when lord morley said that the house of lords must be either mended or ended, he used a phrase which has caused some confusion; because it might seem to suggest that mending and ending are somewhat similar things. i wish specially to insist on the fact that mending and ending are opposite things. you mend a thing because you like it; you end a thing because you don’t. to mend is to strengthen. i, for instance, disbelieve in oligarchy; so i would no more mend the house of lords than i would mend a thumbscrew. on the other hand, i do believe in the family; therefore i would mend the family as i would mend a chair; and i will never deny for a moment that the modern family is a chair that wants mending. but here comes in the essential point about the mass of modern advanced sociologists. here are two institutions that have always been fundamental with mankind, the family and the state. anarchists, i believe, disbelieve in both. it is quite unfair to say that socialists believe in the state, but do not believe in the family; thousands of socialists believe more in the family than any tory. but it is true to say that while anarchists would end both, socialists are specially engaged in mending (that is, strengthening and renewing) the state; and they are not specially engaged in strengthening and renewing the family. they are not doing anything to define the functions of father, mother, and child, as such; they are not tightening the machine up again; they are not blackening in again the fading lines of the old drawing. with the state they are doing this; they are sharpening its machinery, they are blackening in its black dogmatic lines, they are making mere government in every way stronger and in some ways harsher than before. while they leave the home in ruins, they restore the hive, especially the stings. indeed, some schemes of labor and poor law reform recently advanced by distinguished socialists, amount to little more than putting the largest number of people in the despotic power of mr. bumble. apparently, progress means being moved on—by the police.
the point it is my purpose to urge might perhaps be suggested thus: that socialists and most social reformers of their color are vividly conscious of the line between the kind of things that belong to the state and the kind of things that belong to mere chaos or uncoercible nature; they may force children to go to school before the sun rises, but they will not try to force the sun to rise; they will not, like canute, banish the sea, but only the sea-bathers. but inside the outline of the state their lines are confused, and entities melt into each other. they have no firm instinctive sense of one thing being in its nature private and another public, of one thing being necessarily bond and another free. that is why piece by piece, and quite silently, personal liberty is being stolen from englishmen, as personal land has been silently stolen ever since the sixteenth century.
i can only put it sufficiently curtly in a careless simile. a socialist means a man who thinks a walking-stick like an umbrella because they both go into the umbrella-stand. yet they are as different as a battle-ax and a bootjack. the essential idea of an umbrella is breadth and protection. the essential idea of a stick is slenderness and, partly, attack. the stick is the sword, the umbrella is the shield, but it is a shield against another and more nameless enemy—the hostile but anonymous universe. more properly, therefore, the umbrella is the roof; it is a kind of collapsible house. but the vital difference goes far deeper than this; it branches off into two kingdoms of man’s mind, with a chasm between. for the point is this: that the umbrella is a shield against an enemy so actual as to be a mere nuisance; whereas the stick is a sword against enemies so entirely imaginary as to be a pure pleasure. the stick is not merely a sword, but a court sword; it is a thing of purely ceremonial swagger. one cannot express the emotion in any way except by saying that a man feels more like a man with a stick in his hand, just as he feels more like a man with a sword at his side. but nobody ever had any swelling sentiments about an umbrella; it is a convenience, like a door scraper. an umbrella is a necessary evil. a walking-stick is a quite unnecessary good. this, i fancy, is the real explanation of the perpetual losing of umbrellas; one does not hear of people losing walking sticks. for a walking-stick is a pleasure, a piece of real personal property; it is missed even when it is not needed. when my right hand forgets its stick may it forget its cunning. but anybody may forget an umbrella, as anybody might forget a shed that he has stood up in out of the rain. anybody can forget a necessary thing.
if i might pursue the figure of speech, i might briefly say that the whole collectivist error consists in saying that because two men can share an umbrella, therefore two men can share a walking-stick. umbrellas might possibly be replaced by some kind of common awnings covering certain streets from particular showers. but there is nothing but nonsense in the notion of swinging a communal stick; it is as if one spoke of twirling a communal mustache. it will be said that this is a frank fantasia and that no sociologists suggest such follies. pardon me if they do. i will give a precise parallel to the case of confusion of sticks and umbrellas, a parallel from a perpetually reiterated suggestion of reform. at least sixty socialists out of a hundred, when they have spoken of common laundries, will go on at once to speak of common kitchens. this is just as mechanical and unintelligent as the fanciful case i have quoted. sticks and umbrellas are both stiff rods that go into holes in a stand in the hall. kitchens and washhouses are both large rooms full of heat and damp and steam. but the soul and function of the two things are utterly opposite. there is only one way of washing a shirt; that is, there is only one right way. there is no taste and fancy in tattered shirts. nobody says, “tompkins likes five holes in his shirt, but i must say, give me the good old four holes.” nobody says, “this washerwoman rips up the left leg of my pyjamas; now if there is one thing i insist on it is the right leg ripped up.” the ideal washing is simply to send a thing back washed. but it is by no means true that the ideal cooking is simply to send a thing back cooked. cooking is an art; it has in it personality, and even perversity, for the definition of an art is that which must be personal and may be perverse. i know a man, not otherwise dainty, who cannot touch common sausages unless they are almost burned to a coal. he wants his sausages fried to rags, yet he does not insist on his shirts being boiled to rags. i do not say that such points of culinary delicacy are of high importance. i do not say that the communal ideal must give way to them. what i say is that the communal ideal is not conscious of their existence, and therefore goes wrong from the very start, mixing a wholly public thing with a highly individual one. perhaps we ought to accept communal kitchens in the social crisis, just as we should accept communal cat’s-meat in a siege. but the cultured socialist, quite at his ease, by no means in a siege, talks about communal kitchens as if they were the same kind of thing as communal laundries. this shows at the start that he misunderstands human nature. it is as different as three men singing the same chorus from three men playing three tunes on the same piano.
