BRITAIN IN WARTIME

Waikato Times, Volume 127, Issue 21206, 31 August 1940, Page 11 (Supplement)

BRITAIN IN WARTIME

UNITY OF SELFLESSNESS :: INCREDIBLE CHANGES

(An English Woman in Christian Science Monitor)

JJERE IN ENGLAND no one has time to be tired, and men I know who had retired into a life of simple, gentle, comfort in the country, but who have taken up some form of work, several out with the mine-sweepers, knowing little rest day or night, say they have never felt better in their lives. The whole country seems caught up into a great unity of selflessness. Of course, there are exceptions—the usual grumblers, opposers and pacifists (I have a great reverence for the truly spiritual ones), and there are tremendous difficulties to be overcome in mobilising a whole country materially, physically and spiritually, to gather itself together for a great final effort. . . . One feels here that we are living and sharing in the most stupendous revolution in all of history. That which is evil in men’s lives, evil for the world, enslaving in every way, has come bumingly up to the surface like an erupting volcano, and that is well, for it must not only be stemmed or stayed, but vanquished for good and all, for the good of all. It is like some great civil war for the liberation of mankind from the quagmire into which it is sinking—a kind of materialistic lethargy, full of fears and intense ambitions, and little vainglorious narrow nationalisms. Behind the voices of our wisest and greatest men we hear the Music of a Great Determination, to resolve it all into some majestic harmony, some great concord of nations, whose ideal will not be trade or martial supremacy or petty safety, or economic ascendancy and the controlling dream of ceaseless money-making. ... Out of it all, too, will come the greatest good for individuals that we have yet known, for it has revealed something magnificent, not only in a few, but in all; a kind of new ardour in every face, young and old, and a great quiet, a gentle and considerate serenity. It is greater than all the reports, the essays, the books, the explanations, the talks, the rumours, the divisions, the partisanships; for it bears the look of complete and assured certitude, which is the thing that gives fearless strength to every conscience. One feels the unity of high hearts in flight, and all that poetic splendour which has produced in poetry itself the unbroken tradition of a people, whose natural speech almost is poetry, and whose thinking and actions are so full of the quality of great laughter and happiness. We may have fogs and mists and all kinds of disturbances and criticisms and arguments, but at heart it still is “Merry England,” and somehow, because I have been so “international” all my life, I see this little island with a long perspective. No country can be truly merry unless its heart is at peace, its purpose sure, and its spiritual convictions above any creed or ritual or restricted form. I feel these gifts pouring out on me every day, and that is why I must sing for you this paean of gratitude to this little country where I found birth, and from where I set sail over forty-three years ago, to your country, which also is so Bathed in the Splendour of Human Ideals, love of liberty, and spiritual convictions, and horror of hate and bitterness and cruelty. . . . The days speed by, and we are of necessity ever more and more busy, doing the things that are most helpful in the way of making and sending comforts for the men on unceasing vigil on both sea and land, and taking care of those needing help who are with us. . . . I can look back and look forward, for it is as if 1 were on a very quick journey, looking out at so much beauty and heroism, far surmounting any pain and horror and anguish we know must be dispelled, and that the world will dispel. “All is well” in spite of all the dark nightmare we have been forced to face and look squarely at. Outwardly life goes on much the same as it did two months ago, yet we are living in a completely changed England, in a rapidly changing world. Incredible things happen each day and we are all accustomed to the new

work for every hand; to the country places filled with the evacuated children and those demanding attention; to gas masks and air-raid warnings, shelters and sandbags, anti-aircraft guns, the sound down here of far-ofl gun fire and cannonading and explosions; to the complete black-out that hides this little island as if it were almost an uninhabitated world, So Dense, So Dark and So Silent are the nights except for the great searchlights that sweep the sky in magnificent arching splendour at certain times. Down here, as we are right on the coast, they are especially watchful and powerful. England has made a mighty effort and as always, when there is the need and call, one that beggars description. Without pressure and without tyranny, it has all taken place. A mobilised country, within a few short months an army, and an army of helpers here at home—men, women and young people, in every branch of helpful, protective work. I have friends who, a few short weeks ago, were piano-playing or acting, writing or typing, or just beings of happy leisure, now either in the A.R.P., doing telephone work, car driving, land work, cooking, nursing, or any of a thousand and one things to keep a country going with two millions overseas, an increased navy, coast and sea and land patrols, and all the supplies and help needed for what may be a long, long war ! Never in our history have we been led by so many good, humane, and peace-loving men. They all abhor war but that does not mean that they are not now quite aware that force of such a ruthless kind, with such a fanatical creed of world domination, can only be met by a mightier force. Yet we know, too, that even a mightier force would not bring the victory and the liberation for all that we crave if we had not undivided unity, binding all political parties into One Determined and Harmonious Whole. In that is our strength, that and the spirit behind the whole nation, which would have to be seen and felt to be understood. Of course, as yet no one knows what will happen; one lives each hour under a certain suspense, which is purely physical, for there is great calm and quiet in everyone. But we do know that numbers are not the final word in war any more than in any other process. One great artist is worth more than fifty supers, and 1 have heard a chorus of twenty sing more gloriously and fully than a poor one of fifty. Quality, not quantity—the free spirit in face of how many robots—is the answer. Of course, if Hitler and his Government decide to loose their enormous forces in the air, under the sea, and on the land, we are all fully awake to what will happen. . . . Not a day passes that we do not realise more and more what it is that we are combatting. And that is why all over this country, so mobilised and yet so unmilitary, we find an atmosphere of good will, of something both cheerful and gentle. You, who do not know England, and have never seen the tender, brooding loveliness of this small island, either enveloped in her soft autumn mists or the bloom of her unparalleled spring, can hardly imagine what I mean. When it steals into the consciousness of an American or a foreigner it Leaves an Indelible Impression, such as do the poems of Keats or Shelley, or that long unbroken line of poets who carry the torch of the particular genius of this country. When one reads of the great wrongs still to be righted—of poverty, and innumerable distress of unemployment and bad housing, either here or in America—the heart sinks. But these things are acknowledged and faced and discussed by a free neople, in free speech, I am grateful to say. But behind and above and around all these still existing evils lies an indomitable attitude that is by far the most important quality of British thinking in the crisis that confronts us.