PASSING NOTES.

Otago Daily Times, Issue 17823, 3 January 1920, Page 4

PASSING NOTES.

. The apparent collapso of the anti-Bol-shevist forces in Russia makes doleful reading. But the end is not yet. In this incoherent country anything may happen. I look for the collapse of Bolshevism from within, not from without, and nothing keeps a revolutionary mob together so well as an external enemy. Left to itself Red Terror, by reason of its very intensity, abon burns itself out. There is hope even in violence, for it is always the pace that kills. Tho most recent picture of Russia is that given by Colonel Ward, the Labour M.P., who—says an English paper—"held tho House of Commons spell-bound by his plain, unvarnished tale that thrilled and awed by its sheer realism, and power." Tho nightly murders of officers—five, ten, fifteen, twenty in one night; tho reprisals that proved effective; the nailing of shoulder-straps to dead officers' shoulders; tho dread waslung-holo of a frozen river, where, when the ico melted and the work of recovery was proceeding, an old :nan in charge of tho work was able to say: "Not many this morning; only forty-seven—men, women, and children." All this might have been expected. '' Scratch a Russian and you find a Tartar," says the old proverb. Dr Dillon says : " The Russian is half a child and half an_ imperfectly tamed beast; and in his dealings with his fellows he often runs the entire gamut of temperament—from feminine gentleness to bestial ferocity. . . . German writers irlippantly connect him by an isoeultural line with the Gauchos of Paraguay." The hope of Russia lies in the peasantry. The peasant question is admitted by the Bolshevist leaders themselves to be the spectre that frightens them by day, and the nightmare that haunts them by night; for from Lenin's " proletariat" the peasants are excluded. Of 180 million Russians, 160 millions are peasants, who love their land with a passion exceeding their love for their families. They are, however, "shiftless, patient, ignorant." If only the peasantry could read there would be an ead of Bolshevism. The land is now theirs, but already they are resisting tho taking of the produce by the Government as thei property of a Socialistic State. A Russian author sums up the situation thus : "Neither a republic nor socialism will permanently establish itself in Russia, which is at the monarchical state' of civilisation. There is a tremendous preponderance of anti-socialistic peasant population, compared -with which the urban population is infinitesimal." Even Robespierre and Danton fell victims to the orgie of blood they had inaugurated. We may yet see the heads of Trotsky and Lenin roll in the basket, and the mob mutter : "Yes, there must be a God."'

The conception of the Russian upheaval as a combination of two movements—good and bad, constructive and negative, divine and devilish—iis platitudinous. There is a certain modicum of crazy idealism to be found at the core of every revolution. Says Stephen Graham in the Quarterly : Two movements throve side by side, each contradictory, of Ao other. One was the revenge movement which gave one class tho power and tho desire to ruin and torture the others, the movement which at the same time denied

religion, turned the churches into theatres, and persecuted Christians. The other was communistic movement, which deep in itself was Christian. One' movement has brought oh Bolshevism an odium which it will not easily throw off. The other has given a new voice to the world, a hope of democracy. . . . The positive side is deeper founded --<' less accidental. It alone should be called Bolshevism, and the negative side disregarded .as accidental. The negative is largely the work of Jews. According to this view Lenin is the Christian communist of high ideals, representing the " essence," and Trotsky the leader of the Jewish party of .anarchy and disruption, representing the "accidental." To me the so-called essence is mighty like an accident, and the accidental has completely drowned the essential. But Lenin himself gives the lie to these apologetics. A prolific writer is this follower of Marx and Engel, and his books—which contain the Bolshevistic "essence"-—advocate some very concrete methods, differing very little from Trotsky's "accidental"'' violences. Says Lenin himself : " May thei fusion of revolutionary terrorism and mass movements develop ' and strengthen, , may the mass quickly advance to terroristic methods of warfare with all possible weapons." "Red Terror, ruthless war," he cries; "may the bourgeoisie be swept from v the face of the earth." "Our flag is red because it is dipped in' the blood of the bourgeoisie." "It is no use putting the proletariat on a level with the bourgeoisie : the latter is better educated, more used to nower, inherits finer traditions; the only hope for the proletariat is supremacy bv terror." In,face of this profession of faith only a man of high credulity and low mentality can distinguish the essence from the accident. _ One is blood and baboonery, the other is blood alone. Bowdleriised for„purposes of foreign propaganda Lenin's theories may be made to read like a new Sermon on the Mount. They are read as such by those whom English writersi call "economic illiterates." There are some in this dominion. Meanwhile in Russia Trotsky is doing all the acting and nearly all the talking.

This Zoroastrian method of viewing life, according to which a good and an evil deity each has his share in every movement or event, reveals some good in every trouble. The lightning strike of railwaymen brought England almost to her knees, but not for long. The railways became desert tracks, but Hyde Park was turned into a Gargantuan pantry, for the nation,and along every road motor lorries distributed food. Humour was present, and in abundance. Lord Montagu, who served as a volunteer engine driver, relates:

An old lady came up to me at Water-

100, and after a good deal of fumbling in a black handbag ga-vo me sixpence, remarking in a motherly tone, "Well done, young man, I am so glad you are defying your union." Again, two ihildren came up, and one said

™ w—~ _ r , uiih said, 'Dnver, we Jlaven't got any money to spare, but here are two apples." Thus age and youth expressed their feelngs in the same way. With this may be uxtaposed the cartoon in which a dweller n a London suburb bitterly complains when the strike is called off. "I was just beginning to feel the better from my walks to work." The situation was saved, say English papers to hand, by three factors: the spirit of the people, the measures taken by the Government, and thirdly and chiefly the "lorry and the road." Out of this last has arisen an appeal for the improvement and greater use of the King's highways. There is no more democratic method of travelling than by motor bus, and the long-distance char-a-banc may yet rival- the express train—to the greater health and pleasure of the people. Once more we shall have, as Dickens says of the >ld coaching days, "the captivating sense »f rapid motion through the* pleasant air" : past hedges,, gates, trees.

Yoho. by churches dropped down bj themselves in quiet nooks, with rustio burial-grounds about them, where the graves are green, and daisies sleep. Yoho, past streams, in which the cattle cool their feet, and where the rushes grow; past paddock-femses, farms, and rick-yards; past last year's stacks out slice by slice away, and showing like ruined gables, old and brown. Yoho, down the pebbly dip, and through the merry water-splash, and tip to the level

road aftain. Yohol Yofio! This would bring a welcome respite from the gloom and stuffiness of the railway train, with its spectrum of odours—from the violet reek of the smoking carriage to the oranges and bananas of the family compartment. Thus a new "war substitute" may become permanent

. An argument has arisen elsewhere anent the meaning of "conscription of wealth," ".conscription of life." Says one of the protagonists: Apparently Mr _ is ignorant of the fact that the meaning of- a word or phrase is that which the speaker or the writer intends to convoy by it. Not in the best, circles. Many highly cultivated people hold that ihe meaning of a word or phrase is the correct one, that given in the Oxford Dictionary, otherwise the "jus et norma loqucndi." I suspect some leg-pulling in the statement. This doctrine is carrying the rninciple of self-

determination too far. It is mero linguistic Bolshevism. As is' well known, the world is divided into two classes: those who say what they mean, and those who leave it to the otJier fellow to find out. The first, of course, arc merely pedants. The second make mo look round lor an axe. One might mako a third class of those who use words they don't know the meaning of, and who know that thoir hearers or readers don't know either—and both are happy. This class includes advertisers of circuses, theatrical shows, and drapery sales. Language with theso is "verba et voces, praetereaquo nihil," — otherwise, "Words," words, words." But to have three meanings to every word ! — the correct meaning, the speaker's meaning, and the hearer's meaning ! We would be encompassed with perils. Better not speak at all. Hero is a story told by Davies in his Diary of a Super-Tramp, showing that there may be a new species of Bed Terror:—

In a Welsh publio house, where tho men were drinking and the wives dancing, a drunken pedant shouted, "Aristotle was Plate's papal." Whereupon the women turned savagely upon him. "What do you mean, you badminded villain? Wo are oil respectable married women." Some burst into tears at so monstrous an insult. Tlixsr husbands also were furious, and only an apology, and the plea that he was a stranger, saved the pedant from the punishment due to the use of such abominable kng'uiago.

Which calls to mind the occasion when O'L'onnell out-Billingsgated a fishwife by calling her "an old hypotenuse."

The fact is that it takes two to make a meaning,—yourself and the person to whom you are speaking. Otherwise nothing would matter, as long as you meant well. I might say that "St. Kilda is a low, lying district, where the sea is well dammed." But even little things sometimes give,rise to trouble. A man might find relics in Egyptian "aesophaguses," and still be a harmless antiquarian. The lungs might be an "organ of execration," and a "blizzard" might be found inside a hen. "Have you seen Miss Edith's fiance?" asks a mistress. "No, mum, hit aint been in the wash yet." , If Joseph Conrad, who in his "Shadow Line" has "he leaned against the lintel of the door," were to look up "lintel" in the dictionary he might possibly get a surprise. But I suppose English has to bear the white man's burden throughout the world, and we cannot be too exacting. "Say, miss, can you put me wise, where I could line up against a guy with, some good eats in this Burg?" asked an American Doughboy in a French village. The following piece of yellow peril is an application by a Chinese clerk at Shanghai. - The meaning is quite clear—it stands out in beads of perspiration on the writer's brow : Most Honoured Sir

Understanding that there are several hands wanting in your honour's department I beg to offer my hands. As to ■my adjustments I appeared for tho matric examination at Octy but failed the reason for which I shall describe. To' begin with my writing was illegible this was due to climate reason for I having come from a warm to a cold climate foun4 my fingers stiff an disobedient to my wishes. Further I had recfiived a great shock to my mental system in shape of death of my only fond brother. Besides most honoured sir I beg to state that I am in very uncomfortable circumstances being the solo means of sypport of my fond brother's seven issues consisting of three adults and four adultresses the latter being tho bain of my existence ,owing to me having to support two of my own wives as well as their issues of which by God's misfortune the feminine gender predominate. If by wonderful good fortune these few lines meet with your benign kindness and favourable turn of mind I the 1 poor menial shall ever pray for the long life and prosperity as well as your honour's posthumous olive branches which pray God may be male.

Politeness, defined by someone as "benevolence in small things," is said to be on the wane. Soon we shall be saying "Alas for the rarity of human charity." As one grows old—as the hair diminishes and the waistcoat expands—one looks more and more for these little benevolences. _ In England the decay of politeness is put down to economic causes. . >~

There was a time during the wir. when demand greatly exceeded the sup- . ply, queues were in evidence, untrained young women had taken the place of men shop assistants, and civility seemed to be a lost social art.' Compulsory registration of customers also had a bad effect lipori a certain class of , shopkeeper, who, knowing that his customers , v could not 'go elsewhere, was inclined to treat them insolently. No doubt a good deal of this curtness was due to nerves, and the manner of the harassed customer reacted badly on the manner of tho harassed shopkeeper. An American has found out the cost of politeness in hard cash. The use of the word "please" in telegrams costs the United States fifty million dollars a year! But any man with imagination can see that the balance is overwhelmingly on the other side. Politeness brings in far more than it costs. This has special application to the present holiday season. In the daily and hourly contest between officials and public, I am all on the side of the officials. I have in mind the man who tenders his five pound note at the ticket office to buy a half-crown ticket, though miles of queue stand behind him. Or who pays his fare in the train and asks change of a pound from a changeless guard. "Sitting in the front seat of a tram car one day I was invited by the motorm-an 1 to count the number of times the bell-rope was pulled in the course of a block. Nine! "A man does not live long. if he sticks at this game, sir," said tho motorman; "I hear that bell in my sleep."

National customs vary more than language, and are of deeper growth—especially in tho matter of celebrating this season of festivity. Customs in this particular vary ad infinitum. I begin with the Irishman, for he always comes to the top. The Irishman—they say,—never more at peace than when fighting, enjoyed himself in the good old Irish style, but with new weapons. New revolver is but old blackthorn writ large. A scrap makes a new man of him, and both enjoy it. What he wants is a republic, where he won't have a Sovereign to bless his soul with. He'll borrow everything from England, and have a new name : O'England. The Scotchman—they say,—who is never more at home than when he is not, and who is never wet but he is very dry, packed up_ his luggage and closed it down tightly with a cork, so that he might enjoy himself with it and talk metaphysics. He will drink the water next week—if he remenibers, for "in poison there is no physic," as Shakespeare has it. This, of course, does not refer to the weaklings down on the Border, where a man cannot drink even six 'bottles of whusky without getting a headache. "The selvidge is aye the wakest part o' the wab." The Englishman—they say,—who has been busy dining—or eating) for it is the Frenchman who dines, —is trying to "let bygones be bygones," and is thinking

Let us not burden onr remembrances With a heaviness tliat's gone.

The Englishman has dined hard since the Heptarchy. Did not D'Anmmzio say of the English the other day : "The five-meals-a-day people, easily finished with their bloody task, open their jaws again to devour as much as they can" ? If an earthquake engulfed England to-morrow the English would manage to meet and dine somewhere among the ruins just to the event. The American is beginning to suffer from indigestion' after swallowing the key of his cellar. He is now able to drink like a fish in good sooth. Whether he can hustle any longer is uncertain. It used to be said that the best way to hustle was to rise early; and, as everybody knows, the best way' to rise early is to drink a pint of yeast before going to bed. But this is denied him now. After all, there will probably be little change in America; go where you will you will find an American still. So every nation has its habits. And every nation is entitled to its own, however costly they may be. Does not old Polonins say : Ocafcly thy habit aa thy purse can buy. Queer, isn't it? Cms.