I

T was with mixed feelings that I approached Gilbert K. Chesterton for an interview for THE NEW SUCCESS. In the first place, I expected to find a man whose dominating quality was his geniality. In the next place, I was prepared to discover him to be one of those rare persons who cannot talk without being entertaining. I was not disappointed. A graying giant whose face bore the unmistakable marks of deep thinking, he was not only as interesting to listen to as the most brilliant lecturer, but as amiable as a child, and as prone to laughter as a child.

In fact, it was impossible to forget, while in his presence, that he had a sense of humor. He was disposing of witty remarks with such liberality that before one had had time to recover from laughing at the first, a second would be forthcoming. It was not difficult to understand that he was a man famous for his paradoxes; he seemed to see through the paradox of life, and to perceive to its fullest its humorous possibilities. And so it happened that laughter constantly interrupted our conversation.

And that was not because the subject we were discussing was in its nature comical. Far from that! Social and industrial reorganization is not ordinarily considered an amusing topic. But in the bands of Mr. Chesterton, it was made literally to glitter.

"What do you believe is to be the influence of the novel in the regeneration of society?" was the question with which I began.

is H. G. Wells, whom I consider one of the greatest, if not the greatest, of living Englishmen. He is a writer of vast intellectual range and perception; but in spite of his depth of insight and his unquestionable sincerity, I feel that he is not accomplishing much more than the others in a sociological direction. For the fault with all the novelists who attack social problems is that they do not seem to know where they are going. They start moving somewhere, and seem to think it sufficient that they are moving, without knowing in what direction; they set out toward an objective they cannot see, with about the chance of success of a blind man who seeks to find a light, or of a traveler who wishes to journey from New York to Boston, and indiscriminately leaps upon the first train he sees."

Mr. Chesterton paused, for the smile which had been broadening upon his face at last was lost in laughter. His mirth was irresistible. It was a moment or two before I had regained control of myself sufficiently to inquire:

"For what reason do you believe that the would-be novelists of reform do not know in what direction they are going?"

S

TILL smiling, he continued, "I am afraid that most of them are not sure enough of themselves. They are on the fence, and while they've decided to fall off, they haven't yet made up their minds on which side to fall. Not that they have consciously placed themselves in this embarrassing position-I do not mean to impugn their sincerity-but all they know is that they are not contented to remain where they are; and since they're equally ignorant of all points where they are not, it appears immaterial to them in what direction they go. It's a matter of leaping in the dark, as it were. But as I'm afraid we can't base much hope for progress on such leaps, I'm inclined to be sceptical of the beneficent sociological influence of the contemporary

novel."

"But hasn't literature of social reform been helpful in the past?"

66

"Y

'ES, indeed," he acknowledged.

as now.

"However, conditions were not always the same For example, consider the time when Thomas Hood wrote his 'Song of the Shirt,' which I regard as one of the greatest things of its kind ever produced. In those days, the causes of abuse were evident to all. The capitalist then was usually the unenlightened small merchant or manufacturer who could look with equanimity on any conditions of labor that brought him a greater profit. To trace the abuses to his door was accordingly comparatively easy; an indictment brought in by any particular writer could much more readily be turned to a sentence of guilty by the public; the problems could be solved with a facility proportionate to their lack of seriousness. But subsequent events have complicated matters. It has come to be generally understood that the blame for current evils can no longer be justly ascribed to any particular capitalist; and likewise, it has come to be recognized that industrialism is a mistake, and that some way out is necessary. The trouble, thus far, has been that proposed remedies have tended to be worse than no remedy at all. Perhaps one of the greatest defects of the present system has been the reformers.

among other things, is responsible for much of the aimless adventuring of the present-day novel of reform. In Prussia, State socialism was virtually put into effect-or, at least, was put into effect sufficiently for us to judge rather definitely of the result. And that has not been to our liking. It has not been consistent with theory. In fact, it has slashed the most gorgeous theories with holes that have deflated them like punctured balloons. Moreover, in demolishing the theories, it has stolen the stock in trade of many novelists. Naturally, however, these novelists could not be expected to give up business even though their stock in trade was gone. And so they have continued placidly writing, as if ignorant of the fact that their object in doing so has disappeared. Perhaps sometime they will find another object. But that possibility, unfortunately, does not

They

have sometimes been more harmful than the evils they have tried to cure; they. constitute one of the gravest indictments of the present system."

By this time we were both laughing so heartily that a halt in the discussion was necessary. I had completely forgotten that this was an interview; it seemed more like a talk with some old friend. And without remembering that I had any ulterior journalistic motives, I inquired:

"But did not writers that urged reform in the past know definitely where they were gaing?"

"M%

ORE so than at present, surely," responded Mr. Chesterton, a sly twinkle in his eyes. "One of the reasons is that many of them were going in the wrong direction. When they found that out, they changed their course, threw the compass overboard and continued going. You see, the Fabians-the State Socialists, with Bernard Shaw among their leadershave recently had a chance to observe some of their theories in practice. That chance was inadvertently given them by Prussia, which,

smile that never

save the present situation."

"Do you think that contemporary writers are trying to do too much by means of the novel?"

IN

N answer to that," declared Mr. Chesterton, with the seemed to leave him, "I can only say that the novel, at present, impresses me as a sort of sack which people use as an indiscriminate dumping place for ideas, whether they concern the training of genius or the moral regeneration of the Zulu. They seem to think that there is nothing so flexible as the novel; it is a cloth that will cover everything, from the philosophic theories of a Spinoza to the maunderings of a soap-box politician. Once it was imagined that the essay was the proper vehicle for ideas; at present, men seem to act as if their theories, hopes, complaints, and prejudices can be given expression only in the novel."

"PE

"But don't you believe that some novel of social reform may yet actually have a powerful influence?" ERHAPS," said Mr. Chesterton, with an ironic smile. "But, if so, it will be a novel of a new type. It will not show us how terrible present conditions are; it will not paint the grayness of factories, the filth of slums, the viciousness of low wages, or the gauntness of poverty. An acquaintance with all these things. has already been drilled into our consciousness; we are all agreed that they are evils, though none of us are certain how to remedy them. The story that brings to light the black core of present conditions is doing no great service because we

all know that the core is black, even though we don't ordinarily acknowledge it. The truly helpful novel will have to be more constructive. And, by that, I do not mean that it must advocate any particular creed of social reconstruction. It need only portray conditions in some region not infected by modern industrialism. For example, I should say that the beneficial sociological novel would be that which showed the life of some simple people living far from what we term civilization. It would not matter whether these people be the village dwellers of England or America, the peasants of Iceland, or " he added with a broad smile "the natives of the Fiji Islands."

"But what would be the advantage of such a novel?" I burst forth.

"T

"If you do not think industrialism will last, what do you believe is to replace it?"

"Y own theory," he said, a little more

"Mgravely than before, "is that there Μ

should be a system in which there is equality of private property. Each man should possess a share of the country's wealth, and that share should be approximately the same as his neighbor owns. I do not believe in a community of property; the theory that one man should own another's boots never appealed to me; I should not favor it, even though I were to own a share in the boots of the President of the United States. But I do maintain that property should be distributed equally; one man should not possess a mountain, while his neighbor must be content with a molehill; and the owner of the molehill must not be made to pay tribute

HAT'S just what I was about to explain. We can hope to wean people away from present conditions only by showing them how much more attractive other conditions are; and a novel demonstrating that more real happiness is to be

gained from the simplicity of village life in Samoa or Hindustan, Hampshire or New Hampshire, than from the metropolitan complexity of New York or London, might do much toward relieving existing evils. In a word, to let it be generally seen that industrialism is a mistake-do not show the sore spots of the present order, but display the shining points of other systems."

"But do you think that will ever be done? Do you think that the people as a whole can be made so to appreciate the brilliance of other conditions that they will want a change?"

"TH

HAT'S impossible to answer," he replied. "But this much I can say: Industrialism is not a necessary evil. There are many who, while recognizing it as an evil, seem to regard it as designed inevitably and indissolubly by the eternal scheme of things. No attitude could be more falacious. Industrialism is now little more than a century old, yet already we can see signs of the end. The very fact that we regard it as a mistake is one of the signs of the end. I do not believe that the great city of the present will endure. It seems to me

At this point I could not refrain from interrupting. Mr. Chesterton was approaching so near the most vital topic of the age that I felt forced to ask:

only to be more stable

to the proprietor of the mountain. Such a system can result only in discontent and misery, dissension and waste. An economic order based upon an equality of small property-holders would be likely not than the present, but

to be productive of a far higher scale of general happiness; and i look forward to such an order as a possible solution of the widespread social and industrial unrest at present afflicting the world."

SUCCESS NUGGETS

Opportunity brings out the great man, but he alone is great who is ready to embrace it

If the first rule is to obey your native bias, to accept the work for which you were inwardly formed, the second rule is concentration, which doubles its force.-Emerson.

Smiles attract dollars, as they attract everything that is good and wholesome.

If people would only smile more, if children were trained to smile habitually what a wonderful world this would be!

We do not know anything about our own resources until we have taught ourselves to stand alone. Not until we can think for ourselves, decide for ourselves, and act for ourselves do we become more than infants in the moral universe. -Angela Morgan.

Thoughts never die, they are immortal dreams that outlive their dreamers.