Tracks of a Rolling Stone [109]
a frequent concomitant of excessive sexual passion; this, though notably the case with women, is common enough with men of unduly neurotic temperaments.
Only the other day some letters appeared in the 'Times' about the flogging of boys in the Navy. And, as a sentimental argument against it, we were told by the Humanitarian Leaguers that it is 'obscene.' This is just what might be expected, and bears out the foregoing remarks. But such saintly simplicity reminds us of the kind of squeamishness of which our old acquaintance Mephisto observes:
Man darf das nicht vor keuschen Ohren nennen, Was keusche Herzen nicht entbehren konnen.
(Chaste ears find nothing but the devil in What nicest fancies love to revel in.)
The same astute critic might have added:
And eyes demure that look away when seen, Lose ne'er a chance to peep behind the screen.
It is all of a piece. We have heard of the parlour-maid who fainted because the dining-table had 'ceder legs,' but never before that a 'switching' was 'obscene.' We do not envy the unwholesomeness of a mind so watchful for obscenity.
Be that as it may, so far as humanity is concerned, this hypersensitive effeminacy has but a noxious influence; and all the more for the twofold reason that it is sometimes sincere, though more often mere cant and hypocrisy. At the best, it is a perversion of the truth; for emotion combined with ignorance, as it is in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand, is a serious obstacle in the path of rational judgment.
Is sentimentalism on the increase? It seems to be so, if we are to judge by a certain portion of the Press, and by speeches in Parliament. But then, this may only mean that the propensity finds easier means of expression than it did in the days of dearer paper and fewer newspapers, and also that speakers find sentimental humanity an inexhaustible fund for political capital. The excess of emotional attributes in man over his reasoning powers must, one would think, have been at least as great in times past as it is now. Yet it is doubtful whether it showed itself then so conspicuously as it does at present. Compare the Elizabethan age with our own. What would be said now of the piratical deeds of such men as Frobisher, Raleigh, Gilbert, and Richard Greville? Suppose Lord Roberts had sent word to President Kruger that if four English soldiers, imprisoned at Pretoria, were molested, he would execute 2,000 Boers and send him their heads? The clap-trap cry of 'Barbaric Methods' would have gone forth to some purpose; it would have carried every constituency in the country. Yet this is what Drake did when four English sailors were captured by the Spaniards, and imprisoned by the Spanish Viceroy in Mexico.
Take the Elizabethan drama, and compare it with ours. What should we think of our best dramatist if, in one of his tragedies, a man's eyes were plucked out on the stage, and if he that did it exclaimed as he trampled on them, 'Out, vile jelly! where is thy lustre now?' or of a Titus Andronicus cutting two throats, while his daughter ''tween her stumps doth hold a basin to receive their blood'?
'Humanity,' says Taine, speaking of these times, 'is as much lacking as decency. Blood, suffering, does not move them.'
Heaven forbid that we should return to such brutality! I cite these passages merely to show how times are changed; and to suggest that with the change there is a decided loss of manliness. Are men more virtuous, do they love honour more, are they more chivalrous, than the Miltons, the Lovelaces, the Sidneys of the past? Are the women chaster or more gentle? No; there is more puritanism, but not more true piety. It is only the outside of the cup and the platter that are made clean, the inward part is just as full of wickedness, and all the worse for its hysterical fastidiousness.
To what do we owe this tendency? Are we degenerating morally as well as physically? Consider the physical side of the question. Fifty years
Only the other day some letters appeared in the 'Times' about the flogging of boys in the Navy. And, as a sentimental argument against it, we were told by the Humanitarian Leaguers that it is 'obscene.' This is just what might be expected, and bears out the foregoing remarks. But such saintly simplicity reminds us of the kind of squeamishness of which our old acquaintance Mephisto observes:
Man darf das nicht vor keuschen Ohren nennen, Was keusche Herzen nicht entbehren konnen.
(Chaste ears find nothing but the devil in What nicest fancies love to revel in.)
The same astute critic might have added:
And eyes demure that look away when seen, Lose ne'er a chance to peep behind the screen.
It is all of a piece. We have heard of the parlour-maid who fainted because the dining-table had 'ceder legs,' but never before that a 'switching' was 'obscene.' We do not envy the unwholesomeness of a mind so watchful for obscenity.
Be that as it may, so far as humanity is concerned, this hypersensitive effeminacy has but a noxious influence; and all the more for the twofold reason that it is sometimes sincere, though more often mere cant and hypocrisy. At the best, it is a perversion of the truth; for emotion combined with ignorance, as it is in nine hundred and ninety-nine cases out of a thousand, is a serious obstacle in the path of rational judgment.
Is sentimentalism on the increase? It seems to be so, if we are to judge by a certain portion of the Press, and by speeches in Parliament. But then, this may only mean that the propensity finds easier means of expression than it did in the days of dearer paper and fewer newspapers, and also that speakers find sentimental humanity an inexhaustible fund for political capital. The excess of emotional attributes in man over his reasoning powers must, one would think, have been at least as great in times past as it is now. Yet it is doubtful whether it showed itself then so conspicuously as it does at present. Compare the Elizabethan age with our own. What would be said now of the piratical deeds of such men as Frobisher, Raleigh, Gilbert, and Richard Greville? Suppose Lord Roberts had sent word to President Kruger that if four English soldiers, imprisoned at Pretoria, were molested, he would execute 2,000 Boers and send him their heads? The clap-trap cry of 'Barbaric Methods' would have gone forth to some purpose; it would have carried every constituency in the country. Yet this is what Drake did when four English sailors were captured by the Spaniards, and imprisoned by the Spanish Viceroy in Mexico.
Take the Elizabethan drama, and compare it with ours. What should we think of our best dramatist if, in one of his tragedies, a man's eyes were plucked out on the stage, and if he that did it exclaimed as he trampled on them, 'Out, vile jelly! where is thy lustre now?' or of a Titus Andronicus cutting two throats, while his daughter ''tween her stumps doth hold a basin to receive their blood'?
'Humanity,' says Taine, speaking of these times, 'is as much lacking as decency. Blood, suffering, does not move them.'
Heaven forbid that we should return to such brutality! I cite these passages merely to show how times are changed; and to suggest that with the change there is a decided loss of manliness. Are men more virtuous, do they love honour more, are they more chivalrous, than the Miltons, the Lovelaces, the Sidneys of the past? Are the women chaster or more gentle? No; there is more puritanism, but not more true piety. It is only the outside of the cup and the platter that are made clean, the inward part is just as full of wickedness, and all the worse for its hysterical fastidiousness.
To what do we owe this tendency? Are we degenerating morally as well as physically? Consider the physical side of the question. Fifty years