“Let a European war break out—­the war, perhaps, between the Triple Alliance and the Triple Entente, which so many journalists and politicians in England and Germany contemplate with criminal levity.  If the combatants prove to be equally balanced, it may, after the first battles, smoulder on for thirty years.  What will be the population of London, or Manchester, or Chemnitz, or Bremen, or Milan, at the end of it?” ("The Great Society,” by Graham Wallas.  June, 1914.)

     (Copyright, 1914, By The New York Times Company.)

The time has now come to pluck up courage and begin to talk and write soberly about the war.  At first the mere horror of it stunned the more thoughtful of us; and even now only those who are not in actual contact with or bereaved relation to its heartbreaking wreckage can think sanely about it, or endure to hear others discuss it coolly.  As to the thoughtless, well, not for a moment dare I suggest that for the first few weeks they were all scared out of their wits; for I know too well that the British civilian does not allow his perfect courage to be questioned; only experienced soldiers and foreigners are allowed the infirmity of fear.  But they certainly were—­shall I say a little upset?  They felt in that solemn hour that England was lost if only one single traitor in their midst let slip the truth about anything in the universe.  It was a perilous time for me.  I do not hold my tongue easily; and my inborn dramatic faculty and professional habit as a playwright prevent me from taking a one-sided view even when the most probable result of taking a many-sided one is prompt lynching.  Besides, until Home Rule emerges from its present suspended animation, I shall retain my Irish capacity for criticising England with something of the detachment of a foreigner, and perhaps with a certain slightly malicious taste for taking the conceit out of her.  Lord Kitchener made a mistake the other day in rebuking the Irish volunteers for not rallying faster to the defense of “their country.”  They do not regard it as their country yet.  He should have asked them to come forward as usual and help poor old England through a stiff fight.  Then it would have been all right.

Having thus frankly confessed my bias, which you can allow for as a rifleman allows for the wind, I give my views for what they are worth.  They will be of some use; because, however blinded I may be by prejudice or perversity, my prejudices in this matter are not those which blind the British patriot, and therefore I am fairly sure to see some things that have not yet struck him.