BY
EDEN PHILLPOTTS
AUTHOR OF "EUDOCIA," "BRUNEL'S TOWER," ETC.
LONDON
WILLIAM HEINEMANN LTD.
First Published, 1923
PRINTED IN GREAT BRITAIN BY WOODS & SONS, LTD., LONDON W.1.
FOREWORD
The egotism of a personal note may, for once, bepermitted to me, since an enterprise, launched some thirtyyears ago in 'Children of the Mist,' now reaches its portof destination with the present story. When 'WidecombeFair' was written, that book appeared the end of thematter; but fresh challenges from life on the Dartmoors, andrenewed strength to meet them, enabled me to add certainpassages to the total and render the design orbicularand complete. With 'Children of Men' it is accomplishedand the purpose may be related in brief words.
Without learning, or bias, or convictions to determinemy trend, I have said 'Yes' to life as it unfolded in thissmall theatre. Mine was neither a great nor a subtlevision, but unvitiated within its limitations.
Given faith that conscious Will is at the helm of humanaffairs, then a definite attitude must result before thespectacle of humanity; but if the mind be built to acceptonly unconscious Law as controller, the outlook differs anda resolute trust may develop in man, as ultimate arbiterof his own destiny. Neither assumption can be proved, ordisproved; but the relation of a controlling, guiding Spiritto the Universe lies open to doubt; its subjection to Lawdoes not; and building upon this latter certainty, I discovered,in the evolution of the moral principle, full cause fortrust and for hope.
Observation has convinced me that moral evolution isupward, despite massive, contemporary evidence to thecontrary. For the War and the peace alike I recogniseas a transient paralysis of human reason, not its negation.The War was an attack of familiar maladies for whichman's own errors of ignorance were to be condemned, notthe laws of his being; but it was an unutterable infamyand disgrace to him, for this reason, that it proves him tobe lagging behind the time-table of moral evolution. Erenow he should have outgrown his present stature, and thecauses of his tardy progress, his centuries of loitering inthe desert, are as plain as pitiful. An impartial ethicscan point to where his faith took the wrong turn; butprogress in righteousness is only delayed; I have seen dawnupon the mountain tops too often not to trust that it willpresently descend into the shadowed homes and sleepinghearts of men.
Fortified by this opinion—the only opinion I ever clungto—my instinct turned from the way of least resistanceon easy and level lands and strove to climb, to sacrificewithout regret the highest, best, most hopeful, as life itselfactually does. Thus only is the vitality of the creatorproved in his creation and tragedy achieved, which, accordingto the measure of an artist's endowment, is clean, cathartic,inspiring and obedient to the laws and realities ofthings as they are. Irrationalism chokes under thisatmosphere: only the humanist can breathe it.
But the world grows braver, for we have seen great artistsopen its eyes and blow the breath of honesty and truth intoits lungs; we have seen the sentimental vapours of thepast dispelled in the freedom that art now attains; wehave seen the artist pitiless, that his audience may learnthe meaning of pity; ugly, that others may find whereintrue beauty lies.
By the kindness of Messrs. Heinemann and The MacmillanCompany full titles of my