money, because it is only _a debt of commerce_. Could there be a
more ghastly parody on the word honour?

Yet once more--the lack of seriousness. By seriousness we do not mean
gloominess, nor withdrawal from society, or anything of the kind. We
mean the flippant attitude towards life, the lack of serious, sustained
interest in literature, in music, in art, in the legitimate drama;
witness the theatres being turned into cinema shows, and the terrible
paucity of sound, strong plays. Everything must be scrappy, light, and
if a little (or more than a little) risky, so much the better.

We do not for a moment say that these evils are universal, God forbid,
but none can deny that they have eaten deep into a large part of
society, using the word in its broadest, not in its technical sense.

The soul of the nation needed discipline, and it has come suddenly,
sharply, but, who shall dare to say, not mercifully?

And even in its very coming it brought a tremendous opportunity, for we
were not compelled to make war, notice that!

We had an option. The temptation was subtle. You have no concern with
Servia, throw over Belgium, let France take care of itself.

For a time, probably a very short time, we should have avoided war and
its horrors. The bait was held out by some peddling politicians that we
should have stood in a magnificent position to obtain trade, to control
markets, to dictate prices to the rest of the world. Magnificent
prospect! We went to war, and, by a strange paradox, secured peace with
honour: peace of the national conscience. Had we forsaken Belgium we