It was not marked upon the Observer’s map, and Hugh ran into the house for the atlas.
When he returned Mr. Manning was with his father, and they both looked grave.
Hugh opened the map of northern France. “Here it is,” he said.
Mr. Britling considered the position.
“Manning says they are at Rouen,” he told Hugh. “Our base is to be moved round to La Rochelle. …”
He paused before the last distasteful conclusion.
“Practically,” he admitted, taking his dose, “they have got Paris. It is almost surrounded now.”
He sat down to the map. Mr. Manning and Hugh stood regarding him. He made a last effort to imagine some tremendous strategic reversal, some stone from an unexpected sling that should fell this Goliath in the midst of his triumph.
“Russia,” he said, without any genuine hope. …
§ 17
And then it was that Mr. Britling accepted the truth.
“One talks,” he said, “and then weeks and months later one learns the meaning of the things one has been saying. I was saying a month ago that this is the biggest thing that has happened in history. I said that this was the supreme call upon the will and resources of England. I said there was not a life in all our empire that would not be vitally changed by this war. I said all these things; they came through my mouth; I suppose there was a sort of thought behind them. … Only at this moment do I understand what it is that I said. Now—let me say it over as if I had never said it before; this is the biggest thing in history, that we are all called upon to do our utmost to resist this tremendous attack upon the peace and freedom of the world. Well, doing our utmost does not mean standing about in pleasant gardens waiting for the newspaper. … It means the abandonment of ease and security. …
“How lazy we English are nowadays! How readily we grasp the comforting delusion that excuses us from exertion. For the last three weeks I have been deliberately believing that a little British army—they say it is scarcely a hundred thousand men—would somehow break this rush of millions. But it has been driven back, as anyone not in love with easy dreams might have known it would be driven back—here and then here and then here. It has been fighting night and day. It has made the most splendid fight—and the most ineffectual fight. … You see the vast swing of the German flail through Belgium. And meanwhile we have been standing about talking of the use we would make of our victory. …
“We have been asleep,” he said. “This country has been asleep. …
“At the back of our minds,” he went on bitterly, “I suppose we thought the French would do the heavy work on land—while we stood by at sea. So far as we thought at all. We’re so temperate-minded; we’re so full of qualifications and discretions. … And so leisurely. … Well, France is down. We’ve got to fight for France now over the ruins of Paris. Because you and I, Manning, didn’t grasp the scale of it, because we indulged in generalisations when we ought to have been drilling and working. Because we’ve been doing ‘business as usual’ and all the rest of that sort of thing, while Western civilisation has been in its death agony. If this is to be another ’71, on a larger scale and against not merely France but all Europe, if Prussianism is to walk roughshod over civilisation, if France is to be crushed and Belgium murdered, then life is not worth having. Compared with such an issue as that no other issue, no other interest matters. Yet what are we doing to decide it—you and I? How can it end in anything but a German triumph if you and I, by the million, stand by. …”
He paused despairfully and stared at the map.
“What ought we to be doing?” asked Mr. Manning.
“Every man ought to be in training,” said Mr. Britling. “Everyone ought to be participating. … In some way. … At any rate we ought not to be taking our ease at Matching’s Easy any more. …”
§ 18
“It interrupts everything,” said Hugh suddenly. “These Prussians are the biggest nuisance the world has ever seen.”
He considered. “It’s like everyone having to run out because the house catches fire. But of course we have to beat them. It has to be done. And everyone has to take a share.
“Then we can get on with our work again.”
Mr. Britling turned his eyes to his eldest son with a startled expression. He had been speaking—generally. For the moment he had forgotten Hugh.
II
Taking Part
§ 1
There were now two chief things in the mind of Mr. Britling. One was a large and valiant thing, a thing of heroic and processional quality, the idea of taking up one’s share in the great conflict, of leaving the Dower House and its circle of habits and activities and going out—. From that point he wasn’t quite sure where he was to go, nor exactly what he meant to do. His imagination inclined to the figure of a volunteer in an improvised uniform inflicting great damage upon a raiding invader from behind a hedge. The uniform, one presumes, would have been something in the vein of the costume in which he met Mr. Direck. With a “brassard.” Or he thought of himself as working at a telephone or in an office engaged upon any useful quasi-administrative work that
