LONDON LETTER
87
the British Empire would lie in supine glory on the operating-table while
the delectable surgery was performed by Fabian thinkers and planners and
Audenesque healers. The thought that the Empire might arrive by ambu–
lance after a nasty smash-up in Europe had not occurred. It had been
discussed, no doubt, but it had not been imaginatively comprehended and
articulated within the whole context of possibility. The English situation
will not
he
understood until account is taken of the private dreams that
have been dissipated by events.
John Bull's views, incidentally, are being collected by an organiza–
tion known as Mass Observation, promoted by Tom Harrisson and Charles
Madge. Madge will
he
known to some American readers as a
New Verse
poet. Mass Observation has made extensive door-to-door canvasses which
reveal a fairly considerable bewilderment in John Bull's mind. Details
are being published in volume-form and they are worth reading as a useful
(although occasionally tendentious) attempt at self-anthropology. The
canvasses cover many things besides politics, but they are worth studying
for the political material alone.
I have tried to sketch our psychological climate as it is. The imme–
diate future will probably show little change. I take it as certain that the
present Government will win the coming election, since we do not gamble
on the Labour party in times of international danger. But as I have said;
party differences are now more formal than real. In spite of presumed
differences of motive, there is identity of immediate policy. How close that
identity is
ha:,~
been shown by the Conscription issue.
A
few years ago Con–
scription would have divided the country more bitterly than almost any–
thiJ,g else. Even this year Mr. Chamberlain was compelled to pledge him–
self against it. But we were teased with a willingness to fight to the last
drop of French blood, and M. Bonnet carne over to repeat the gibe.
Accomp-nied by M. Lebrun he drove through the London streets and waved
encouraring]y to us. It was the first procession I had seen in years, and I
was struck by the whole nineteenth century air of it-the sleek landaus,
the bouncing backsides of the horses, the beaming celebrity-faces bowing
~aciously,
the somewhat rococo decorations on
au~orust
breasts, the cretin–
ous features and awkward posture of soldiers who had looked so impres–
sive at a decent distance. One almost expected a Nihilist assassin to step
forward with a pistol. They rolled slowly past like monstrous highly col–
oured toys on a nursery floor, and dry papery cheers carne from the crowd,
a bit self-conscious with the
forei~
words, "Vive ]a France." Bonnet was
1111ilinl!: twice: once formally to the bystanders, and once because he had
something to smile about-a sharp, foxy little face that made me wonder
why I was reminded of Metternich.
One knew what Bonnet meant, in spite of the denials. Conscription
came and Sir John Simon (to the great regret of all parties) did not resign.
Chamberlain patched his broken pledp;e with an inane sophistry, and
nobody objected. The Opposition, which has become more "patriotic" than
any
Opposition in history, did not oppose. It was at this point that England
