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From News of the Week, The Spectator, 12 December 1914: The week has been a week of good news. Last in order but first in importance comes the naval victory off the Falkland Islands. No summary of this news can better the Admiralty’s own report, which is splendid in its terseness and reticence:— “At 7.30 a.m. on December 8th, the Scharnhorst,‘Gneisenau,’ ‘Nürnberg,’ ‘Leipzig,‘ and ‘Dresden’ were sighted near the Falkland Islands by a British Squadron under Vice-Admiral Sir Frederick Sturdee. An action followed, in the course of which the ‘Scharnhorst,’ flying the flag of Admiral Graf von Spee, the ‘Gneisenau,’ and the ‘Leipzig’ were sunk. The ‘Dresden’ and the `Nurnberg’

From The Policy of Mystification, The Spectator, 5 December 1914: Let us say that we have not ourselves suffered from the Censorship at all. We have never submitted, and have never been asked to submit, any article to the Press Bureau. Such censorship as has been exercised in our columns has been the purely voluntary censorship which is exercised at all times, whether in war or in peace, by every editor who has any sense of public duty, and that remark, we believe, applies to the whole British Press, daily and weekly. We have, of course, constantly asked ourselves whether it would be wise on general grounds to make this

From News of the Week, The Spectator, 5 December 1914: Friday’s Times contains extracts from an interview with Lord Kitchener, published in the Saturday Evening Post— a weekly newspaper with a large circulation in all parts of the United States. Nothing could be better than the passage in which Lord Kitchener dealt with the action of the Germans in Belgium :— “War has its ethics; but if ever a soldier is to become judge of the behaviour of the civil population of a hostile country, if he is to be not only judge and jury, but the inflicter of punishment, why, then, to my conception, he loses his proper ordained functions as

From The Waste of War, The Spectator, 5 December 1914: The destruction which the Germans have wrought in the towns and villages they have occupied is a net loss to the world. Before the war began these aspects of war had impressed the minds of many writers even more than now appears to be justifiable. We had, for example, the famous book of the Russian writer M. Jean Bloch, who, at the end of the nineteenth century, demonstrated to his own satisfaction that a European war would not take place, because it would involve such wholesale destruction and such a universal increase of prices that normal human life would become

From The Spectator, 28 November 1914: Professional football is something worse than an excuse for young men who refuse to do their duty. It is actually an incentive to them to continue their lives in the ignoble ordinary way, because the very continuance of the games suggests that everything is going on as usual. In the midst of the clamour of a popular match, when nothing seems more important than that Jones should have dashed his way through the opposing backs, or that Smith should have “saved” by a miraculous feat of agility, or that one rich and powerful club should be whispered to be intriguing to buy that wonderful

From The Spectator, 28 November 1914: If the press is to be muzzled, why do not the muzzling laws hold good in Ireland? It is against all common-sense to place Ireland in a privileged position — to give roving licences to any Irishmen who care to kill recruiting. Men have been arrested in England for spreading foolish false reports, which were not very much worse than the gossip of idiots. Why have the deliberate, callous preachers of sedition been allowed for so long to go untouched in Ireland?

From The Spectator, 28 November 1914: After discipline and rifle shooting comes entrenching. We suggest, as a practical proposal, that every corps should practise its men at least once a week in trench digging. There ought to be no difficulty even in towns in inducing some patriotic man to lend them a piece of ground for the purpose. Further, in every district two or three model trenches should be prepared under expert direction. Trenches are not very difficult things to dig, but there are right ways and wrong ways of constructing them, and one practical example which can be inspected and copied is worth a hundred directions on paper. Spade-work

From The Spectator, 21 November 1914: Both at home and abroad this war has already caused us to wonder whether we wake or dream, so different in many respects are the events from the anticipations. To begin with, there is a matter in which the Spectator has a particular reason for being sensible of the topsy-turviness of the war—the treatment of the voluntary and compulsory principles. We have written on this subject in another article, but may allow ourselves to dwell again on the paradox. For years we have been preaching the necessity of compulsory military training, and here we are to-day exhausting every expedient and ransacking our imagination in

From The Spectator, 21 November 1914: The papers of Tuesday and Wednesday contained two exceptionally interesting despatches from an eyewitness at Sir John French’s headquarters. These descriptive narratives have improved remarkably in value since the beginning of the war—a fact which does not seem to be in the least appreciated by some newspapers. The despatch of Wednesday described the operations from November 4th to 9th. During that period the Germans nowhere made an attack comparable with their attack on Ypres at the end of October. Their object seemed to be to wear out the British troops by incessant bombardment. Every attack or demonstration by German infantry resulted in great losses.

From The Spectator, 21 November 1914: We are glad to learn that the laudable persistence of the Prince of Wales has been rewarded, and that he has been allowed to go to the front, where he is now an A.D.C. to Sir John French. We can well believe the statement that the Prince is at the present moment the happiest young man in the world. He has got his way, and it is the way of honour, but it would have been a bad example if he had been allowed to go a day before his military superiors reported him sufficiently trained to take his place at the front.

From The Spectator, 21 November 1914: If nations obtain the Governments that they deserve, it may be hoped that they do not always deserve their postage-stamps. If that were so, we should be a less deserving nation than we were in the twenty or thirty years which followed the introduction of “adhesive labels” in 1840, when we had some of the finest stamps that have ever been issued. The black penny, the red penny, and, above all, the blue twopenny stamps of 1840 to 1880 have never been surpassed for strength of colour and simplicity of design. When 1880 brought the brick-red penny, and 1881 began a pale procession of

From The Spectator, 21 November 1914: WE record with deep regret the death of Lord Roberts, which occurred last Saturday evening at Sir John French’s headquarters. Lord Roberts had gone to France specially to visit the Indian troops, of whom he was Colonel-in-Chief. He caught cold on Thursday week, and his heart was not strong enough to resist the attack of pneumonia -which followed. We have written elsewhere of Lord Roberts’s brilliant career, and of his great example not only as a soldier but as a man. We may add here that the Times of Monday published a letter in which M. Gaston Dru, a French correspondent, stated that, in

From The Spectator, 21 November 1914: Though we realize how terrible is the strain on our Army in Flanders, we are, of course, well aware that General French and Lord Kitchener are fully conscious of what is going on, and are taking all the measures necessary to provide the requisite reliefs, and to strengthen the line at any places where it is really threadbare. Though the strain and distress in the trenches, and the weariness of the men owing to want of sleep caused by almost continuous fighting, may be very great, and may call loudly for relief, from the higher military point of view there may be no danger.

From The Spectator, 14 November 1914: THACKERAY dealt a blow at domestic service which it has never quite recovered. He made it ridiculous. It was the one bad turn that he did to English society. The litera- ture of his day reflected his point of view. Servants did not then read novels—they were 31s. 6d. each—neither did they belong to lending libraries. The derisive smiles of their employers were hardly understood by them. By now the employer has forgotten that he ever laughed, though it is impossible to deny that some very faint aroma of ridicule still clings to his mind in connexion with the thought of domestic service, at

From The Spectator, 14 November 1914: We must make no attempt to conceal the terrible character of our losses. It is true that the German losses have been probably twice, or possibly even three times, as heavy, but that does not make our own losses the less awful. That we shall be able to make them good is no doubt true, but, unfortunately, we have not an inexhaustible human reservoir to draw upon, or, at any rate, not yet. Here, in fact, as in every other direction, we are brought back to the imperative need of more men. Here is the essential, and on this the nation must fix its