ctual extravagances indulged in from mere bravado, these and
similar stigmata of balance lost and sanity impaired have made their
appearance in varying degrees at one time or another. Under a
different set of circumstances--those of the war, for instance, so far
as concerns a section of the group of which we are speaking--there has
been a pitiful relapse into mere boredom, cynicism, and inactivity;
remote from the passions of the crowd, and unable to give service to a
cause in which they disbelieve, some of our cleverest men have provided
an English parallel with the vodka-drinking, bridge-playing, and
unutterably tired community of highly-developed intellects which
Tchekoff describes so brilliantly.

Now, in saying all this we would not have it thought that we are
bringing a sweeping accusation against one section of the nation. For
the fault lies, not mainly with them, but with the lack of culture,
idealism, and genuine education which characterises England (and most
other countries) to-day. In a country in which regard for things of
the mind and spirit was the rule and not the exception, these men would
form the backbone of the nation; they would develop along healthy
lines, be marked by love and sympathy instead of contempt, use their
great powers to the full in the public service. What they are to be
blamed for is their failure to see their real duty; their failure to
understand that it is among the philistines, and not in their own
exclusive set, that their most important work lies. Some of them, of
course, do understand this, and spend their lives in an unselfish
attempt to spread light in the darkness. But even so they commonly
speak a language which is not understood; and inevitably they fail to
achieve any widespread result.

It is not, then, in the multiplication of schools designed to cater for
intellectualists that we see the best hope for the progress of the
nation. We see it rather in the creation of an army of missionaries
from among the ordinary men themselves; missionaries of thought about
the great problems of life and society, fashioned out of those who are
of the people and understand and sympathise with their emotions. When
once the average, revue-loving, thoughtless, "sporting" public school
boy has been taught to think vigorously about politics and sociology;
when once he has been so fired with enthusiasm for these things that he
will teach and talk to others of his kind: then, at last,