-dressings, dinners, the founding of new religions in drawing rooms, polo matches, cricket matches, standing against walls at dances, neighing perhaps after your friends' wives, seeking heaven knows what at operas, theatres, music halls, dashing out into the home counties and back, or really and sensuously enjoying the music of a good concert. At any rate you live very full and laborious days, seeking excitements—until finally excitement leaves you altogether. If you are really in luck, if you are really 120

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RV 121 (LONDON AT LEISURE) someone, each of these events of your day is "something". Each concert is something portentous and, in the world of music perhaps, makes history. Each religion that you see founded is to the sociologist something really significant, each cricket match a real "event" in which the best muscle and the best brain of the day is striving, delivering beautiful balls and making deft and beautiful strokes. But each of these things sinks back into the mere background of your you. You are, on the relentless current of your life, whirled past them as, in a train, you are whirled past a succession of beautiful landscapes. You have "seen" such and such a social event as you have seen, say, Damascus, from a saloon window.

You carry away from it a vague kaleidoscope picture—lights in clusters, the bare shoulders of women, white flannel on green turf in the sunlight, darkened drawing rooms with nasal voices chanting parodies of prayers, the up and down strokes of fiddle bows, the flicker of fifty couples whirling round before you as with a touch of headache you stood in a doorway, a vague recollection of a brilliant anecdote, the fag end of a conversation beneath the palms of a dimmed conservatory, and a fatigue and a feverish idea that if you had missed any one of these unimportant things you would have missed life.

But, if you had been a beanfeaster who missed a beanfeast, or if you had been a Saturday footballer who missed one match, you might have missed so much more of your life. And, indeed, since life is no more 121

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text: Index:Acts Interpretation Act 1901.pdf

title: Index:Acts Interpretation Act 1901.pdf


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RV 122 (LONDON AT LEISURE) than a bundle of memories, your life is so much shorter, since you remember seasons, not events. It is with you: "The season when good old Hinds had his place in Cadogan Square;" or, "The year, don't you remember? when we used to drink barley water", or, "Hermit's year". But the Saturday footballer remembers so many glorious Saturdays relieved by so many blank weeks. He remembers the splendid crowded journeys back—"The time when Old Tommy sang 'Soldiers of the Queen—"The time when we had the cask of beer on the luggage rack coming back from playing Barnes"—"The time when Black and Moses stuck the ticket collector under the seat and kept him there till Waterloo."

So the life of seasons and years is shorter, swifter, more regretful, less filled. And, the breaks being less marked, the life itself is the more laborious and less of a life. For it is in the breaks, in the marking time, that the course of a life becomes visible and sensible. You realise it only in leisures within that laborious leisure; you realise it, in fact, best when, with your hands deep in your trousers pockets, or listless on your watch-chain, you stand, unthinking, speculating on nothing, looking down on the unceasing, hushed, and constantly changing defile of traffic below your club windows. The vaguest thoughts flit through your brain: the knot on a whip, the cockade on a coachman's hat, the sprawl of a large woman in a victoria, the windshield in front of an automobile. You live only with your eyes, and they lull you. So Time becomes mani- 122

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RV 123 (LONDON AT LEISURE) fest like a slow pulse, the world stands still; a four-wheeler takes as it were two years to crawl from one lamp-post to another, and the rustle of newspapers behind your back in the dark recesses of the room might be a tide chafing upon the pebbles. That is your deep and blessed leisure: the pause in the beat of the clock that comes now and then to make life seem worth going on with. Without that there would be an end of us.

For, whether we are of the leisured class, whether we are laundry-women, agricultural labourers, dock labourers, or bank clerks, it is that third state that makes us live. Brahmins" would call it contemplation; the French might use the word, assoupissement. It would be incorrect to call it reverie since it is merely a suspension of the intellectual faculties; it is a bathing in the visible world: it is a third state between work and amusement—perhaps it is the real Leisure.

It is not obviously a product of London alone. For your agricultural labourer who hangs over a gate at dusk, just gently swinging a foot and gazing, wrapt unthinking and voluptuous, at black and white, at speckled, at bright red and flame-plumaged poultry on the green below him, tastes it very well along with the flavour of the straw in his mouth—and the women who, after their hard days, stand above the half doors of cottages and gaze at nothing. But with them it is not a third state, since it takes the place of amusement as well as rest. Your London dock labourer really has this third state, since along with his hard physical work 123

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RV 124 (LONDON AT LEISURE) he has his sing-songs, his club nights, his visits to music halls, his nights when he takes his "missus" to the theatre. I knew one very good fellow, a plasterer's labourer, hardworking, making good money, and as regular as a church clock. His hobby was chaffinches. In the mornings before work and in the evenings he gave a certain amount of time to teaching his birds to pipe. At nightfalls he would go to his public house for a couple of pints of ale and a few pipes. On a Saturday afternoon he was shaved and went to a club where there were singing and debates. He always came home sober enough to put beside his bed—he was a bachelor—a pailful of treacle beer that he had brewed himself, and an indiarubber tube.

And there on a Sunday he would lie nearly through the day sucking up the treacle beer through the tube and gazing at the ceiling, thinking nothing at all, letting his eyes follow the cracks in the plaster from one wall to another, backward and forward for ever. Late in the afternoon he would get up, dress himself carefully in his best; wrap his chaffinch cages in old handkerchiefs, and, carrying them, saunter along Petticoat Lane, look restfully at the cages of birds exposed for sale, meditating a purchase for next year, passing the time of day with a Jew or two, and losing himself, stolid, quiet, and observant, in the thick crowd. He would come to a greengrocer's shop, the door open, the interior a black and odorous darkness, where you trod upon cabbage leaves and orange paper. Behind this was another dark room, in the centre of which a ladder stood 124

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RV 125 (LONDON AT LEISURE) up going into an upper loft through a trap-door. This loft was the "Cave of Harmony" where, in the light of brilliant gas jets were held the contests of the piping chaffinches. There, taking the gas jets for a fiercer sun, the little birds sang shrilly and furiously one against another, the attentive crowd of faces around them, thrown into deep shadows and strong lights, hard featured and intense, with every eye fixed upon the small and straining singer, fingers ticking off turns in the song and a silence broken by no shuffling of feet and no clearing of throats.

So, having scored his "marks", our friend would go slowly and soberly home; set another pailful of treacle beer to brew against next Sunday morning, and put himself quietly to bed.

Thus his life was perfectly regular and calm; hard muscular work giving place to sober amusement, dashed once a week with that intense leisure of lying still, looking at the ceiling and thinking nothing. On off days, bank holidays and the like, he would take his cages, wrapped up, under his arm, out into Epping Forest. For these chaffinch fanciers have a notion—no doubt it is a true one—that unless their captive birds refresh their memory of the wild song by chanting against free chaffinches in the woods or parks, they will lose the brilliance of their note, and finally mope and die. There are in London many thousands of men like this.

Chaffinches, bullfinches, prize bantams, prize rabbits, whippets, bull terriers, canaries, and even pigs occupy 125

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RV 126 (LONDON AT LEISURE) their leisure moments, and are regarded with pride by their wives, and awe by their young children. These breeders and fanciers are mostly country born, deliberate, gentle, sober, with a pipe generally in the corner of the mouth, from which come rare jets of smoke accompanying words as rare and as slow. And their "fancies" provide them with that companionship of animals that is such a necessity to the country-bred Englishman. It gives them a chance to get rid of some of the stores of tenderness towards small living things which, for lack of words, they cannot so well lavish on their wives and children. I have known a carter who did not apparently trouble himself in the least about illnesses in his own house, driven to a state of distraction because one of his old companions, a draught-horse, was on the point of death.

They give him, too, these "fancyings", not only the chance to gaze ineffably, like the agricultural labourer, at the motions of animals, but the chance of emulation, the chance, if you will, of sharing in a sport. That, as it were, is what London supplies, and what makes London in a way both attractive and salutary. For we may say that the man who ceases to compete ceases to be a perfect man, and, in the actual stages of heavy manual work there is no room for emulation. It is true that in the country you have ploughing matches, but they touch only the very few; you have cottage garden prizes, but those are artificially fostered "from above", and, indeed, they call for efforts too like those of the everyday work to afford much of an occupation 126

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Page:Acts Interpretation Act 1901.pdf/1

E it enacted by the King's Most Excellent Majesty the Senate and the House of Representatives of the Commonwealth of Australia as follows:—

1. This Act may he cited as the Acts Interpretation Act 1901.

2. This Act shall apply to all Acts of the Parliament, including this Act, and shall he binding on the Crown.

title: Page:Acts Interpretation Act 1901.pdf/1


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RV 142 (LONDON AT LEISURE) bathing in leisure that will never end. There, indeed, is your London at leisure; the two ends of the scale offered violently for inspection, confronting and ignoring steadily the one the other. For, in the mass, the men in the windows never look down; the men in the park never look up.

In those two opposed sights you have your London, your great tree, in its leisure, making for itself new sap and new fibre, holding aloft its vigorous leaves, shedding its decayed wood, strewing on the ground its rotten twigs and stuff for graveyards.

142

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text: Index:Uganda By Pen and Camera.djvu

title: Index:Uganda By Pen and Camera.djvu


text: The Soul of London/Chapter 4

title: The Soul of London/Chapter 4


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Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v1.djvu/30

did Väinämöinen, rising,

Set his feet upon the surface

Of a sea-encircled island,

In a region bare of forest.

There he dwelt, while years passed over,

And his dwelling he established

On the silent, voiceless island,

In a barren, treeless country.

Then he pondered and reflected,

In his mind he turned it over,

“Who shall sow this barren country,

Thickly scattering seeds around him?”

Pellervoinen, earth-begotten,

Sampsa, youth of smallest stature,

Came to sow the barren country,

Thickly scattering seeds around him.

Down he stooped the seeds to scatter,

On the land and in the marshes,

Both in flat and sandy regions,

And in hard and rocky places.

On the hills he sowed the pine-trees,

On the knolls he sowed the fir-trees,

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text: Index:A Luganda-English and English-Luganda Dictionary.djvu


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Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v1.djvu/31

Runo II]

And in sandy places heather;

Leafy saplings in the valleys.

In the dales he sowed the birch-trees,

In the loose earth sowed the alders,

Where the ground was damp the cherries,

Likewise in the marshes, sallows.

Rowan-trees in holy places,

Willows in the fenny regions,

Juniper in stony districts,

Oaks upon the banks of rivers.

Now the trees sprang up and flourished,

And the saplings sprouted bravely.

With their bloom the firs were loaded,

And the pines their boughs extended.

In the dales the birch was sprouting,

In the loose earth rose the alders,

Where the ground was damp the cherries,

Juniper in stony districts,

Loaded with its lovely berries;

And the cherries likewise fruited.

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,

Came to view the work in progress,

Where the land was sown by Sampsa,

And where Pellervoinen laboured.

While he saw the trees had flourished,

And the saplings sprouted bravely,

Yet had Jumala’s tree, the oak-tree,

Not struck down its root and sprouted.

Therefore to its fate he left it,

Left it to enjoy its freedom,

And he waited three nights longer,

And as many days he waited.

Then he went and gazed around him,

When the week was quite completed.

Yet had Jumala’s tree, the oak-tree,

Not struck down its root and sprouted.

Then he saw four lovely maidens;

Five, like brides, from water rising;

And they mowed the grassy meadow,

Down they cut the dewy herbage,

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text: Index:English-Luganda dictionary.djvu

title: Index:English-Luganda dictionary.djvu


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12

On the cloud-encompassed headland,

On the peaceful island’s summit,

What they mowed, they raked together,

And in heaps the hay collected.

From the ocean rose up Tursas,

From the waves arose the hero,

And the heaps of hay he kindled,

And the flames arose in fury.

All was soon consumed to ashes,

Till the sparks were quite extinguished.

Then among the heaps of ashes,

In the dryness of the ashes,

There a tender germ he planted,

Tender germ, of oak an acorn

Whence the beauteous plant sprang upward,

And the sapling grew and flourished,

As from earth a strawberry rises,

And it forked in both directions.

Then the branches wide extended,

And the leaves were thickly scattered,

And the summit rose to heaven,

And its leaves in air expanded.

In their course the clouds it hindered,

And the driving clouds impeded,

And it hid the shining sunlight,

And the gleaming of the moonlight.

Then the aged Väinämöinen,

Pondered deeply and reflected,

“Is there none to fell the oak-tree,

And o’erthrow the tree majestic?

Sad is now the life of mortals,

And for fish to swim is dismal,

Since the air is void of sunlight,

And the gleaming of the moonlight.”

But they could not find a hero,

Nowhere find a man so mighty,

Who could fell the giant oak-tree,

With its hundred spreading branches.

Then the aged Väinämöinen,

Spoke the very words which follow:

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text:
Page:The Proletarian Revolution in Russia - Lenin, Trotsky and Chicherin - ed. Louis C. Fraina (1918).djvu/268

 the Social-Revolutionists, to compromise them by this collaboration, and to bide his time. And, behind Milyukov's back, the Czarist Gourko is biding his time.

The pseudo-democracy of the Social-Revolutionist and Menshevik type rests on the peasant masses, the petite bourgeoisie of the cities and the more backward workers. On this connection it should be noted that the further events develop, the clearer it becomes that the strength of the combination is in the Social-Revolutionists, while the Mensheviki are the fifth wheel on the wagon. Being led by these two parties, the Workmen's and Soldiers' Soviets, which were elevated to tremendous heights by the cataclysmic convulsions of the masses, are rapidly losing their importance and retrograding to oblivion. And why? Marx has pointed out that when History bestows a heavy punch on the nose of the petty "big guns" of the Philistines, they never seek the cause of their undoing in their own insolvency, but invariably uncover someone's malice or intrigue. Accordingly, Tseretelli grasps at the "conspiracy" of July 16–18, as the "straw" that explains the miserable failure of his whole policy. When the Social-Revolutionary and Menshevik Liebers, Getzes and Voitinskys preserved order from "anarchy," which, by the way, was not being threatened, these gentlemen firmly believed that, like unto the geese that had saved the Capitol, they should be given a reward. And, when they observed that the contempt the bourgeoisie showed them increased in direct proportion to their peace-making zeal toward the proletariat, they were dum-founded. Tseretelli, the same Tseretelli who was such an accomplished juggler with trite commonplaces, found himself cast to the waves as too revolutionary an incumbrance. It was perfectly plain: the Machine-Gun Regiment had "spoiled" the Revolution [by refusing to obey Kerensky's order to march to the front except under certain conditions and by participating in the events of July 16–17].

And if Tseretelli and his party appeared in the ranks of the counter-investigators, of Polovtsov and the military cadets, helping them to disarm the workers in the interests of the counter-revolution, the fault cannot lie with Tseretelli's political game, but rests on the shoulders of the Machine-Gun Regiment which the Bolsheviki had led astray. Such is the philosophy of history professed by the political bankers of the Philistines!

As a matter of fact, the days of July 16, 17 and 18 became a turning-point in the development of the Revolution, for the reason that they exposed the complete inability of the leading parties of


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Runo II]

“Noble mother, who hast borne me,

Luonnotar, who me hast nurtured;

Send me powers from out the ocean:

(Numerous are the powers of ocean)

So that they may fell the oak-tree,

And destroy the tree so baneful,

That the sun may shine upon us,

And the pleasant moonlight glimmer.”

Then a man arose from ocean,

From the waves a hero started,

Not the hugest of the hugest,

Nor the smallest of the smallest.

As a man’s thumb was his stature;

Lofty as the span of woman.

Decked his head a helm of copper,

On his feet were boots of copper,

On his hands were copper gauntlets,

Gloves adorned with copper tracings;

Round his waist his belt was copper;

In his belt his axe was copper;

And the haft thereof was thumb-long,

And the blade thereof was nail-long.

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,

Deeply pondered and reflected:

"While he seems a man in semblance,

And a hero in appearance,

Yet his height is but a thumb-length,

Scarce as lofty as an ox-hoof."

Then he spoke the words which follow,

And expressed himself in this wise:

“Who are you, my little fellow,

Most contemptible of heroes,

Than a dead man scarcely stronger;

And your beauty all has vanished.”

Then the puny man from ocean,

Hero of the floods, made answer:

“I’m a man as you behold me,

Small, but mighty water-hero,

I have come to fell the oak-tree,

And to splinter it to fragments.”

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text: Page:The Harveian oration delivered at the Royal College of Physicians June 26, 1889 (IA b22361285).pdf/1


text: Index:Enzikiriza Y'omusiraamu Entuufu.djvu


text:
Page:Kalevala (Kirby 1907) v1.djvu/34

14

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,

Answered in the words which follow:

“You have hardly been created,

Neither made, nor so proportioned,

As to fell this mighty oak-tree,

Overthrow the tree stupendous.”

Scarcely had the words been spoken,

While his gaze was fixed upon him,

When the man transformed before him,

And became a mighty hero.

While his feet the earth were stamping,

To the clouds his head he lifted,

To his knees his beard was flowing,

To his spurs his locks descended.

Fathom-wide his eyes were parted,

Fathom-wide his trousers measured;

Round his knee the girth was greater,

And around his hip ’twas doubled.

Then he sharpened keen the axe-blade,

Brought the polished blade to sharpness;

Six the stones on which he ground it,

Seven the stones on which he whet it.

Then the man stepped forward lightly,

Hastened on to do his mission;

Wide his trousers, and they fluttered

Round his legs as onward strode he,

And the first step taken, brought him

To the shore so soft and sandy;

With the second stride he landed

On the dun ground further inland,

And the third step brought him quickly,

Where the oak itself was rooted.

With his axe he smote the oak-tree,

With his sharpened blade he hewed it;

Once he smote it, twice he smote it,

And the third stroke wholly cleft it.

From the axe the flame was flashing,

Flame was bursting from the oak-tree,

As he strove to fell the oak-tree,

Overthrow the tree stupendous.

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Runo II]

Thus the third blow was delivered,

And the oak-tree fell before him,

For the mighty tree was shattered,

And the hundred boughs had fallen,

And the trunk extended eastward,

And the summit to the north-west,

And the leaves were scattered southward,

And the branches to the northward.

He who took a branch from off it,

Took prosperity unceasing,

What was broken from the summit,

Gave unending skill in magic;

He who broke a leafy branchlet,

Gathered with it love unending.

What remained of fragments scattered,

Chips of wood, and broken splinters,

On the bright expanse of ocean,

On the far-extending billows,

In the breeze were gently rocking,

On the waves were lightly drifted,

Like the boats on ocean’s surface,

Like the ships amid the sea-waves.

Northward drove the wind the fragments,

Where the little maid of Pohja,

Stood on beach, and washed her head-dress,

And she washed her clothes and rinsed them,

On the shingle by the ocean,

On a tongue of land projecting.

On the waves she saw the fragments,

Put them in her birch-bark wallet,

In her wallet took them homeward;

In the well-closed yard she stored them,

For the arrows of the sorcerer,

For the chase to furnish weapons.

When the oak at last had fallen,

And the evil tree was levelled,

Once again the sun shone brightly,

And the pleasant moonlight glimmered,

And the clouds extended widely,

And the rainbow spanned the heavens,

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16

O’er the cloud-encompassed headland,

And the island’s misty summit.

Then the wastes were clothed with verdure,

And the woods grew up and flourished;

Leaves on trees and grass in meadows.

In the trees the birds were singing,

Loudly sang the cheery throstle;

In the tree-tops called the cuckoo.

Then the earth brought forth her berries;

Shone the fields with golden blossoms;

Herbs of every species flourished;

Plants and trees of all descriptions;

But the barley would not flourish,

Nor the precious seed would ripen.

Then the aged Väinämöinen,

Walked around, and deeply pondered,

By the blue waves’ sandy margin,

On the mighty ocean’s border,

And six grains of corn he found there,

Seven fine seeds of corn he found there,

On the borders of the ocean,

On the yielding, sandy margin.

In a marten’s skin he placed them,

From the leg of summer squirrel.

Then he went to sow the fallows;

On the ground the seeds to scatter,

Near to Kaleva’s own fountain,

And upon the field of Osmo.

From a tree there chirped the titmouse:

“Osmo’s barley will not flourish,

Nor will Kaleva’s oats prosper,

While untilled remains the country,

And uncleared remains the forest,

Nor the fire has burned it over.”

Väinämöinen, old and steadfast,

Ground his axe-blade edge to sharpness

And began to fell the forest,

Toiling hard to clear the country.

All the lovely trees he levelled,

Sparing but a single birch-tree,

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