n be poor enough to be praised with an undivided
heart. We are not sure that the ruins of Wembley may not be the
restoration of Westminster. It is when a nation has recovered from
the illusion of owning everything that it discovers that it does
stand for something; and for that something it will fight with a
lucid and just tenacity which no mere megalomania can comprehend. We
are not so perverse as to wish to see England ruined that she may be
respected. But we do think she will be happy in having the sort of
respect that could remain even if she were ruined. Patriotic as the
English have always been, the patriotism of their educated class has
seldom had this peculiar sort of extra energy that is given by a
conscience completely at rest. If that were added, they might well
make such a stand as would astound the world. All their other
virtues, their humour and sporting spirit and freedom from the
morbidities and cruelties of fatigue, might enter into their full
heritage when joined to the integrity and intellectual dignity that
belong to self defence and self respect. We are far from sure that
the world has not yet to see our nation in its finest phase.

What may be in the womb of night we know not, nor what are those dim
outlines that show on the horizon.

"In truth" he wrote, "no man knows how near we are to death or to
dawn. I am not sure whether I am making this speech from a
scaffolding or a scaffold."

It is easy for the young to undertake hard things: they never know
how hard they are. And they are certain of success. The "lessons of
experience" signify to the young that other men have failed: their
own experience shall teach others the meaning of success. But to
begin again at fifty, with the special spring of youth gone and with
the sad lessons of one's own experience in the mind: this calls
indeed for a rare courage. Gilbert knew all the cost in time, energy,
money and reputation that he would have to pay--that he did pay. And
he stood increasingly alone. Cecil's had been the irreparable loss,
but others of the old circle were dropping out and their places were
not filled.

Jack Phillimore's death in 1926 was a heavy blow. To his memory
Gilbert dedicated _The Queen of Seven Swords_, published the year of
his death.

You go before me on all roads
On bridges broad enough to spread
Between the learned and the dunce
Between the living and