antagonist. But by the time the age of Francis Drake had given way to that of W. G. Grace, a deep and disquieting change had set in. According to an old maxim, when any good movement in any large group of mankind is on foot, 'in steps the Devil.' The result is not to be mistaken. What with publicity, posters, films, kodaks, and all kinds of excess, a 'grievous murrain' has seized upon our Sports and Pastimes. We have lost much of our self-restraint and moderation, yielding more and more to a craving for excitement, self-display, publicity, and filthy lucre, which has invaded, and taken captive, all sections of society, and has by no means spent its force down to the present day.

But we have retained the other half of the moral element which is vital to the continuance of all sport deserving of the name of recreation. Public opinion is still in favour of fair play, and we have not gone all lengths in specialisation. It is true that in the spectacular games department ugly stories may be heard of crowds hostile to referees; of 'booing' and hooting; and of menacing onsets and lawless interference with umpiring; but all of this may probably be due to nothing but want of training and unfamiliarity. Far more serious is the professional and commercial spirit, so generally deplored but feebly resisted. In using the term 'professionalism' we would guard ourselves against being supposed to be indicting the many splendid sportsmen who are professional. It is greatly to their credit that they are what they are. The system is not ideal.

Serious also is excessive specialisation, which means a lamentable disproportion in the view taken of life and its responsibilities. It is rumoured that some of the victories won over us in the Olympic Games or in golf are due to our opponents having given more time and more exclusive effort to the one contest. Now training for a contest is within rather narrow limits sensible and wise; for a period of carefully restricted diet and healthy exercise would be good, as a change from their ordinary life, for a large majority of the population. Moreover, every prudent athlete knows the value of gradual preparation of muscles preliminary to the final strain. But the concentration of public interest on contests of individual skill is a pitiable sign of the times; for, as distinct

from corporate achievement, feats of individual excellence mean nothing at all. Has England the slightest reason to boast if she produces a bruiser with a harder skull than a negro's? Not many months ago there were two letters in one number of the Times,' given equal prominence and printed in equally dignified type. The one was signed by two prominent Churchmen, and was a serious moral appeal to the nation to lift up its heart and brace its resolve in presence of incomparably difficult and urgent problems. The other was a hectic admonition to the golfers who were going to represent England against the U.S.A., that they should withdraw from civilised society for the space of some months and consecrate every faculty of mind, body, and soul to the winning of the contest: train, in short, as men ought to train who are in for the greatest and most sacred, most sublime, event in their lives, banishing all thought of every other subject, especially and most scrupulously of that set of subjects belonging to the obsolete idea of Eternity: for can there be any claim upon time, energy, money, and mentality more august and compelling than that man-thinking man-man endowed with a thirst for the Infinite, should learn between the cradle and the grave how to strike a bit of gutta-percha farther and straighter than another man? What matter if the proudest achievement of the human organism, the imposing fabric of civilisation itself, be reeling from its foundations; a golf-match is in prospect; let the strife of tongues be hushed. Who cares if the League of Nations crumbles to nothing or not; or if the welfare of the world is committed to the British Empire at a crisis unparalleled since man appeared on this planet; never mind the planet; the golf-ball claims our souls? That is the Gospel of modern life; a prophetic message to which all sport must conform. There was a teacher long ago, often said to be the greatest of human beings, who used the expression, 'When I became a man I put away childish things.' The estimate of individual athletic success as of an ideal which could satisfy the loftiest patriotism is worse than childishness.

This is not the place to consider what ought to be done, partly because we are still in the stage when there is a general non-recognition of the nature and extent of

Our loss. Public opinion may be trusted to be on the right side when once the majority of the population <now the facts. Our people have not deliberately chosen che wrong thing; the truth being that there is no deiberation in the whole matter. As a nation we never have been strong in deliberation though often guilty of protracted delay; the delay being due not to continuance of controversy or long intent thought, but to a rooted lisposition to believe that if things are called by the ame names they persist unchanged. Or, if a radical change is undeniably in progress and strong vested nterests are being established, most of us, after ignoring che change as long as we are allowed, wake up to find it has been widely accepted, and use that fact as an argument to prove that all is going well.

In answer, then, to the question which lately has been mooted, whether the English should continue to compete in the Olympic Games, we reply that if we believe we have inherited a purer tradition than other people-on that we express no opinion-our plain duty is to continue to co-operate towards a higher standard of sportsmanship, each nation being willing to contribute what it can of self-discipline, consideration for others, submission to rules, and invariably honourable reciprocity. We are in danger of excess of specialisation which is likely to lead later to the total loss of the blessed boon of recreation, though at first it secures to a few men of brawny and elastic framework, a palm of very fading leaves; and even though victory is taken by the vast army of the unthinking to be a sign that England is retaining her position as the foremost nation in the world. Victory purchased by slavish professionalism will sound the knell of Sport. It will be-not certainly, but in all probability—an indication that we are throwing away our heritage, and subscribing to an ugly and devastating idea that individual excellence ought to be purchased at the cost of a huge irreparable national loss. Sport is England's contribution to the recreation of mankind; and just at the time when recreation is more imperatively needed than ever before, we are in danger of succumbing to certain poisonous influences which we rather hastily suppose are telling upon other peoples more than on ourselves. If that opinion is justified, great and

urgent is our responsibility for preserving the true idea of Sport; a delicate blend of the artificial and the natural: like all our achievements in evolution, unnoticed during its long period of growth but liable to a very rapid and final decay. In short, whether our continued participation in the Olympic Games works for weal or woe entirely depends on whether we can plough our lonely furrow, refusing to purchase success at the cost of bondage, but showing that excellence is still possible to true sportsmen; or whether we allow ourselves to be besotted by the spell of filthy lucre and self-display.

that

If the meaning of the word Sport be traced through history it is instructive to note the predominance of the idea of play, fun, gamesomeness, and the like. It seems that the ethical colouring of such a word as Sportsmanlike is a recent innovation; and though it has affected conversation everywhere there is little trace of it in literature. If this statement is correct, we have an interesting instance of society under stress of a practical necessity, not choosing a new word to denote a new thing but recognising, subconsciously we may suppose, an old notion was in process of evolution, has expanded the meaning of a word to correspond with the develop ment. Thus, in days when life could be led more easily than to-day, our forefathers conceived of recreation as undiluted fun, merriment, and dalliance. To-day, though we hear many doleful warnings uttered by older people to the young, that they must resist the spell of amusement, it is perhaps all to the good that we have stiffened the connotation of the word Sport by introducing into it something of a disciplinary element: not because we have less discipline than we need and are aware of the deficiency, but because we have learnt that unmixed sheer amusement palls upon the human spirit. The innovation is wholesome.

We trust it

We trust it may be lasting.

EDWARD LYTTELTON.

Art. 9.-IRELAND TO-DAY.

DURING the past twelve months the government of the Irish Free State has been carried on without the menace of Republican violence. In the early stages of Mr Cosgrave's tenure of office, his primary business was the restoration of order in a country distracted by civil war, so that neither life nor property was secure. That unhappy state of things has come to an end. The Republican forces have been thoroughly subdued, and their leaders have been obliged to announce that they will no longer pursue a policy of force. So completely has civil order been restored that the ministers of the Irish Free State have felt it safe to release from the gaols where they were interned some twelve thousand rebels, including de Valera their chief, whose prediction that Ireland would run deep in blood before his dreams were realised has proved to be true, but without any realisation of his dreams. Mr Cosgrave and his colleagues deserve great credit for the courage and resolution with which they have shown the Irish people that they must obey the law. Those who have watched the course of events from this side of the Channel have observed with genuine gratification that military courts have ceased their work, save for purely military offences, and that the civil courts have now been fully reconstituted, Irish juries being again in a position to discharge their duties without fear. Last year it was necessary to maintain an army of 50,000 men, while the new estimates provide for only 19,000,-too large a force indeed for the Free State to keep up, but the reduction is a notable indication of the condition of the country. All this is very satisfactory, and it is right that the British public should understand the magnitude of Mr Cosgrave's achievement.

There is, to be sure, much yet to be done before the institutions of the Irish Free State can be regarded as stable. The financial outlook is not promising. For the current financial year the estimated revenue is twenty-seven millions, while the estimated expenditure is thirty-six millions, including eight millions to meet compensation claims. That is very serious, and it is clear that still more drastic reductions must be made in