When we come to nearer times, and more familiar events, the same necessity is upon us. What writer of artistic12 sense, or scientific honesty, would touch, for example, the history of modern Egypt without attempting to understand the character of such men as Gordon and3 Cromer, and the spirit which (however personal and diverse in its manifestations) they both drew from the nation that sent them forth13? Such an understanding would enable the narrator to carry us all with him. For every man of our national birth and breeding would feel, when he was told the story of such heroes, not only their superiority but their likeness15 to himself. ‘There,’ he would say, ‘but for lack of fortune, or opportunity, or courage, or stature16, there goes John Smith.’ It is admiration17 which helps us to feel that, and a mean spirit which conceals18 it from us.
Further, it is my belief that the historian who would deal adequately with our present War must have an even wider understanding and sympathy. He must have a broad enough view to recognise all the various motives19 which impelled20 us, section by section, to enter the struggle; and a deep enough insight to perceive that, below all motives which can be expressed or debated in words, there was an instinct—a spontaneous emotion—which irresistibly21 stirred the majority of our people, and made us a practically unanimous nation. He must be able to see that this unanimity22 was no freak—no sudden outburst—but the natural fulfilment of a strong and long-trained national character; and he must trace, with grateful admiration, the national service contributed by many diverse classes, and by a large number of distinguished23 men—the leaders and patterns of the rest. However scientific the historian’s judgments24, and however restrained his style, it must be impossible for any reader to miss the real point of the narrative25—the greatness of the free nations, and the nobility of their heroes. Belgians, Serbians, French, Italians, Americans—all must hear their great men4 honoured, and their corporate26 virtues27 generously recognised. We Britons, for our own part, must feel, at every mention of the names of our champions, the fine sting of the invisible fire with which true glory burns the heart. It must never be possible to read, without an uplifting of the spirit, the achievements of commanders like Smith-Dorrien, Haig, and Birdwood—Plumer and Rawlinson, Allenby and Byng, and Horne; or the fate of Cradock and Kitchener; or the sea-fights of Beatty and Sturdee, of Keyes and Tyrwhitt. It must be clear, from the beginning to the end of the vast record, that the British blood has equalled and surpassed its ancient fame—that in every rank the old virtues of courage, coolness, and endurance, of ordered energy and human kindliness29, have been, not the occasional distinction, but the common characteristics of our men. Look where you will on the scene of war, you must be shown ‘a theme of action treated in heroic proportions and style’—fit, at least, to indicate the greatness of the national spirit.
In this book our concern is with the war at sea, and with a part only of that gigantic effort. But of this part, every word that has been said holds good. The submarine and anti-submarine campaign is not a series of minor30 operations. Its history is not a mere episode among chapters of greater significance. On the contrary, the fate of Britain, and the fate of Germany, were speedily seen to be staked upon the issue of this particular contest, as they have been staked upon no other part of the world-wide struggle. The entrance of America into the fellowship of nations was involved in it. The future of civilisation31 depends upon it. Moreover, in its course the British seaman32 has shown himself5 possessed33, in the highest degree, of the qualities by which his forefathers34 conquered and kept our naval35 predominance; and finally, it is in the submarine war that we see most sharply the contrast of the spirit of chivalry36 with the spirit of savagery37; of the law of humanity with the lawlessness of brute39 force; of the possible redemption of social life with its irretrievable degradation40. It is a subject worthy41, thrice over, of treatment in a national epic.
The present book is not an epic—it is not a poetical work at all. Half of it is mere technical detail; and the rest plain fact plainly told. But it is far from my intention that the sense of admiration for national heroes, or the recognition of national greatness, shall be absent from it. I have used few epithets42; for they seemed to me needless and inadequate. The stories of the voyages and adventures of our own submarines, and of the fighting of our men against the pirates, need no heightening. They need only to be read and understood; and it is chiefly with a view to their better understanding, that the reader is offered a certain amount of comment and description in the earlier chapters. But a suggestion or two may be made here, at the very beginning, in the hope of starting a train of thought which may accompany the narrative with a whisper of historic continuity—a reminder43 that as with men, so with nations—none becomes utterly44 base on a sudden, or utterly heroic. Their vices45 and their virtues are the harvesting of their past.
Let us take a single virtue28, like courage, which is common to all nations but shows under a different form or colour in each, and so becomes a national characteristic, plainly visible in action. A historical6 study of British courage would, I believe, show two facts: first, that the peculiar46 quality of it has persisted for centuries; and, secondly47, that if our people have changed at all in this respect, they have only changed in the direction of greater uniformity. Once they had two kinds of courage in war; now they have but one, and that by far the better one. In the old days, among the cool and determined48 captains of our race, there were always a certain number of hot heads—‘men of courage without discipline, of enthusiasm without reason, of will without science.’ The best of them, like Sir Richard Grenville, had the luck to die conspicuously49, in their great moments, and so to leave us an example of the spirit that defies odds50, and sets men above the fear of death. The rest led their men into mad adventures, where they perished to the injury of their cause. Most Englishmen can understand the pure joy of onset51, the freedom of the moment when everything has been given for the hope of winning one objective; but it has been the more characteristic way of our people—at any rate for the last five centuries—to double courage with coolness, and fight not only their hardest but their best. From Cressy to Waterloo, and from Mons to Arras, we have won many battles by standing14 steadily52 and shooting the attack to pieces. Charges our men have made, but under discipline and in the nick of opportunity. The Black Prince charged fiercely at Poitiers; but it was only when he had broken three attacks, and saw his chance to win. The charge of the Worcesters at Gheluvelt, the charge of the Oxfords at Nonneboschen, and a hundred more like them, were as desperate as any ‘ride of death’; but they were neither reckless nor useless, they were7 simply the heroic move to win the game. Still more is this the rule at sea. Beatty at Jutland, like Nelson and Collingwood at Trafalgar, played an opening in which he personally risked annihilation; but nothing was ever done with greater coolness, or more admirable science. The perfect picture of all courage is, perhaps, a great British war-ship in action; for there you have, among a thousand men, one spirit of elation53, of fearlessness, of determination, backed by trained skill and a self-forgetful desire to apply it in the critical moment. The submarine, and the anti-submarine ship, trawler or patrol-boat are, on a smaller scale, equally perfect examples; for there is no hour of their cruise when they are not within call of the critical moment. In the trenches54, in the air, in the fleet, you will see the same steady skilful55 British courage almost universally exemplified. But in the submarine war, the discipline needed is even more absolute, the skill even more delicate, the ardour even more continuous and self-forgetful; and all these demands are even more completely fulfilled.
This is fortunate, and doubly fortunate; for the submarine war has proved to be the main battlefield of our spiritual crusade, as well as a vital military campaign. The men engaged in it have been marked out by fate, as our champions in the contest of ideals. They are the patterns and defenders56 of human nature in war, against those who preach and practise barbarism. Here—and nowhere else so clearly as here—the world has seen the death struggle between the two spirits now contending for the future of mankind. Between the old chivalry, and the new savagery, there can be no more truce57; one of the two must go under, and the8 barbarians59 knew it when they cried Weltmacht oder Niedergang. Of the spirit of the German nation it is not necessary to say much. Everything that could be charged against them has been already proved, by their own words and actions. They have sunk without warning women and children, doctors and nurses, neutrals and wounded men, not by tens or hundreds but by thousands. They have publicly rejoiced over these murders with medals and flags, with songs and school holidays. They have not only broken the rules of international law; they have with unparalleled cruelty, after sinking even neutral ships, shot and drowned the crews in open boats, that they might leave no trace of their crimes. The men who have done—and are still doing—these things have courage of a kind. They face danger and hardship to a certain point, though, by their own account, in the last extreme they fail to show the dignity and sanity60 with which our own men meet death. But their peculiar defect is not one of nerve, but of spirit. They lack that instinct which, with all civilised races, intervenes, even in the most violent moment of conflict or desperation, and reminds the combatant that there are blows which it is not lawful61 to strike in any circumstances whatever. This instinct—the religion of all chivalrous62 peoples—is connected by some with humanity, by some with courtesy, by ourselves with sport. In this matter we are all in the right. The savage38 in conflict thinks of nothing but his own violent will; the civilised and the chivalrous are always conscious of the fact that there are other rights in the world beside their own. The humane63 man forbears his enemy; the courteous64 man respects him, as one with rights like his own; the9 man with the instinct of sport knows that he must not snatch success by destroying the very game itself. The civilised nation will not hack65 its way to victory through the ruins of human life. It will be restrained, if by no other consideration, yet at least by the recollection that it is but one member of a human fellowship, and that the greatness of a part can never be achieved by the corruption66 of the whole.
The German nature is not only devoid67 of this instinct, it is roused to fury by the thought of it. Any act, however cruel and barbarous, if only it tends to defeat the enemies of Germany, is a good deed, a brave act, and to be commended. The German general who lays this down is supported by the German professor who adds: ‘The spontaneous and elementary hatred68 towards England is rooted in the deepest depths of our own being—there, where considerations of reason do not count, where the irrational69, the instinct, alone dominates. We hate in the English the hostile principle of our innermost and highest nature. And it is well that we are fully70 aware of this, because we touch therein the vital meaning of this War.’ Before the end comes, the barbarian58 will find this hostile principle, and will hate it, in the French, the Italians, the Americans—in the whole fellowship of nations against which he is fighting with savage fury. But, to our satisfaction, he has singled us out first; for, when we hear him, we too are conscious of a spontaneous hatred in the depths of our being; and we see that in this we do ‘touch the vital meaning of this War.’
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1 motive | |
n.动机,目的;adv.发动的,运动的 | |
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2 aboriginal | |
adj.(指动植物)土生的,原产地的,土著的 | |
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3 undertaking | |
n.保证,许诺,事业 | |
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4 animating | |
v.使有生气( animate的现在分词 );驱动;使栩栩如生地动作;赋予…以生命 | |
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5 inadequate | |
adj.(for,to)不充足的,不适当的 | |
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6 mere | |
adj.纯粹的;仅仅,只不过 | |
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7 entirely | |
ad.全部地,完整地;完全地,彻底地 | |
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8 poetical | |
adj.似诗人的;诗一般的;韵文的;富有诗意的 | |
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9 epic | |
n.史诗,叙事诗;adj.史诗般的,壮丽的 | |
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10 hardy | |
adj.勇敢的,果断的,吃苦的;耐寒的 | |
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11 distinctive | |
adj.特别的,有特色的,与众不同的 | |
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12 artistic | |
adj.艺术(家)的,美术(家)的;善于艺术创作的 | |
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13 forth | |
adv.向前;向外,往外 | |
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14 standing | |
n.持续,地位;adj.永久的,不动的,直立的,不流动的 | |
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15 likeness | |
n.相像,相似(之处) | |
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16 stature | |
n.(高度)水平,(高度)境界,身高,身材 | |
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17 admiration | |
n.钦佩,赞美,羡慕 | |
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18 conceals | |
v.隐藏,隐瞒,遮住( conceal的第三人称单数 ) | |
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19 motives | |
n.动机,目的( motive的名词复数 ) | |
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20 impelled | |
v.推动、推进或敦促某人做某事( impel的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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21 irresistibly | |
adv.无法抵抗地,不能自持地;极为诱惑人地 | |
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22 unanimity | |
n.全体一致,一致同意 | |
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23 distinguished | |
adj.卓越的,杰出的,著名的 | |
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24 judgments | |
判断( judgment的名词复数 ); 鉴定; 评价; 审判 | |
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25 narrative | |
n.叙述,故事;adj.叙事的,故事体的 | |
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26 corporate | |
adj.共同的,全体的;公司的,企业的 | |
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27 virtues | |
美德( virtue的名词复数 ); 德行; 优点; 长处 | |
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28 virtue | |
n.德行,美德;贞操;优点;功效,效力 | |
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29 kindliness | |
n.厚道,亲切,友好的行为 | |
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30 minor | |
adj.较小(少)的,较次要的;n.辅修学科;vi.辅修 | |
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31 civilisation | |
n.文明,文化,开化,教化 | |
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32 seaman | |
n.海员,水手,水兵 | |
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33 possessed | |
adj.疯狂的;拥有的,占有的 | |
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34 forefathers | |
n.祖先,先人;祖先,祖宗( forefather的名词复数 );列祖列宗;前人 | |
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35 naval | |
adj.海军的,军舰的,船的 | |
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36 chivalry | |
n.骑士气概,侠义;(男人)对女人彬彬有礼,献殷勤 | |
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37 savagery | |
n.野性 | |
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38 savage | |
adj.野蛮的;凶恶的,残暴的;n.未开化的人 | |
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39 brute | |
n.野兽,兽性 | |
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40 degradation | |
n.降级;低落;退化;陵削;降解;衰变 | |
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41 worthy | |
adj.(of)值得的,配得上的;有价值的 | |
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42 epithets | |
n.(表示性质、特征等的)词语( epithet的名词复数 ) | |
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43 reminder | |
n.提醒物,纪念品;暗示,提示 | |
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44 utterly | |
adv.完全地,绝对地 | |
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45 vices | |
缺陷( vice的名词复数 ); 恶习; 不道德行为; 台钳 | |
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46 peculiar | |
adj.古怪的,异常的;特殊的,特有的 | |
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47 secondly | |
adv.第二,其次 | |
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48 determined | |
adj.坚定的;有决心的 | |
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49 conspicuously | |
ad.明显地,惹人注目地 | |
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50 odds | |
n.让步,机率,可能性,比率;胜败优劣之别 | |
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51 onset | |
n.进攻,袭击,开始,突然开始 | |
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52 steadily | |
adv.稳定地;不变地;持续地 | |
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53 elation | |
n.兴高采烈,洋洋得意 | |
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54 trenches | |
深沟,地沟( trench的名词复数 ); 战壕 | |
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55 skilful | |
(=skillful)adj.灵巧的,熟练的 | |
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56 defenders | |
n.防御者( defender的名词复数 );守卫者;保护者;辩护者 | |
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57 truce | |
n.休战,(争执,烦恼等的)缓和;v.以停战结束 | |
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58 barbarian | |
n.野蛮人;adj.野蛮(人)的;未开化的 | |
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59 barbarians | |
n.野蛮人( barbarian的名词复数 );外国人;粗野的人;无教养的人 | |
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60 sanity | |
n.心智健全,神智正常,判断正确 | |
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61 lawful | |
adj.法律许可的,守法的,合法的 | |
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62 chivalrous | |
adj.武士精神的;对女人彬彬有礼的 | |
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63 humane | |
adj.人道的,富有同情心的 | |
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64 courteous | |
adj.彬彬有礼的,客气的 | |
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65 hack | |
n.劈,砍,出租马车;v.劈,砍,干咳 | |
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66 corruption | |
n.腐败,堕落,贪污 | |
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67 devoid | |
adj.全无的,缺乏的 | |
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68 hatred | |
n.憎恶,憎恨,仇恨 | |
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69 irrational | |
adj.无理性的,失去理性的 | |
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70 fully | |
adv.完全地,全部地,彻底地;充分地 | |
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