s
that he turns into a mere turmoil of arrogant German savages what was
really the most complete and logical, if not the highest, of human
civilisations. Historically speaking, it is better to be Dickens than to
be this; better to be ignorant, provincial, slap-dash, seeing only the
passing moment, but in that moment, to be true to eternal things.

It must be remembered, of course, that Dickens deliberately offers this
only as a "child's" history of England. That is, he only professes to be
able to teach history as any father of a little boy of five professes to
be able to teach him history. And although the history of England would
certainly be taught very differently (as regards the actual criticism of
events and men) in a family with a wider culture or with another
religion, the general method would be the same. For the general method
is quite right. This black-and-white history of heroes and villains;
this history full of pugnacious ethics and of nothing else, is the right
kind of history for children. I have often wondered how the scientific
Marxians and the believers in "the materialist view of history" will
ever manage to teach their dreary economic generalisations to children:
but I suppose they will have no children. Dickens's history will always
be popular with the young; almost as popular as Dickens's novels, and
for the same reason: because it is full of moralising. Science and art
without morality are not dangerous in the sense commonly supposed. They
are not dangerous like a fire, but dangerous like a fog. A fire is
dangerous in its brightness; a fog in its dulness; and thought without
morals is merely dull, like a fog. The fog seems to be creeping up the
street; putting out lamp after lamp. But this cockney lamp-post which
the children love is still crowned with its flame; and when the fathers
have forgotten ethics, their babies will turn and teach them.

HARD TIMES

I have heard that in some debating clubs there is a rule that the
members may discuss anything except religion and politics. I cannot
imagine what they do discuss; but it is quite evident that they have
ruled out the only two subjects which are either important or amusing.
The thing is a part of a certain modern tendency to avoid things because
they lead to warmth; whereas, obviously, we ought, even in a social
sense, to seek those things specially. The warmth of the discussion is
as much a part of hospitality as the warmth of the fi