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THE NEW WORLD: LECTURE AT
INVERNESS IN 1920 BY J. L. MACDOUGALL.
We hear on all sides, we
hear from press and platform, that we are all engaged now in the rearing
or reconstruction of a New World. There may be a sense in which the claim
would seem allowable. We have so mutilated, burdened and deformed, the
weary old world; we have ascertained at such fearful cost the defective
nature and wide extent of the previous order of things, that it is only
natural we should now be moved to erect a new structure. But we must have
a care, however, that nothing that is good in the old shall be discarded.
What exactly do you mean
when you say that we are building up a New World? Wherein does the change
consist? Where should the change commence? To give a very blunt answer to
the last question, I say to you that the change must commence within
ourselves — within our own hearts. It is man, not the inanimate world,
that needs the great repairing. I am not going to elaborate this phase of
the subject this evening for three reasons: firstly, that branch of the
case alone would make a lecture twice as large as Webster's dictionary:
secondly, I am not precisely the proper authority to deal with it:
thirdly, this feature of the question would be so tremendously serious and
complicated that it should be approached with studied gravity, and I did
not come here among my friends with a funeral face on me. "Avaunt tonight
my heart is light!"
Orators and wiseacres, who
no doubt are well meaning in their utterances, ring the changes on the
stupendous fact that "the world has had a new birth of Freedom." Perhaps.
But if the wild orgies, the chaos, confusion and vicious ongoings, which we
have been witnessing' since the war ceased can be called Freedom, then
Freedom must have a monstrous sting in its tail. It is true that Kings,
Emperors, thrones, dynasties, despots and dictators, have fallen thick and
fast, and fallen I should hope, never to rise again: but what of the
substitutes? The mad performances of Lenine and Trotsky in Russia are
infinitely worse than the worst crimes of all the Tzars that ever lived.
In the progressive atrocities and brutality of the present Russian regime
the poor people can see nothing ahead save "in the lowest deep a lower deep
still threatening to devour them." O Freedom! what crimes are committed in
thy name!
It cannot be denied that
one of the high ideals for which we went to war was to secure the natural,
proper, well-ordered Liberty of democracy in all countries. For this ideal
we made incalculable sacrifices. For this ideal we became promoters and
participants in a shocking deluge of death and destruction. The ideal was
worthy of it all. The mistake we made was in not giving the necessary
interpretation of that ideal before we went to fight for it. We omitted to
define Liberty, and to insist on the acceptance of our definitions by all
and sundry.
What does liberty mean? Is
it a carte blanche for all men and women to do just as they please? No:
that would be license in its ugliest and most dangerous form. What then
does Liberty signify? One of the greatest and most famous of the ancient
philosophers says that "Liberty is the slave of law." This philosopher was
a pagan, and concerned himself only with natural things, such as social
and political life. Within those realms (and probably without) I think his
definition was perfect. "Liberty is the slave of law." The man who
recognizes law and obeys it merits at once the full protection of that law
and can do anything and everything which that law permits. The law gives
him liberty, as Truth makes us free.
Have we achieved the real
liberty for which we had gone to war? Not much. One of the first and
fundamental steps in the vast process of Reconstruction is to impress on
restless democracy the actual meaning of true liberty. "Liberty is the
slave of law." Attest it, Ye toiling millions of England, America, Canada
and all other free nations!
Some men may think that
nothing they do or say can be wrong because they are acting according to
their conscience. Conscience is, indeed, one of the most beautiful gifts
of God to man. It is the Divine spark that dwells continually in the bosom
of every human being from the cradle to the grave. It is our best guide
through the dark desert of this life. Shakespeare says that "conscience
makes cowards of us all." The great Cardinal Newman said that "conscience
is a King in its imperiousness, a Prophet in its predictions, and a Priest
in its benedictions and anathemas." On all questions of right or wrong we
must take counsel with our own conscience. At the same time, it is
important to remember that the operations of our conscience must be
facilitated by enlightenment and education. And all the lights we are able
to get in this world are but "broken light." Consequently, when we rely on
our conscience we must not forget that others, also, have a conscience,
possibly better than ours. In this enormous work of world Renovation it is
of first importance that we should all learn to respect the conscience of
one another.
Another theme that seems to
have a peculiar fascination for some people at this time is the subject of
thrift. We are all agreed that thrift is a splendid social virtue which
should be practised with care, at all times, by all classes. All the
exhortations concerning its observance at this special juncture would
appear to proceed from men who are themselves, the least likely to
exercise it, — men of ample means and leisure who are able to lecture
their less fortunate countrymen from the comfortable elevation of
fifty-dollar arm chairs. It requires not the art of the arm-chair lecture
to compel ordinary people to be thrifty in such a state of things as we
are now passing through. Thrift is already enforced on these common people
by the much more persuasive voice of their grocers, butchers, middle men
and tax-collectors. Why should the cry of thrift be rained down on these
poor, struggling, people?
"To be sure you need all
you have, but you can lop off some of your desires." Yes, we must cut off
our feet when we want shoes. "But you could live more cheaply than you do
now." When the Irish famine broke out, the head of the English peerage
recommended the poor to rely on curry-powder as a nutritious and
satisfying food: while the Council of the Royal Agricultural Society
harangued the labourers on the sustaining properties of thrice boiled
bones.
During the progress of the
recent war an estimable lady representing the Red Cross approached a poor,
hardworking peasant for a subscription. The man had not a single penny.
Not wishing to be utterly defeated the good lady ventured to ask, "Haven't
you got any old clothes?" "Have I any others"? he replies. "If you take my
old clothes I must lie in bed till the war is over." I do not think we
need worry about the discussion of thrift among the ordinary people. Stern
and silent necessity will enjoin it.
But there is one thing from
which we cannot escape, and that one thing is work, work, intelligent and
continuous work, by every single soul that is able to do it. In no other
way can the wastes of war be made good. We work not merely for ourselves
and the Present, but, also, very largely for posterity and the Future. It
is a work that will require mind and method, and all must work together.
Of course we cannot all work in the one place and with the same tools.
Inevitably we shall have to be told off into different avocations and
localities, but we all must work as one, with common sympathies and
purposes. None must live unto himself.
In the first place, we are
all Canadians and must live and work Canadianly. We should be willing to
give of our best to the land of our birth. In the second place we are all
striving for the same thing: we pursue the same object, and that object is
happiness. "The sad old earth," it is true, does not yield a
superabundance of happiness, but every mother's son of us is eternally
digging in to catch what we think there is of it. In the third place, we
are children of common parents, scattered over the whole face of the
earth. Together we constitute the great Brotherhood of Man. Nature herself
requires that we should live and work like one large family, in a spirit
of charity and fraternity, without selfishness, without hate, without envy
or malice, and without unseemly divisions or disturbances. If you thus do,
the success of your labors is assured, and your reward will be great and
lasting. If on the other hand you proceed with bad motives and selfish
purposes, with contentions and ill-feeling towards your neighbors, you are
morally certain to find your compensation in failure and bitterness of
spirit. "What we sow, that, also, we shall reap."
Side by side with this
passage from Scripture I trust it is not irreverent, in illustration of
the same point, to quote something that is not sacred writing but is
nevertheless very interesting:
"An Eastern legend tells of
a wonderful magic vase known as the vase of life — which was ever full of
a mysterious liquid. No one could tell what this liquid was. No chemist
could analyse it or tell what entered into its composition. The marvellous
thing about it was that whatever one dropped into it would overflow and
run down the sides of the vase. That is, the original liquid would not run
down but the thing which was dropped into it would overflow in kind and
amount. The depositor would always get out of this magic vase exactly what
he put into it.
Life is just such a magic
vase. It will run over to you only that which you drop into it — nothing
more, nothing less, nothing different. If we drop in love, generosity,
tolerance, magnamanity, kindness, helpfulness, unselfishness — the life
vase will run over to us the same thing in the same amount and quality.
If, on the other hand, we put in hate, jealously, envy, cruelty,
selfishness, grasping greed and malicious gossip about our neighbors — it
will run over with all these black devils to torment us and rob us of
happiness and success."
In the performance of the
heavy task which lies before us now, there is nothing more important than
the preservation of perfect order. We must chain ourselves to our daily
work, looking neither to the right nor the left. Where there is no order
there never can be progress. The best way to maintain order is always to
make sure that we are acting within our country's laws. The best laws and
institutions the world ever saw exist in Canada, Great Britain and the
United States. And our courts and judiciary are quite in keeping with, the
exalted ideals of our laws. So far as the jurisdiction of our Courts
extend, no grievance properly presented by good citizens shall go
unredressed. Consequently there never is need in this country of any
resort to force or violence. There are plenty laws, plenty courts, plenty
judges, plenty honor and fair play, to see that no man who can show he is
wronged shall be debarred from Justice. All we have to do is to fulfil the
law, and we shall live in harmony, peace, progress and contentment.
Many turbulent men in all
the nations would appear to have lost their heads completely since the war
ceased. What causeth this, think you? It may be that many of these excited
irresponsibles had their nerves utterly unstrung by the horrors and
magnitude of the terrible conflict. That does not account for it all. If
we had means of knowing the previous conduct and character of these
deluded disturbers, I should not be surprised to find that they were never
good citizens in their own countries.
We know for a fact that
there are among these demonstrators many of the paid and painted
emissaries of Bolshevism. Well, Bolshevism is not English, it is not
French, it is not Latin, it is not Gaelic, it is not even German, it is
simply "Hades let loose." We know, also, that there are in that "uncou
squad" large numbers of Radical, red-handed, Socialists, who, before the
war, were merely a nuisance, but are now become a menace. Added to these
two classes is a vile and vicious set of propagandists drawn, in all
probability, very largely from the penitentiaries. These be the gentry who
are now challenging the efficacy and stability of all constituted
authority. Of course they will tell you they have a plan to make the world
flow over with milk and honey. They can do all things, even the
impossible.
You may have seen or heard
the story of Tommy and the Yankee when they met somewhere in France. They
were discussing the subject of fires.
"Say Tommie, said the
Yankee, "I saw a most wonderful thing happen once in New York. One of the
large buildings was on fire, and a girl in the upper part of it was in
great danger. The firemen couldn't find ladders long enough to reach her,
so what do you think one of our brainy fireman did? Waal, he played the
hose till the water reached the window of the room in which the girl was,
and she got out and slid down the water as if it were a pole. What about
that?"
"H'm" replies Tommy,
"that's nothing. A big building was on fire in London, and they hadn't
ladders long enough to reach a woman in the top story. So the firemen
stared, the policemen stared, in fact we all stared, and the girl got out
and walked down the stares (stairs)."
Such will be the best
achievements of our red revolutionists.
It took a thousand years
for the best brains of mankind to bring our English speaking institutions
to the splendid perfection to which they have attained. Shall we now allow
those invaluable blessings to be injured or endangered by men whose
particular mission is to vex humanity with a mania for the murder of
civilization? Quod avertat Deus.
One word more and I have
done. We are all fallen upon days of hardship. Our burdens are heavy, the
outlook is gloomy, the problem of living appalls us. It is the aftermath of
war, and its foul blight shall haunt us quite a while yet. The whole world
shares the dark depression; no honest man or class can find exemption.
Yet, there is neither room nor reason for despair. We have a vast country,
extending from ocean to ocean, filled with the best natural resources on
earth. If we toil and falter not, if we exercise patience and persevere in
doing good, we shall still survive, live, grow and prosper. Sursum Corda.
Go to your allotted work cheerfully. When your heart is sick and your head
and hands are tired to death, draw your inspiration from the songs and
laughter of your children. Hope on, hope ever; your best and brightest
days are yet to come. Hold up your heads, maintain your natural gait and
morale and with the brave spirit of your race you can say with the poet:
"In the fell clutch of
circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud;
Beneath the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody — but unbowed.
This attitude will save
you, save Canada, and help to save our Empire and the world.
You will now permit me to
close with a somewhat remarkable passage from one of the psalms of David —
not the David you mean but the David I mean, our own and only modern
David. He was hieing him off to his home in the mountains to get a brief
"respite and nepenthe" from the most distracting bunch of "blues" he ever
carried. Just at the foot-hills near his home he came upon a little red
school-house, where a group of sprightly children were singing to beat the
band. He was touched; the music of innocence inspired him. That same
evening he was called upon to address thousands of serious men on the
gravest possible world-outlook, and the following is a specimen of what
his soul gave forth:—
"The honor of Britain is
not dead. Her might is not broken. Her destiny is not fulfilled. Her
ideals are not shattered by her enemies. She is more than alive. She is
more potent now. She is greater than she ever was. Her dominions are
wider, her influence is deeper, her purpose is more exalted than ever. Why
should her children not sing?" |
