_August, 1914._
Four weeks ago we stood on the verge of the great upheaval and knew it not.
We were thinking of holidays; of cricket and golf and bathing, and then
were suddenly plunged in the deep waters of the greatest of all Wars. It
has been a month of rude awakening, of revelation, of discovery--of many
moods varying from confidence to deep misgiving, yet dominated by a sense
of relief that England has chosen the right course. Sir Edward Grey's
statement that we meant to stand by France and fulfil our obligations to
Belgium rallied all parties. "Thrice armed is he that hath his quarrel
just." The Fleet "stands fast" and the vigil of the North Sea has begun.
Lord Kitchener has gone to the War Office, and in twelve days from the
declaration of War our Expeditionary Force, the best trained and equipped
army that England has ever put into the field, landed in France. The
Dominions and India are staunch. Every able-bodied public school boy and
under-graduate of military age has joined the colours. The Admiralty is
crowded with living counterparts of Captain Kettle, offering their services
in any capacity, linking up the Merchant Marine with the Royal Navy in one
great solidarity of the sea.
The Empire is sound and united. So far the omens are good. But as the days
pass the colossal task of the Allies becomes increasingly apparent.
Peace-loving nations are confronted by a Power which has prepared for war
for forty years, equipped in every detail as no Power has ever been
equipped before, with a docile and well-disciplined people trained to arms,
fortified by a well-founded belief in their invincibility, reinforced by
armies of spies in every country, hostile or neutral. We are up against the
mightiest War-machine of all time, wonderful in organisation, joining the
savagery of the barbarian to the deadliest resources of modern science. The
revelation of the black soul of Germany is the greatest and the most
hideous surprise of this month of months, crowning long years of treachery
and the abuse of hospitality with an orgy of butchery and devastation--the
torture and massacre of old men, women and children, the shooting of
hostages, the sack and burning of towns and the destruction of ancient
seats of learning. Yet we feel that in trampling upon heroic Belgium, who
dared to bar the gate, Germany has outraged the conscience of the world and
sealed her ultimate doom.
The month closes in gloom, the fall of Liége, Namur and Brussels, the sack
of Louvain, and the repulse of the Russian raid into East Prussia at
Tannenberg following in rapid succession. Against these disasters we have
to set the brilliant engagement in the Heligoland Bight. But the onrush of
the Germans on the Western front is not stayed, though their time-table has
been thrown out by the self-sacrifice of the Belgians, the steadfast
courage of French's "contemptible little army" in the retreat from Mons,
and the bold decision of Smith-Dorrien, who saved the situation at Le
Cateau. In these days of apprehension and misgiving, clouded by alarming
rumours of a broken and annihilated army, it sometimes seems as though we
should never smile again. Where, in a world of blood and tears, can
_Punch_ exercise his function without outraging the fitness of things?
These doubts have been with us from the beginning, but they are already
being resolved by the discovery--another of the wonders of the time--that
on the very fringes of tragedy there is room for cheerfulness. When our
fighting men refuse to be downhearted in the direst peril, we at home
should follow their high example, note where we can the humours of the
fray, and "bear in silence though our hearts may bleed."
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