At the time of writing (December 16th) ministers of State and dignitaries of the Established Church show much solicitude that the mysterious events which culminated in the abdication of Edward VIII should be forgotten (and some would piously add, forgiven) as soon as possible. Since so many of the attendant circumstances still remain unexplained, the solicitude may appear to some to be sinister. But it is in no spirit of obstreperousness that we recall the remarkably non-conformist attitude adopted by our Catholic press during the “crisis.” It seems probable, though the fact would be hard to verify, that among no one section of the community was there such sympathy for His former Majesty than among Catholics of all classes; and nowhere more widespread suspicion, founded or unfounded, that the affair was in some way a “frame-up.”

On Thursday, December 3rd, with a uniformity in diversity that Dr. Goebbels might well envy, the London press—on the pretext of a constitutional crisis whose very existence was shortly to be denied—released the long-suppressed story of “the King’s desire.” Before the public had recovered its breath, The Tablet was out the following morning with a memorable leader on “The King's Matter” which was as remarkable for its penetration and its independence as for its promptness. The Editor of GK’s Weekly followed shortly on a similar line.

Marxism is not a philosophy. It is a technique of revolution. Hence the critique of those whose minds are fixed in academic ways of thought nearly always misses the point. We are not dealing with a system of thinking which claims its confirmation in the identities of being, but with one which claims its confirmation in action and in practice. Moreover it does not confirm itself by referring back to traditional ways of action or established practice; it claims its verification in the unity of thought with revolutionary practice. And it is not merely catastrophic in its method; far less is it merely Utopian. That type of criticism, therefore, which paints Marxism as a Utopian system in order to ridicule it as such may have some bearing on the various forms of Utopian socialism which Marx and his followers always fiercely attacked, but practically none on Marxism.

The basic concept of dialectic materialism is matter in motion, and essentially so. “Motion,” says Engels (Anti-Dühring) “is the mode of existence of matter.” To apply this principle to society, the social situation must be understood in its process if we are to enter at all into the Marxian outlook. For Marxism is a system of social dynamics and it is often rejected at the cost of losing also any grasp of history as a real and living development rather than as a marginal note to an a priori thesis independent of our carnal lives.

The age in which we live presents a rapidly growing cleavage between law and conscience; and this cleavage is resulting inevitably in the destruction of both. It is due almost entirely to the subjectivism which has been steadily gaining ground for the last four hundred years. Once private judgment is admitted as a principle in the conduct of human, affairs the objective norms of human action cease to function as such and both conscience and law are deprived of their vitality. As early as the sixteenth century an incipient subjectivism made its appearance in Philosophy as well as in Religion; it is possible, indeed, that the effort to segregate Philosophy from Religion was the source of the whole evil. For when Religion has ceased to provide a philosophy of life it is no longer true religion, and its sanctions lose their compelling force. Moreover, Philosophy unallied to Religion is as a ship without rudder; it follows the caprice of any intellectual wind that blows. The purpose and the very content of human nature is lost sight of; law becomes an unstable shadow of its real self; and conscience, left to stand alone, is no more than a blind guide leading the blind. This cleavage was not suddenly wrought; nor has it come about without protest; Thomas More, whom we now rejoice to call Saint, was amongst the first to protest against it and thought it worth while to seal his protest with his blood.

The publication of a recent survey of the background of convent education gives rise to an interesting train of thought regarding those diverse generations of the Catholic circles of privilege whose daughters receive their formation in convents of a socially exclusive character. Mother O’Leary in her authoritative study, whose scope is very much wider than that by-path which we are now considering, writes with knowledge and calm and has provided us with a most sympathetic but also objective impression. The first section of her book contains an examination of that background of convent education which had given such religious moulding as the polite world of pre-revolutionary France was willing to accept. As a preparation the author devotes some space to an account of the various curricula in use in the colleges, but it is manifestly impossible to touch on more than the fringe of the intricate subject of the mental background of the privileged boys of the Ancien Régime.

In regard to convent education Madame de Genlis has left us a description of the methods of the abbey of Origny-Sainte-Benoîte, where the abbess was ready to entertain a small proportion of the community in her private apartments, and where the social intercourse afforded to the girls trained them early to take their place in that section of French society which was accessible to mild religious ideals when presented palatably.

Faith is the subjective counterpart to objective Revelation: the human response to God’s Self-showing; man’s humble, worshipful assent to and acceptance of the words and the Word of God, itself a gift of God. To understand the nature and the necessity of Faith we must therefore recall and amplify what has already been said regarding Revelation.

Revelation means that God has spoken—has spoken to all men and so to me—through His appointed spokesmen, the prophets, and through His Son. He has told me things I could never have discovered for myself—things of the most vital and supreme importance to me for this life and hereafter. Revelation is essentially concerned with Mystery, with that which of its very nature is unknowable by man’s unaided efforts. It is not enough for me to know that God exists, that there is an Infinite, an Absolute, an Ultimate Explanation, a First Cause, a Supreme Intelligence, a perfect Beauty, a final Value, an Object of all yearning, striving and desire. These truths which thought and philosophy can tell me are, in themselves, of relatively little practical importance if God is to remain the unattainable Infinite, remote, impersonal.

There is something fine in the way St. Paul proclaims the great importance and value before God, though not the independence, of the human conscience. He says that whatever does not proceed from conscience, whatever is not in conformity with it, is sin. This statement contains something of a psychological mystery; for conscience may be misinformed, yet we are obliged to follow it. Now although St. Paul admits, especially in practical matters and in doubtful cases, the decisive power of conscience, and although he is ready to grant that a man may be in good faith, yet, at the same time, in error, still he does not teach that everything which proceeds from conscience is really the voice of God, but only that which proceeds from conscience duly and properly instructed. At one and the same time, St. Paul recognizes in conscience a certain autonomy and yet he also realizes the obligation upon conscience of watching over its motives. Now without pretending that the Dominican conscience differs from that of other men, I maintain that there is a special note, a Dominican accent, so to speak, in its dictates.

“There is no reason in the world” wrote Augustus Welby Pugin, “why noble cities, combining all possible convenience of drainage, water-courses, and conveyance of gas, may not be erected in the most consistent and yet Christian character.” There is, in this engaging statement, an implication which Pugin, alas, did not see. “Our domestic architecture,” he had said very truly, “should have a peculiar expression illustrative of our manners and habits”; but these latter he chose unfortunately to regard as identical with those of earlier ages, despite the fact that the earlier ages were in no position to convey gas. “We are such men as our fathers were, and therefore should build as they built”; so his argument is summarized. Hence his campaign to revive an architectural form which centuries earlier was already played out; a campaign whose success resulted in that torrential and continuous downpour of brussels sprouts from which we are only now beginning to emerge. “The point,” Mr. Trappes-Lomax tells us, “was not whether St. Peter’s might be tolerable in Rome, and Notre Dame in Paris; it was whether the Church in England was to be English or Italianate.” The first tragedy was that Pugin identified Gothic with English; the second, that in the general struggle between English and Italianate parties, while in architecture Italy came out, in the event, defeated, in the sphere of worship she so largely carried the day.

“It is not good for man to be alone: man is ‘alone’ when he is away from the turmoil of the world; thus monks and holy men build for themselves solitudes. It is not good, says the Lord, for such a man, a contemplative, to be alone, without a companion; it is best that he become active; let us make him a help like unto himself, that is, a people subject to him, who will minister to his temporal, as he to their spiritual needs.”

The contemplative life resembles Paradise before the creation of Eve! Or, to modernize the thought as well as its phrasing: man is meant to express himself in the art of government.

The quotation comes from notes which were taken by students from a lecture on Genesis, delivered in the Paris schools round about the year 1190. The students would apply it to themselves. For the present they were “contemplatives,” if not solitaries; their business, in theory at least, was contemplation which centred in the study of Scripture; and they were all potential bishops. Their lecturer passed dramatically to action from contemplation. From being a master of theology at Paris he was raised to the cardinalate, then to the archbishopric of Canterbury, and “expressed himself” in Magna Carta.

Catching sight of my own name by chance in a periodical several weeks old, I discovered to my astonishment that I had apparently been mentioned in a book by Sir Josiah Stamp which was published this year. Sir Josiah Stamp, needless to say, is not only a director of the Bank of England and a railway magnate, but also an “eminent economist” and indeed the chosen publicity-man who is ever ready to defend the existing financial system with voice and pen and a limitless supply of tact and urbanity.

Curiosity had to be satisfied, and at the first opportunity I looked up his book, which is called Motive and Method in a Christian Order (Epworth Press). As regards myself, the results of the search were very disappointing. The distinguished author had indeed mentioned me (amongst others) and even quoted extensively from a little book of mine, but only by way of illustrating how unwise some of the clergy are in committing themselves to the “Douglas Credit System.” I call this disappointing, because I have never at any time been a follower of Major Douglas or an adherent of his scheme, and indeed was at considerable pains to distinguish myself from the Douglasites in that same little book from which Sir Josiah Stamp took his quotations. I have even criticized the Douglasites quite a lot in their own periodicals; though not in articles addressed to the general public, because it seems a pity to give the impression that moneyreformers are at loggerheads, when they are all united in their exposure of the private Money-Power. Also it is true I have often used the terms “social credit” and “national dividend,” but Sir Josiah Stamp can hardly be unaware that these ideas are common amongst others than Douglasites and by no means involve acceptance of such junk as the A + B theorem, etc., which the Douglasites are now finding it so difficult to throw overboard quietly.