ABSTRACT

Such people did not belong to army families; they were neither officers nor other ranks. They did not belong to great landed families, although a large number had farming stock lodged in their cousinhoods. Though many were solicitors and some were barristers, few were as yet likely to be judges. They were more likely to be town councillors than members of parliament, although their horizons were lifting. They certainly belonged to the wrong church to be bishops. On the whole they belonged to the wrong church to be heads of great schools or famous colleges. But they could be just as able, restless, ambitious, and inspired. They could write, paint, draw, administer, create. They could speak foreign languages, if not in tongues. They were mental artmen, and women. They produced their quota of spies, adventurers and confidence tricksters. Indeed we probably underestimate the extent to which they were all adventurers, for we too easily forget how religion, especially evangelical religion, can sanctify the venturing. Life at the turn of the century had more opportunities than ever it had. It was to be enjoyed. But can there be any enjoyment where there is no aim, and is there anything more truly enjoyable than a trust? The evangelical Christian’s missionary imperative, that splendidly imperial and imperious concept, fitted this mentality like a glove.