SECOND CHILDHOOD'S HAPPY HOUR

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I sometimes ask myself (when there is no one else to pester) whether the present tendency toward Primitivism, in Art, Religion, Government, Conduct and Costume (everything in fact) may not be a sign that the world is coming, if not already come, to its second childhood, and I invariably answer myself in the affirmative.

Second Childhood, as of course you know, is the “happy hour” of an old age whose faculties have diminished to the exact degree that marks the undeveloped mental and physical attributes of infancy.

Take any baby—not your own, dear reader, yours is an exception I know, but any common ordinary baby—and I think when you have examined it you will agree with me that, judged by ultra-modern standards of culture, it is the most decadent being on earth.

To begin with, the baby’s sociological viewpoint is a mixture of passionate pessimism and pure unmitigated Anarchism.

Its musical output is a hysterical cacophony with all the exasperating disregard of consonance and key characteristic of the up-to-date composition.

Its Plastic and Graphic Art (achieved through the accident of the inverted Porridge bowl or the overturned inkwell) is the Post-Impressionism of Matisse and Picasso, whose law is the Law of Moses—“Thou shalt not make unto thee any graven image, or any likeness of any thing that is in heaven above, or that is in the earth beneath, or that is in the water under the earth.”

The Literary Message of the baby is a combination of the styles of Gertrude Stein, Carl Sandberg and an unassisted Ouija board and is only to be interpreted through the medium of maternal intuition.

And as for the Art Sartorial, are not the fashions feminine venturing each successive season a little nearer to that of the newborn babe?

“Well,” says I to myself, “supposing we admit that Modern Culture and Infancy are identical in expression, and that the World is entering upon its second childhood; what does it mean? Is it the end of all things or only a fresh start?”

There you have me! I reply. There are some questions that even I cannot answer. I give it up.

If, as Dr. Einstein asserts, our planet has been receiving crooked light-rays all this time, it is a very serious matter and there is no knowing what may come of it; certainly the Cosmic Light Company ought to be investigated. But don’t be down-hearted, dear Reader, some day the Einstein Amendment to the Law of Gravitation may be repealed, and made retroactive into the bargain; it is all a matter of Relativity and it may turn out that the Relativity-shoe is on the other foot and that it is the Earth’s orbit that is on the blink and not the light rays at all.

Perhaps Mr. G. B. Shaw will enlighten us—as a projector of crooked light-rays, he ought to know something about it.


Decorative illustration drawing of a stylised face
                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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