incompatible. Gradually the dilemma ceased to trouble the minds of
Christians as the needs of the State and citizenship of this world were
recognized. After some centuries the Church not only approved of war,
but herself became one of the most powerful instigators to military
conquest. The Crusades and the ceaseless wars of religious intolerance
became "holy" as the spiritual objection to bloodshed receded before the
triumphant demands of primitive passions.

Now, as heretofore, we have episcopal reminders of the blessings of war.
"May it not be," wrote the Bishop of London soon after the outbreak of
the war in 1914, "that this cup of hardship which we drink together will
turn out to be the very draught which we need? Has there not crept a
softness over the nation, a passion for amusement, a love of luxury
among the rich, and of mere physical comfort among the middle class?"

He leaves the questions unanswered, and incidentally omits to dwell on
the shortcomings of the poor in the direction of softness and luxury. He
continues:

Not such was the nation which made the Empire, which crushed the
Armada, which braved hardships of old, and drove English hearts
of oak seaward round the world. We believe the old spirit is here
just the same, but it needed a purifying, cleansing draught to
bring it back to its old strength and purity again, and for that
second reason the cup which our Father has given us, shall we not
drink it?

Much has been said in justification of this view of war from the
biological point of view. Prussian militarists are experts in the
exposition of similar theories. But from the Christian point of view the
complacency with which the world-tragedy is put down as a "purifying,
cleansing draught" is somewhat disconcerting. Dean Inge, writing in the
_Quest_ in the autumn of 1914, shows himself to be a disciple of the
same school:

We see the fruits of secularism or materialism in social
disintegration, in the voluntary sterility and timorous
acquisitiveness of the prosperous, and in the recklessness
and bitterness of the lower strata. A godless civilization is
a disease of which nations die by inches. I hope that this
visitation has come just in time to save us. Experience is a
good school, but its fees are terribly high!

Were we, then, really so bad that "this visitation" was needed to save
us from voluntary sterility (by imposing compulsory?)