6 DECEMBER 1919, Page 8

AT THE BACK OF THE MIND. T HERE are certain strong

impressions, desires, and ideas which are always present with each individual. They are part of his personality ; we might almost say that they constitute his personality. As a rule they are few and simple. Often he may be unconscious of their presence, but they are always there at the back of his head, even though they may seem to be crowded out by the multitude of details which take precedence of them and fill the foreground. Without doubt there is a small minority of persons who are always conscious of these usually hidden springs of action, and who always call the attention of the world to all their motives. These men and women may be said to wear their minds hind part before. They are very few in number, though they are the subjects of deceitful and ingenious imitation. The psychology of the public resembles that of the majority. It is not easy to know what the public has at the back of its mind, though probably it has something quite definite. Those who look back upon this generation some time hence will be able to read. it quite clearly. They will call it the spirit of the time, and even the schoolchildren of the future will be able to analyse it. Meanwhile all thoughtful people are trying to make it out, and are all succeeding more or less badly. Great people ponder about it, journalists write about it, everybody gossips about it, and nobody agrees about it. Take first of all that large section of the public, the soldiers. What was at the back of the mind of the citizen Army all the while they were risking their live! abroad ? Behind all that splendid affectation of cheerfulness, that supremely admirable emulation of lightness of heart, that determination which included renunciation and that industry which machinery itself could not rival, there were thoughts present at the back of their minds at which the critics who knew them best seem to have made but a poor guess. Now that they have come back they are not what the critics expected. These critic= drew a picture, a colossal full-face portrait, of a typical English ." Tommy " with no back to his head at all. In his mind all the time was some keen aspiration, some bitter discontent, some great resolve, and what it was and is no one quite knows.

There is another vast section of the public whose corporate mind we all puzzle over and discuss with deep anxiety or lively entertainment, according to our temperament, standing, and responsibility. What has the new voter got at the back of her head ? Chivalrous men drew flattering portraits and unchivalrous critics drew caricatures of her during the war. Now that her new duties and new doles have come to an end, now that we see her once more as of old " at home," small wonder that we feel apprehensive about what she has got at the back of her mind. What impression has been created upon her by the war ? What is she longing for ? What is her plan, her scheme, her policy ? These questions are daily asked in terms of gossip and raillery, but they are very important. " She ha: none," we hear some one say. Are you sure ? To deny the existence of something is the easiest and often the most dignified method of confessing ignorance. One great body of women has already sprung a surprise on the public. For years they mess t have entertained at the back of their minds an intense dislike to what appeared to be their favourite profession—domestic service. Now responsible persons—among them a Bishop—apprehend great distress and poverty among many women and girls because of the stopping of out-of-work pay. How many housewives would thankfully feed and pay them if they but had the chance ? What the objection is at the back of their minds is at present a matter of guesswork. Some say it has reference to matrimony ; some say to the accommodation offered them in the houses of their employers. Again we hear that what they desire is liberty. It is possible that they are actuated by dislike of the servant-keeping class. No one belonging to that class likes to think that, for they have exceptional means of knowing it. All the other reasons are probable, but the real force which induces a multitude of persons who once lived in our houses in friendly if official capacities to refuse to re-enter them must be a hostile one.

The educated ought to remember how much more easy it is for an uneducated than for an educated body of people to keep their own counsel. The power of expression is in itself an immense temptation to let out the truth. In every educated group of men and women there is at least a percentage who have an uncontrollable desire to express the thoughts of the rest. The critics strain their eyes in vain to make out what is at the back of the marvellous good temper of the British public. Is it really as tolerant as it seems, as willing to be incon- venienced for the advantage of a few, as perfectly steady to every explosive sound as it seems to be ? The soldier, though we do not yet quite know what he is, was not quite what he looked ; and it is always well not to press good temper too far. On the other hand, if we really knew with whom the public sympathizes in every controversy we should have more data than we have upon which to argue. Meanwhile the public is also watching and trying to find out what its rulers have at the back of their minds. They speak, but the public loses the point not infrequently ; perhaps it is not always there. The acoustics of the Forum are deceptive, and the public sometimes wonders whether it has heard amiss. Anyhow, it feels too often that it does not know the inner minds of those whose words it reads or listens for with such eagerness. After all that has happened, what are the inner conclusions of these men ? What do they anticipate, we vaguely wonder, they who stand on a hill from which it would seem so easy to see? What do they really want, and for whom do they really want it ? " If only we could force the truth from them ! " sighs the public in rising anger. Pressed by the wind of public feeling, the critics bombard the rulers with questions, sometimes —we might almost say—put them to the question, so ruthlessly do they harass them. " Which way are you going ? " they demand. " Why do you prefer this scheme to that ? Explain your whole mind to us." Answers obtained by torment seldom enlighten.

There is a short narrative poem of Wordsworth's in which the poet recounts the efforts he made to get to the back of his child's mind and find out why he liked one of his homes better than the other, why he had rather be at Kilve than at Liswyn Farm. The reiterated question embarrasses the boy. " At Kilve there was no weathercock ; And that's the reason why," he replies, simply in order to get away from the subject, " show- ing," as Wordsworth shrewdly observes, how the practice of lying may be taught."