Mr. Belloc still objects to Mr. Wells's "Outline of history"

Mr. Wells’s General Grievances

I cannot pretend in so short a pamphlet as this to deal with all the separate lamentations with which Mr. Wells has filled the air. But I can state the principal of them, and try to make him understand how wrong-headed he is in his objections.

Of these general points, the first and, perhaps, most important is that he was refused a right of reply. On page v of his pamphlet he distinctly insinuates that I was afraid of hearing his reply, and had it suppressed. For he says that the Editor of the paper in which my articles appeared would not give him his opportunity, and that he so refused “after various consultations with Mr. Belloc.”

As to the space which was offered, and the exceptional facilities which, I understand, were granted to this angry man, the Editor must, of course, speak for himself, and has, I believe, done so. But as to the part which I took, it can be stated very simply. I was told by the Editor (who had asked to see me on the matter) that Mr. Wells desired to reply in the same columns in which he had been criticised. I was asked what my attitude was in the matter, and I affirmed in the strongest fashion (to which the Editor will bear witness) my belief that the fullest right of reply should always be given to anyone criticised on matters of fact or judgment. The interview did not last ten minutes, but, to give a record of my attitude, I wrote a strong and clear letter to the same effect. So far as I am concerned I asked for nothing better than a reply, and I believe the Editor offered it.

Of two things, one, either Mr. Wells knew my attitude, in which case his insinuation is inexcusable, or he did not, in which case it was only rash; but at any rate he is, in this first grievance of his, quite wrong. I particularly wanted him to have every opportunity for reply. Nothing could suit me better.

Next he complains that I have not given him sufficient praise, or, at any rate, not praised him as continuously, highly and enthusiastically as I ought to have done. He complains that I only give him “slow” and “formal compliments” (page 2) and “patronising praise” (page 5).

He is wounded because I accuse him of violent antagonism to the Catholic Church (page 1) (an accusation which he denies very earnestly).

He indignantly repudiates any bias against the gentry in history--which social class I ask him to revere.

Lastly, he accuses me of using such terms about many passages in the History as “ignorant,” “childish,” “confused.”

I am afraid it is necessary before touching on these grievances to explain to Mr. Wells what criticism is, for it is clear that he has never considered the nature of that literary function.

When you criticise the writing of a man who deals with definite facts and the conclusions to be drawn from them, it is your business to praise what is praiseworthy in his effort, and to condemn what is insufficient, false or bad.

You do not praise (if you are a serious critic) simply as a sort of sop or counterbalance to blame; you praise because you find things worthy of praise--and you blame where you find things worthy of blame.

There was nothing oily or patronising, nor even adventitious and artificial in the praise which I saw fit to offer. It was not vague, it was very definite, and, I think, just. Moreover, it was very strong praise, of which any writer might be proud at the hands of a colleague. I praised Mr. Wells’s lucidity and economy of manner, his sense of proportion, and, above all, his most remarkable talent for presenting a vivid picture to the reader. In this my words were, “None of our contemporaries possesses it” (the gift of lucid and vivid description) “in anything like the same degree.” In other words, I said that he possessed a talent of the most important literary kind, which any writer would envy, and that he possessed it in a degree which made him superior to any contemporary.

I also said that he was conspicuously sincere, that he wrote very clearly, with an “excellent economy in the use of words,” and was unreserved in my hearty appreciation of his accuracy in details of reference, such as dates, spelling of names, etc.

I went on to say how strongly he felt the importance of history to mankind, though it is true that I qualified this by saying that by mankind he meant the only sort of mankind he knew. I said of his honesty of purpose, “that it was a quality apparent in every line of the work.”

Really, if that sort of thing is “oiliness,” Mr. Wells must be very difficult to please! It may be “slow”; it is not a torrent of undiscriminating adulation; it is mixed with justified blame. But it is such a catalogue of remarkable literary powers as I would not make for another writer.

I did much more than this. I specifically praised whole portions of the book as being quite excellent, notably his handling of the story of language, and the précis on many sections of history. I have no space here to give a list of the passages in which I compliment him; but they are numerous, as any one of my readers will see when my book (A Companion to Mr. Wells’s “Outline”) shall appear.

But he is not satisfied; and I am afraid the truth must be that these recent large, popular circulations of his have gone to his head, and now make him think himself much more talented than he is.

Next he has a grievance which I have no doubt is quite sincere in his own mind, but which any impartial observer, I think, would smile at. I have said that he acts with violent antagonism to the Catholic Church, and I have called that his motive. That it is his motive Mr. Wells “earnestly denies.”

Well, the whole book is written quite clearly round the object of convincing the reader, by so-called evidence, rather than reasoned argument, that there is no design in nature, and therefore no all-powerful creative God as the Author of nature; therefore, again, no revelation of such a God to men, therefore, naturally, no question of the Incarnation in Jesus Christ. The Atonement is man-made nonsense: The Fall of Man never happened, the Resurrection is a foolish story, and the Eucharist a make-believe.

Now what Body is it which maintains in their entirety the doctrines thus attacked? Can anyone deny that it is the Catholic Church? Many of them have been held by other Bodies schismatical or heretical to it, and therefore the doctrines are often alluded to as those not of the Catholic Church, but of a vague entity, impossible to define, called “Christianity.” Nevertheless, we all know that the denial to-day of those doctrines does not provoke determined resistance in any large organised Body outside the Catholic Church.

Apart from this, there are expressions of contempt which quite clearly show the rabidness of the author’s reaction against the Creed. There is no doubt at all that the Church makes him “see red”--as she does so many others.

He says he is not conscious of any such motive in attacking all the prime dogmas of the Christian Faith.

Well, I will give him a parallel. Suppose a foreigner were to write an Outline of Nineteenth Century History, and to say in it that Islanders were always rascals, that the love of sport and games was degrading--and particularly vicious that of football and cricket--that the English language was an offensive vehicle of thought and had produced nothing worthy; that sea-power was a myth, and that Nelson in particular was a bungler at handling ships; that the administration of India was a failure and a crime; and that the creation of large Overseas Colonies from the Mother Country was a fatuous experiment.

Should we not say that the gentleman had some bias against England?

Were he to tell us that he was not conscious of such a motive, we should answer, “Very well, then, you aren’t--since you say so. But the motive is certainly there, and your case is the most extraordinary case of the subconscious ever presented to a bewildered onlooker.”

Next, Mr. Wells objects most emphatically that I have done him the grievous wrong of calling him a patriot.

I am quite willing to withdraw the words, to admit my blunder, and to apologise to Mr. Wells for having made it. Every man is the judge of his own thoughts, and if he assures me that he hates his country, or is even indifferent to its fate, I will readily accept the statement. I will substitute in my book for the word “patriot” the word “national,” my only point being that Mr. Wells is highly local in his outlook. I was careful to say that the patriotic (or national) motive was, in my opinion, an advantage to the historian; but that its great danger was limitation, and that in the particular case of Mr. Wells the limitation was so narrow as to be disastrous to a general view of Europe: making him unable to understand anything that was not of his own particular suburban world.