It is remarkable how dominant is this disposition to get a phrase, a word, a simple recipe, for an undertaking so vast in reality that for all the rest of our lives a large part of the activities of us, forty million people, will be devoted to its partial accomplishment.  In the presence of very great issues people become impatient and irritated, as they would not allow themselves to be irritated by far more limited problems.  Nobody in his senses expects a panacea for the comparatively simple and trivial business of playing chess.  Nobody wants to be told to “rely wholly upon your pawns,” or “never, never move your rook”; nobody clamours “give me a third knight and all will be well”; but that is exactly what everybody seems to be doing in our present discussion And as another aspect of the same impatience, I note the disposition to clamour against all sorts of necessary processes in the development of a civilisation.  For example, I read over and over again of the failure of representative government, and in nine cases out of ten I find that this amounts to a cry against any sort of representative government.  It is perfectly true that our representative institutions do not work well and need a vigorous overhauling, but while I find scarcely any support for such a revision, the air is full of vague dangerous demands for aristocracy, for oligarchy, for autocracy.  It is like a man who jumps out of his automobile because he has burst a tyre, refuses a proffered Stepney, and bawls passionately for anything—­for a four-wheeler, or a donkey, as long as he can be free from that exploded mechanism.  There are evidently quite a considerable number of people in this country who would welcome a tyrant at the present time, a strong, silent, cruel, imprisoning, executing, melodramatic sort of person, who would somehow manage everything while they went on—­being silly.  I find that form of impatience cropping up everywhere.  I hear echoes of Mr. Blatchford’s “Wanted, a Man,” and we may yet see a General Boulanger prancing in our streets.  There never was a more foolish cry.  It is not a man we want, but just exactly as many million men as there are in Great Britain at the present time, and it is you, the reader, and I, and the rest of us who must together go on with the perennial task of saving the country by firstly, doing our own jobs just as well as ever we can, and secondly—­and this is really just as important as firstly—­doing our utmost to grasp our national purpose, doing our utmost, that is, to develop and carry out our National Plan.  It is Everyman who must be the saviour of the State in a modern community; we cannot shift our share in the burthen; and here again, I think, is something that may well be underlined and emphasised.  At present our “secondly” is unduly subordinated to our “firstly”; our game is better individually than collectively; we are like a football team that passes badly, and our need is not nearly so much to change the players as to broaden their style.  And this brings me, in a spirit entirely antagonistic, up against Mr. Galsworthy’s suggestion of an autocratic revolution in the methods of our public schools.