AN ENGLISHMAN LOOKS AT THE WORLD Being a Series of Unrestrained Remarks upon Contemporary Matters By H.G. WELLS 1914 Blériot arrives and sets him thinking. (1) He flies, (2) And deduces certain consequences of cheap travel. (3) He considers the King, and speculates on the New Epoch; (4) He thinks Imperially, (5) And then, coming to details, about Labour, (6) Socialism, (7) And Modern Warfare, (8) He discourses on the Modern Novel, (9) And the Public Library; (10) Criticises Chesterton, Belloc, (11) And Sir Thomas More, (12) And deals with the London Traffic Problem as a Socialist should. (13) He doubts the existence of Sociology, (14) Discusses Divorce, (15) Schoolmasters, (16) Motherhood, (17) Doctors, (18) And Specialisation; (19) Questions if there is a People, (20) And diagnoses the Political Disease of our Times. (21) He then speculates upon the future of the American Population, (22) Considers a possible set-back to civilisation, (23) The Ideal Citizen, (24) The still undeveloped possibilities of Science, (25), and--in the broadest spirit-- The Human Adventure. (26) CONTENTS 1. The Coming of Blériot 2. My First Flight 3. Off the Chain 4. Of the New Reign 5. Will the Empire Live? 6. The Labour Unrest 7. The Great State 8. The Common Sense of Warfare 9. The Contemporary Novel 10. The Philosopher's Public Library 11. About Chesterton and Belloc 12. About Sir Thomas More 13. Traffic and Rebuilding 14. The So-called Science of Sociology 15. Divorce 16. The Schoolmaster and the Empire 17. The Endowment of Motherhood 18. Doctors 19. An Age of Specialisation 20. Is there a People? 21. The Disease of Parliaments 22. The American Population 23. The Possible Collapse of Civilisation 24. The Ideal Citizen 25. Some Possible Discoveries 26. The Human Adventure AN ENGLISHMAN LOOKS AT THE WORLD THE COMING OF BLÉRIOT (_July, 1909_.) The telephone bell rings with the petulant persistence that marks a trunk call, and I go in from some ineffectual gymnastics on the lawn to deal with the irruption. There is the usual trouble in connecting up, minute voices in Folkestone and Dover and London call to one another and are submerged by buzzings and throbbings. Then in elfin tones the real message comes through: "Blériot has crossed the Channel.... An article ... about what it means." I make a hasty promise and go out and tell my friends. From my garden I look straight upon the Channel, and there are white caps upon the water, and the iris and tamarisk are all asway with the south-west wind that was also blowing yesterday. M. Blériot has done very well, and Mr. Latham, his rival, had jolly bad luck. That is what it means to us first of all. It also, I reflect privately, means that I have under-estimated the possible stability of aeroplanes. I did not expect anything of the sort so soon. This is a good five years before my reckoning of the year before last.