the garden of kurd mirza by esther forbes, pp. 643-650

8/10/2019 The Garden of Kurd Mirza by Esther Forbes, Pp. 643-650

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9

THE GENtURY

SEPTEMBER

Volume 98

C O N T E N T ^

1919

No. 5

The articles and pictures are copyrighted"and must not be repitinted without special permission

In the To we r Room / Norman Price

From a pairiting. (Illustrating "AServant of Reality. ) jJJrinted in color, . Frontispiece

Radi cal America / Henry Seidel Canby

f

577

I r e l and

versus

Ul s t e r

*

Emest A. Boyd

584

The Weddi ng Jest. A story \ . . James Branch Cabell

Tllustrations by Maurice L. Bower, Printed m tint. \ 588

V eron a Blossom ed O nce . Verse \ Charies Brackett

597

The Dev il-Fish of Vait-hua Frederick O'Brien

598

On Discover ing the Worl d .Georges Duhamel

608

F r o maC hi ne se Sc re en . Verse Amy Lowell

Decorations by Robert Lavvsun. Printed m tint. 61 6

Peaceful Anne xation Hendrik/ Willem Van Loon

618

Th e K itche n God s, A story G. F . Alsop

Illustrations byArthur G. Dove. Printed m tmt.

.

g2 1

T h e F u t u r e ofth e O tto m a n Ra ce s Herbert Adamr ' ibbons

V ^^ ^

The Ga r den

of

Ku r d Mir z a . Astory Esther Forbes

Illustrations

by

Robert Lawson.

g4 3

Hum an izin g Edu ca tion Glenn Frank

651

W h y

th e

A m er ica n Arm y Succe ede d George P. Ahem

667

Highways and Byways . Camera studies by / Hamilton Revelle

Facing page 672

A S e r v a n t

of

Real i ty . A

novel. Il l . . . . ..Phyllis Bottome

Illustrations by Norman Price. (Mrs. Forbes Dennis)

673

A Se r i e s ofS o n n e t s 698

Keep i ng Peace w i t h Canada

Emerson D. Fite

701

IWilliam Stearns Davis

Th e Roots of the War. X j William Anderson

(Mason W. Tyler 707

The Madman. Verse Harry Kemp

720

I n v e s t m e n t a n dBa n k in g .John K. Barnes

.'Advertising pages

32-38

TH K

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A l l m a t e r i a l h e r e i n p u b l i s h e d u n d e r c o p y r i g h t,

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by

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T i t l e r e g i s t e r e d in theU n i t e d

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N.

Y..u n d e r the act of M a r c h 3,

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644 TH E CEN TU RY M A G A ZI N E

day we wi l l go past the garden of Kurd

Mirza." His face grew hard and thin

as he spoke the name, as we had seen

happen many times before. To us pas s

ing this garden was the height of

danger ; only Ivan's presence gave us

courage. I am sure no thr ea t f rom

Uncle Lionel could have made us go by

i t wi th him. Ann and I clutched han ds ;

we knew that when the whi te stucco

wall was reached we would be clutching

Ivan, for he had told us tales of the

ho rrors wi thin, and f rom ou r imagina

t ions we had completed the picture . I t

was a gard en w here nothing blossomed;

skeletons, hyenas, sl imy things, crawled

in i ts sand . Fro m the tree s fell apple-

worms as big as an arm, whi te, made in

sections, l ike an accordion. I t was a

place where we could assign all the

ni gh t fea rs of childhood. My larg est

contr ibut ion was mad dogs and quick

sand. Ann sent in a consignmen t of

milkmen, and when I argued that mi lk

men were harmless, she would answer

wisely, "Oh, yes, of course they are

no w; for I 've locked them all up ." All

this sense of ter ror we had cau ght m ore

from Ivan's face than f rom his word,

and we had caught i t from the face of

our nurse, a country woman of his ,

when they had talked together of Kurd

Mirza in the shadow of the veranda.

The road we knew well . When we came

to the blue-ti led vil lage fountain we

took the upp er roa d lead ing to th e lef t ;

then we would pass the guard-house,

and we knew that the soldiers would

speak to us in the kindly way Turkish

men often address children, and if the

handsome, swar thy Abdul was there, i t

might be things to eat , or ki t tens to

see, or a lame puppy picked out of a

Stamboul gut ter , anyway, his hand

some, good-natured self to admire,

"0-he-yah," he called, com ing ou t of

the blackness of the guard-house and

blinkin g in the stro ng light. "So once

again the l i t t l e daughter s pur sue the i r

books. Le arn while yo un g; you will see

th e folly of i t when older." He push ed

back his Astrakhan fez wi th a wise

ges ture ; then turn ing to Ivan , h i s

strong, yellow teeth flashed in a wolfish

smile. "An d once aga in does Ivan tak e

them the long way so that he may pass

the gar de n of his enemy. B ut no t only

does Kurd Mirza Pasha yet l ive, but she

lives,

too, eh? I t was never wri t te n

tha t ei ther should die of M ontenegr in

knifing. H a " He laughed, t ipp ing

back his square head, and his com

panions laughed, although I doubt if

they could understand the Serbian

dialect . "Kurd Mirza l ives," he taunt

ed, or rath er boasted. "W hat giaou r

shal l ki l l Kurd Mirza or any whom his

hand protec ts? W ha t ; did you think

the gi r l would stay in the mountains

and dr ink sour goats ' mi lk wi th you

when she might l ive on

heratlakoon

wi th a pasha ? Ma n I say to you"

"Hold your infernal to ng ue "

Abdul bowed politely and very good-

naturedly; then, wi th a gesture to us

to wai t , he went to the guard-house and

came back wi th a green Amasain pear

for each of us. Ivan , unruffled, m ade

himself a cigarette, and l i t i t from the

rude Turk's . Abdul always blew the

smoke throug h his nost r i l s . I t gave

him a spi r i ted, dragon- l ike appearance

th at he adm ired immensely. The con

versat ion had taken a very unpleasant

turn . Usual ly the re was some ment ion

of the pasha and the myster ious "she,"

but not unt i l cigaret tes and discussion

of mili tary affairs to the north had

mad e them fr iendly. Th ere was a sad

refrain to the i r tales of w ar : "The n we

burned that vil lage and went on to the

nex t ." Of ten Abdulhe was some

kind of officer and very independent

would walk as far as the cemetery wi th

us, a st reet dog at his heels, exhor t ing

us to marry good Mohammedans.

"I hav e swo rn to kill he r first," said

Ivan; "for she is a Chr ist ian and

gui l t ier than he. I am in no h ur ry ; the

time will come. I wa it , and he knows

tha t I wai t . Not even the harem of

the sultan is more closely guarded."

"That i s correct ," Abdul agreed.

"But do not ki l l the pasha unt i l he has

made me lancer in the sul tan 's own

body-guard, even as he has promised

me." He called af ter us as we star te d

on ,

"Allah billiah,"

and we turned, and

waved our hands to him.

To our left was the hobbledehoy

Tu rkish cemetery. The painted stones

lay criss-crossed l ike jackstraws, and

from among them rose century-old

cypresses. Some lived, and some we re


4/10

TH E GARD EN OF KURD MIRZA 645

dead. The con trast between the dense

tapestry of the living and the brown

lace of the skeletons suggested a quaint

change of stitches upon embroidery.

Beyond them and through them, many,

many feet below, we could see the

Bosporus running free and beautiful,

holding the slovenly Russian merchant

men powerless more than to keep their

own against the "Devil ' s Current ."

Later the tide would change, and admit

them to the Black Sea. Littl e Ann

always pitied these struggling boats.

She thought they must suffer as she did

in bad dreams, when she could not run.

"You observe," said Ivan, pointing to

the cemetery, "how these infidels bury

their dead, very near to the surface?

W hy? They know they m ust soon leave

Europe and wish to have their ancestors

handy, for they will take them with

them. You know, when the Tu rks leave

Europe, our Black Ivan will break from

his cave at Obod, alive again to help

his Mo ntenegrin s. Two years ago I

pu t my ear to his grav e. I heard, 'W ha-

han, wha-han, ' I t was Ivan snoring ;

but he snored like five o'clock in the

mo rning . He will awak e soon, perh aps

by five-fifteen."

"Look," interrupted lit t le Ann.

"Th ere are horses and some men." The

road turned, and we were beside them.

One was a young orderly; he was un

interest ing. The other had dismounted

and was t ightening his gir th , the skir t

of the saddle held up by his head and

shoulder, as horsemen hold them the

world over. It wa s a wir y, quiet-look

ing horse, blotched and streaked with

the sweat of a ha rd journ ey. The man

wore the ubiquitous fez. I can really

remember very lit t le about him except

th at he was of an awkw ard, powerful

build, and when we approached, he

raised his face, and it was heavy and

awkward, like his body.

"I t is Kurd Mirza Pasha," breathed

Ivan. Now, Ann and I had seen pash as

before, but always before they had

worn gilded and padded uniforms or

th e noble frock-coat. Th is man was

dir ty and tired . Since then I have

looked up wh at I can abo ut him . It

seems that he was a self-made man,

with an un-Oriental interest in rail

roads. At that t ime he was hoping to

put one through the Belgrade Forest .

His tendencies were European, and his

death is given in the encyclopedia as

due to th is reason. I wish I could

remem ber him in mo re detail . I only

know that his eyes were light, with that

odd look of the occasionally blue-eyed

man in a race generally dark. Ivan

stopped beside him and saluted.

"You are Kurd Mirza Pasha," he

said ; "do you know m e? " He made no

pretenses, this quiet pasha; he an

swered :

"I have been warned against a certain

Mon tenegrin gate-keeper. Are you he ?"

"Yes."

"I shall know you aga in." The voice

made the words a thr eat . The pasha's

lean horse pawed in the dust. The

master swung into the saddle; a word,

and the two horses plunged into life.

The dust from their galloping hoofs

settled upon our clothes. Then we drew

close to our protector and shivered, for

to the right was the dirty stucco wall,

and beyond the wall was the horrible

garden , "cursed and accursed." Only

one doorway broke its southern expanse

a door never to be opened. We could

see that when last the wall had been

painted the workmen had left i t shut,

for the crumbling paint filled the chinks

between it and the jambs.

Two or three weeks later there was a

grand party a t the Batons, to which we

were invited to partake, behind scenes

with the children and "Miss Goosey."

Our nurse walked over with us in the

afternoon, and informed us th at Uncle

Lionel had told the head groom to call

for us later with Ali and Baba. We

could hardly w ait to go home. At nine

we s tood at the servants ' entrance,

waiting for the glossy, black Russians.

They did not come. Instea d came Ivan,

dr if t ing toward us through the dark as

noiseless as a hunting animal.

"God bless you God bless yo u " he

gave quiet gre eting . "I am sorry, but

the lit t le ladies must walk; everything

has gone wrong to-day. Baba " the

handsomest of the pair"fell upon

Galatea Bridg e. You r uncle paid a

bashi-bazouk silver to shoot him ." Our

mourning was not loud; it does not take

even children long to catch something

of the Eastern spir i t of res ignat ion.


5/10

" Eve r y t h i ng

-wrong

to-day.

Yidiz, the l i t t le daughter of the

coffee vender at Koumeli Hissar,

caught f ire from her father 's

bra zie r. Will she l ive or die?

Who ma y say? Grain will be

scarce this winter , for to the

nor th crops die of drough t . The

three packs of dogs in our vil lage

fough t al l last nigh t . To-day there

is not one left with a whole skin.

Li s t en They are a t i t aga in . "

We stopped. I t wa s a st i l l eve

n ing; the clouded moon was almost

lightless, and the sodden glow

from Ivan's paper lantern only i l

lumined the gravel beneath our

pa r ty sl ippers. We could hea r the

wolfish yappings and snarling, and

responded wi th a dumb, aching

fear.

"The gar den " gasped Ann,

"Ivan, dear Ivan, the mad dogs in

the garden are going to get out "

He comfor ted her , and let her

carry his lantern for amusement .

"There is nothing in that

garden as harmless as st reet

dogs," he said. "And now, be

cause to-day has not been happy,

what shal l we do to-morrow?"

"What , Ivan?"

"There is a Persian fox whom

I know who owns donkeys. Fo r a

fevv^ piasters he will give me two

for the afternoo n. Ea ch l i t t le

lady shall r ide her own, si t t ing

upon clean blankets from our own

stable, and I shall walk between,

carry ing a basket . W hat shal l be

in the basket?"

"Helvar ," shr ieked l i t t le Ann,

\5rlin lit if l Q Tzavxr Hturdof fn n fl i .

^

^ * - ( jsr. - .- . ,

^ i j j a j

" T u r n e d a n d w a v e d o u r h a n d s t o h i m , "

646


6/10

THE GARDEN OF KURD MIRZA

647

"Yes," he assented; "helvar ."

"And figs and dried apricots," I

urged.

"Yes,"

he agreed. "And I shall tel l

the cook to make us each a bun as long

as my pipe. We shall trave l for miles,

and then sit under a tree and eat, and

then come home ju st at sunset . Wh ere

shall we go? Along the Bosporus to

Therapia and Buykdere, toward the

Black Sea; inland through the Valley

of Roses; or nor th toward Monte

negro?" he sighed.

"Le t 's go to Asia on the fer ry first,"

begged Ann.

"There is always much to see in

Asia," grunted Ivan, "for there i s

Smyrna and Damascus and Bagdad, too,

and at Teheran we will leave the don

keys in a deep pasture, hi re a caravan

of camels, and still go on. You children

have never seen a Chinaman?"

"Yes, yes, indeed," cried Ann, jump

ing up and down in th e dark . "And

they will l ive in laundries," she half

chanted, "and you must not tell them

that they eat rats, or they will eat you.

And if you give them pink paper, they

will give you collars." I do not thin k

that Ivan followed this rush of English,

but he knew that we were happy, and he

made contented clicks in his throat.

Suddenly, to our left the great wall

shouldered through the gloom, and the

li t t le sparks of joy that Ivan had

kindled in himself and in us went out

and lef t a vas ter darkness. The handle

of the lantern rat t led in Ann's f r ight

ened hand . We followed down the wall

in silence, for the dogs had called a

t ruce . Then the t rees began to rust le ,

and Ivan threw back his head.

"Feel the win d smell i t The rain

and cold shall come." I t was the wind

from t he Black Sea, cold and clean. It

sif ted through the hot, sodden air ,

brooding in the plane- t rees by the way.

The n silence, gha stly si lence. We stole

furti ve glances at the wall . I t seemed

to have expanded enormously in the

nigh t . The dogs had begun again, and

thei r sinister discords vibrated against

i t . The y we re nea rer to us now ; some

must have st rayed as far as the ceme

tery . Ivan recoiled in a sudden halt .

His hand was raised, his eyes turned

toward the wall .

"Did you he ar ?" he demanded. Our

unt ra ined ear s had heard noth ing; but

we had, more exactly, felt a cry of dis

tress . I t was not repeated , and we

plowed on through a dark which the

li t t le lantern only intensified.

There came a wh ir and a rush. A

flapping, leaping thing had bumped into

us , and, bat-l ike, knocked out the l ight.

The bl ind door of the garden had

opened, and given forth this banshee.

Of the short conversation that followed

we understood only phrases and ejacu

lat ions, but we understood the ter ror

and emotion that heaved in the two

bodies, and we knew that this whi te-

faced, half-seen thing was the "she"

whom Ivan had sworn to kil l . He had

taken the bloody knife f rom her hand,

and face to face they stood at last . Did

the idea of ki l l ing her enter his mind?

I do not think so; instead, his thought

must have been, "She has murdered the

pasha, and unless I save her, she will

die for i t ." He mu st have known the

temper of the Turks well enough to

realize that they would seek no further

for the assassin than the man who held

the inst rum ent . When he asked her

why she had kil led the pasha, he spoke

so slowly Ann and I could comprehend

every word; and her answer , her admis

sion that i t was because of jealousy in

the harem, not , as Ivan might have

wished, for hatred for her seducerall

that we understood also.

"Remember ," he said, "I do this thing

for you not because I do not know hov/

false you are, but becausebecause"

His voice broke in the middle of his

brave speech, and he turned from us

toward the garden. The woman was

gone. Dazed and forgot ten, we watched

him feel along the wall until, like a

shadow, he melted throug h it . We

stood rooted to the ground, too fright

ened to speak, move, or thin k. Now

the darkness crowded and threatened

us . Our thro ats grew togeth er and

froze. Tw ice Ann tried to call Ivan 's

name, but her fut i le at tempts to ar t icu

late were more ter r ible to me than any

scream^ could ha ve been. F rig ht fu l as

the al ternat ive appeared to be, we had

no choice. We followed Ivan th rou gh

the doorway into the accursed garden.

He was our one thought above the ter -


7/10

648

THE CENTURY MAGAZINE

ror which was everywh ere. Every

where; but where was terror in this

hushed garde n? We stood upon the

threshold of fairyland, and drank in

through every sense the assurance of

peace. Silence, a brea thin g, living

silence, that seemed to float upon the

fragrance of many flowers, heliotrope,

clematis, roses, I do not know what.

And through the silence water plashed

and murmured to our right and to our

left and far aw ay before us. It was a

dim place, a va st green gloom. My

wondering fingers touched a vase, so

huge a vase that ten of my size could

have hidden with in. Unde r my hand

its flank seemed to swell and pulse. A t

the dim end of the garden was the

palace, and through it lights flitted,

as if m any fireflies we re in desp erat e .

search. Pe rhap s it was the cry th at

Ivan heard that they sought, or they

soug ht the miss ing woman. We pushed

past blossoming white bushes that

stare d in the dark ness . The path led

us to an opening among the trees in

the center of which was a dark pool of

still water, and

"See , " I whispered, for there beside

th e pool crouched Ivan. We did not

hurry, because we were no longer

afraid. App roaching quietly, we stared

over his shoulder and saw what he saw

only a black heap .as shapeless as a

blown-down scarecrow. One limp arm

dragg ed in the pool. We knew who it

was,

the own-er of the garden, the tired

man whom we had once passed as he

fixed his horse's girth, the one whom

Abdul thought no giaour could kill . Yet

here he lay, face down in the moonlight,

still, dumb.

"Asleep," murmured l i t t le Ann, care

ful not to wake him.

"Dead," I answered from two years '

sadd er know ledge of the world. She

droned the word twice after me:

"Dead, dead."

To us, seeing all in the dark, there

was nothing ghast ly in a s ight that

would have shaken older imaginations.

It was no more than things imagined.

The pasha did not suffer or struggle;

he wa s only dead. Th e sig ht of a fly,

caught in a spider 's web, would have

aroused our pity quicker than did the

black form of the murdered man.

Baba's death moved us more nearly.

He had fallen and broken his leg; we

could imag ine his sufferings. He re was

only

death itself, and our imaginat ion

broke down before the fact. The inne r

eye was mercifully closed that night;

we saw only with the physical. Str ang e

that death in the most tragic form I

have ever seen still seems to me the

gentlest and the kindest.

Ivan raised his face.

"You must go away," he said gently.

"If I can, I will send some one to take

you home . God bless you, my chil

dre n " From th e palace l ights and

noise were spreading through the gar

den. "H urr y, and may God bless you,

and me, too " He pointed to the way

that we had come, and, stil l without

speaking, we retraced our steps.

Enough of the inagic of the garden still

remained with us to keep us calm even

when we stood upon the road again.

Bu t at the cemetery we stopped. The

great cypresses, some living and some

dead, towered above us like evil genii

risin g from the grave s. The dogs had

begun to howl. So the re in the dark

gutter we sat down to wait for the

guide Ivan had promised us. We waited

and waited, cuddled together in a lit t le

ball, crying in a silent, unchildlike man

ner, our faces washed with each other 's

t ear s .

A tall figure was passing us on the

road.

"Huh, you litt le giaours," he snapped.

"Well, it is I, Ab dul." Th ere seemed to

be no gloom too dense for his fierce,

narr ow eyes to pen etrate . He was

fresh from the scene of the murder, and

all the savage part of his nature had

been called to the surface by the sight

of spilled blood. Silently he sw ung th e

litt le Ann to his great shoulder, and

seized me by my wris t. He was a naked

sword of Moslem fury, ready, like the

wounded beast, to tear whatever was

nea rest to his claws. I think he migh t

have killed us without a quiver, but }\is

freak of mood was otherwise. He took

us home. By the time we had reached

the lamp-lit gates he had ceased his

frowning. Ann knew, for she kept her

place on his shoulder with her arm

around his head and her hand on his

forehead. When she felt his forehead


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"He pointed to the way that we had come"


9/10

650 TH E CENTU RY MAGA ZINE

to be smooth, she at last dared to ques

tion him.

"Abdul ," she whispered.

" Y a h ? "

"W here is Ivan? Is n ' t he coming

home to-n ight?"

" N o ;

never . He has gone many,

many miles, fur th er than you r Al lah-

forgot ten Uni ted States."

"How did he go? W hy? "

"Who am I to say ? He passed on the

hands of the windthat wind which is

always blowing. W hat does the wind

care whose candle i t darken s? To

night in the garden Kurd Mirza and

Ivan; to-morrow I, f ighting the Bulgar

pig s; and th e day af ter , you two ." He

laughed harshly, and put Ann down on

the ground. Then he turned to me,

qui te as though I wjre an equal .

"M iss," he said, "look." Fro m his

holster he took his revolver.

"Observe, there is no smoke upon it .

I t was not my hand. Now go in," he

ordered. "Dre am of all thing s tha t are

beautiful , but,

hut

there i s your Aunt

Abbie and her ow n " He drew himself

up and saluted us, then vanished into

the night before my aunt and uncle had

reached us.

The news of the t raged y had jus t come

to them. They were whi te wi th appre

hension, and their fr ightened faces re

duced us again to tears.

They asked questions

that we could not an

swer, and kissed us when

we only wanted to sleep.

At last we were alone

together . The heavy step

of the nurse creaked

down the stai rs , and the

sound of her sniveling

ceased. All nig ht th e

moon had fought a losing

bat t le against the clouds

that hampered her , but now at last ,

alone, radiant and victorious, she shed

her l ight over the dark city. I suppose

the l ight that fel l into the pasha's gar

den was as bril l iant as the l ight in our

l i t tle chamber . Throu gh the casement

window s blew the cold wind, fresh from

the Black Sea, and ruffled the muslin

cur t a ins .

"Ann," I said.

"Hum?" purred the l i t t le Ann.

"I 'm not sleepy. Ar e you? Let 's

talk."

"All r ight ; what shal l we talk

abou t ?"

"Let ' s pretend, Ann."

This aroused the story- tel ler in

her.

"Yes," she assented; " that ' s what I

was doin g preten ding . We '11 prete nd

th at i t al l happe ned differentlyall, al l ,

al l. Fo r when Ivan went into the gar

den, it really was full of all those

thing s th at we had planned. And Ivan

ki lled them. Th ere was a pr incess in

the garden , and "

"Ann, do you think i t was the pr in

cess tha t came out of the door and "

" N o ; I was jus t t h inking tha t

she

was the stepmother . Ivan took the

princess with him, a long, long ways.

They took the ferry to Asia, went to

Smyrna, Damascus, and Bagdad, too."

"Ann," I inter rupted,

"I don't believe we shall

ever make that t r ip."

There was a long pause,

and I was af raid that my

rudeness had offended

her ; but her voice as

sured me.

"No, never ," she whis

pered gently. "Gone

gone. But I guess I am

sleepy; you can pretend

fo r

yourself.


10/10

Humanizing Education

By

GLENN FRANK

[This paper is one of a series of articles Mr Frank is contributing to

THE

CENTURY.

This article represents an inquiry into the effectiveness of the American

colleges in producing the liberally educated men we need for the leadership of our

national life His next article will appear in THE CENTURY for OctoberTHE

EDITORS ]

pEK TAIN of my f ri ends

^

have twitted me not a little

(over the ambitious inclusion

'

of such a diverse set of sub

jects in one series of pa

pers,

as though any one person could

write helpfully on so many iields of in

terest and action in turnpolitics, busi

ness,

labor, agriculture, education, and

what not. The venture does indeed

smack of unwarranted assumption un

less the editorial purpose that prompted

the series is kept in mind. While turn

ing abruptly into a new field in this pa

per, it is pertinent to restate the pur

pose and method of this series in a

manner that will serve both to defend

the series against the charge of a too

ambitious scope and to emphasize cer

tain facts and tendencies that require

decisive and constructive handling if we

are to bring out of this period of read

justment and revaluation more than a

helter-skelter confusion of aim and ac

tion.

These papers do not purport to be the

work of an expert or authority in the

several fields considered. They are

frankly the work of a reporter of opin

ion. They attempt to chart forces and

tendencies that are perfectly obvious to

all students of these fields, but which

are all too frequently unrecognized or

ignored by the many who content them

selves with framing policies for the mo

ment only. The papers are based upon

an exhaustive survey of the vital litera

ture of these several fields, and upon in

terviews with the men who are doing

the most creative thinking in these

fields. The series was conceived as hav

ing interest and importance at this time

because of two facts.

In the first place, intelligent action in

politics, business, education, and other

fields is frequently indecisive and inade

quately informed, not because funda

mental thinking has not been done upon

the issues involved, but because the cre

ative thought in these fields has ap

peared here a little and there a little,

but nowhere has been summarized and

correlated in a manner that affords the

average man of action an easy grasp of

the essential conclusions arrived at by

the best minds of his particular field.

In education and in industry the spe

cialist has dominated the situation for

a good term of years. The specialist

may be justly proud of his work. But

the determination of policy in a democ

racy requires more than the scattered

results of unrelated specialisms. Lead

ership must rest upon synthesis, a see

ing of facts, forces, and tendencies in

their interrelation. Now, of all times,

we need to draw together the scattered

threads of research and creative

thought in every department of Ameri

can life and to attempt to weave them

into some enduring fabric of effective

policy. We do not wish to fall a victim,

as Germany did, to the mechanical logic

of specialists who fail to see the full

human implications of their facts.

The editors of

THE CENTURY

thought,

therefore, that it would be valuable to

present a series of papers that would

take the outstanding facts of politics,

industry, education, and other fields, to

gether with such proposed new policies

as have been judged by the best minds

of these fields to have the most valid

claim upon our attention, and to set

these facts and policies in something

approaching, at least, their just rela-

651

the garden of kurd mirza by esther forbes, pp. 643-650

Documents