The Major [147]
to come those tales of unbelievable atrocities that were to shock the world into horrified amazement. These tales read in the Canadian papers clutched men's throats and gripped men's hearts as with cruel fingers of steel. Canadians were beginning to see red. The blood of Belgium's murdered victims was indeed to prove throughout Canada and throughout the world the seed of mighty armies.
At the end of the second week Jane could refrain no longer. She wrote to Larry.
CHAPTER XXIII
A NEUTRAL NATION
The first days of the war were for Larry days of dazed bewilderment and of ever-deepening misery. The thing which he had believed impossible had come. That great people upon whose generous ideals and liberal Christian culture he had grounded a sure hope of permanent peace had flung to the winds all the wisdom, and all justice, and all the humanity which the centuries had garnered for them, and, following the primal instincts of the brute, had hurled forth upon the world ruthless war. Even the great political party of the Social Democrats upon which he had relied to make war impossible had without protest or division proclaimed enthusiastic allegiance to the war programme of the Kaiser. The universities and the churches, with their preachers and professors, had led the people in mad acclaim of war. His whole thinking on the subject had been proved wrong. Passionately he had hoped against hope that Britain would not allow herself to enter the war, but apparently her struggle for peace had been in vain. His first feeling was one of bitter disappointment and of indignation with the great leaders of the British people who had allowed themselves to become involved in a Mid-European quarrel. Sir Edward Grey's calm, moderate--sub- moderate, indeed--exposition of the causes which had forced Britain into war did much to cool his indignation, and Bethmann-Hollweg's cynical explanation of the violation of Belgium's neutrality went far to justify Britain's action consequent upon that outraging of treaty faith. The deliberate initiation of the policy of "frightfulness" which had heaped such unspeakable horrors upon the Belgian people tore the veil from the face of German militarism and revealed in its sheer brutality the ruthlessness and lawlessness of that monstrous system.
From the day of Austria's ultimatum to Servia Larry began to read everything he could find dealing with modern European history, and especially German history. Day and night he studied with feverish intensity the diplomacy and policies of the great powers of Europe till at length he came to a somewhat clear understanding of the modern theory and world policy of the German state which had made war inevitable. But, though his study made it possible for him to relieve his country from the charge of guilt in this war, his anxiety and his misery remained. For one thing, he was oppressed with an overwhelming loneliness. He began to feel that he was dwelling among an alien people. He had made many and close friends during the months of his stay in Chicago. But while they were quick to offer him sympathy in his anxiety and misery, he could not fail to observe on every hand the obvious and necessary indications of the neutral spirit. He could expect nothing else. In this conflict America had decided that she was not immediately concerned and she was resolute to remain unconcerned. A leading representative of the Chicago press urged Americans to be careful not to "rock the boat." The President of the United States counselled his people "to keep calm" and to observe the strictest neutrality. Larry discovered, too, an unconfessed, almost unconscious desire in the heart of many an American, a relic of Revolutionary days, to see England not destroyed or even seriously disabled, but, say, "well trimmed." It would do her good. There was, beside, a large element in the city distinctly and definitely pro-German and intensely hostile to Great Britain. On his way to the office one afternoon Larry found himself held up by a long procession of young
At the end of the second week Jane could refrain no longer. She wrote to Larry.
CHAPTER XXIII
A NEUTRAL NATION
The first days of the war were for Larry days of dazed bewilderment and of ever-deepening misery. The thing which he had believed impossible had come. That great people upon whose generous ideals and liberal Christian culture he had grounded a sure hope of permanent peace had flung to the winds all the wisdom, and all justice, and all the humanity which the centuries had garnered for them, and, following the primal instincts of the brute, had hurled forth upon the world ruthless war. Even the great political party of the Social Democrats upon which he had relied to make war impossible had without protest or division proclaimed enthusiastic allegiance to the war programme of the Kaiser. The universities and the churches, with their preachers and professors, had led the people in mad acclaim of war. His whole thinking on the subject had been proved wrong. Passionately he had hoped against hope that Britain would not allow herself to enter the war, but apparently her struggle for peace had been in vain. His first feeling was one of bitter disappointment and of indignation with the great leaders of the British people who had allowed themselves to become involved in a Mid-European quarrel. Sir Edward Grey's calm, moderate--sub- moderate, indeed--exposition of the causes which had forced Britain into war did much to cool his indignation, and Bethmann-Hollweg's cynical explanation of the violation of Belgium's neutrality went far to justify Britain's action consequent upon that outraging of treaty faith. The deliberate initiation of the policy of "frightfulness" which had heaped such unspeakable horrors upon the Belgian people tore the veil from the face of German militarism and revealed in its sheer brutality the ruthlessness and lawlessness of that monstrous system.
From the day of Austria's ultimatum to Servia Larry began to read everything he could find dealing with modern European history, and especially German history. Day and night he studied with feverish intensity the diplomacy and policies of the great powers of Europe till at length he came to a somewhat clear understanding of the modern theory and world policy of the German state which had made war inevitable. But, though his study made it possible for him to relieve his country from the charge of guilt in this war, his anxiety and his misery remained. For one thing, he was oppressed with an overwhelming loneliness. He began to feel that he was dwelling among an alien people. He had made many and close friends during the months of his stay in Chicago. But while they were quick to offer him sympathy in his anxiety and misery, he could not fail to observe on every hand the obvious and necessary indications of the neutral spirit. He could expect nothing else. In this conflict America had decided that she was not immediately concerned and she was resolute to remain unconcerned. A leading representative of the Chicago press urged Americans to be careful not to "rock the boat." The President of the United States counselled his people "to keep calm" and to observe the strictest neutrality. Larry discovered, too, an unconfessed, almost unconscious desire in the heart of many an American, a relic of Revolutionary days, to see England not destroyed or even seriously disabled, but, say, "well trimmed." It would do her good. There was, beside, a large element in the city distinctly and definitely pro-German and intensely hostile to Great Britain. On his way to the office one afternoon Larry found himself held up by a long procession of young