"HOW WE STAND NOW"
For my own part I am more proud of Great Britain than ever in my life
before, and that largely because, in spite of this froth or scum that
sometimes floats on the surface, she is fundamentally true to her great
traditions, and treads steadily underfoot those elements which, if they
had control, would depose us from being a nation of "white men", of
rulers, of gentlemen, and bring us to the level of the enemy whom we
denounce, or of the "lesser breeds without the law".
Probably many of us have learned only through this war how much we
loved our country. That love depends, of course, not mainly on pride,
but on old habit and familiarity, on neighbourliness, and memories of
childhood. Yet, mingling with that love for our old country, I do feel
a profound pride. I am proud of the response to the Empire's call--a
response absolutely unexampled in history, five million men and more
gathering from the ends of the earth; subjects of the British Empire
coming to offer life and limb for the Empire, not because they were
subjects, but because they were free and willing to come. I am proud of
our soldiers and our sailors, our invincible sailors!
I am proud of our men in the workshop and the factory; proud of our
men, and almost more proud of our women--working one and all, day after
day, with constant overtime, and practically no holidays, for the most
part demanding no trade safeguards, and insisting on no conditions, but
giving freely to the common cause all that they have to give.
I am proud of our political leaders and civil administrators, proud
of their resource, their devotion, their unshaken coolness, their
magnanimity in the face of intrigue and detraction, their magnificent
interpretation of the nation's will.
A few days ago I was in France in the fire-zone. I had been at a field
dressing-station, which had just evacuated its wounded and dead, and
was expecting more; and, as evening was falling, full of the uncanny
strain of the whole place and slightly deafened with the shells, I
saw a body of men in full kit plodding their way up the communication
trenches to take their place in the firing trench. I was just going
back myself, well out of the range of the guns, to a comfortable tea
and a peaceful evening; and there, in trench after trench, along all
the hundred miles of our front, day after day, night after night, were
men moving heavily up to the firing-line, to pay their regular toll of
so many killed and so many wounded, while the war drags on its weary
length. I suddenly wondered in my heart whether we or our cause or
our country is worth that sacrifice; and, with my mind full of its
awfulness, I answered clearly, Yes. Because, while I am proud of all
the things I have mentioned about Great Britain, I am most proud of the
clean hands with which we came into this contest; proud of the Cause
for which with clear vision we unsheathed our sword, and which we mean
to maintain unshaken to the bitter or the triumphant end.
GILBERT MURRAY
_By permission of the Author_