PUBLIC SCHOOLS AND THE WAR
_Now all the youth of England are on fire._
SHAKESPEARE: "HENRY V."
To _The Alleynian_ for October, 1914, Paul contributed an editorial
article on the War that had then begun to rage in its destructive
fury. Taking the view that "this war had to come sooner or later," he
wrote:
When one nation has a world-wide Empire embracing a fifth of the
globe, founded on principles of absolute liberty for all whom it
contains, and when another, built up by the force of
circumstances on a basis of military despotism, also aspires to a
different sort of world-power, and challenges the first nation,
whose principles it abhors as much as its own are abhorred--in
these circumstances it is hopeless to talk of reconciliation till
one or the other is down. Actually, Germany's monstrous conduct
in violating the neutrality of a small, industrious and
inoffensive Power--a neutrality to which, be it marked, Germany
was as much a partner as England or France--has put her
hopelessly in the wrong with the civilised world. But that does
not alter the fact that the War is primarily one for political
existence. Either the despotism of Potsdam or the constitutional
government of Westminster must survive. We, more even than Russia
or France, are fighting for our very existence.
Things are, indeed, very favourable to us and to our Allies.
Through the brutal but clumsy blundering of Prussian diplomats,
Europe has been long awaiting the conflagration; every move in
the game has been brought out long ago. Besides, Germany
undoubtedly counted on our domestic troubles and our pacific
tendencies to keep us out of this conflict. They imagined France
could easily be wiped out while Russia's vast bulk was slowly
mobilising, and that the Russians would then be held up by the
victorious legions pouring back from Paris. Then in, say, ten
years they would turn on England and wipe her from the map. Our
entrance into the War now has not only braced the whole moral
fibre of France, Russia, Belgium and Serbia, but has strangled
German commerce and held up her food supply by means of our
command of the seas. Thus all the enemy plans have been thrown
into confusion. We would be indeed foolish if we did not realise
our position--what it means to ourselves, to Europe, and to the
world. Having won the toss on a hard wicket, we are not going to
put Germany in. We must fight to the death. The law is "Eat or be
eaten."
In these circumstances we call on Dulwich College to realise its
duties to the State. Nothing--not work nor games--must be allowed
to stand before the Corps till the War is over. Special drills
and parades, extra route marches, all these must be and ought to
be looked forward to cheerfully and willingly. The splendid
number of recruits shows that the school is not going to fail in
its duty here. We are not going to indulge in theories and
jingo-patriotism, but call on you with deadly seriousness--the
British Empire, the British principles of liberty, all are at
stake. If we go down now we go down for ever. Germany is said to
have called up every male between the ages of fifteen and sixty.
If they can do that, surely we ought to be able to reply. Let
that voluntary system which is the glory of our armies and navies
carry us through now! We call on every one in the School to join
the Corps at once.
Nothing was finer in the first months of the War than the rally of the
manhood of Great Britain to the call of the country in its time of
need. All classes, rich and poor, patrician and peasant, employer and
workman, were uplifted by the great occasion. Through the influence of
patriotism, the recognition by all sorts and conditions of our people
of the honourable obligation of fidelity to the pledged word of
Britain, combined with a chivalric desire to champion the cause of
weak, unoffending Belgium against the Teutonic bully--there was
released in this country a flood of noble idealism and pure emotion,
the memory of which those who lived during that spiritual awakening
will never forget. No section of the community rose more finely to the
height of the occasion than the athletes and scholars from our public
schools and universities. Nobly did they respond to the call voiced by
one of their number, R. E. Vernede (an old Pauline, now sleeping in a
soldier's grave in France):
Lad, with the merry smile and the eyes
Quick as the hawk's and clear as the day;
You, who have counted the game the prize,
Here is the game of games to play.
Never a goal--the captains say--
Matches the one that's needed now;
Put the old blazer and cap away--
England's colours await your brow.
Man, with the square-set jaws and chin,
Always, it seems, you have moved to your end
Sure of yourself, intent to win
Fame and wealth and the power to bend.
All that you've made you're called to spend--
All that you've sought you're asked to miss--
What's ambition compared with this:
That a man lay down his life for his friend?
Exulting in the response of the athletes, Paul Jones found his faith
in the value of games confirmed by this memorable rally to the Flag.
His last contribution to _The Alleynian_ was inspired by it. Shortly
after he joined the Army he wrote to the magazine a letter (published
anonymously in May, 1915) under the caption "Flannelled Fools and
Muddied Oafs." In this contribution he sings a paean in praise of the
amateur athlete. After reminding his readers of pre-War denunciations
of "the curse of athletics," he asks, "What of athletics now?"
At present, we see that the poor, despised athlete or
sportsman--call him what you will--is coming to the front,
practically and metaphorically, in a way which makes one wonder
if, for the higher purposes of duty, athletics are not really the
very best of all systems of training. When we look at the matter
in the broadest light, the explanation shines forth clearly. All
learning and all business are in the end simply and solely
_selfish_. For example, you work hard for a scholarship at Oxford
or Cambridge--why? So that you can obtain _for
yourself_--(underline these words, Mr. Printer, please!)--the
advantages of 'Varsity life and culture, and to the ultimate end
that you may be better fitted to make _your own_ way in life. Of
course, this is necessary, but life is always very sordid in its
details, and the more civilised we become, the more apparent is
that sordidity. In fact, it is only on our amateur playing-fields
that we become really unselfish. For here we play for a team or a
side; and for the success of that side--which success, by the
way, is in no sense material or selfish--we are prepared to take
all sorts of pains, to scorn delights and live laborious days. It
is the clearest manifestation of the simple, unsophisticated man
coming to the front and tearing aside for a brief moment the
cloud of materialism with which civilisation has been enveloping
him.
Nothing but athletics has succeeded in doing this sort of work in
England. Religion has failed, intellect has failed, art has
failed, science has failed. It is clear why: because each of
these has laid emphasis on man's _selfish_ side; the saving of
_his own_ soul, the cultivation of _his own_ mind, the pleasing
of _his own_ senses. But your sportsman joins the Colours because
in his games he has felt the real spirit of unselfishness, and
has become accustomed to give up all for a body to whose service
he is sworn. Besides this, he has acquired the physical fitness
necessary for a campaign. These facts explain the grand part
played by sport in this War; they also explain why the amateur
has done so enormously better than the professional.
"Let us therefore," is his injunction, "take off our hats to the
amateur athlete, who is one of the brightest figures in England
to-day. Let us indeed not forget that it is not in any sense only the
athletes who have gone, but let us remember that in proportion no
class of men has seen its duty so clearly, and done it so promptly,
in the present crisis. We suggest that this War has shown the training
of the playing-fields of the Public Schools and the 'Varsities to be
quite as good as that of the class-rooms; nay, as good? Why, far
better, if training for the path of Duty is the ideal end of
education."
Here, as always, Paul distinguished between the amateur athlete and
the professional athlete. For the latter his scorn was unmitigated,
and he could not endure Association football with its paid players. He
also loathed the betting element that defiled the Soccer game.
This letter was his last contribution to _The Alleynian_. Its
strictures are far too sweeping; it has the dogmatism and the note of
certitude to which youth is prone. But it is animated by a fine
spirit. Very characteristic is the emphasis placed in it on the ideas
of duty and unselfishness. The passion for sacrifice was in his
blood.