ectors, shouted that it had been accused
of pusillanimity. No one had any desire for war, only we really had (and
it was perfectly true) been talking gigantic nonsense of peace, and of
the everlastingness of the exchange of fruits for money, with angels
waving raw-groceries of Eden in joy of the commercial picture.
Therefore, to correct the excesses of that fit, we held the standing by
the Moslem, on behalf of the Mediterranean (and the Moslem is one of our
customers, bearing an excellent reputation for the payment of debts),
to be good, granting the necessity. We deplored the necessity. The Press
wept over it. That, however, was not the politic tone for us while the
Imperial berg of Polar ice watched us keenly; and the Press proceeded
to remind us that we had once been bull-dogs. Was there not an animal
within us having a right to a turn now and then? And was it not
(Falstaff, on a calm world, was quoted) for the benefit of our
constitutions now and then to loosen the animal? Granting the necessity,
of course. By dint of incessantly speaking of the necessity we granted
it unknowingly. The lighter hearts regarded our period of monotonously
lyrical prosperity as a man sensible of fresh morning air looks back on
the snoring bolster. Many of the graver were glad of a change. After all
that maundering over the blessed peace which brings the raisin and the
currant for the pudding, and shuts up the cannon with a sheep's head, it
became a principle of popular taste to descant on the vivifying virtues
of war; even as, after ten months of money-mongering in smoky London,
the citizen hails the sea-breeze and an immersion in unruly brine,
despite the cost, that breeze and brine may make a man of him, according
to the doctor's prescription: sweet is home, but health is sweeter!
Then was there another curious exhibition of us. Gentlemen, to the
exact number of the Graces, dressed in drab of an ancient cut, made a
pilgrimage to the icy despot, and besought him to give way for Piety's
sake. He, courteous, colossal, and immoveable, waved them homeward. They
returned and were hooted for belying the bellicose by their mission, and
interpreting too well the peaceful. They were the unparalyzed Ministers
of the occasion, but helpless.

And now came war, the purifier and the pestilence.

The cry of the English people for war was pretty general, as far as the
criers went. They put on their Sabbath face concerning the declaration
of war, and