I could imagine for the moment that the whole of that house of life had marched out of the sacred East, alive and interlocked, like an army.  Some Eastern nomad had found it solid and silent in the red circle of the desert.  He had slept by it as by a world-forgotten pyramid; and been woke at midnight by the wings of stone and brass, the tramping of the tall pillars, the trumpets of the waterspouts.  On such a night every snake or sea-beast must have turned and twisted in every crypt or corner of the architecture.  And the fiercely coloured saints marching eternally in the flamboyant windows would have carried their glorioles like torches across dark lands and distant seas; till the whole mountain of music and darkness and lights descended roaring on the lonely Lincoln hill.  So for some hundred and sixty seconds I saw the battle-beauty of the Gothic; then the last furniture-van shifted itself away; and I saw only a church tower in a quiet English town, round which the English birds were floating.

THE MAN ON TOP

There is a fact at the root of all realities to-day which cannot be stated too simply.  It is that the powers of this world are now not trusted simply because they are not trustworthy.  This can be quite clearly seen and said without any reference to our several passions or partisanships.  It does not follow that we think such a distrust a wise sentiment to express; it does not even follow that we think it a good sentiment to entertain.  But such is the sentiment, simply because such is the fact.  The distinction can be quite easily defined in an example.  I do not think that private workers owe an indefinite loyalty to their employer.  But I do think that patriotic soldiers owe a more or less indefinite loyalty to their leader in battle.  But even if they ought to trust their captain, the fact remains that they often do not trust him; and the fact remains that he often is not fit to be trusted.

Most of the employers and many of the Socialists seem to have got a very muddled ethic about the basis of such loyalty; and perpetually try to put employers and officers upon the same disciplinary plane.  I should have thought myself that the difference was alphabetical enough.  It has nothing to do with the idealising of war or the materialising of trade; it is a distinction in the primary purpose.  There might be much more elegance and poetry in a shop under William Morris than in a regiment under Lord Kitchener.  But the difference is not in the persons or the atmosphere, but in the aim.  The British Army does not exist in order to pay Lord Kitchener.  William Morris’s shop, however artistic and philanthropic, did exist to pay William Morris.  If it did not pay the shopkeeper it failed as a shop; but Lord Kitchener does not fail if he is underpaid, but only if he is defeated.  The object of the Army is the safety of the nation from one particular class of perils; therefore, since