RULES AND THE GAME

Evening Star, Issue 21630, 27 January 1934, Page 2

RULES AND THE GAME

[Written b.v Mahy Scott, for the ‘ Evening Star.’] I have been reading Ethel Manniu’s ‘ Confessions and Impressions.’ it is an unedifying book, interesting rather for its unconscious than lor its deliberate j revelations. As always when I read these ultra-modern autobiographies, 1 am overwhelmed by the egotism of the writer. Why confessions? Who wanted Ethel Manhin to confess? Why assume that such confessions would interest the outside world? The answer, the author would doubtless retort, lies in the fact that the book has gone through twenty-live editions. But was this induced by genuine interest in the subject? Personally. 1 fancy that she would be mistaken to lay that flattering unction to her soul. It is not difficult at present to make monev from a book if you are sufficiently crude, if you spare nothing and nobody, il you harp enough on the sex motif. There is something breath-tak-ing to the average reader in these confessions of a young woman—Ethel Malinin is even now only thirty-three—in the disclosure of a dozen love affairs, in the casual mention of drunkenness and license. That is, until you have read enough of them. Such a book as this, however, leaves the reader the more amazed when he reflects that the. author is the mother of a young daughter, now in her early teens. It is hard, perhaps to have the birthright sold for one without one’s consent, even though the mess of pottage be a rich one. There is one quality upon which the writer would pride herself; she would declare herself perfectly honest. It is possible that she is—according to her convictions. What she fails to see is her 01111 conduct in an objective light. When “dull spinsters” and “stupid virgins ” disapproved her babble of love adventure it may have been her taste rather than her morals that displeased them. In a passing acquaintance vulgarity is often more painful than immorality. .. . . Ethel Manual's account of her school life is interesting. It contamsa serious and justifiable indictment upon the departmental school system of twenty years ago. One point we noted with interest. She seems to have spaied little time from her crowded life to the playing of games. -This seems to me, nghtly or wrongly, characteristic of a certain type of mentality. 1 have noticed in many erotic individuals, and in those who later develop into the “ Ireaks ” of societv, a disinclination for ordinary sport, this is partly the cause and partly the result of their peculiarities, but it is certainly entirely regrettable. Much cant may have been written about the playing fields of England, but no one can deny that two important lessons are learned there —the team spirit and' a respect for rules. It seems a little inconsistent that this age which is so devoted to games is also at times inclined to preach, if not to practise, license. Men and women of all ages play games with immense rectitude and conscientious devotion today. The rules of the game are sacred; no one would think of openly defying them. it is generally agreed that ffames cannot be played without them. Yet these very people sometimes fail to practise on a wider field what they learn on football ground or golf course. They do not admit that life, which after all is the greatest game of all, can only be played fairly and well if we follow the rules. . If. is' generally to be noticed that “ the'born rebels” of life have failed to learn the habit of discipline in early youth. Ethel Mannin was earning her own living at sixteen; Katherine Mansfield had broken loose from her family and returned alone to London at nineteen. Keats, Shelley, Wilde, Lawrence —the list of the rebels is age-long—were none of them game players. In one and all there was born a spirit of rebellion, an intolerance of control andt discipline which has usually been considered indispensable to genius. But is this necessarily so? Did Scott display it, or Thackeray, or Browning? Is it not as individual and peculiar to each temperament as any other characteristic? These names have, of course, been taken entirely at random. Far be it from me to ‘class Ethel Mannin with Katherine Mansfield—as far as to mention Wilde in the same category with Keats. There is as little likeness between the orotic and sophisticated talent of the one and the pure and perfect inspiration of the other as there is between the clever subtleties of Wilde and the'flaming beauty of Keats. But in one and all we read of the same tragedy, they are born rebels because they are geniuses or so it is claimed. It may be that genius is utterly beyond the comprehension of_ the ordinary sympathetic admirer. Vet one cannot hut wonder at times whether tra<*edv must have overtaken them so inevitably bad they learnt earlier to submit to tbe rules of the game. If Katherine Mansfield had stayed a little longer in New Zealand, had endured tbe isolation and the dull routine that were so dreadful to her, might not the results have been even finer work, a new inspiration, a purer distinction in her writing? Too late she learnt the value of discipline, and had not death intervened it is probable that she would have taught a lesson of genius sublimated by submission, by wisdom and control. As for Ethel Mannin, one dismisses most of her confessions with a shrug. Yet she has great talent, and it is possible that the world might have been the better for her writing if, instead of conducting magazines and exploring sex experiences at the age of sixteen, she had been kept at a good boarding school, doing physical culture and country dances, playing hard games and submitting to inevitable discipline until the dangerous years of adolescence were passed. Man was never meant to live by inclinations alone; his natural desire is to live in a herd under laws and rules. To-day he has surrounded himself with a mass of guardians and inspectors, but the greatest protector of all—public opinion—has grown weak and negligent. There is a spirit of laissez-faire abroad in tbe land. Free love, such as Miss Mannin advocates, is still rare enough to make its confession run into twentyfive editions, but tbe moral code is becoming less rigid. . The vindication of tins looseness comes strangely from the pen of a woman, for obviously it is woman who stands to lose most heavily by this very iaxitv. Whether marriage is right qr wrono', or merely contemptible - as in Ether Mannin’s eyes, it is obviously woman’s only protection until she has become entirely independent economically. She must eventually suffer from

the adoption of free love, for even beautiful young women must become old and unattractive. Of course, if she has published twenty-five editions of her confessions she will be secure: otherwise she has a poor prospect in her old age. Moreover, under the new conditions even such confessions would lose their interest and their market They would be mere commonplaces and no one would dream of paying for them. Happily we have not gone very far as vet in the direction of license. The backward swing of the pendulum may yet restore balance. We can already see signs of it in literature. Several of our host sellers of to-day have no purple patches of sex experience Some of our prize novels are as simple and as charming as Janet Beith’s ‘No Second Spring.’ And our young people are playing games harder than ever They are following every rule with immense rigidity and docility. It is a good design. Humanity is happier if it "is wisely regulated.