such a catastrophe from its mind, was obliged to go through a long and painful struggle before it succeeded in uprooting its disbelief, adjusting its vision, and realising the full import of the event.

With France and Germany it was very different. In neither country was public opinion taken by surprise. In the one case national sentiment was supreme and independent; in the other it was receptive and wholly obedient to an autocracy; in both unity was secure. But our own education did not begin until war was declared; and in such circumstances it is hard to arrive at unity without leadership of a very superior order. The natural leaders were the Government, for they knew more of the facts than the nation did, and they knew them earlier. Their example would be watched and followed, their decisions would be accepted, their spirit would be reflected in the public mood. They would set the tone, whether it were patience or effort, fatalism or self-reliance, swift resolution or cautious delay.

During the second period events followed one another in a swift and bewildering succession. The armies of the Kaiser won great battles during the autumn of 1914, but they failed to win the war in a single campaignwhich was the great objective at which German policy had confidently aimed. By Christmas they were firmly held by the French and British; they were foiled in their thrust at Warsaw; while their Austrian allies were disheartened by a succession of crushing disasters. It was clear that the original German war plan had miscarried, but it was too readily assumed that the supposed rigidity of the Teutonic mind would fail in all attempts to make another. This absurd fallacy was responsible for extravagant hopes and grievous miscalculations.

Lord Kitchener predicted a long war; but in political circles only a very few people appeared to believe in his prophecy. Still fewer acted as men would who realised what a long-drawn struggle must inevitably entail in sacrifice of life and treasure, theories and habits. The only hope of a short war lay in preparing for a long one. There was but one way in which the nation could be organised so that recruiting should not interfere with the output of munitions, and that the minimum of injury

should be inflicted upon those staple wealth-providing industries of the country which formed the basis of our financial strength. That one way was rejected, by some from timidity, by others with contempt, as too utopian for consideration.

When the leaders are unable or unwilling to see, the people may be forgiven for coming to wrong conclusions. At Christmas 1914 the general belief was that peace would be signed within a year from the outbreak of hostilities. What sense, therefore, could there be in looking two years or even twelve months ahead, in training vast armies, in accumulating gigantic stores of material, in pinching and paring and putting everybody to inconvenience, in endangering the popularity of politicians and disturbing the fabric of the party system? How angry the people would be, and what fools the great men would look, if the war ended in six months' time and they were left with two years' supplies in hand or on order!

The anger of the people would have been less fierce against extravagance than it was against default. Ministers would not have looked greater fools if the war had ended suddenly, leaving them with a burden of unsaleable provisions and embarrassing contracts, than they did when it continued and found them short both of material and men. Various explanations have been put forward in their behalf; as, for instance, that manufacturers failed to keep their contracts. But this is not a valid excuse, for British contractors were bound to get into difficulties if they lacked the support of national organisation. Men who were essential to the installation of new plant and to the production of munitions were swept by thousands into the ranks of the New Army under the unregulated pressure of the voluntary system. The War Office would not give them up, because it was short of recruits, while the factories and workshops were starved owing to the want of artificers.

In these as in other matters the Government showed a want both of foresight and resolution. Throughout this second period it continued to act as if the war could not last another six months, as if it must certainly be over before this or that proposed reform could possibly Vol. 227.-No. 450.

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yield results. Ministers appeared to credit the news which they permitted to appear in the newspapers. They bowed down in superstitious reverence before the censorship, accepting its optimistic confections as if they were oracles, forgetful apparently of the fact that the censorship was their own creation, and that the distinguishing characteristic of a censor's office can never be a true sense of proportion.

It is one of the first duties of a War Government to use its imagination, to think ahead and then state clearly what is needed in order to secure victory. The nation was ready to grant everything that was asked. It expected orders, and was prepared to obey them. But, during this crucial period of preparation, the Government seemed to be in a state of bewilderment, like a crew without a captain. It appeared lacking in energy and resolute purpose. It issued appeals but no orders, even with regard to military service; it gave no guidance, far less instructions, for the husbanding of national resources and the increase of food supplies. It misunderstood the temper of the nation and appeared more apprehensive of public disapprobation than of the enemy. The minds of Ministers, and of their satellites in Parliament and the Press, were distracted from the main problem of how to win the war, by their concern about a political situation, the danger of which was mainly imaginary, and, where not imaginary, was the direct product of their own hesitations.

The spring campaign of 1915 opened hopefully for the Allies; but before long the prospect was overclouded. The shortage of artillery ammunition became apparent, and led to considerable recrimination. Early in May the Russians, who had hitherto been progressing favourably in Galicia, were heavily defeated, and their great retreat began. A few days later the Liberal Government came to an end; and the Coalition was formed under the same Prime Minister.

During the preceding four months the temper of certain sections of the nation had been changing, by no means for the better. The real opposition was neither vocal nor organised. Indeed it was less an active opposition than an inert obstacle to unity. It consisted of those who are accustomed to look at every event solely

from the standpoint of their own immediate material interests, to whom brass,' whether in the form of profits or of wages, is the one solid fact in life, and who meet every crisis with the same question-Where do I come in? Such persons were in a small minority; but they were by no means negligible. Their mutual jealousies and suspicions, and their more or less passive resistance to the prevailing sentiment of union, produced the same results as grit in the bearings of a machine.

We may believe that by far the greater part of these acted as they did, and failed to act as they should have acted, for the simple reason that they had not yet realised what the war meant. The first glow of excitement had died away. The appeal which might have awakened their slumbering patriotism was not made. They were encouraged in selfish indifference by official news which, in recording events, paid too little heed to truthful perspective. Moreover, the most impassioned eloquence and the most candid record of occurrences would have failed to rouse this section thoroughly, unless they had been accompanied by some clear demonstration on the part of Government that it knew what was needed in order to win the war and was determined to do it. Not merely command but action was required; yet, up to the date of its reconstruction and for long afterwards, the Cabinet failed to accept this obvious necessity. It declined to govern.

In the early stages of the war, perception and therefore unity were undoubtedly more complete in France and Germany than among ourselves. Both countries appeared to understand at once that this struggle was not one where armies alone went to war, while the greater part of the citizens were concerned merely with paying taxes. In this case whole nations went to war; national organisation was pitted against national organisation. To delay organising, to clutch at compromise, or to imagine that half-measures would suffice, was to court defeat. Realising these things, the peoples of France and Germany made easy the task of government. There was no holding back, no opposition; friction and confusion were reduced to a minimum. Down to Christmas 1914 we were inclined to say much the same of ourselves. Nor is it unreasonable to suppose that we might

very speedily have become what we aspired to be, had our aspirations been taken at their flood-tide by those in authority. But this particular tide was missed, and several others besides, with the result that national unity fell insensibly into a decline.

The original German war-plan had miscarried, but Germany was not thereby reduced either to despair or impotence. On the contrary, during the winter of 1914-1915, while we were indulging ourselves in comfortable illusions, the Imperial General Staff at Berlin occupied itself in thinking out and preparing a new offensive. In May 1915 it proceeded to put its plan into execution with great energy and determination. The startling success of this effort obscured the unalterable consequences of the previous failure from the greater part of the world, possibly even from the Germans themselves. The Russians were driven out of Poland; Greece was kept out of the war, and Bulgaria was brought in; Serbia was crushed, and communications with Turkey established.

Our disillusionment as to the duration of the war began with the battle of the Dunajec (May 1915), and by the beginning of harvest-time it was complete. The truth of Lord Kitchener's prediction was established. And yet the winter of 1915-1916 passed away, and the summer of 1916 was at hand, before the action of Government even began to keep pace with the needs of the situation. By May 1916 a year had elapsed since the Coalition Government was formed. It was clear by this time that our enemy had been a great deal more successful in repairing the consequences of his early failures at the battles of the Marne and Ypres than we and our allies had been in profiting by it. We might feel a legitimate pride in the achievements of our Fleet, in the annihilation of German overseas trade, and in the defeat of the first and second submarine campaigns against Allied and Neutral shipping. Every German possession outside Europe, except a portion of a single colony, had been taken from her. The Russians had won brilliant victories in the Caucasus. But against these successes we had to set the French losses at Verdun and a series of British disasters on an ascending scale-at Antwerp, at Gallipoli,