this stodgy Middle Class so irritating to the modern Intelligentzia.

In this same despised Middle Class, the butt of every intellectualist, originated many of the great historical progressionsthe Christianizing of the Western World, the Renaissance, the Reformation, the abolition of American slavery, the origin of printing, the spread of popular education, pioneering and exploration, the growth of medical science.

Second Specimen of the Intelligentzia's Hokum: The New has value merely because it is new, and the Old is worthless merely because it is old. Only new-born ideas wrapped in swaddling clothes and brandishing red fists are admitted to the hospitality of our Intelligentzia. If the idea is old enough to cut its teeth, it is looked at askance, and if it attains sufficient maturity to get a wisdom tooth, "away with it," cry the intellectuals, averting their faces in order not to gaze upon the, as they see it, doddering idea. No matter how deformed, sickly and repulsive an idea may be, if it is sufficiently infantile, it arouses the enthusiasm of the modernistic bigwig. That wisdom consists in choosing the best, whether it be old or new, does not occur to their type of mentality.

Third Specimen of the Intelligentzia's Hokum: Pessimism is more Artistic than Optimism. Every novel or play of undiluted intellectualism must terminate in fog or pitch darkness. Sometimes this intellectual product begins with crepuscule and steadily advances to midnight gloom, sometimes it is a uniform smut from start to finish. Undoubtedly black is the favorite color among modern literary æsthetes. The only artistic possibilities for the fictionist and the playwright lie in murkiness, if he is to hold his own among the moguls of modern realism.

In any stylish up-to-date intellectual product a love-affair must lead to adultery, suicide, one or more murders, or to cynical futility. At the finis we must see the lovers fleeing in a sombre valley pursued by cruel customs and. unjust laws, or sitting on bleak rocks beside the ashes of their happiness.

Optimism is the unpardonable sin among the fashionable intellectuals. "By no means," say they, "should the triumph of virtue be allowed to disturb the artistry of modern letters." Fourth Specimen of the Intelligentzia's Hokum: The Mental

Faddist is an Original Genius. The Intelligentzia plump their latest innovator right down in the middle of the town square"See our brand new genius!" they cry. "Stop everything you are doing and watch him spin!" "We are in a hurry for an important engagement," we object, "and can't stop." "Nonsense!" scouts the intellectual; "your bourgeois affairs amount to nothing. Here is a genius in your midst!" "Why, he isn't doing anything either beautiful or intelligent!" we exclaim; "he is just spinning around, getting dizzy and making every one dizzy that looks at him!" "Oh, you poor dolt!" jeers the Intelligentzia; "it is his super-intellect that makes him spin-no one has ever spun so fast before. True, he gets nowhere, but it is awfully vulgar to get anywhere nowadays-it isn't done at all by intellectuals. One just spins around in a mad whirl until one drops dead, and that is all there is of life. The only thing is to spin a little faster or more eccentrically than the others-then you are a genius."

Fifth Specimen of the Intelligentzia's Hokum: Realism Consists in Details of Unchastity. What would the modern fictionist do without illicit sex-relations as his theme! His predicament without this means of publicity and of income is painful to contemplate. Happily for his mood and his purse there is no restriction to the extent of sex lawlessness which he may introduce into his best seller. He, the self-vaunted apostle of the new, has nothing newer to offer us than the scum and refuse of the mistaken pleasures of men and women since the world began. The advanced and enlightened brain of the intellectual, of which we hear so much nowadays, can discover no more novel theme than the weakest physical moments of the race.

Sixth Specimen of the Intelligentzia's Hokum: Degeneracy is Piquant. Why do the ultra-realists of today follow the buzzard instead of the eagle? Because of the cherished modern notion that the epicurean modern reader desires tainted meat. "The age is rapid and preoccupied," they argue, "hence only the odors of decay will arouse its jaded faculties. The application of spiritual beauty to life, the well-balanced relation of varied truths -what interest have these things for Joe and Jim between cocktails?"

So the exotic writer of Modernia prepares a reeking corruptive dish for his readers, or else an anesthetic concocted from the malodorous flowers of the night.

And yet there are many delightful things in the world even today-there are the strange beauties of newly explored lands, the familiar charms of well-known environment, the sturdy effort of men and women to meet modern living conditions, the unconscious poetry of quiet lives, the glamor of splendid deeds of sacrifice, the plunge of faith into new ventures, the adjustment of achievement to further developments, the gracious memories of the heart as a fertilizer for the will, the universal mind which sees life whole-all these there are, infinite riches neglected by our modern plot-weavers.

We will now examine the hokum of the Intelligentzia as it concerns their contempt for certain classes of people and periods of history. Seventh Specimen of the Intelligentzia's Hokum: The Puritan Complex excludes Art and Beauty. Modern literary swaggerers caricature the Puritans as solemn-faced cranks living in barn like structures, whose one occupation was to stalk around in long black cloaks and tall peaked black hats, destroying everything beautiful and punishing everyone who was enjoying himself. This picture of the fanatical Puritan is easily painted and sure to get a laugh from the crowd. And yet it leaves some things unexplained. How is it that Puritan houses, furniture and other decorations are supplying at this very moment inspiration for modern architects and artists?

As we walk along the shaded streets of historic New England towns, we feel the harmony and peace of the fine old houses, and we are told that this is the street where Puritans lived, these are the houses they built and the trees they planted. It is strange that Puritans, whom moderns tell us had no imagination and no happiness, could produce such picturesque houses and furniture, such refreshing gardens and streets.

Eighth Specimen of the Intelligentzia's Hokum: The Victorians were Fussy Idiots. The Intelligentzia scintillates wittily at the expense of the Victorians. Deprived of the Victorian epoch as a butt for ridicule, the intellectuals would be obliged to reconstruct their storage-house for jokes. The Victorian era in its historical

and decorative aspects is a rich, inexhaustible mine for the wit of up-to-daters.

Far be it from us to deny that the Victorians had tidies on their chair-backs and too much bric-a-brac on their mantelshelves. It may be that Victorian parents were not always frank enough with their children, and that considerable authority was exercised by Victorians in the home. But at any rate they had homes in those days. Families even spent the evenings together -such an insipid way of passing the hours, when they might have gone to a night club! In this fussy Victorian Period flourished many great English writers and statesmen. In spite of their tidies, kerosene lamps, early bedtime hours and slow ways, the Victorians did have homes and literature, their era did produce famous personalities.

Ninth Specimen of the Intelligentzia's Hokum: Protestant Ministers are Pretentious Hypocrites. The Intelligentzia stuff a large dummy with their prejudices and call it a clergyman. They display this dummy in the market-place of advanced fiction and proceed to pummel it vivaciously, with sidelong glances to see how the public likes the performance. The show arouses mob curiosity, to judge by the sales of some recent fiction on the theme of immoral clergymen.

The dummy of an erring hypocritical pastor is already battered and losing its stuffing through overuse, but still modern novelists and playwrights buffet it over and over again, and pass it around from one to another with as much enthusiasm as if the wornout puppet were an original work of art.

Tenth Specimen of the Intelligentzia's Hokum: Slander of the Dead is Clever Biography. Modern intellectuals go in for a jaunty form of biography-vilification of the dead. This is profitable and enjoyable for several reasons. First of all, it is safe, for no dead man can hit back in defense of his reputation. It is also enjoyable, because a character of the past, heretofore considered great or admirable, has a hold on the affections of posterity and an influence on the nation's life. Therefore to undermine this foundation of public esteem and love for the celebrated dead is a sport which deliciously appeals to the modern cynical tempera

ment.

A clever, profitable game, that of slandering dead men, guaranteed to fill the pockets more quickly than a well-balanced record could possibly do. It certainly does require ingenuity, as well as financial ambition, to reconstruct a human life with careful elimination of what was praiseworthy, and with emphasis upon and distortion of foibles and faults. Defamatory biography fulfils all the requirements of a mental diversion among sophisticated authors.

Eleventh Specimen of the Intelligentzia's Hokum: The Intellect is an Infallible Guide to Truth. That intellect is the only human guide stands as the fundamental assumption of modern simonpure intellectuals, which explains all their other vagaries. It is a fatal assumption, for the unaided intellect of man cannot see around the next corner; it leads into the desert of rationalism, into the morass of doubt, among the rocks of mental and moral difficulty. Man's inner life perishes when it loses the beautiful mysteries of spiritual intuition.

We are not creatures of one dimension. Yet the undiluted intellectual, ignoring the other dimensions of human nature, bases his viewpoint upon the intellect alone, thereby starving the very intellect which he idolizes. In spite of his vehement assertion of his own superior breadth and perspicacity, he is in reality of all modern men the most limited in vision and insight, and in balanced faculties. Consequently he has nothing better for the public than Hokum.