The Spectator

From ‘The Essential Need’, The Spectator, 12 June 1915: UNLESS we beat the Germans they will bleed us to death, and grind their heels upon our faces. Those who in their hearts nourish a secret feeling that if the worst comes to the worst we can always break off the war, and acknowledge ourselves conquered, but not utterly destroyed, and still able to hold our own as an independent nation, even if on a lower plane, are utterly mistaken. The Germans have come too near defeat ever to risk our continued existence as a free nation. If they win, they will ruin us completely. But the Germans will win if we have not enough shell and not enough of the other necessaries of war. Shell, remember, though the need of the hour, is by no means our only need. How are we to get more shell?

From ‘The United States and Germany’, The Spectator, 12 June 1915: THE resignation of Mr. Bryan, the powerful American Secretary of State, which took the United States by surprise, must of course affect considerably the methods by which the American Cabinet will conduct their negotiations with Germany. Mr. Bryan, as he has in effect told his countrymen, was the brake, and the brake has removed itself. The difference between Mr. Wilson and Mr. Bryan is, in fine, this: Mr. Wilson thinks the beginning of pacificism is the respect for international law, which is being entirely set at naught by the German submarine war on merchantmen, and Mr. Bryan thinks that you can still accept the word of men who are breaking their word.

From ‘News of the Week’, The Spectator, 12 June 1915: A MAGNIFICENT feat of airmanship was performed at three o'clock on Monday morning by Flight-Sub-Lieutenant R. A. J. Warneford, R.N., who single-handed attacked a Zeppelin between Ghent and Brussels and destroyed it. He dropped six bombs on the Zeppelin, and had come so close to it that when the Zeppelin exploded his aeroplane was, so to speak, blown up. It turned completely over. According to some accounts, it turned over several times while falling, but Mr. Warneford regained control and landed safely, though of course within the German lines. The petrol had fallen out of his tank, and he had to refill it from his reserve supply before restarting his engine.

From ‘Latent Creeds’, The Spectator, 5 June 1915: Has it not sometimes occurred to habitual church-goers to think how intensely interesting it would be if, when the congregation turned to the east, each man, instead of repeating after the choir, proclaimed aloud the creed of his soul? It would not perhaps be a bad spiritual exercise if each man made an effort to do so inwardly. We think many men might draw therefrom some measure of consolation, for the creed of the soul is not always the creed of the intellect; it is usually simpler and more satisfactory. The intellect is fearfully liable to the miasmatic influences of pessimism. It is almost impossible to maintain a state of optimism by reliance upon the mind alone. Life by all calculations is a tragedy.

From ‘Husbands, Sons and Brothers’, The Spectator, 5 June 1915: AT the beginning of the war it was proposed by a group of well-known Englishwomen that mourning should not be worn for those killed in battle. The motive was excellent—the spirit of the Roman mother who did not count lost a life given for the State. But the propriety of this minor symbolism has been swallowed up and forgotten in the reality of a civic valour at home which has become so conspicuous that it needs no deliberate professions. We most all have been astonished at the calmness and the beautiful resolution present in thousands of families which, without condemnation, might have appeared to the world shattered, and for the time being demobilized from effort.

From ‘Depression and its Causes’, The Spectator, 5 June 1915: What causes fear and anxiety in moments of crisis is not the inevitable, but the thought whether one is doing enough or doing the right thing to prevent the peals which one dreads. When men have made the renunciation and are spending their last shilling and their last ounce of strength, have given, in fact, all that they have to give, they are happy. The bitterness is past. When, however, they have not made voluntarily, or been compelled by circumstances to make, the great renunciation, it is a very different matter. It was not the poor widow who cast in all that she had who was unhappy.