The Spectator

From The Spectator, 31 October 1914: We do not ask for help of any material kind from the United States; we recognize that a strict neutrality is not only her proper course, but represents her true interests. All we desire is the sympathy of comprehension, the sympathy of a clear understanding of the principles on which we have acted. When a man is in a great crisis, whether of sorrow, adversity, or illness, he craves for the sympathy of persons of his own flesh and blood. Their money and their energies may be of no use at all to him, but he does value their thoughtfulness and their regard. We feel somewhat in this relation with the United States, and that the sympathy we prize is being amply offered to us by Americans we must gratefully acknowledge.

The most curious thing of all is that the sailor should become so much a part of his peculiar element that his detachment from the land is even more marked than the landsman's imperfect acquaintance with the sea. The sailor comes on shore like a man penetrating doubtfully into an unknown hinterland; he has the air of a foreign being in the streets of his native land; he looks about him as though adventures might fall out of the sky. The author of The Ingoldsby Legends has described the impression made by the sailor on others : "It's very odd that sailor-men should talk so very queer— And then he hitched his trousers up, as is, I'm told, their use ; It's very odd that sailor-men should wear those things so loose.

From The Spectator, 31 October 1914: The Germans are doing rapidly and effectively what we ought to be doing, and what we must do if we are to win. They are raising new armies and training the remaining portion of their adult male population to arms. When the war began we all thought that about four million German fighting men was the most we need reckon with. These men have already been put into the firing line in the two theatres of the war, and now Germany is turning to that part of her adult male population—another four millions—who have not yet been trained, or else were trained so long ago that they hardly count as trained men.

From The Spectator, 24 October 1914: It is alleged that in London there are something like a hundred thousand people, and as many more in the rest of the country—probably the figures are twice too high—of German and Austrian nationality. These aliens are for the most part at present earning their living in various trades. It certainly would be laying rather a heavy burden upon our shoulders to intern the whole of them, and to feed, clothe, and generally provide for their wants. No doubt if it must be done it must, but it would surely be unwise to hound the Government on to such action unless it is clear that it ought to be taken... The spy problem is a special one, and really not very closely connected with the problem of the enemy alien.

From The Spectator, 24 October 1914: Time being against her, a condition of stalemate on her frontiers is a hopeless business for Germany. Invasion, then, is a logical necessity. It is true that the chances are small, and that failure might mean the loss of a quarter of a million Germans or more, but to the German military philosopher that matters nothing. He would ask you: "What object is there in possessing a quarter of a million armed men unless you use them? And the only way to use them is to fling them on the enemy. To keep them unused is, from the strategist's point of view, just the same as letting them be killed in sunk transports or mowed down on English battlefields. To decide the problem of invasion or not invasion by any thought of the losses involved is ridiculous.

From The Spectator, 24 October 1914: For years past the vodka monopoly in Russia has been a public scandal. Government officials, in order to get good financial returns, have connived at the abasement of the people by encouraging drink. Year by year the revenue from the vodka monopoly has increased by leaps and bounds till the present year, when it was estimated to yield £93,000,000, or very nearly a third of the total revenue of the Russian Empire. Critics of Russia have long lugubriously prophesied that, in spite of all the Tsar's protestations in favour of temper. ance, he would never venture to take any step which would impair such a magnificent revenue as this. He has not only promised steps; he has already taken them.