e a
more ghastly parody on the word honour?

Yet once more--the lack of seriousness. By seriousness we do not mean
gloominess, nor withdrawal from society, or anything of the kind. We
mean the flippant attitude towards life, the lack of serious, sustained
interest in literature, in music, in art, in the legitimate drama;
witness the theatres being turned into cinema shows, and the terrible
paucity of sound, strong plays. Everything must be scrappy, light, and
if a little (or more than a little) risky, so much the better.

We do not for a moment say that these evils are universal, God forbid,
but none can deny that they have eaten deep into a large part of
society, using the word in its broadest, not in its technical sense.

The soul of the nation needed discipline, and it has come suddenly,
sharply, but, who shall dare to say, not mercifully?

And even in its very coming it brought a tremendous opportunity, for we
were not compelled to make war, notice that!

We had an option. The temptation was subtle. You have no concern with
Servia, throw over Belgium, let France take care of itself.

For a time, probably a very short time, we should have avoided war and
its horrors. The bait was held out by some peddling politicians that we
should have stood in a magnificent position to obtain trade, to control
markets, to dictate prices to the rest of the world. Magnificent
prospect! We went to war, and, by a strange paradox, secured peace with
honour: peace of the national conscience. Had we forsaken Belgium we
could never again have held up our heads among civilised honourable
nations. Thus the very circumstances under which the War came about
formed an appeal to the soul of the nation as embodied in its
legislature; the Government rang true, and the nation, as one man,
endorsed its decision.

And now the discipline has commenced.

Who can be flippant and careless with our coast towns liable to
bombardment, and over a hundred lives already sacrificed in this little
island, which we have always deemed to be the one absolutely secure spot
in the whole world? Five months ago an earthquake in London would have
seemed a far more likely event than the bombardment of Hartlepool,
Scarborough, Whitby, and the dropping of shells on Yarmouth foreshore,
or of bombs at Dover and Southend.

Who can be unconcerned when our ships are liable at any moment, and
apparently in almost any place, to be sent headlong to the bottom of the
sea