The Times Great Letters: A century of notable correspondence

NEW TIMES AND

NEW STANDARDS

1920–29

To-day’s young men

3 August 1921

Sir, May I, as a middle-aged spectator, write a few words in your columns to call attention to a curious change in the younger generation of men now, or lately, in residence at the universities, and of ages from 20 to 25?

In many essentials they are the same young men as those of 20 years ago. They are generous and loyal; they are gentle and kind hearted; they are full of spirit and pluck. But there is one great difference. More than ever before in the history of youth do they defy discipline and worship independence. More than ever do they brush aside experience and do exactly as they please.

The writer’s observations are based chiefly on recent visits to the universities, on watching cricket matches, and on meeting the younger men in private houses and at tennis and golf.

Many of them, when they are talking to other persons, including people older than themselves, never take their pipes out of their mouths. When asked to luncheon with hostesses in London many of them appear in under-graduate clothes and flannel collars. When they are in London they never dress for dinner except in case of absolute necessity. They often associate with very odd friends, and with the female companions of these odd friends. At the Eton and Harrow match the writer saw in the pavilion a group of young men who were, for any other occasion, rather nicely dressed. They wore blue serge suits, summer shirts and Zingari1 straw hats. But had they not forgotten that the 1,200 boys who were present were wearing, compulsorily, the kit which for generations had been honoured and welcomed in London as one of the most charming sights of the ceremonial year, and that the great majority of grown-up people who came to the match were showing their respect for the boys by donning the same kind of dress?

The last point I wish to mention is that young men are showing an increasing toleration and fondness for lawn tennis. Breaking away from the general opinion of the masters of our public schools, and from the athletic traditions of many decades of university life, a number of men who might have been fine cricketers devote themselves entirely to “pat-ball,” and while Australia triumphs on the cricket field the youth of England wanders from county to county and from tournament to tournament in pursuit of the trophies and tea parties of this effeminate game.

If an older friend ever dares to point out any of these things to them in a friendly and bantering way, the answer is always the same:—“You are the most dreadful snob we ever met. We intend to do exactly as we like.”

I leave the issue there. It may be that it is the substance, and not the form, which matters. But for those who value form the question must arise. If this is the form of the beginning of their lives, how will they train their own offspring? How will they save themselves from being judged as

Nos nequiores mox daturos

Progeniem vitiosiorem? 2

I am, &c.,

OLD ETONIAN

1 I Zingari (“gypsies” in Italian) is the name of a cricket club that then drew its members from old boys of the leading public schools.

2 For the benefit of those who did not study Horace at Eton, the Latin tag translates roughly as “We, who are worse than our parents, will soon have children who are even more unbearable.”

Replied on 4 August 1921

Sir, May I, as a young man (and, incidentally, an Old Wykehamist), make some reply to the accusations of “Old Etonian”? It would be strange indeed if “a curious change” was not to be observed in the younger generation of to-day. Without making the too common claim that we “won the war,” we may at least remind your correspondent that for three or four years we were subject to such a discipline as he and his like have never known, and never will know. We spent a large, an incredibly large, proportion of that time absorbing the notions of “middle aged men” concerning matters of form, matters of dress and “smartness” and sartorial respect. We were told that these things were more than matters of form; they were essential to efficiency. But we saw that many an uncouth miners’ battalion was as valiant and efficient in the field as Guards themselves; we saw that those senior officers who were most busy about ritual details of “smartness” were often the most stupid, pig-headed, and inhuman; we saw “experience” fussing about salutes and forgetting about the men’s food; and it is not surprising if we have learned to set our own value on matters of form.

Even so, no young man that I have met claims to do “exactly as he pleases” in this respect, though we may have found new standards. It is possible, for example, that the young men in “blue serge suits, &c.” regarded their costume as more beautiful and becoming than the funereal top-hattery of the rest of Lord’s. But surely, we may be allowed to play what games we like? “Old Etonian” regards lawn tennis as a young woman’s game; I regard cricket as an old woman’s game. Lethargic, slow, it seems to me to consume a period of time grossly disproportionate to the energy expended by the average individual player; and it seems to me to be a pious myth that cricket is more unselfish than tennis. No doubt there is effeminate lawn tennis, as there is effeminate cricket (“tea parties” and all); but let “Old Etonian” go to Wimbledon, to any tournament, and dare to describe what he sees as “pat-ball.”

Nevertheless, I do not object to any man playing cricket, if he can tolerate the game, though I see numbers of men who might have been fine tennis players wandering from county to county and alternately standing about and sitting about in front of ill-mannered and ill-dressed cricket crowds, while America triumphs on the tennis lawn. I only ask for the same liberty for ourselves.

I should not dream of calling your correspondent a “snob.” But I would ask him to go a little deeper. If he had pursued his researches at the universities he would have been told by any of the authorities that the average post-war undergraduate displayed an industry or keenness unlike anything that was known before the war. It is conceivable that the young men who go to luncheons in flannel collars do so because they have work to do before and after the meal. If he goes to the stalls on a first night he will see two or three young men in ordinary clothes. They are dramatic critics, and they will be earning their living till 2 o’clock in the morning. Snobbery is not his complaint, but lack of imagination.

As for our offspring, I beg that he will leave them alone. He is right in supposing that they will not be brought up as we were brought up.

I am, Sir, yours, &c.,

A. P. HERBERT

Alan Herbert, the humourist and future MP, had fought at Gallipoli and on the Western Front after leaving Oxford.

Replied on 4 August 1921

Sir, “Old Etonian” deserves the thanks of the nation for exposing so lucidly the lack of manners and terrible effeminacy of our young men of to-day. At a reception which I attended recently I was astounded to note that not a single man was wearing knee breeches and ruffles and the ladies had completely discarded the crinoline. Instead of the sweeping bow, the delicate curtsey, and the gentle inquiry as to health, we find a revolting hearty handshake and an indelicate remark about stuffiness of the atmosphere. I was pained to see young men and — horribile dictu — young women smoking an abomination called a cigarette, and when I produced my patent folding churchwarden pipe there was a mild sensation.

In my young days we rollicked the summer days away playing croquet and bowls, but now the jeunesse dorée indulge in the grossly effeminate pastimes of golf and lawn tennis. It is indeed sad to see that a stalwart soldier like Earl Haig should have deserted the inspiring and breathlessly exciting game of croquet for that of hitting a stupid little ball round the countryside with an iron-headed stick.

“Old Etonian” need have no fear of being dubbed a snob. Far from it. He is of that gallant band who during the war would have insisted, had he been able, upon the tanks being decorated with inscribed standards and being heralded into action by the massed bands of the Brigade of Guards, flanked by the Life Guards in full-dress uniform, or Grand Rounds at dead of night making his inspection of trenches fully cuirassed to a fanfare of trumpets and preceded by a choir of seven lance-corporals chanting “Floreat Etona.”

Yours, &c.,

RAYMOND SAVAGE

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RatSkin Gloves

28 January 1920

Sir, Is it not possible in these times of a world shortage of raw material (especially leather) for such serviceable articles as rat skins to be put to some useful purpose? It will be generally conceded that if a market can be found or created for such skins it will be an incentive for the destruction of these noxious rodents, which is so essential. It is possible there are at present a few buyers, but so far I have been unable to discover them. Any information on this point will be appreciated. For someone with enterprise and imagination rat skins should be a sound commercial proposition — they would make excellent leather purses and gloves.

Yours faithfully,

GEORGE L. MOORE

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repression IN IRELAND

14 September 1920

Sir, On August 24 a conference in Dublin of moderate men of all parties demanded, amongst other things, as the preliminary condition of an Irish settlement the abandonment of the policy of repression.

Few Englishmen have any idea of the lengths to which this policy has been carried. Most Englishmen know simply that some 80 members of the Royal Irish Constabulary have been murdered, and they take it for granted that the Government’s repressive measures are necessary to put an end to these outrages, and that they are designed for this and no other purpose. Consequently, the actual state of government and justice in Ireland has not been scrutinized carefully, and Englishmen hear little of proceedings that are bringing danger and dishonour upon us. If these proceedings were a kind to put an end to outrages and not to cause further mischief, they would not have called down the condemnation of men like Lord Monteagle, Lord Shaftesbury, Sir Horace Plunkett, and the other leading Irishmen who took part in the conference at Dublin.

The Coercion Act, with the regulations issued for is administration, marks the climax of this policy. Court-martial justice will become the rule. It is provided that men may be kept indefinitely in prison without trial. A Court may sit in secret. If a Court believes that a particular person is able to give evidence, he or she may be arrested. Any person who does an act with a view to promoting or calculated to promote the objects of an lawful association is guilty of an offence against these regulations. As the Gaelic League, which was founded to revive Irish culture, and Dail Eireann1, which represents two-thirds of the Irish people, are unlawful associations, all but a small minority of Irishmen may be convicted on this charge. This is not a system of justice adapted for the detection and punishment of crime; it is designed for the punishment of a political movement, and it puts every Irishman who holds the opinions held by the great majority of Irishmen at mercy of the military authorities.

These authorities are the officers of an army employed on a task hateful to British soldiers and living in an atmosphere of bitter hostility to the native population. Indignation has been naturally excited in this army by a series of murders which the Government been unable to punish. Discipline has broken down. A sort of military lynch law is in force, applied not to the culprits but to the villages and towns of Ireland. It is not an uncommon experience for whole streets to be burnt, creameries2 destroyed, and life taken in the indiscriminate reprisals by which soldiers and policemen avenge murder of constables. Not for a century has there been an outbreak of military violence in these islands. The Government have failed to restrain or punish this violence, and they have now taken steps to prevent any civilian Court from calling attention to it. They have issued an order forbidding the holding of coroners’ inquests in nine counties. This removes the last vestige of protection from the civilian population. In the “Manual of Military Law” it is laid down that, whereas a man acquitted or convicted by a civil Court may not be retried by military Court, a person subject to military law is not to be exempted from the civil-law by reason of his military status. The Government have now decided that if soldiers or policemen fire a town or shoot civilians they are to be immune from the danger of an inquiry by a Court not under military direction.

In Ireland Englishmen are judged by their actions alone. No assurances of good will have the slightest effect on public opinion there; no English promises make it easier for moderate opinion to get a hearing. Every solution of the Irish question presupposes a friendly feeling between England and Ireland, and we are stimulating hatred.

Thus only by changing our executive policy can we create the atmosphere necessary to the successful working of any solution whatever of the Irish question.

We are, Sir, yours faithfully,

ERNEST BARKER

PHILIP GIBBS

CHARLES GORE

HUBERT GOUGH

J. L. HAMMOND

L. T. HOBHOUSE

DESMOND MACCARTHY

JOHN MASEFIELD

C. E. MONTAGUE

GILBERT MURRAY

C. P. SCOTT

H. G. WELLS

BASIL WILLIAMS

1 The parliament formed by Irish republicans on declaring independence from Britain in 1919

2 Butter was an important export and co-operative agricultural ventures, of which dairies were the most numerous, were central to rural Irish life

The Government’s measures only fuelled greater violence, which continued to escalate until a truce was signed in 1921. Ireland was partitioned and the next year the Irish Free State came into being.

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Wigs and Gowns

1 April 1922

Sir, I am glad to say that I do not know the name of any member of the Committee of Judges and Benchers of the Inns of Court whose recommendations concerning the forensic costume of women barristers you publish this morning 31 March. I can therefore criticize their “wishes” without fear or favour.

I have no fault to find with what they recommend about gowns, bands, or dresses. As to wigs, I think they are hopelessly wrong. A wig is, historically and essentially, not a covering, but a substitute for natural hair. I believe the history of the forensic wig to be in substance as follows. About the period of the Restoration, some of the leaders of fashion in France, for reasons of cleanliness and health, took to shaving their heads. They accordingly wore wigs, which soon became very large and elaborate. The fashion found such favour that for something like a century all gentlemen, when fully dressed, wore wigs. During this time they either shaved their heads, or cropped their hair very close, and probably also wore night-caps when in bed.

Then the wig gradually disappeared, and the modern method of cutting the hair short, but just long enough to make an efficient covering for the head, was gradually adopted. Judges and barristers followed this practice like other people, but found that, as long as the hair was short, the wig formed a distinctive, dignified, and convenient headdress for use in court. If women barristers are going to cut their hair short as we cut ours, our wigs will suit them well enough, but I do not believe they will do anything of the kind.

The Committee wish that their wigs “should completely cover and conceal the hair.” Why they entertain this wish I cannot imagine. Our wigs by no means completely cover and conceal our hair. Suppose a woman barrister wears her hair “bobbed.” Her wig, if it completely conceals her hair, will certainly not be an “ordinary barrister’s wig.” Suppose she has plenty of hair, and wears it coiled in one of the usual ways. She will then want one pattern of wig when fashion places the coils on top of her head, another when they are resting on the back of her neck, and a third when they approach the situation of the old fashioned chignon, high up on the back of the head. Each of the three will impart to the wearer a hydrocephalous, ungainly, and ludicrous appearance.

It must be apparent to every one, except the Committee, that women barristers ought to wear a distinctive, and probably dark-coloured, headdress, in approximately the form of a biretta, a turban, or a toque. I use each of these terms with very great diffidence.

I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

HERBERT STEPHEN

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Unjust Divorce Laws

11 October 1922

Sir, During the last weeks of the Summer Term, at the request of the Lord Chancellor, I undertook the trial of undefended suits for divorce and heard about four hundred cases. They were taken in due order from the list, and included every class, but with a large preponderance of the poor, owing to their numbers, and also to the difficulty of their getting decent homes.

The experience was startling, and explains why it is that practically every Judge on whom a similar duty has devolved has urged an alteration of the law. I believe that the reason why this demand is not universal is that the facts are not known, and false modesty prevents their disclosure. Women’s societies pass resolutions declaring that if any change be made, equality must be established between men and women, forgetting, or not knowing, that the present law produces the most insulting inequality, and that it is in the interests of women that reform is sought.

Plain facts need plain speech, and I beg, without apology, to ask attention to the following statement, based on the cases I tried, prefaced only by saying that I scrutinized the evidence with especial care, and that I am satisfied as to the truth of what I state.

A woman marries a man, and is at once infected by him with syphilis. She is an innocent woman, and knows nothing as to what is wrong until the disease has her fast in its grip. The doctor is satisfied that infection occurred immediately on marriage; consequently the law politely bows her out of Court and makes her pay the cost of her struggle for liberty. In the particular case to which I refer, the husband had deserted the woman, and it was possible to prove, though with difficulty, that he had also transferred his “affections” to someone else; but for this his wife was bound for life.

Another woman had been made the victim of the unspeakable savagery of brutal and perverted lust. She also must have remained bound by the bonds of matrimony, enforced by violence, but that her husband went to satisfy his fury elsewhere, and was found out.

A third was deserted, after a week, by a soldier who went to the American continent, where he might have lived unmolested for ever in a life of peaceful adultery, but as he violated two children he also was discovered, and she was able to be free.

I could multiply the recital of individual cases, but lack of space forbids, and the general conditions need attention.

Bigamy was extremely common, but entirely confined to poor persons, for bigamy is not a vice of wealth; the rich can find other less illegal outlets for their emotions. The existing statute, however, provides that bigamy is not sufficient ground for divorce — it must be “bigamy with adultery” — and, though it might be assumed, anywhere outside a law Court, that a man who has risked penal servitude to obtain possession of a woman was not prompted by platonic love, yet the law requires independent proof of the adultery. Further, by a decision now sixty-five years old, this adultery must be with the bigamous wife — adultery with any number of other people is quite inadequate.

On the wisdom and justice of this ancient judgment I will not comment, but it throws great difficulty in the way of a woman who can prove that her husband has been convicted of bigamy, but finds it difficult to trace and obtain evidence of adultery; quoad hanc1, in one case before me, she almost failed.

Among the poorer people desertion was the commonest event: rich folk walk more delicately, and, being in a hurry, obtain a decree for restitution, to be obeyed in a fortnight, instead of waiting two years. It was, of course, only in the rare instances where the deserting husband could be traced and his undoubted adultery legally proved that any relief would be obtained. In one such case the husband, who had first insulted and then deserted his wife, left the country in a ship with the woman with his affection for whom he had often taunted his wife, but, of course, that did not constitute legal proof of adultery, but merely companionship.

In no case that I tried did there appear to me the faintest chance of reconciliation; the marriage tie had been broken beyond repair and its sanctity utterly defiled; nor, again, though I watched with extreme vigilance, was there any single case where collusion could be suggested. With regard to cruelty, there was no case which a competent lawyer, skilled in the knowledge of witnesses, could not have tried.

I was, of course, faced with the question as to what is cruelty, which, we are informed, is so difficult that you want the King’s Proctor as an expert in cruelty to keep the law steady. I made my own rules. If a man who was sober kicked his wife in the stomach when she was pregnant, that seemed to me enough; if she were not pregnant, and he was drunk, he might have to do it again or else her complaint might be due to what the most persistent opponent of my Bill called “nervous irritation.” So, also, with kicking her downstairs, or making her sleep on the doormat in winter — all of which cases I had to consider. But, however brutal and repeated the cruelty, no divorce must be granted for it, or we shall Americanize our institutions and soil the sanctity of English homes.