PUBLIC SCHOOLS AND THE WAR

Now all the youth of England are on fire.
SHAKESPEARE: “HENRY V.”

To The Alleynian for October, 1914, Paul contributed an editorial article on the War that had then begun to rage in its destructive fury. Taking the view that “this war had to come sooner or later,” he wrote:

When one nation has a world-wide Empire embracing a fifth of the globe, founded on principles of absolute liberty for all whom it contains, and when another, built up by the force of circumstances on a basis of military despotism, also aspires to a different sort of world-power, and challenges the first nation, whose principles it abhors as much as its own are abhorred in these circumstances it is hopeless to talk of reconciliation till one or the other is down. Actually, Germany’s monstrous conduct in violating the neutrality of a small, industrious and inoffensive Power a neutrality to which, be it marked, Germany was as much a partner as England or France has put her hopelessly in the wrong with the civilised world. But that does not alter the fact that the War is primarily one for political existence. Either the despotism of Potsdam or the constitutional government of Westminster must survive. We, more even than Russia or France, are fighting for our very existence.

Things are, indeed, very favourable to us and to our Allies. Through the brutal but clumsy blundering of Prussian diplomats, Europe has been long awaiting the conflagration; every move in the game has been brought out long ago. Besides, Germany undoubtedly counted on our domestic troubles and our pacific tendencies to keep us out of this conflict. They imagined France could easily be wiped out while Russia’s vast bulk was slowly mobilising, and that the Russians would then be held up by the victorious legions pouring back from Paris. Then in, say, ten years they would turn on England and wipe her from the map. Our entrance into the War now has not only braced the whole moral fibre of France, Russia, Belgium and Serbia, but has strangled German commerce and held up her food supply by means of our command of the seas. Thus all the enemy plans have been thrown into confusion. We would be indeed foolish if we did not realise our position what it means to ourselves, to Europe, and to the world. Having won the toss on a hard wicket, we are not going to put Germany in. We must fight to the death. The law is “Eat or be eaten.”

In these circumstances we call on Dulwich College to realise its duties to the State. Nothing not work nor games must be allowed to stand before the Corps till the War is over. Special drills and parades, extra route marches, all these must be and ought to be looked forward to cheerfully and willingly. The splendid number of recruits shows that the school is not going to fail in its duty here. We are not going to indulge in theories and jingo-patriotism, but call on you with deadly seriousness the British Empire, the British principles of liberty, all are at stake. If we go down now we go down for ever. Germany is said to have called up every male between the ages of fifteen and sixty. If they can do that, surely we ought to be able to reply. Let that voluntary system which is the glory of our armies and navies carry us through now! We call on every one in the School to join the Corps at once.

Nothing was finer in the first months of the War than the rally of the manhood of Great Britain to the call of the country in its time of need. All classes, rich and poor, patrician and peasant, employer and workman, were uplifted by the great occasion. Through the influence of patriotism, the recognition by all sorts and conditions of our people of the honourable obligation of fidelity to the pledged word of Britain, combined with a chivalric desire to champion the cause of weak, unoffending Belgium against the Teutonic bully there was released in this country a flood of noble idealism and pure emotion, the memory of which those who lived during that spiritual awakening will never forget. No section of the community rose more finely to the height of the occasion than the athletes and scholars from our public schools and universities. Nobly did they respond to the call voiced by one of their number, R. E. Vernede (an old Pauline, now sleeping in a soldier’s grave in France):

Lad, with the merry smile and the eyes
Quick as the hawk’s and clear as the day;
You, who have counted the game the prize,
Here is the game of games to play.
Never a goal the captains say
Matches the one that’s needed now;
Put the old blazer and cap away
England’s colours await your brow.

Man, with the square-set jaws and chin,
Always, it seems, you have moved to your end
Sure of yourself, intent to win
Fame and wealth and the power to bend.
All that you’ve made you’re called to spend
All that you’ve sought you’re asked to miss
What’s ambition compared with this:
That a man lay down his life for his friend?

Exulting in the response of the athletes, Paul Jones found his faith in the value of games confirmed by this memorable rally to the Flag. His last contribution to The Alleynian was inspired by it. Shortly after he joined the Army he wrote to the magazine a letter (published anonymously in May, 1915) under the caption “Flannelled Fools and Muddied Oafs.” In this contribution he sings a pæan in praise of the amateur athlete. After reminding his readers of pre-War denunciations of “the curse of athletics,” he asks, “What of athletics now?”

At present, we see that the poor, despised athlete or sportsman call him what you will is coming to the front, practically and metaphorically, in a way which makes one wonder if, for the higher purposes of duty, athletics are not really the very best of all systems of training. When we look at the matter in the broadest light, the explanation shines forth clearly. All learning and all business are in the end simply and solely selfish. For example, you work hard for a scholarship at Oxford or Cambridge why? So that you can obtain for yourself (underline these words, Mr. Printer, please!) the advantages of ’Varsity life and culture, and to the ultimate end that you may be better fitted to make your own way in life. Of course, this is necessary, but life is always very sordid in its details, and the more civilised we become, the more apparent is that sordidity. In fact, it is only on our amateur playing-fields that we become really unselfish. For here we play for a team or a side; and for the success of that side which success, by the way, is in no sense material or selfish we are prepared to take all sorts of pains, to scorn delights and live laborious days. It is the clearest manifestation of the simple, unsophisticated man coming to the front and tearing aside for a brief moment the cloud of materialism with which civilisation has been enveloping him.

Nothing but athletics has succeeded in doing this sort of work in England. Religion has failed, intellect has failed, art has failed, science has failed. It is clear why: because each of these has laid emphasis on man’s selfish side; the saving of his own soul, the cultivation of his own mind, the pleasing of his own senses. But your sportsman joins the Colours because in his games he has felt the real spirit of unselfishness, and has become accustomed to give up all for a body to whose service he is sworn. Besides this, he has acquired the physical fitness necessary for a campaign. These facts explain the grand part played by sport in this War; they also explain why the amateur has done so enormously better than the professional.

“Let us therefore,” is his injunction, “take off our hats to the amateur athlete, who is one of the brightest figures in England to-day. Let us indeed not forget that it is not in any sense only the athletes who have gone, but let us remember that in proportion no class of men has seen its duty so clearly, and done it so promptly, in the present crisis. We suggest that this War has shown the training of the playing-fields of the Public Schools and the ’Varsities to be quite as good as that of the class-rooms; nay, as good? Why, far better, if training for the path of Duty is the ideal end of education.”

Here, as always, Paul distinguished between the amateur athlete and the professional athlete. For the latter his scorn was unmitigated, and he could not endure Association football with its paid players. He also loathed the betting element that defiled the Soccer game.

This letter was his last contribution to The Alleynian. Its strictures are far too sweeping; it has the dogmatism and the note of certitude to which youth is prone. But it is animated by a fine spirit. Very characteristic is the emphasis placed in it on the ideas of duty and unselfishness. The passion for sacrifice was in his blood.