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 much astonished at Herrman's words, and besought him to give a short account of the adventures he had hinted at. Herrman promised to give a full account of whatever had happened to him, partly by way of narration and partly in writing; however, he begged him to wait 'till to-morrow, that he might be able to arrange the necessary papers: Hellfried very readily consented to it."

"The next morning was uncommonly fine, yet Herrman's guest had no inclination for a hunting party; As soon as breakfast was over he reminded his friend of his promise, asking whether he had found the papers he had been mentioning. Herrman affirmed it, telling his friend at the same time, that he intended to relate only that part of those adventures in which he had been personally concerned, the remainder he would give him in writing, but not before his departure, lest ghosts and necromancers might deprive him of the pleasure of making his dear visitor as comfortable and happy as pos-


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Letter 9, 8th November 1934 Egypt) as Viceroy. Both of them stark realists, and with as much conscience between them as would butter ha’penny bun. The East would understand it!

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No: you're not right about the reproduction fees in the Anthology. When George Blackwood pays for an article, he buys the “first British serial rights” only: all rights of subsequent reproduction remain vested in the author. This he explained to me, myself, when some of my stuff was poached – bodily – by an Austrian magazine, out of “Maga”. They sent G.B. a cheque for having done so – which he passed on to me. I refused it: said that the article was sold to him, and the cheque therefore his ; whereupon he explained the rules governing the matter, and said he had only “first right” in the stuff. So all authors reproduced in the Anthology will have a fee offered to them for permission to do so.

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I was up in Town yesterday – and saw a placard of the evening papers starring “Mysterious death of a D.S.O. Colonel”. I bought a copy: sheet enclosed. Poor Morshead. I thought at once of you, and the Tsangpo struggles of the two of you. I expect his pony ran out above the built-up “jumps” in the “rides” close to Maymyo – in the pine forest where paper-chases are held; and the pointed bamboos of the side-wings got him in the tummy. It's merely a guess; simply because I just missed an exactly similar accident myself in the same place in 1919.

Write when you have time. I'm up to my eyes in work, and starved for good hefty exercise; but never so busy as not to be able to answer your letters.

 * Very sincerely

 * L.A. Bethell

=
===================================================================

Letter 9, 8th November 1934

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Tel: Dorking 360

New Clan

Dorking

Surrey

Nov. 8th 1934

My dear Bailey,

Many thanks for your letter and for the good news of your coming to this area for a fortnight from the 18th. There is much that I want to talk about, and if you and Mrs. Bailey can come and break bread (etc.) with us, I look forward to several meetings.


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 Strangely, your letter came by the same post as the November R.G.S. journal – where I saw your comments on Kingdon Ward and his show around Shinden Gompa. This, again, just after I had finished reading Kaulback’s book on his part of K.W.'s journey which included your hot springs in the Dipluck La and the takin. Kaulback was very readable – a plain unvarnished account by a man who, K.W. says, will be one of the great travellers of the near future. They seem to think a lot of each other, those two. But Kaulback, from his book, struck me as having been unnecessarily “un-bundobust” about his show. I don't think you or I would, from sheer carelessness, have been caught short of both boots and bare food, though you were compelled to live on the forced diet(?) you had 4 weeks down the Lohit in 1911. I think it was Nordenskjold who said that “adventures” were a sign of bad bundobust, and that hardships need not happen. However, he was always on the side of the angels.

Well, of course, K.W. has the great pull over men who are compelled by time, finance, or political considerations to take a direct line and carry straight through, in that his arrangements – and his finances that cover them – provide for an early start, where he can see his flowers and shrubs in their first spring or early summer bloom: then he has a considerable gap, and then does turn

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round once more to collect seed pods. It seems that in the “middle gap” he has time to put in, and some time to do these treks round, thoroughly covering all the area in which he is working – hence his scramble down the Tsangpo Gorge and his rambles round the Shinden Gompa – Sangachu Dyong valley and glaciers. And provided a man has the necessary instruments and knowledge, and has used quiet times here at home in working up every scrap of knowledge accumulated by previous travellers, there is no reason why he shouldn't have a very useful skeleton of his chosen area worked out already on squared paper before he gets there. By none of which do I desire in the slightest to minimise what he does and has done. I think you and I would have considered him an acquisition at any time on the N.E. frontier, but what I do think is that the peculiar conditions of his very specialised job give him opportunities denied to anyone but a professional botanist.

I was particularly interested in what he worked out about the North East head waters of the Dibang. That tangle of country always puzzled me, and now he seems to have got it into some kind of understandable sequence. His description of the almost dwarfish, perfectly flat-faced and monkey like Behijiyas fits exactly a small parcel of otherwise unclassifiable strangers whom we ran into on the Dibang just before we had to turn back in 1911. You, of course, went much further up than that later, but you may remember the lot I mean. I've a snapshot of them somewhere, which I'll show you when you're here. K.W. says they’re the same as the DARUS of Upper Burma. I suppose all those Mishmis you and I knew that year were Chulikattis, and I still believe there's more difference between the two tribes then will allow of their being classified as nothing but branches of the same clan.

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    I don't suppose his theory of the Divides, the Salween and the Himalayan extension, will ever be solved in our lifetime – and when it is, it will be by aeroplane, and vertical photographs. After all, it's nearly 50 years since A.K. put on paper any reliable facts about the ranges, and the very fringes of the detailed survey have hardly yet been touched. K.W. estimates the triangle Sadiya, Fort Shers, Shinden Gompa, to cover 25,000 square miles flat, and many more when those miles are upended. And if you were to put in a fourth point, say Lhasa, or even TSARI, to these three – as would inevitably be necessary if one had to blanket the whole area under discussion, think of what a colossal job that once would be for survey. Personally, I don't think it will ever be done. Much of the geography of Inner Asia depended for its interest, and for the enterprise of explorers like yourself, on the fact that we held India: and when, well within our lifetimes, India ceases to be of any interest to any of us (as, indeed, Ireland has for the past 12 years ceased to be of interest to Englishman – and for the same reasons) I think you will find that all geographical, geological, and geophysical problems hanging on the countries adjoining it will drop out of the picture. In which case, you and Kingdon Ward and men like you may well find yourselves the last of the great explorers of great problems, and “the glory will have departed”. It’s rather hell to think of it. If only our politicians knew what, in the name of an unworthy and unmanly sentimentality, they are destroying, when they ask us to abdicate.

I have another reason for being glad that you will be within reach, here, before long, and in England till December 27th. For months past I've had under my hand the roughed-out words of that series of incidents covering my association with “BARCLAY” for Maga, and though I shall have to embroider and work up bare

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facts with a picturesque story, I must get you to look it over first and tell me that however great an ornamental liar you may think me, you haven't any actual objection to this thing going in. Naturally I'll say nothing offensive, and, remembering what you told me of the long arm of the Soviets who pursue till today anyone they can recognise as having been with you that time in Tashkent etc, I shall gloss over that period with nothing but sketch matter and let you come to life, in detail, from Quetta 1920 onwards. But of course you must read the whole – for one thing, G.W.B. would want to be sure that you wouldn't consider yourself libelled, before he printed it. And as there wouldn't be a smell of a chance of you giving it even 5 minutes after you got back to India and the turmoil of your new job, I must make some shift to get it done before you leave.

It is only the other day that I was able to unload onto the Oxford University Press (Humphrey Mitford's) the infernal grind which has kept me from my original writing these fifteen months past, and now, naturally, I find that the wheels of composition grind slowly, and the stuff they turn out is exceeding small.! But, with renewed life injected into the mechanism by all this intensive reading about the places you and I were so fond of, there seems a chance that things will go more quickly, and that possibly the result may be even worth finishing.

I've kept to the end my hearty congratulations on what is really your main piece of news. Nepal. I'm very, very glad, Bailey, and I wish you every luck in what bids fair to


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Letter 10, 27th December 1935 be an outstandingly interesting job – apart on the kudos of its status. Your namesake and cousin, when he and I were commanding the two halves of the 4th, had a long spell there; he, as you remember, has a way with him when it comes to the wine list, in red or yellow or even plain white

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and he brought back (and, somewhat inventively, retailed to me) some extraordinary confidences which he had gathered from his Jhemadar’s brothers, nephews, etc when slightly elated. I must tell you them, some time, when you're down here.

Naturally, I will not mention your news to anybody, but I expect it will be official before very long. However, till you say the word, I'm dumb.

Queer that you should have come across that letter I wrote to Mrs. Bailey from the Abor country. I remember the fact well on which you reminded me, and the drippy smoky shack in which I sat when I wrote it. Don't destroy it. Some day, someone will want to write your biography, and then all such letters throwing sidelights on your leading achievements will be of value.

Forgive the untidy scrawl – written on my knee sitting up to a fire in my frozen den at the top of the house, too cold to sit up to the writing table only six feet away.

 * My best messages to you both

 * Yours very sincerely

 * L.A. Bethell

=
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Letter 10, 27th December 1935

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62, Hillfield Court,

Belsize Avenue,

N. W. 3

27 . XII. 35

My dear Bailey,

Many thanks for the card: a very striking epitome of the underlying Buddhism of the Gurkha Hindu worship beliefs. it could hardly have been better epitomised, than the outsize dorje in front of a Hindu temple. And a fine camera you have: I've rarely seen better definition.

When I saw your envelope, I thought it was going to contain your comments on “Barclay” of “Adedoids” (December Maga) and possibly something crisp about my having exceeded what you once suggested as permissible about your Tashkent times. I wrote to you about this, a month or more ago, but our letters probably crossed: and I look forward to your answer. I am still rather nervous about


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Letter 11, 20th January 1936 IMG 0370

whether you think what I wrote indiscreet. But I was careful not to do so until the expiry of the year – for which you stipulated – from your time of taking up the Kathmandu Legation.

Material of the right kind for Maga is not as easy to come by as formerly, and we sometimes get anxious at Paternoster Row. The old imperial mindset of pre-war days seems to have given place to a sleepy and gutless acquiescence in what the backboneless peace-and-vote-hunting politicians can and do lay down as national policy: with an inevitable effect on the old sturdy stuff which used to come in so fast that George Blackwood had to keep it off with a stick. Nowadays he can shout for it, and not get it. However, we manage to keep up the old standard of values somehow.

Write when you can. It's long since I heard from you – a letter I mean: and I'd almost made up my mind to postpone sending this till after January 1st – in the sure

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hope that I would have been then able to prefix one more letter of the alphabet to your C.I.E. However – if and when that happens – it will be a further excuse for bothering you with a letter.

There’s little time – or mental energy – for further Maga articles, but I have some notes on our Dibang and Sissori journeys which, padded out with a certain amount of trimming, might work up into another jungle paper. Though some time hence. I suppose there's no chance of getting a Maga paper out of you? I wish you'd try to find time.

My wife and I have put Dorking up for sale, bodily, and have moved into a Town flat, here. Near her friends (Hampstead) and only half an hour from Paternoster Row. So address here in future, when you write. The change over from ten years of the best country life to Town surroundings has been more

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than a bit of a jolt. But worth it, even if it contradicts everything that I advised, in that book of what to do in retirement. It's nearly through its sixth 1,000 – so in a mild way, ranks as a “best seller” by purely booksellers’ arithmetic.

Best wishes to you both from us both. It’s too late to catch you with New Year greetings, I fear.

 * Yours very sincerely

 * L. A. Bethell

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Letter 11, 20th January 1936

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TELEGRAMS, MAGA, LONDON

TELEPHONE 10663 CENTRAL


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text: Poems, Chiefly Lyrical/Supposed Confessions of a second-rate sensitive mind not in unity with itself


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37, Paternoster Row, E.C.

20 . 1 . 36

My dear Bailey,

Many thanks for yours of December 29th from Government House, Calcutta. It was a relief to know that I had not made life complicated for you (officially, socially etc) by “Barclays” doings in “Adedoids”. Lacking an exact perception of your contacts, I might have landed you into something awkward: a poor return for all the varied ideas with which you, often unconsciously, have provided me, in the past – and which I have turned into print.

===

There was a good group of you and your Nepal royalties in a recent number of the Illustrated London News: you've probably had a copy sent you.

===

I read out extracts of your letter to Jim B. especially the part about the paper “forward” and its suggestion of H.E.’s recipe for longevity! He loves a good story – especially one with a mischievous bit of fun

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in it – like this. He has the most infectious laugh of anyone I know – and is in many other ways a most delightful man to work for – and with.

===

Yes, so far as I know, my job here is permanent. The man whose death caused the vacancy, died of old age, and I propose to do the same. There is however one great drawback: the practically complete hanging up of one's own writing – no time for it, and, at the end of the normally by no means easy day, no energy. However, I wouldn't be without the job for worlds; the absolute plum of all things literary and really worthwhile.

===

Thanks so much for the cuttings. The Oxford University Press have now taken over the book: I have no time for running it, and you may find it in their catalogues sandwiched between a new printing of the Book of Common Prayer and a volume of Dean

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Inge’s commentaries on Plato. Hardly the place to look for a manual on post retirement finance: however, I can't complain: they offered me 15% of takings to begin with – but I stuck out for 50: and after a fortnight's cogitation they most unexpectedly surrendered. Their big noise, Humphrey Mitford, was knighted in the New Year's honours – where, by the way, I looked long and closely for your name, and, to my surprise as much as my disappointment, failed to find it.

===


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Letter 12, 20th January 1938    I have just been to the Foreign Office, to make a formal protest against Mussolini's excluding Maga from Italy – part of his new anti-British campaign of pinpricks – and have pointed out that we are quite non -political. They are going to make a ‘preferential’ case of it (a good commentary of the standing of Maga in high places) and the despatch on the subject goes off by this evening's diplomatic bag. There's a joy in feeling that we can get consideration for which the ‘Times’ pleads in vain!

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I still keep up with the “Sphere”, so if there is anything striking about your winter shoots (rhino, if you can manage it: tigers, these people, quite wrongly, view as “visual jeu”) which you can photograph, do send the prints along, and I will put them to Percy Horne, the Editor. By the way, if by any chance you're getting a new camera, do try the LEICA. I had a good look at one the other day, and was particularly struck by the fool proof distance focusing, worked on the principle of a kind of automatic Barr & Stroud miniature range finder built into the body of the camera's structure.

===

Malcolm Burr, Nagaroff’s translator and close friend, has just been in for a talk. N. now has a job as consulting mining engineer somewhere round Jo’burg. I doubt if we shall ever see him back in England again.

===

Best luck Bailey. Write whenever you can.

I've framed your “dorje” Xmas card – the most unusual picture I've had for many a long day.

 * Yours very sincerely

 * L. A. Bethell

=
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Letter 12, 20th January 1938

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TELEGRAMS, MAGA, LONDON

TELEPHONE 10663 CENTRAL

37, Paternoster Row, E.C.

20 . 1 . 38

My dear Bailey,

Very glad to get your letter of 11th from Calcutta, though sorry to hear that Mrs Bailey is ill. The white people were never meant to live in the really damp hotspots of the East. They have their own bugs – a peculiarly virulent form, against which we have little defence.


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 Please offer my sympathies.

About Newnes' proposal and offer –

You will do yourself no good in the literary world by association with that show. They are catchpenny “popular” caterers who's unequal and temporary interest in the grubbier side of French politics or a fire in a City warehouse (to give example of current trivialities) and you might easily find your matter,

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when written, presented to the public sandwiched between undesirable context. This offer for your undoubtedly specialised matter – at 3 guineas a thousand – the market price of which, in right hands and in proper surroundings, would be ten – is sufficient indication of the style of use they would propose to make of it.

Secondly, your having published with Newnes would make the better class publications look askance at your fuller presentation, when in book form. No reputable publisher would like to think himself second fiddle after the Newnes lot: and you would have to avow that you had already published part of your book – even if in different phraseology – with N’s. We, here, for instance condemn a thing ‘ek dum’, whatever its merits, if it or any part of it has been published anywhere before.

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Thirdly – Newnes’ request that “the whole should be full of action and interest, with no padding” shows the way in which they would propose to list it. Pure catch penny journalese. For want of a better word, Yawk.

What the public fail to realise is that there is a very hard and definite line, in publishing, drawn between “journalism” and “letters”. Geographically the two classes are divided by the big railway bridge that crosses the bottom of Ludgate Hill. Westward of it, you will find Fleet Street, and all its works and tricks. Eastward, Blackwood's, the Oxford University Press, and those like us. People may think of it as snobbery, of course, but the division, both psychic and actual, is very real: and our side of the line would no more establish, or allow, contacts with the other side, than you would of your free will go to a sergeants’ dance.

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I'm glad you asked me. To have accepted Newnes would have been a “gaffe”, a thing which would have given you a black mark which would have stuck to you, like a mole, for the rest of your literary life.

All of this leads inevitably to a corollary – that we, Maga, are your market and what Haldane would have called his “spiritual home”. Get your material finished, polish it up, and send it to George Blackwood at Edinburgh. He knows the value of what you have done, a thing which will have a considerable value when he comes to consider what you've written.

For the rest, I look forward, quite sincerely, to seeing you over here in the summer. I'm glad you've made up your mind to chuck, and come home – and share


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Letter 13, 8th March 1938 your regrets that you did not do so 10 years earlier. To me, the 12 years since I retired have been the best and fullest in my life, and grow ever better.

 * My best messages to Mrs Bailey.

 * L. A. Bethell

=
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Letter 13, 8th March 1938

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37, Paternoster Row, E.C. 4

8 . III. 38

My dear Bailey,

Many thanks for yours of 15th of February from “somewhere in the Terai”. Good hunting!

Yes, I gathered from a paragraph in the “Times” some weeks ago that you are retiring in April, and Belham taking your place. I gather from an old Army List that he's a man considerably younger then ourselves: ex-15th Sikhs, and a bit of a linguist in the Punjabi and N.W.F. bats, though he doesn't seem to have touched anything Mongolian. Wonder how he'll get on as your successor?

Need I tell you of the welcome awaiting you here, when eventually you pitch up in July? I thoroughly agree with you, that it would have been wise if you had retired earlier: not that I've the impertinence to suggest for a moment that your work in India, for the last 10 years has

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been valueless, either to yourself or to the Empire. But I have a rooted conviction, after a dozen years' experience of it, that a man's best, most fruitful, and certainly most satisfying life only begins after he has retired, and when, fortified by a moderate pension, he is then free at last to map out his life for himself. But he must do it on a plan. Nothing more easy than to slide into a shapeless existence, in which a host of trivialities tend to take charge. Whereupon the thing becomes undisciplined. The man loses his mental (and too often his physical) shape, and the whole thing goes gaga. I've been reading Arnold Wilson lately – a sound man, who has spent a lot of time and energy in getting into close and personal touch with the English underdog, whom you and I only know of by hearsay. With every appearance of obvious truth, A. W. has narrowed the misery of the unemployed down to one basic factor: not hunger, not dingy quarters and nagging wife, not physical depression, but, “the overwhelming misery of

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one long compulsory holiday”. Physical troubles are bearable, but muddle-cum-boredom, when indefinitely prolonged, are insupportable.


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 THE STRUCTURE AND GENERAL CHARACTER OF PIGEONS. 5 the position of the different feathers of the wings with regard to the joints of its framework. Into that part of the wing formed of the bones of the hand, d to f, are inserted the flight-feathers of the fancier, the primaries of the naturalist. These are ten in number, the second being usually the longest, and the length diminishing regularly from it to the tenth. In some of the more artificial varieties, as the Short-faced Tumblers, the number of primaries is diminished to nine.

The secondaries are twelve in number, and take their rise from that part of the wing, c to d, which corresponds to our fore-arm. In some birds a third set of quill feathers, termed tertiaries, take their rise from the humerus b c, but these are not conspicuous in the pigeons. In describing the feathers of the wing, the bastard or spurious pinion e, attached to the rudimentary fore-finger g, must not be overlooked.

It is impossible to conceive any mechanical contrivance working more smoothly and effectively than the wing of a pigeon. When upon each quill feather is supported by, and in its turn supports, those adjacent to it; and thus is formed a concave under surface to strike the air in flight. In closing, each feather glides smoothly over its fellows, and the whole wing shuts up in the smallest possible compass, the primaries passing under the secondaries, so that only their ends are exposed. In flight, the bird raises the extended wing, and then strikes it against the air below with great force. The support of the bird in the air is due to the circumstance that the downward stroke is made with much greater force than that with which the wing is raised, and also to the form of the wing and the curvature of the feathers. The mode in which the forward flight of the bird is secured has been more correctly described by the Duke of Argyll, in his "Reign of Law," than by any other writer. His Grace writes:—

"The power of forward motion is given to birds, first by the direction in which the whole wing-feathers are set, and next by the structure given to each feather in itself. The wing-feathers are all set backwards, that is, in the direction opposite to that in which the bird moves, whilst each feather is at the same time so constructed as to be strong and rigid towards its base, and extremely flexible and elastic towards its end. On the other hand the front of the wing, along the greater part of its length, is a stiff hard edge, wholly unelastic and unyielding to the air. The anterior and posterior webs of each feather are adjusted on the same principle. The consequence of this disposition of the parts as a whole, and of this construction of each of the parts, is, that the air which is struck and compressed in the hollow of the wing, being unable to escape through the wing, owing to the closing upwards of the feathers against each other, and being also unable to escape forwards, owing to the rigidity of the bones and of the quills in this direction, finds its easiest escape backwards. In passing backwards it lifts by its force the elastic ends of the feathers; and thus, whilst effecting this escape, in obedience to the law of action and reaction, it communicates, in its passage along the whole line of both wings, a corresponding push forwards to the body of the bird. By this elaborate mechanical contrivance the same volume of air is


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 The legal representative of a minor may exercise, on behalf of that minor, the right to claim French nationality; and if that right has not been exercised, the minor may claim French nationality within the year following his majority.

Except in the cases provided for in No. (6) of the present paragraph, the French authorities reserve to themselves the right, in individual cases, to reject the claim to French nationality.

3.

Subject to the provisions of paragraph 2, Germans born or domiciled in Alsace-Lorraine shall not acquire French nationality by reason of the restoration of Alsace-Lorraine to France, even though they may have the status of citizens of Alsace-Lorraine.

They may acquire French nationality only by naturalisation, on condition of having been domiciled in Alsace-Lorraine from a date previous to August 3, 1914, and of submitting proof of unbroken residence within the restored territory for a period of three years from November 11, 1918.

France will be solely responsible for their diplomatic and consular protection from the date of their application for French naturalisation.

4.

The French Government shall determine the procedure by which reinstatement in French nationality as of right shall be effected, and the conditions under which decisions shall be given upon claims to such nationality and applications for naturalisation, as provided by the present Annex.  AUSTRIA.

Germany acknowledges and will respect strictly the independence of Austria, within the frontiers which may be fixed in a Treaty between that State and the Principal Allied and Associated Powers; she agrees that this independence shall be inalienable, except with the consent of the Council of the League of Nations.


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 ANNEX.

1.

As from November 11, 1918, the following persons are ipso facto reinstated in French nationality:

(1) Persons who lost French nationality by the application of the Franco-German Treaty of May 10, 1871, and who have not since that date acquired any nationality other than German;

(2) The legitimate or natural descendants of the persons referred to in the immediately preceding paragraph, with the exception of those whose ascendants in the paternal line include a German who migrated into Alsace-Lorraine after July 15, 1870:

(3) All persons born in Alsace-Lorraine of unknown parents, or whose nationality is unknown.

2.

Within the period of one year from the coming into force of the present Treaty, persons included in any of the following categories may claim French nationality:

(1) All persons not restored to French nationality under paragraph 1 above, whose ascendants include a Frenchman or Frenchwoman who lost French nationality under the conditions referred to in the said paragraph;

(2) All foreigners, not nationals of a German State, who acquired the status of a citizen of Alsace-Lorraine before August 3, 1914;

(3) All Germans domiciled in Alsace-Lorraine, if they have been so domiciled since a date previous to July 15, 1870, or if one of their ascendants was at that date domiciled in Alsace-Lorraine;

(4) All Germans born or domiciled in Alsace-Lorraine who have served in the Allied or Associated armies during the present war, and their descendants;

(5) All persons born in Alsace-Lorraine before May 10, 1871, of foreign parents, and the descendants of such persons;

(6) The husband or wife of any person whose French nationality may have been restored under paragraph 1, or who may have claimed and obtained French nationality in accordance with the preceding provisions.


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 to the death of 500 people over five days in the rural town of Moura. Corinne Dufka, Sahel director at Human Rights Watch, called this the “worst [atrocity] in Mali in a decade”. UK Government officials directly linked the arrival of Wagner fighters to Mali’s deteriorating human rights situation in early 2022.

In CAR and Mali, Wagner fighters are documented as having targeted civilians at a significantly higher rate than both state forces and major insurgent or terrorist groups in those countries. The destabilising effects of Wagner engagement have been underlined by the United States and European Union. The UK Government stated that Wagner fighters [emphasis added]:

"…undermine security and do not offer any kind of credible long-term approach […] Wagner has also interfered in African politics by protecting and supporting military regimes and weakening democratic processes […] The deployment of proxy military forces such as Wagner undermines international law and […] The Wagner Group is a driver of conflict and capitalises on instability for its own interests [...] Wagner has committed human rights abuses, undermined the work of international peacekeepers, and sought control of mineral resources, to the detriment of local citizens and their economy."

19. Dr Sorcha MacLeod, Chair of the UN Working Group on the Use of Mercenaries, told us it is “almost impossible” to hold “mercenaries and mercenary-type actors” to account for their crimes. Wagner deployments foster a “context of impunity”. This is because:


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Rh Despite this symbiotic relationship, evidence from a former Wagner fighter indicates that operational tensions between the network and the Russian Ministry of Defence are long-standing.

15. '''The Wagner Network is highly opportunistic and not a straightforward proxy for Russia, even though the Russian state has sometimes directed, facilitated, and supported its military operations, notably in Libya and Ukraine. Even when the network has acted purely in its own economic interests, Russia is likely to have benefited financially or in geopolitical influence from its presence. Its guiding hand has been the Russian state.'''

16. A former Wagner fighter was positive about the role of the Wagner Network, saying, “the Wagner Group has real autonomy and, in my view, has earnt its well-developed brand.” This individual provided detailed examples from CAR to demonstrate the point. We received little other evidence that defended the record of Wagner fighters. However, it is logical to assume that the host governments perceived benefits from engaging with the Wagner Network. Many governments sought military protection against security threats, sometimes disillusioned with the international community’s efforts. Accordingly, the network has offered counter-terrorism/counter-insurgency operations, provided training unrestrained by human rights obligations, and supplied weapons and military equipment.


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Rh Table 3: High-confidence countries where the Wagner Network has carried out non-military activities (between 2014 and June 2023)


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had occasion to wear his grim smile many a time as the days passed by. Indeed, as his acquaintance with his grandson progressed, he wore the smile so often that there were moments when it almost lost its grimness. There is no denying that before Lord Fauntleroy had appeared on the scene, the old man had been growing very tired of his loneliness and his gout and his seventy years. After so long a life of excitement and amusement, it was not agreeable to sit alone even in the most splendid room, with one foot on a gout-stool, and with no other diversion. than flying into a rage, and shouting at a frightened footman who hated the sight of him. The old Earl was too clever a man not to know perfectly well that his servants detested him, and that even if he had visitors, they did not come for love of him—though some found a sort of amusement in his sharp, sarcastic talk, which spared no one. So long as he had been strong and well, he had gone from one place to another, pretending to amuse himself, though he had not really enjoyed it; and when his health began to fail, he felt tired of everything and shut himself up at Dorincourt, with his gout and his newspapers and his books. But he could not read all the time, and he became more and more "bored," as he called it. He hated the long nights and days, and he grew more and more savage and irritable. And then Fauntleroy came; and when the Earl saw him, fortunately for the little fellow, the secret pride of the grandfather was gratified at the outset. If Cedric had been a less hand-

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 Fauntleroy mounted in great delight. He had never been on a pony before, and he was in the highest spirits. Wilkins, the groom, led the animal by the bridle up and down before the library window.

"He's a well plucked un, he is," Wilkins remarked in the stable afterward with many grins. "It were n't no trouble to put him up. An' a old un would n't ha' sat any straighter when he were up. He ses—ses he to me, 'Wilkins,' he ses, 'am I sitting up straight? They sit up straight at the circus,' ses he. An' I ses, 'As straight as a arrer, your lordship!'—an' he laughs, as pleased as could be, an' he ses, 'That 's right,' he ses, 'you tell me if I don't sit up straight, Wilkins!

But sitting up straight and being led at a walk were not altogether and completely satisfactory. After a few minutes, Fauntleroy spoke to his grandfather—watching him from the window:

"Can't I go by myself?" he asked; "and can't I go faster? The boy on Fifth Avenue used to trot and canter!"

"Do you think you could trot and canter?" said the Earl.

"I should like to try," answered Fauntleroy.

His lordship made a sign to Wilkins, who at the signal brought up his own horse and mounted it and took Fauntleroy's pony by the leading-rein.

"Now," said the Earl, "let him trot."

The next few minutes were rather exciting to the small equestrian. He found that trotting was not so easy as walking, and the faster the pony trotted, the less easy it was.

"It j-jolts a g-goo-good deal—do-does n't it?" he said to Wilkins. "D-does it j-jolt y-you?"

"No, my lord," answered Wilkins. "You'll get used to it in time. Rise in your stirrups."

"I'm ri-rising all the t-time," said Fauntleroy.

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Rh

14. As shown by the above examples, the Wagner Network’s activities have gone beyond conventional military activities. Its services encompassed political advisory services, electoral services, media campaigns, mineral extraction and guarding/security services. It has also run “opportunistic” Russian disinformation campaigns via Prigozhin-affiliated media outlets, which can serve as a precursor to the involvement of Wagner fighters— as occurred in Mali (see Table 2 above). Mark Galeotti, Honorary Professor at the UCL School of Slavonic and East European Studies, has noted the network:

"…shifts almost seamlessly between being an out and out proxy of the Kremlin, and an essentially commercial organisation driven by the search for profit. This not only makes it often difficult to grasp its motivations in any one theatre, it also highlights the challenges of dealing with regimes in which the boundaries between the private and the public are both porous and mobile."

He asserted that “while clearly Prigozhin would not deploy it […] without getting clearance from the Kremlin, in most cases it is [not] actively tasked by the Russian government”. He cited Ukraine and Libya as exceptions, where “Wagner is clearly and verifiably acting on Kremlin orders”. However, even in countries where the network operates solely for economic gain and receives payments from host governments (rather than the Russian state):

"…clearly Moscow does accrue some influence and soft power [from the Network’s presence], especially by being demonstrably willing to work with corrupt and authoritarian governments […] Prigozhin’s contractors – not just mercenaries but also political technologists – can be a useful foot in the door. […] Wagner can act as a cover for intelligence and influence operations conducted by the SVR (Foreign Intelligence Service) and, especially, GRU (military intelligence)."


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 He was both rising and falling rather uncomfortably and with many shakes and bounces. He was out of breath and his face grew red, but he held on with all his might, and sat as straight as he could. The Earl could see that from his window. When the riders came back within speaking distance, after they had been hidden by the trees a few minutes, Fauntleroy's hat was off, his cheeks were like poppies, and his lips were set, but he was still trotting manfully.

"Stop a minute!" said his grandfather. "Where's your hat?"

Wilkins touched his. "It fell off, your lordship," he said, with evident enjoyment. "Would n't let me stop to pick it up, my lord."

"Not much afraid, is he?" asked the Earl dryly.

"Him, your lordship!" exclaimed Wilkins. "I should n't say as he knowed what it meant. I've taught young gen'lemen to ride afore, an' I never see one stick on more determinder."

"Tired?" said the Earl to Fauntleroy. "Want to get off?"

"It jolts you more than you think it will," admitted his young lordship frankly. "And it tires you a little, too; but I don't want to get off. I want to learn how. As soon as I've got my breath I want to go back for the hat."

The cleverest person in the world, if he had undertaken to teach Fauntleroy how to please the old man who watched him, could not have taught him anything which would have succeeded better. As the pony trotted off again toward the avenue, a faint color crept up in the fierce old face, and the eyes, under the shaggy brows, gleamed with a pleasure such as his lordship had scarcely expected to know again. And he sat and watched quite eagerly until the sound of the horses' hoofs returned. When they did come, which was after some time, they came at a faster pace. Fauntleroy's hat was still off; Wilkins was carrying it for him; his cheeks were redder than before, and his hair was flying about his ears, but he came at quite a brisk canter.

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 And amid the shouts and clamor of applause, he stepped back with a little sigh of relief, and put his hand into the Earl's and stood close to him, smiling and leaning against his side.

And that would be the very end of my story; but I must add one curious piece of information, which is that Mr. Hobbs became so fascinated with high life and was so reluctant to leave his young friend that he actually sold his corner store in New York, and settled in the English village of Erlesboro, where he opened a shop which was patronized by the Castle and consequently was a great success. And though he and the Earl never became very intimate, if you will believe me, that man Hobbs became in time more aristocratic than his lordship himself, and he read the Court news every morning, and followed all the doings of the House of Lords! And about ten years after, when Dick, who had finished his education and was going to visit his brother in California, asked the good grocer if he did not wish to return to America, he shook his head seriously.

"Not to live there," he said. "Not to live there; I want to be near him, an' sort o'look after him. It's a good enough country for them that's young an' stirrin'—but there's faults in it. There's not an auntsister among 'em—nor an earl!"

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text:
The Scientific Monthly/Volume 14

 * PAGE
 * colspan=2|
 * Hybridzation in Plant and Animal Improvement
 * 5
 * Adventures in Stupidity: A Partial Analysis of the Intellectual Inferiority of a College Student
 * 24
 * Certain Unities in Science
 * 41
 * Thomas Hariot
 * 60
 * Dru Drury—An Eighteenth Century Entomologist
 * 67
 * Galen: The Man and His Times
 * 83
 * The Mortality of Foreign Race Stocks
 * 94
 * The Progress of Science
 * 105
 * colspan=2|
 * Growth in Living and Non-Living Systems
 * 113
 * Mental and Physical Effects of Fresh Air
 * 131
 * Progress of Public Health Work
 * 140
 * Electrons and Ether Waves
 * 153
 * Chemistry of the Blood One Hundred Years Ago
 * 161
 * Enumeration Errors in Negro Population
 * 168
 * Weather Control
 * 178
 * Fishing in the Mississippi
 * 186
 * Flower Seasons
 * 201
 * The Progress of Science
 * 205
 * colspan=2|
 * The Problems of the Tide
 * 209
 * The Organism and its Environment
 * 223
 * Control of Propaganda as a Psychological Problem
 * 234
 * Public Health and Experimental Biology
 * 253
 * The Conservation of the Mammals and Other Vanishing Animals of the South Pacific
 * 261
 * The Dawn of the Cell Theory
 * 268
 * Japanese Influence in Chinese Medical Education
 * 278
 * A Curious Mathematical Title-Page
 * 294
 * The Progress of Science
 * 297
 * colspan=2|
 * Mental and Physical Correspondence in Twins
 * 305
 * Dehydration and the Preservation of Foods
 * 332
 * A Perpetual Submarine War
 * 345
 * The Negro Enumeration of 1920
 * 352
 * Aeronautic Accidents of Two Years Compared
 * 361
 * Why the Movies Move
 * 364
 * The Sub-Conscious--What Is It?
 * 379
 * Disease and Injury Among Fossil Men and the Beginnings of Surgery
 * 391
 * The Progress of Science
 * 395
 * colspan=2|
 * The Relation Between Research in Human Heredity and Experimental Genetics
 * Mental and Physical Correspondence in Twins
 * Latent Life, or Apparent Death
 * The History of Chemistry in China
 * 441
 * The Larger Human Worth of Mathematics
 * 447
 * On Founder's Day
 * 469
 * Unusual Human Foods
 * 475
 * Regarding the Habits of Tarantulas and the Effects of Their Poison
 * 482
 * The Progress of Science
 * 490
 * colspan=2|
 * Social Life among the Insects
 * 497
 * Homing Powers of the Cat
 * 525
 * Fishes: Why Study Them?
 * 540
 * The Ether Theories of Electrification
 * 547
 * Falsification in the History of Early Chemistry
 * 560
 * The Organization of Scientific Men
 * 568
 * Martian Polar Rifts
 * 579
 * The Progress of Science
 * 582
 * Index
 * 591
 * }
 * Disease and Injury Among Fossil Men and the Beginnings of Surgery
 * 391
 * The Progress of Science
 * 395
 * colspan=2|
 * The Relation Between Research in Human Heredity and Experimental Genetics
 * Mental and Physical Correspondence in Twins
 * Latent Life, or Apparent Death
 * The History of Chemistry in China
 * 441
 * The Larger Human Worth of Mathematics
 * 447
 * On Founder's Day
 * 469
 * Unusual Human Foods
 * 475
 * Regarding the Habits of Tarantulas and the Effects of Their Poison
 * 482
 * The Progress of Science
 * 490
 * colspan=2|
 * Social Life among the Insects
 * 497
 * Homing Powers of the Cat
 * 525
 * Fishes: Why Study Them?
 * 540
 * The Ether Theories of Electrification
 * 547
 * Falsification in the History of Early Chemistry
 * 560
 * The Organization of Scientific Men
 * 568
 * Martian Polar Rifts
 * 579
 * The Progress of Science
 * 582
 * Index
 * 591
 * }
 * Homing Powers of the Cat
 * 525
 * Fishes: Why Study Them?
 * 540
 * The Ether Theories of Electrification
 * 547
 * Falsification in the History of Early Chemistry
 * 560
 * The Organization of Scientific Men
 * 568
 * Martian Polar Rifts
 * 579
 * The Progress of Science
 * 582
 * Index
 * 591
 * }
 * 579
 * The Progress of Science
 * 582
 * Index
 * 591
 * }
 * 591
 * }
 * }

title: The Scientific Monthly/Volume 14


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118

Now that the guests departing all on their way were sped,

Siegfried the son of Siegmund unto his people said:

“We likewise must make ready home to our land to go.”

Well liked his wife these tidings, when she the news did know.

She spake unto her husband: “When must we needs set out?

That I should go thus quickly I very much misdoubt;

For firstly must my brothers with me the kingdom share.”

’Twas irksome unto Siegfried from Kriemhild this to hear.

The princes went unto him and spake to him, all three:

“Now be assured, Sir Siegfried, that yours shall ever be

Our true and faithful service, ay, even unto death!”

He bowed unto the princes who pledged him thus their faith:

“We would with you share also,” said Giselher the young,

“The lands and eke the castles which unto us belong.

Whate’er of this wide kingdom be subject to our rule,

Together with Kriemhilda, that shall you share in full.”

Thereon the son of Siegmund said to the princes three,

As soon as of these nobles the goodwill he did see:

“Your heritage, God grant it for ever blesséd be,

And eke the folk within it! But, for my dear wife, she


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IRCLES to square and cubes to double would give a man excessive trouble." Thus sings old Matthew Prior, indicating that "many knotty points there are, which all discuss but few can clear." Indeed, hundreds of would-be pathfinders of the intellect, from the time of Anaxagoras down to ours, have gone into ecstasy in the belief that they had solved the impossible problem of the squaring of the circle, only perhaps later to be cast into the depths of disappointment upon learning of their failure. Many have died under the delusion that they had accomplished the impossible.

The problem of the quadrature of the circle presents a strange phenomenon in the history of thought. A geometric construction is to be effected on very definite assumptions and restrictions—the use of a pair of compasses and an ungraduated ruler.

One element of strangeness lies in the fact that the problem has no bearing whatever on practical life. The mathematician and engineer ean compute the area of a circle to any desired degree of approximation; if they wish, they can carry approximations to hundreds of decimal places, although five or six places suffice in practice.

Another feature constitutes a source of pride to present-day mathematicians. Unlike some philosophical questions which are as far from solution now as they were aeons ago, the circle-problem, after thousands of years of intellectual effort, has been finally and definitely conquered; in 1882 it was proved by conclusive demonstration accepted by all trained mathematicians, that, under the restrictions imposed, the circle can not be squared.

One item of interest, in connection with the quadrature of the circle, is not generally known. The problem suggested an illustrated title-page which is perhaps the most unique that has ever adorned a mathematical book. In 1647 the Flemish Jesuit mathematician. Gregory St. Vincent, published a wonderful geometry, containing genuine pearls of new geometric truth, but unfortunately also a false diamond, the quadrature of the circle. We reproduce the title-page, which presents to the eye the nature of


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XI.]

“Gladly foregoes the portion that ye to her would give.

A crown she’ll soon be wearing, and, if we both should live,

She’ll be, in sooth, far richer than any living bride.

In aught else at your service I’ll loyally abide.”

Then spake the lady Kriemhild: “Though naught my land you deem,

Burgundian thanes should never stand in such small esteem!

To lead them to his country right glad a king might be.

Ay! let my own dear brothers e’en share in all with me.”

Then spake the noble Gernot: “Take whom thou hast a mind;

Of those who would ride with thee, thou here wilt plenty find!

Of thirty hundred warriors a thousand we’ll give thee

To be thine own attendants.” Then Kriemhild speedily

For Hagen sent, of Tronjé, and likewise for Ortwein:

“Will ye and eke your kinsmen,” she asked, “be men of mine?”

But Hagen, when he heard it, cried in a mood of wrath:

“Nay, Gunther may not give us to anyone on earth!

“Let others of your household attend you on your way,

Well might you know by this time the customs of Tronjé

Upon the king attending at court we choose to stay,—

Whom we thus far have follow’d, we still would serve alway.”

’Twas therefore so decided: to start they did prepare.

As noble court-attendants Dame Kriemhild took with her

Of maidens two-and-thirty, besides five hundred men.

Sir Eckewart, the Margrave, went with Kriemhilda then.


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 of modern social inquiry has a shape that is somewhat sharply defined. It begins as a rule with an analysis, with statistics, tables of population, decrease of crime among Congregationalists, growth of hysteria among policemen, and similar ascertained facts; it ends with a chapter that is generally called "The Remedy." It is almost wholly due to this careful, solid, and scientific method that "The Remedy" is never found. For this scheme of medical question and answer is a blunder; the first great blunder of sociology. It is always called stating the disease before we find the cure. But it is the whole definition and dignity of man that in social matters we must actually find the cure before we find the disease.

The fallacy is one of the fifty fallacies that come from the modern madness of biological or bodily metaphors. It is convenient to speak for the Social Organism, just as it is convenient to speak of the British Lion. But Britain is no more an organism than Britain is a lion. The


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120

Then was a great leave-taking, of squire as well as knight,

Of maiden and of matron: as was indeed but right.

Friend kissing friend at parting was seen on every hand:

Right gaily they departed from out King Gunther’s land.

Their kinsmen did escort them far out upon the way.

And camping-grounds were fix’d on, where they the night should stay,—

Wherever seem’d good to them throughout the kings’ domain.

Swift messengers to Siegmund the tidings bear amain

That he and Dame Sieglinda, might straight be made aware

How that their son was coming, with Uté’s daughter fair,—

The beauteous Kriemhilda, of Worms on the Rhine-strand.

No dearer news and better could e’er have come to hand.

“Ah, well for me,” quoth Siegmund, “that I this day have known

When beauteous Kriemhilda comes hither for a crown!

Mine heritage I reckon thereby a worthier thing:

My son, the noble Siegfried, shall here himself be king.”

Then gave the Lady Sieglind much velvet of red hue,

And weighty gold and silver, that was their herald’s due;

So much the news rejoiced her which she had heard that day.

With zeal her waiting-maidens now donn’d their best array.

Folks talk’d of who was coming with Siegfried to their land.

They bade men raise a platform, with benches close at hand,

Wherefrom his friends might see him as with his crown he rode.

King Siegmund’s men went forward to meet him on the road.


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 moment we begin to give a nation the unity and simplicity of an animal, we begin to think wildly. Because every man is a biped, fifty men are not a centipede. This has produced, for instance, the gaping absurdity of perpetually talking about "young nations" and "dying nations," as if a nation had a fixed and physical span of life. Thus people will say that Spain has entered a final senility; they might as well say that Spain is losing all her teeth. Or people will say that Canada should soon produce a literature; which is like saying that Canada must soon grow a moustache. Nations consist of people; the first generation may be decrepit, or the ten thousandth may be vigorous. Similar applications of the fallacy are made by those who see in the increasing size of national possessions, a simple increase in wisdom and stature, and in favour with God and man. These people, indeed, even fall short in subtlety of the parallel of a human body. They do not even ask whether an empire is growing taller in its youth, or only growing fatter in its old age. But of all the instances of error arising from this physical fancy, the worst is that we have before us: the habit of exhaustively describing a social sickness, and then propounding a social drug.

Now we do talk first about the disease in cases of bodily breakdown; and that for an


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 excellent reason. Because, though there may be doubt about the way in which the body broke down, there is no doubt at all about the shape in which it should be built up again. No doctor proposes to produce a new kind of man, with a new arrangement of eyes or limbs. The hospital, by necessity, may send a man home with one leg less: but it will not (in a creative rapture) send him home with one leg extra. Medical science is content with the normal human body, and only seeks to restore it.

But social science is by no means always content with the normal human soul; it has all sorts of fancy souls for sale. Man as a social idealist will say "I am tired of being a Puritan; I want to be a Pagan," or "Beyond this dark probation of Individualism I see the shining paradise of Collectivism." No is bodily ills there is none of this difference about the ultimate ideal. The patient may or may not want quinine; but he certainly wants health. No one says "I am tired of this headache; I want some toothache," or "The only thing for this Russian Influenza is a few German Measles," or "Through this dark probation of catarrh I see the shining paradise of rheumatism." But exactly the whole difficulty in our public problems is that some men are aiming at cures which other men would regard as worse maladies; are offering ultimate


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 conditions as states of health which others would uncompromisingly call states of disease. Mr. Belloc one said that he would no more part with the idea of property than with his teeth; yet to Mr. Bernard Shaw property is not a tooth, but a toothache. Lord Milner has sincerely attempted to introduce German efficiency; and many of us would as soon welcome German Measles. Dr. Saleeby would honestly like to have Eugenics; but I would rather has rheumatics.

This is the arresting and dominant fact about modern social discussion; that the quarrel is not merely about the difficulties, but about the aim. We agree about the evil; it is about the good that we should tear each other's eyes out. We all admit that a lazy aristocracy is a bad thing. We should not by any means all admit that an active aristocracy would be a good thing. We all feel angry with an irreligious priesthood; but some of us would go mad with disgust at a really religious one. Everyone is indignant if our army is weak, including the people who would be even more indignant if it were strong. The social case is exactly the opposite of the medical case. We do not disagree, like doctors, about the precise nature of the illness, while agreeing about the nature of the health. On the contrary, we all agree that England is unhealthy,


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 84

It must not be supposed that the arguments of Lenin differ from those of Trotzky on this fundamental point. The American organ Soviet Russia declares that Soviet Russia is "the property of the producers" and "every worker belongs to Soviet Russia." No more absolute abandonment of individual liberty has ever been seen in print. Soviet Russia then proceeds to justify itself by reproducing the following article from the pen of Lenin, who differs from Trotzky only in the proposition that methods of compulsion will have to be continued not for one but for many generations:

Communist labor, in the strictest sense of the word, is the voluntary labor of future society, performed without pay, not as a definite duty, not in order to obtain the right to a share of production, and not according to rigid rules. It is labor performed freely, bound by no rule, without regard to compensation, and not with an eye to any reward. It is labor performed as a habit, for the common good, and with the realization of its necessity (which will also become a habit), in order to provide for the needs of society.

It is clear to every one that we, and this means our society, must advance very far indeed before labor of this kind can be realized in our social order.

To build up a new labor discipline, to create new forms of social relations, to find new methods of drawing people to work—this is a task of many generations. It is the supreme task. …


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 but half of us would not look at her in what the other half would call blooming health. Public abuses are so prominent and pestilent that they sweep all generous people into a sort of fictitious unanimity. We forget that, while we agree about the abuses of things, we should differ very much about the uses of them. Mr. Cadbury and I would agree about the bad public-house. It would be precisely in front of the good public-house that our painful personal fracas would occur.

I maintain, therefore, that the common sociological method is quite useless: that of first dissecting abject poverty or cataloguing prostitution. We all dislike abject poverty; but it might be another business if we began discussing independent and dignified poverty. We all disapprove of prostitution; but we do not all approve of purity. The only way to discuss the social evil is to get at once to the social ideal. We can all see the national madness; but what is national sanity? I have called this book "What's Wrong with the World," but the rather wild title refers only to one point. What is wrong is that we do no ask what is right.


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 Rh To succeed in great things, we must begin in little things. And even after the "great" thing—the overthrow of the state, whereby capitalism is destroyed and power is transferred to the proletariat—the formation of industrial life on a new basis must start with the little things. Communist Saturdays, industrial armies, compulsory labor—these are various forms of the practical working out of Socialist labor.

A radical American Socialist, Albert Boni (formerly of the publishing firm of Boni and Liveright) who has just returned from several months in Soviet Russia has given us, in the New York Globe, a pro-Soviet newspaper, the following unforgettable picture of the new slavery.

The industrial collapse of Russia brings not merely a problem of technical reorganization, replacement of machinery and supplying raw materials and motive power. The Communist party is facing a situation in which the laboring classes, in whose behalf, supposedly, the Communist party is working, are proving themselves not only unwilling, but unable to endure the hardships and suffering that industrial disorganization has imposed upon them. In the face of impossible living conditions, the workers are abandoning the cities for the country and its more certain existence.

To meet the dearth of man-power, the Russian government decreed that every male over sixteen years of age must labor at such tasks as the state may assign. Labor books, showing that this obligation is being fulfilled, have been issued to all citizens, replacing passports and all other identification papers.

Wherever plans of the central government meet with opposition they have one resort that never fails—military force and the terror imposed by the extraordinary commission. But the peasants are already in a state of too


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 86 great restlessness to permit of forcible measures over wide stretches of territory without great risks of serious consequences. Conscription of labor is going forward very slowly, and only where the Communist forces are gathered in such strength that resistance is rendered impossible.

The Russian laborer is held tied to his shop as closely as any feudal serf was bound to the land of his lord. Transfer of employees from one factory to another is possible only with the consent of the shop directorate. Travel beyond a radius of twenty-five miles is possible only with the consent of the local representatives of the extraordinary commission, which permission is granted only upon the request of the factory executive. Desertion from factories is punishable by reduction of food ration, and, if repeated, by arrest and internment in concentration camps. Some of the most important plants are being operated like military encampments, workers' quarters having been erected upon the grounds. There the employees are held under armed guards and require special passes to enter and to leave.

Military discipline has been introduced in all works. Fines are imposed for workers arriving late, heavy punishments are exacted from those failing to appear unless satisfactory justification of their absence is forthcoming. Factories are again placed under individual control with dictatorial power in directorates' hands over conditions of work. Overtime is demanded as required. Piece work, premiums, the Taylor system, all possible methods are introduced to speed up the exhausted worker. In each factory are representatives of the extraordinary commission reporting all cases of discontent and mischief makers are dealt with severely. Strikes are absolutely forbidden, and any attempts to organize the workers to resist the imposition of new demands are called counter-revolutionary activities for which long-term imprisonment is the lightest possible punishment.


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 Rh As far as is possible under that ruthless tyranny the organized labor of Russia is everywhere in a state of full revolt. The organized workers are doing what they can to reach the hearts and minds of laboring humanity in all countries, but they are working against overwhelming obstacles—the refusal of the bread card, which means immediate starvation for their families, the firing squad, death by torture in prisons. It is difficult for them even to speak, and a decree especially forbidding speeches at labor union meetings has been issued. Martoff, the world-renowned leader of the Social-Democratic Party, has described a special decree prohibiting under threat of the revolutionary tribunal speeches at workmen's meetings without special permission from the Moscow authorities. Martoff says that since the decree was issued not a single social-democrat has obtained this permission. Another decree calls for the compulsory attendance of workmen at meetings at which the benefits of Soviet rule are expounded, time being paid for attendance!


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Soviet Russia the Bolshevists are using many words with a new meaning. It has been shown how they sometimes employ the word "democracy" to mean the reverse of what all civilized peoples and all the labor movements of the world have hitherto meant by the word. So also, after abolishing all the rights of labor and labor organizations and of cooperatives the Bolshevists, nevertheless, continue to apply the terms "trade unions" and "cooperatives" to the empty shells that remain.

In Soviet Russia (April 2, 1921) we read: "The trade unions have been practically transformed into organs of the Soviet Government. Membership in the trade unions is now compulsory for Russian workers." Never before has the term "trade union" been applied to a compulsory state organization. "We shall show below that even the Bolshevists themselves are divided as to whether they shall now regard all the seven million industrial, governmental and agricultural workers whom they seek to classify as the "proletariat" as being members of the trade unions or not. It is conceded that a large part of these people do not realize that they are members of trade unions and do not even pay dues. In fact, the dues seem to be paid by the Government, as we


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 Rh may see from the following Moscow wireless sent out in December, 1920, to trade union officials throughout Russia:

Also these "trade unions" do not have the right to strike or to propose a change in the form of government. They may elect their own officials if the officials elected meet the approval of the Communist Party, otherwise the officials are "appointed."

In his report to the party printed (See Krasnaya Gazeta) January 11, 1921, Zinoviev declared:

If we recall the fact that only 70,000 industrial workers are listed by the Communist Party itself as party members, we see that Zinoviev's estimate of communist trade unionists is indeed highas he confesses. The British Labor Delegation to Soviet Russia reports


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 shall not have been appealed from before November 11, 1918, shall be regarded as final and susceptible of inmiediate execution without further formality.

When the judgment has been given between Alsace-Lorrainers and Gennans or between Alsace-Lorrainers and subjects of the allies of Germany, it shall only be capable of execution after the issue of an exequatur by the corresponding new tribunal in the restored territory referred to in Article 51.

(2) All judgments given by Gennan Courts since August 3, 1914, against Alsace-Lorrainers for political crimes or misdemeanours shall be regarded as null and void.

(3) All sentences passed since November 11, 1918, by the Court of the Empire at Leipzig on appeals against the decisions of the Courts of Alsace-Lorraine shall be regarded as null and void and shall be so pronounced. The papers in regard to the cases in which such sentences have been given shall be returned to the Courts of Alsace-Lorraine concerned.

All appeals to the Court of the Empire against decisions of the Courts of Alsace-Lorraine shall be suspended. The papers shall be returned under the aforesaid conditions for transfer without delay to the French Cour de Cassation, which shall be competent to decide them.

(4) All prosecutions in Alsace-Lorraine for offences committed during the period between November 11, 1918, and the coming into force of the present Treaty will be conducted under German law except in so far as this has been modified by decrees duly published on the spot by the French authorities.

(5) All other questions as to competence, procedure or administration of justice shall be determined by a special Convention between France and Germany.

The stipulations as to nationality contained in the Annex hereto shall be considered as of equal force with the provisions of the present Section.

All other questions concerning Alsace-Lorraine which are not regarded by the present Section and the Annex thereto or by the general provisions of the present Treaty will form the subject of further conventions between France and Germany.


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There's some more of the story that I won't take time to read. This much will do. Please notice that this is straight to the point. There are no interrogation points after any of these sentences. All are clear. Now let's see: In the sub-head-line, which gives the impression that a strike army of four thousand is gathering to attack Pennsylvania officers, occur the words "may be." In the first paragraph we find that this is an "alleged plot;" and further, "it is reported" that striking miners were mobilizing an army. In the next paragraph we learn that a building was burned—"it is charged"—to draw officers of the law to their death. In a headline and two paragraphs we find: "may be," "it was reported," "alleged," and "it is charged." This is the foundation of the story. It is built on these phrases. But I say to you that the reading public is not familiar with this phase of newspaper trickery. Therefore these stories are accepted at their face value. And their face value is false—counterfeit. The incident here related need not have happened—I doubt if it did happen. There's nothing in this story to prove or even intimate that it happened. It could have been made and probably was made out of whole cloth. That, too, was sent out to discredit a strike situation—to "mold" public opinion.


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XI.]

If any better welcome to heroes aye befell

Than in this land of Siegmund, it is not mine to tell.

To meet the fair Kriemhilda Sieglind herself did ride,

With many a lovely lady and gallant knights beside.

After a whole day’s journey at length the guests they spied.

Both native-born and strangers did weary of the ride,

Before they reached a fortress,— a castle large and strong,—

’Twas Santen hight; and therein they wore their crowns erelong.

With smiling lips and loving, Sieglind and Siegmund too

Greeted the fair Kriemhilda, with kisses not a few;

They did the like to Siegfried; now gone was all their pain.

Their followers did likewise a hearty welcome gain.

They bade the guests be taken in front of Siegmund’s hall.

And there the beauteous maidens were holpen, one and all,

To dismount from their palfreys; and there was many a man

Who on these lovely women to wait with zeal began.

How grand soe’er the wedding had been upon the Rhine,

Here did they give the heroes apparel far more fine

Than they, in all their lifetime, had ever worn before.

One might tell mickle marvels of all their wealth in store.

They sate in state and splendour, and had of all enough.

What raiment wore their servants of golden-colour’d stuff!

With broider’d lace adornéd, and precious stones inwrought!

The noble Queen Sieglinda of this had taken thought.


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 Here's another: I have here the "Chicago Tribune" for Friday, July 8, 1910. On the first page at the top of the column, under a heavy headline is this:

This story is nearly a column long. It clearly tolls how union men are responsible for a dynamite outrage. Any man or organization of men who would resort to such measures ought to be placed where they'll no longer inflict themselves upon society. This must be true of the iron workers' union or the "Tribune" wouldn't say so. This is a big union. It has thousands of dollars in its treasury. It can hire the best lawyers in the land. They can go into court and make the newspaper prove its charges or pay over an immense sum for libel. Of course the "Tribune" is sure of its fact. Let's read the opening sentence:


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 and so on through nearly a column. Ah! you see! They "are believed by the police" to be responsible, accessories before and after the fact, guilty—anything you please. That little journalistic trick, "believed by the police," blocks any successful attempt to make the "Tribune" prove its falsehood. The paper releases itself from all responsibility by putting its own words in the mouth of someone else.

Continuing, this same story says:

You'll notice that they "are 'said' to have threatened" non-union men. Again:

Please notice that this whole story is built on these tricky phrases, word deceptions, distortions of English.


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On a wager I will allow you to write about any given person the most libelous story you can conceive. Then we'll submit it to your attorney. We'll get his opinion that it is thoroughly and wholly libelous and will hold in any court. You may sign my name to it. Let me have it for five minutes. I'll agree to rewrite and change it so slightly that you'll not notice the difference—your attorney may, but you'll not. And I guarantee you couldn't get a five-cent piece from me in all the courts in the land.

But again I say—and I want to drive this home—that you are not acquainted with these delicate methods of twisting the English language; of saying one thing and being able to prove that you said another. You are not skilled in the trickery with which the newspaper man is familiar. You don't know how to detect the false from the true. You don't like for me to say that, but deep in your heart you know it's so.

Here's something else: You remember the killing of Young Lazarus Averbuch in Chicago. He was murdered in the home of Chief of Police Shippy. You were told that Averbuch was an anarchist; that he went to Shippy's home armed with a knife and a gun; that after a desperate personal encounter Shippy succeeded in shooting the anarchist, but not until the Chief had been severely wounded with a knife.

I saw Averbuch as he lay on a slab in the Cook county morgue. He was a boy 20 years old. A consumptive. Emaciated. Shippy was a man six feet two inches in eight, of splendid physique. He was an athlete, trained


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 in the handling of men. The idea of that consumptive boy successfully attacking Shippy was screamingly ludicrous. But Shippy had killed his man. First he boasted there would be no investigation. Then it was learned that young Averburh was a Jew. There are powerful Jewish societies in Chicago. They demanded an investigation. People began to ask questions. It became evident that there would have to be an inquest. Shippy didn't dare go before a coroner's jury with the facts as I have related them to you. His story of a sickly boy overpowering him in a rough and tumble fight wouldn't hold water. And he knew it. Everybody else in official Chicago knew it. Then the newspapers sprang to his assistance.

I have here a copy of the "Chicago American" for March 18, 1906. You'll notice a picture of "Averbuch the Athlete." This was published to be introduced at the inquest. It shows a man with tremendously muscular forearms. At the time this appeared in the Chicago papers Frank Gotch, wrestling champion of the world, was in the city. I compared these measurements with those of Gotch. Hie had no such muscular development as is here shown. To carry out the proportions, this boy's hand would have to be the size of a ham. His arm is one-half the width of his body at the shoulders. In all the history of the world there never lived a man so wonderfully developed as this one.

The inquest was held. The "Jewish World" summed up the case when it said that only God and the Shippy family knew what happened in that house—and God wasn't called to the inquest. But this photo had been circulated in the newspapers before the inquest. Public opinion had been "molded." Shippy was cleared.

I want you to look carefully at this photo. And remember, it's a fake. I've drawn some lines here with a brush. (See page 11) If you look closely you'll see that the arms have been made larger than the photo showed them originally. This is done by "retouching." Fully a third has been added to this boy's arms. All that you see below the lines I've drawn has been added. The picture


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 is "doped." It is not truthful. That is the evidence which cleared Shippy. It enabled him to go free long enough to resign as Chief of Police, skip the country and stay away until it was safe to return. Men have been hung on similar "evidence." A good lawyer can hang you on such evidence. This is a photograph in a capitalist newspaper—the kind you read.

Say, a lot of you nodded your heads wisely when 1 said the newspapers of today couldn't repeat the Moon Hoax of 1835. Look at that picture again and see if they can't. They can. And they do. And you're the people who furnish the funds by which they do it.

In the future don't be too sure about the pictures, the photographs, you see in the papers. Look for the motive behind them. You'll learn something.

Why, see here: You remember the shooting of Mayor Gaynor of New York City. You know he was shot in the back of the neck. You know nothing of the sort. Here's the Chicago "Tribune" for Wednesday, August 11, with a picture of the wounded mayor with blood streaming down his face. Then he must have been shot from in front and not from behind. The type stories tell you one thing and the pictures tell you another. Pass that paper around.

Another thing: You know that the assassin of the Mayor was an Irish-American named Gallagher. He was rather a portly individual. He could not be called a tall man. You know these things. You think you do? You've read them in the papers. Well, here's something the people of New York City read in the New York "Journal" on the day of the shooting:

Why, you've been reading out here that the Mayor was on deck when he was shot; this says he was in his cabin! Your papers told you he was shot in the back of


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 been taken with the song. There is something very pathetic in the love of the French people, since the war, for dismal patriotic music-making. I have watched a forester from Alsace while some one was singing "Les malheurs de la France," at a baptismal party in the neighbourhood of Fontainebleau. He arose from the table and took his son aside, close by where I was standing. "Listen, listen," he said, bearing on the boy's shoulder, "and remember this, my son." A little after he went out into the garden suddenly, and I could hear him sobbing in the darkness.

The humiliation of their arms and the loss of Alsace and Lorraine, made a sore pull on the endurance of this sensitive people; and their hearts are still hot, not so much against Germany as against the Empire. In what other country will you find a patriotic ditty bring all the world into the street? But


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 the neck; this says the bullet entered the temple! Your best information is that Mayor Gaynor's secretary caught him as he fell and that his wife had to be telephoned to rush to St. Mary's hospital to see him: this says he toppled over into his wife's arms.

Who's being flim-flammed? You or the New Yorkers?You don't know. Who got the truth about the shooting? You or the people of the East? You don't know. What accounts seem to be most likely? You—don't know. What capitalist newspaper can you believe? Where can truth in a paper published for profit? You don't know.

And yet for years you've been reading some capitalist newspaper, swallowing everything it told you for gospel truth.

Several months ago I was in Washington, D. C. While there I called at the White House. President Taft received me in the Blue Room. He consented to pose with me for a picture, I offering him a copy of "Appeal to Reason" and he with his hand extended accepting the paper.

Now, every one of you know that's a blamed lie. And yet I ask you to see the evidence of the camera (page 15). Just pass these pictures around, please. There's the scene exactly as I described it. Remember that the camera does not lie. It reproduces only what was directly in front of the lens at the moment the shutter was released. There's no mistaking the figures. The famous Taft smile is playing all over the features of the President. I look rater scared. but who wouldn't be under the circumstances? The picture is true to life. You workingmen who voted for Taft and have since been invited to visit him at the White House will recognize the Blue Room, too. You can't deny that photograph. You've got to believe it. And yet you know the scene did not occur. You positively know that Taft would not pose in the White House for a picture with a Socialist, extend his hand for a copy of the Little Old


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 affliction heightens love; and we shall never know we are Englishmen until we have lost India. Independent America is still the cross of my existence; I cannot think of Farmer George without abhorrence; and I never feel more warmly to my own land than when I see the stars and stripes, and remember what our empire might have been.

The hawker's little book, which I purchased, was a curious mixture. Side by side with the flippant, rowdy nonsense of the Paris music-halls, there were many pastoral pieces, not without a touch of poetry, I thought, and instinct with the brave independence of the poorer class in France. There you might read how the wood-cutter gloried in his axe, and the gardener scorned to be ashamed of his spade. It was not very well written, this poetry of labour, but the pluck of the sentiment redeemed what was weak or wordy in the


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 Nine-tenths of what I've advocated, and good half of what I have written, for years past, has been directed at imploring the retired man to construct a disciplined and strenuous life for himself, dating from six months after his retirement date, and thereby avoid the soul killing result of being indefinitely and continuously “on leave”. The first six months, of course, he must have. He's earned it. Anyhow, he’ll want it, in which to look about him and make his plans. But, thereafter, his future happiness will depend in sole and direct measure on the amount of system he can instil into his life, and his energy – constructive energy – he can put into his new master: his job.

I fully and frankly apologise for this apparently unpardonable intrusion into your personal affairs. But, apart from the fact that it is what I myself have found

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to be true, it brings us to the short point at issue between us. Your writing.

I'm immensely relieved to hear that you are going to do as I suggested, and give up the idea of a volume of autobiographical reminiscences. You've material by the cartload: and the best and soundest use you can make of it is to turn it into “longshort” stories on the Maga plan. There's a certain trick about it, and a good deal of hard work. But, once learnt, you can chuck your cap over the windmill and dive in. You know that Maga’s doors are already more than half open to you; A state of affairs rarely reached by the hoi polloi, who try to get in with a tin opener, and a corkscrew, finally with a crowbar: and then fail. As I know well – I, whose job it is to keep out all but the best, anyhow at the London end. And as for the way of getting the material into publishable form, if you want my help, you know well that you have me at your command.

Quite apart from the satisfaction which anybody,

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I don’t care how highly placed, gets from seeing himself in Maga, the thing is really profitable. The key of the situation being that if the paper is good, G.W.B. never limits you (within reason) to length. And at 30/- a page of 480 words, the payment tends to pile up. I've had as much as £57 from him for one paper before now. Admittedly, that was the longest. But £30 to £35 I think is about my average, over the 26 things I've had in. Forgive these personal details: advice is valueless unless illustrated by demonstrable fact.

People like ourselves – you, pre-eminently – have a mine of wealth in our past experiences. Yours are ten times greater, and of more value, than mine. Nine tenths of the writers, here at home, have never been a mile from a cooked dinner in all their lives; their nearest approach to the wild places of this earth, the smell of a Chinese restaurant in Soho. And those writers sit about in soggy lumps, searching and winnowing the stale and profitless life around them for something, anything, out of which to dodge up a story. Poor devils. About one in ten thousand

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 smile about it. But consider the facts. I was in Washington. I did go to the White House. I was seen to enter. I was in the building plenty long enough to have had this picture taken. Then when I tell you that something happened while I was in there, when I show you a photograph of it—what are you going to do?

This is another instance of tricky photography. This is a composite of two photos. It's crude. I intended that it should be crude. I want to prove to you that it's a fake. You'll notice first that the President's outline is dimmer than mine. As compared with mine, his linen is soiled. Now look for his outstretched hand. It's hidden behind the paper. A skillful photo-retoucher, such as the one who worked on the Averbuch picture, could make the outlines of equal strength. He'd brighten up the President's linen to look like mine. And in a way so natural you'd never know the difference he'd show the Taft fingers grasping the "Appeal." He'd make this whole picture so life-like that you couldn't detect the fake unless you were forewarned. Look at the picture again. You'll see that Taft's right arm falls unnaturally. This same photo artist could paint the right arm in a natural position. That, again, would tone up the picture. I tell yon by the time a tricky newspaper finished with that photo you couldn't tell it from genuine. (See page 16.)

During the strike of the meat wagon drivers in Chicago it came to my attention that eleven photos were made into one. This composite photo showed a caravan of meat wagons being driven through the streets of Chicago. It was guarded on both sides by police walking about six feet apart. They carried revolvers in their hands. Midway down this caravan a wagon was over-turned and a dozen or more men, with union buttons prominently displayed, were jubilantly sticking knives into the heart of a scab. There was no more truth in that photo than in this one.

The Chicago newspapers didn't dare put that picture in the city editions. It was destined for the "bull


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 make money by it: Arnold Bennett, Priestley, Galsworthy, for instance: but the remainder sink into the joyless slums of literature – just for lack of those experiences, those memories, which you and I have by the double handful.

Side note

(1 in 10,000. These are among 60,000 new books published in England annually.)

Memories, pre-eminently. There must be a mind to grasp and retain details: as e.g. what you now tell me of a certain impatience, on both sides, existing between you and that soft-skinned pussyfooted collection of pseudo-autocrats, the Secretariat. I've known it for long, from little things you've dropped, any time this last thirty years. Do you remember once remarking, quite in parenthesis, during one of our “ollopings” in Sisseri, on one of those pink and plastered popinjays in the Secretariat, who had got off some unoriginal quip or other, was pleased with it, sat back, rubbed his soft hands together, and congratulated himself on having written a “masterly minute”? Well, see 25 years later, Maga, January this year, page 40. These things stick. See also page 19, bottom of pink column, where is reproduced

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your dictum that if the soldier takes an interfering hand in politics, he gets it in his neck. That, I think. you said at Nizamghat, in the period of the unspeakable Bally: though apropos what, I can't quite remember.

Anyhow, not to labour the point, it is that these things stick: memories are invaluable: and you and I – you, particularly – possess stored up material under our hats, ready for a lifetime's writing, let alone our remaining years. But I won't for a moment suggest that it's easy. No worthwhile thing in this life ever was easy: for if it were easy, it wouldn't be worthwhile.

I'm fully aware that I'm risking a rap on the knuckles for saying all I've said: and it's quite inadequate for me to apologise, in advance, for having done so. But I've long had a mental vision, in your case, of what you've now put into words: when you speak of the immense mass of material at your command, and say “Perhaps I will be so overwhelmed that I will do – nothing”.

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Exactly. L’embarras du choix – which quills over here incorrectly quote as embarras de richesse. And here, I think, is one of the ways in which I can help you.

If I go on talking, this screed will finish by being too bulky for airmail. Will you drop me a line, giving me a sure address to which I can write in the next few months? This will presumably be my last chance of catching you in Nepal. And, if you can add a postscript giving me at any rate provisional absolution for anything apparently meddlesome I've said in this letter, my thanks will be twofold.

 * Yours very sincerely

 * L. A. Bethell


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 dogs." Do you know what a "bull-dog" is? A "bull-dog" is a newspaper printed at 12 o'clock noon today and dated 6 o'clock tomorrow night. Every great newspaper publishes its "bull-dog" or out-of-town edition. That's what you get here. Weekly newspapers or monthly periodicals do not claim to be up to date in news matters and frankly admit that their editions are printed in advance. But the dailies profess to give you the news of today—today. As a matter of fact, most of the papers for out-of-town readers are dated twenty-four hours ahead. Into these "bull-dogs" go columns and whole pages of stories the papers wouldn't dare put on the cities in which they are published.

The great papers and the press associations deliberately send out this sort of stuff. Your papers here print it with malice a forethought or in good faith, it makes no difference. They PRINT it. And bear in mind that the press is the great educator. It "molds" public opinion. That's your opinion. It's YOUR mind that the owners of the newspapers and the press associations are playing with.

If you want to make the average publisher get up on his hind feet and paw the air, just intimate that there's any connection between his business and editorial offices. With a spurt of indignation he'll prove you a fool a dozen times over. I want you a few instances.

You remember a few years ago when Corey, the steel magnate, was trying to divorce his wife and marry the actress, Mabelle Gilman. Surely! You all remember that. And you know how every paper in the country championed Corey's wife. You remember how they excoriated the man, denounced divorce and upheld the "sanctity of the hoe." Yes! Well, to those of us on the inside, the initiated, it was significant that the Steel Trust, of which Corey was head, spends not one cent in advertising with the newspapers. They had nothing to lose by telling the truth about Corey and his marital escapades. And had there been anything to lose, the interests


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Letter 14, 19th April 1938

=
===================================================================

Letter 14, 19th April 1938

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TELEGRAMS, MAGA, LONDON

TELEPHONE 10663 CENTRAL

37, Paternoster Row, E.C.4

19 . IV. 38

My dear Bailey,

Very many thanks for yours of the 9th. How things have brushed up since we first knew them! Ten days from Kathmandu to Paternoster Row!

I am more than interested in all you tell me, especially about your movements. Lacking, however, a fixed address at which to find you in the next few weeks, I send this c/o the Travellers’, in the hope that you have given then directions re forwarding.

Best news of all is that you are likely to be here at the end of May. I've much to talk over with you. Principally, I want you to read, and if possible give your approval to the typescript of a full-length book, in which you (under a different name) are the leading figure. It is about the N.E.F. jungle hopping: the whole thing purely imaginary,

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but in parts, friends of yours might recognise you from certain events described. I sincerely hope you will be able to say “Right. Push along with it”, for one thing, Blackwoods’ are expecting it and have kept tally, throughout, with its progress, for publication in the “Autumn List” of our things, if and when “O.K.’d” by you. For another: my wife has had a serious breakdown and has had to go away to a nursing home in the country for a treatment which may be indefinitely prolonged. This, while halving my assets (forgive these details!) has also thrown on my hands my boy, still suffering from T.B. The net result is that this book has to be a success: and if you say “No” to it, the work of many months past will fall to bits. So it's rather a case of an appeal to your kindness in casting a favourable and permissive eye on it: always when you have time: which, of course, will not be so long as you are on the move. This letter, therefore, is only a curtain raiser to the time when you say “Send it along, and I'll look over it”. If of course,

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it's only a matter of cutting out a bit here or there, that wouldn't spoil it. But if you veto the whole, no amount of patching would make it a success. However – far be it from me to commit you to anything until you've seen it.

Yes: I'm afraid Arnold Wilson has fallen out of the ranks of the “do-ers” and into the ranks of the talkers. “All hope abandon, ye who enter here” is a thing that might be written in brass over Westminster, the home of false values. What a pity. The