jump upon chairs?" It was as if John Milton had been required to stand on his head to prove his worth. She went away purposefully to keep watch over me and mine. She was a dog, not a mountebank. I am reminded of her in the mornings when I wake. That used to be the occasion for a fond little drama. After long troubled years I have come at fifty to a habit of life in which there is much tranquillity and happiness. I need not stir in the mornings until I like, and when I get up and go into the bathroom the sun is often shining brightly into the room, which looks to the east. The whole house is silent. Even in midwinter the upper corridor and the bathroom are cosily warm. The caretaker is an angel in disguise: an impervious disguise to many, though not to me. Formerly when my footsteps had sounded in the corridor in the morning, coming and going, Rags and Nancy were permitted to come up-stairs. I could hear a door open below and a gust of sound; I could hear the caretaker's voice crying out briskly: "Go and get him!" And then they came! Nancy was up the stairs like a silver streak. I could see her bright head in the dim hallway. There was a flash, a leap, and she was on my knees. She would look back once to observe poor old Rags laboring up one step at a time; she would growl ominously to warn him that she had taken possession. It required a kind of diplomacy to welcome Rags, too, when he arrived. Then she was off my knees with an impetuous leap. She was looking out at the larger world visible from the upper window, she was exploring the corridor, she was sniffing at closet-doors. This done she was back, importuning me, imploring me to hurry. "Oh, do make haste!" she seemed to say. "Another day has come. Everything is wonderful! Why do you linger in this room, which is like a prison? Do come down-stairs with things of life I do not think of that which is rare or magnificent. I think of little, common things: of drops of rain and dew, of soft winds, of shady spots when the sun beats hot, of the grasses which fade in winter and are strangely and beautifully green almost the very moment the spring winds turn north again. I think of red apples and citrons, of bread and salt, of little cakes. I think of the garden in the summer nights when the elm-tree lifts its dark boughs against the moon and there is the odor of roses on the air. I think of the young pigeons out in the loft, sheltered from storm; I think of Si Slocomb's little red house out under the porch, which is cosey and warm when the winter winds blow cold. I think of the fealty of dogs. My heart is a bed in which I hold, asleep, all I have loved and lost. When my heart ceases to beat there will be a strange stillness, and that stillness shall cause those who sleep to waken again, just as we waken when the night wind at the casement dies away. This is a vague saying. I can only add that it covers something steadfast, though unutterable. I remember how Nancy used to slip away into the dusk of the garden. She was very still. She seemed to wish to listen. To what? I cannot say. I could see her dimly, perhaps. Perhaps I could not see her at all. But I was in no hurry for her to return. I thought she might have drawn apart because her soul demanded this of her. "The world is too much with us," said Wordsworth. I knew she was not lost. But It is so with me now, though she has slipped away into a deeper dusk. This is my farewell to Nancy; but it is more than that. It is Farewell and Hail. Having lost her in her prime, I shall keep her as she was in her prime. Having given her up, strong and beautiful, I shall keep her strong and beautiful while life lasts. I have tried to give her, in this memoir, to others, that I may keep her the more securely for my own. The date of her death was November 7, 1920. It appeared that during her last walk with the caretaker she passed an open lawn where poison had been placed for gophers. She got some of this and returned home, where she died within half an hour. SOCIAL UNREST AND BOLSHEVISM IN THE ISLAMIC WORLD By Lothrop Stoddard Author of "The Rising Tide of Color," "The New World of Islam," etc. NREST is the natural con- great "Motazelite" movement embraced comitant of change-par- many shades of thought, its radical wing ticularly sudden change. professing religious, political, and social Every break with the past, doctrines of a violent, revolutionary nahowever normal and inevi- ture. But this changeful period was table, implies a necessity superficial and brief. Arab vigor and the for readjustment to altered conditions Islamic spirit proved unable permanently which causes a temporary sense of restless to leaven the vast inertia of the ancient disharmony until the required adjustment East. Soon the old traditions reasserted has been made. Unrest is not an excep- themselves somewhat modified, to be tional phenomenon; it is always latent in sure, yet basically the same. Saracenic every human society which has not fallen civilization became stereotyped, ossified, into complete stagnation, and a slight and with this ossification changeful unrest amount of unrest should be considered died away. Here and there the radical a sign of healthy growth rather than a tradition was preserved and secretly symptom of disease. In fact, the mini- handed down by a few obscure sects like mum degrees of unrest are usually not the Kharidjites of inner Arabia and the called by that name, but are considered Bektashi dervishes; but these were mere mere incidents of normal development. cryptic episodes, of no general significance. Under normal circumstances, indeed, the social organism functions like the human organism: it is being incessantly destroyed and as incessantly renewed in conformity with the changing conditions of life. These changes are sometimes very considerable, but they are so gradual that they are effected almost without being perceived. A healthy organism, well attuned to its environment, is always plastic. It instinctively senses environmental changes and adapts itself so rapidly that it escapes the injurious consequences of disharmony. Far different is the character of unrest's acuter manifestations. These are infallible symptoms of sweeping changes, sudden breaks with the past, and profound maladjustments which are not being rapidly rectified. In other words, acute unrest denotes social ill-health and portends the possibility of one of those violent crises known as "revolution." The history of the Moslem East well exemplifies the above generalizations. The formative period of Saracenic civilization was characterized by rapid change and an intense idealistic ferment. The VOL. LXX.-II With the Mohammedan revival at the beginning of the nineteenth century, however, symptoms of social unrest appeared once more. Wahabism aimed not merely at a reform of religious abuses, but was also a general protest against the contemporary decadence of Moslem society. In many cases it took the form of a popular revolt against established governments. The same was true of the correlative Babbist movement in Persia, which occurred about the same time. And of course these nascent stirrings were greatly stimulated by the flood of Western ideas and methods which, as the nineteenth century wore on, increasingly permeated the East. What, indeed, could be more provocative of unrest of every description than the resulting transformation of the Orient-a transformation so sudden, so intense, and necessitating so concentrated a process of adaptation that it was basically revolutionary rather than evolutionary in its nature? In considering this eminently transition period we must note, not merely material changes, but also the profound disturbance, bewilderment, and 161 suffering affecting all social classes in society might have been hopelessly wrecked. greater or less degree. The essentially revolutionary nature of this transition period, as exemplified by India, is well described by the British economist, Dodwell. What, he asks, could be more anachronistic than the contrast between rural and urban India? "Rural India is primitive or medieval; city India is modern." In city India you will find every symbol of Western life, from banks and factories down to the very "sandwichmen that you left in the London gutters." Now all this co-exists beside rural India. "And it is surely a fact unique in economic history that they should thus exist side by side. The present condition of India does not correspond with any period of European economic history." Imagine the effect in Europe of setting down together modern and medieval men with utterly disparate ideas. That has not happened in Europe because "European progress in the economic world has been evolutionary"; a process spread over centuries. In India, on the other hand, this economic transformation has been "revolutionary" in character. eco How unevolutionary is India's nomic transformation is seen by the condition of rural India. Continues Mr. Dodwell: Rural India, though chiefly characterized by primitive usage, has been invaded by ideas that are intensely hostile to the old state of things. It is primitive, but not consistently primitive. Competitive wages are paid side by side with customary wages. Prices are sometimes fixed by custom, but sometimes, too, by free economic causes. From the midst of a population deeply rooted in the soil, men are being carried away by the desire of better wages. In short, economic motives have suddenly and partially intruded themselves in the realm of primitive morality. And, if we turn to city India, we see a similar, though inverted, state of things. In neither case has the mixture been harmonious or the fusion complete. Indeed, the two orders are too unrelated, too far apart, to coalesce with ease. India, then, is in a state of economic revolution throughout all the classes of an enormous and complex society. The only period in which Europe offered even faint analogies to modern India was the industrial revolution, from which even now we have not settled down into comparative stability. We may reckon it as a fortunate circumstance for Europe that the intellectual movement which culminated in the French Revo lution did not coincide with the industrial revolution. If it had, it is possible that European But, as it was, even when the French Revolution had spent its force in the conquests of Napoleon, the industrial revolution stirred up enough social and political discontent. When whole classes of people are obliged by economic revolution to change their mode of life, it is inevitable that many should suffer. Discontent is aroused. Political and destructive movements are certain to ensue. Not only the revolutions of '48, but also the birth of the Socialist party sprang from the industrial revolution. But that revolution was not nearly so sweeping as that which is now in operation in India. The invention of machinery and steam-power was, in Europe, but the crowning event of a long series of years in which commerce and industry had been largely accumulated, in which economic princiconstantly expanding, in which capital had been ples had been gradually spreading. No, the Indian economic revolution is vastly greater and more fundamental than our industrial revolution, great as that was. Railways have been built through districts where travel was almost impossible and even roads are unknown. Factories have been built, and filled by men unused to the country, which was unprepared for any such industrial labor. Capital has been poured into development. And what are the consequences? India's social organization is being dissolved. The Brahmins are no longer priests. The ryot is no longer bound to the soil. The banya is no longer the sole purveyor of capital. The handweaver is threatened with extinction, and the brass-worker can no longer ply his craft. Think of the dislocation which this sudden change has brought about, of the many who can no longer follow their ancestral vocations, of the commotion which a less profound change produced in Europe; and you will understand what is the chief motivepower of the political unrest. It is small wonder. The wonder is that the unrest has been no greater than it is. Had India not been an Asiatic country, she would have been in fierce revolution long ago. The above lines were written in 1910, before the world had been shattered by Armageddon and aggressive social revolution had established itself in semiAsiatic Russia. Even in the opening years of the twentieth century, however, other students of the Orient besides Mr. Dodwell were predicting social disturbances of increasing gravity. One of the 'symptoms of social unrest was the way in which the increased difficulty of living conditions, together with the adoption of Western ideas of comfort and kindred higher standards, was engendering friction between the different strata of Oriental populations. In 1911 a British sanitary expert assigned "wretchedness" as the root-cause of India's political unrest. After describing the deplorable leaders not only launched direct assaults on the West, but also planned flank attacks in Asia and Africa. They believed that if the East could be set on fire, not only would Russian Bolshevism gain vast additional strength but also the economic repercussion on the West, already shaken by the war, would be so terrific that industrial collapse would ensue, thereby throwing Europe open to revolution. living conditions of the Indian masses, To attain this objective the Bolshevist he wrote: "It will of course be said at once that these conditions have existed in India from time immemorial, and are no more likely to cause unrest now than previously; but in my opinion unrest has always existed there in a subterranean form. Moreover, in the old days, the populace could make scarcely any comparison between their own condition and that of more fortunate people; now they can compare their own slums and terrible 'native quarters' with the much better ordered cantonments, stations, and houses of the British officials and even of their own wealthier brethren. So far as I can see, such misery is always the fundamental cause of all popular unrest. Seditious meetings, political chatter, and 'aspirations' of babus and demagogues are only the superficial manifestations of the deeper disturbance." All this diffused social unrest was centring about two recently emerged elethe Western-educated intelligentsia, and the industrial proletariat of the factory towns. The revolutionary tendencies of the Oriental intelligentsia, particularly of its half-educated failures, have played a leading part in all the revolutionary disturbances of the modern Orient, from North Africa to China. As for the industrial proletariat, it has not hitherto been a major revolutionary factor, owing to its traditionalism, ignorance, and apathy, and also because of the lack of organic connection between it and the intelligentsia, the other factor of social discontent. However, during the last few years, Oriental proletarians seem to have been acquiring something like "class consciousness." They certainly seem to have been influenced by the propaganda of Russian Bolshevism. The Great War, of course, enormously aggravated Oriental unrest. In many parts of the Near East, especially, acute suffering, balked ambitions, [and furious hates combined to reduce society to the verge of chaos. Into this ominous turmoil there now came the sinister influence of Russian Bolshevism, marshalling all this diffused unrest by systematic methods for definite ends. Bolshevism was frankly out for a world revolution and the destruction of Western civilization. Bolshevism's propagandist efforts were nothing short of universal, both in area and in scope. No part of the world was free from the plottings of its agents; no possible source of discontent was overlooked. Strictly "Red" doctrines like the Dictatorship of the Proletariat were very far from being the only weapons in Bolshevism's armory. Since what was first wanted was the overthrow of the existing world order, any kind of opposition to that order, no matter how remote doctrinally from Bolshevism, was grist to the Bolshevist mill. Accordingly, in every quarter of the globe, in Asia, Africa, Australia, and the Americas, as in Europe, Bolshevik agitators whispered in the ears of the discontented their gospel of hatred and revenge. Every Nationalist aspiration, every political grievance, every social injustice, every racial discrimination was fuel for Bolshevism's incitement to violence and war. Particularly promising fields for Bolshevist activity were the Near and Middle East. Besides being a prey to profound disturbances of every description, those regions, as traditional objectives of the old Czarist imperialism, had long been carefully studied by Russian agents who had evolved a technic of "pacific penetration" that might easily be adjusted to Bolshevist ends. To stir up political, religious, and racial passions in Turkey, Persia, Afghanistan, and India, especially against England, required no original planning by Trotzky or Lenine. Czarism had already done these things for generations, and full information lay both in the Petrograd archives and in the brains of surviving Czarist agents ready to turn. their hands as easily to the new work as the old. In all the elaborate network of Bolshe vik propaganda which to-day enmeshes the East we must discriminate between Bolshevism's two objectives: one immediate the destruction of Western political and economic supremacy; the other ultimate-the Bolshevizing of the Oriental masses and the consequent extirpation of the native upper-and middle-classes, precisely as has been done in Russia and as is planned for the countries of the West. In the first stage, Bolshevism is quite ready to respect Oriental faiths and customs and to back Oriental Nationalist movements. In the second stage, religions like Islam and Nationalists like Mustapha Kemal are to be branded as "bourgeois" and relentlessly destroyed. How Bolshevik diplomacy endeavors to work these two schemes in double harness, we shall presently see. Russian Bolshevism's Oriental policy was formulated soon after its accession to power at the close of 1917. The year 1918 was a time of busy preparation. An elaborate propaganda organization was built up from various sources. A number of old Czarist agents and diplomats versed in Eastern affairs were cajoled or conscripted into the service. The Russian Mohammedan populations such as the Tartars of South Russia and the Turkomans of Central Asia furnished many recruits. Even more valuable were the exiles who flocked to Russia from Turkey, Persia, India, and elsewhere at the close of the Great War. Practically all the leaders of the Turkish war-government-Enver, Djemal, Talaat, and many more, fled to Moscow for refuge from the vengeance of the victorious Entente Powers. The same was true of the Hindu terrorist leaders who had been in German pay during the war and who now sought service under Lenine. By the end of 1918, Bolshevism's Oriental propaganda department was well organized, divided into three bureaus, for the Islamic countries, India, and the Far East respectively. With Bolshevism's Far Eastern activities this article is not concerned, though the reader should bear them in mind and should remember the important part played by the Chinese in recent Russian history. As for the Islamic and Indian bureaus, they dis played great zeal, translating tons of Bolshevik literature into the various Oriental languages, training numerous secret agents and propagandists for "field work," and getting in touch with all disaffected or revolutionary elements. With the opening months of 1919, Bolshevist activity throughout the Near and Middle East became increasingly apparent. The wave of rage and despair caused by the Entente's denial of Near Eastern Nationalist aspirations played splendidly into the Bolshevists' hands, and Moscow vigorously supported Mustapha Kemal and other Nationalist leaders in Turkey, Persia, Egypt, and elsewhere. In the Middle East, also, Bolshevism gained important successes. Not only was Moscow's hand visible in the epidemic of rioting and seditious violence which swept Northern India in the spring of 1919, but an even shrewder blow was struck at Britain in Afghanistan. This land of turbulent mountaineers, which lay like a perpetual thunder-cloud on India's northwest frontier, had kept quiet during the Great War, mainly owing to the Anglophile attitude of its ruler, the Ameer Habibullah Khan. But early in 1919 Habibullah was murdered. Whether the Bolsheviki had a hand in the matter is not known, but they certainly reaped the benefit, for power passed to one of Habibullah's sons, Amanullah Khan, who was an avowed enemy of England and who had had dealings with Turco-German agents during the late war. Amanullah at once got in touch with Moscow, and a little later, just when the Punjab was seething with unrest, he declared war on England, and his wild tribesmen, pouring across the border, set the northwest frontier on fire. After some hard fighting the British succeeded in repelling the Afghan invasion, and Amanullah was constrained to make peace. But Britain obviously dared not press Amanullah too hard, for in the peace treaty the ameer was released from his previous obligation not to maintain diplomatic relations with other nations than British India. Amanullah promptly aired his independence by maintaining ostentatious relations with Moscow. As a matter of fact, the Bolsheviki had by this time established an important propa |