blockade—that was not a voluntary sacrifice. To take seriously the argument that such a war as we have just endured is good because people “know the nobility of self-sacrifice” is to imply that the upper class is the only class which counts.
Unquestionably, there came with the war a movement back to whatever religion the peoples of Armageddon have. But I could never feel, observing Europe during the war, that this was the highest and healthiest form of religion. With their sons in peril of death, their homes in peril of destruction, their nations in peril of extinction, people turned toward whatever God they had—to ask for something. Nor—again I speak from observation—did this special form of religion seem to survive the war.
And there was a strong back-current which censorships, both official and implied, prevented us from describing while the war was on. Whole classes of the European population threw off the ordinary moral restraints imposed by peace. The performances of a certain large and wealthy group were notorious; and once I spoke frankly on this matter to a woman of the class in question. “Oh, it’s eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die,” she said. “Our people are doing the things they’ve always wanted to do. Their inhibitions are off. They feel that nothing matters any more.”
At best, whatever moral force was loosed by the Great War seems to me an impermanent thing. It did not survive the Armistice. It became no part of
