Potterism | Page 9

prove that they are worthy of their
men,' said the Potter press.
'I dare say,' thought Jane. Knitting socks and packing stores and
learning first aid. Who wanted to do things like that, when their
brothers had a chance to go and fight in France? Men wouldn't stand it,
if it was the other way round. Why should women always get the dull
jobs? It was because they bore them cheerfully; because they didn't
really, for the most part, mind, Jane decided, watching the attitude of
her mother and Clare. The twins, profoundly selfish, but loving
adventure and placidly untroubled by nerves or the prospect of physical
danger, saw no hardship in active service. (This was before the first
winter and the development of trench warfare, and people pictured to
themselves skirmishes in the open, exposed to missiles, but at least
keeping warm).
2
Every one one knew was going. Johnny said to Jane, 'War is beastly,
but one's got to be in it.' He took that line, as so many others did. 'Juke's
going,' he said. 'As a combatant, I mean, not a padre. He thinks the war
could have been prevented with a little intelligence; so it could, I dare
say; but as there wasn't a little intelligence and it wasn't prevented, he's
going in. He says it will be useful experience for him--help him in his
profession; he doesn't believe in parsons standing outside things and
only doing soft jobs. I agree with him. Every one ought to go.'

'Every one can't,' said Jane morosely.
But to Johnny every one meant all young men, and he took no heed.
Gideon went. It might, he said to Juke, be a capitalists' war or any one
else's; the important thing was not whose war it was but who was going
to win it.
He added, 'Great Britain is, on this occasion, on the right side. There's
no manner of doubt about it. But even if she wasn't, it's important for
all her inhabitants that she should be on the winning side.... Oh, she
will be, no doubt, we've the advantage in numbers and wealth, if not in
military organisation or talent.... If only the Potterites wouldn't jabber
so. It's a unique opportunity for them, and they're taking it. What makes
me angriest is the reasons they vamp up why we're fighting. For the
sake of democracy, they say. Democracy be hanged. It's a rotten system,
anyhow, and how this war is going to do anything for it I don't know. If
I thought it was, I wouldn't join. But there's no fear. And other people
say we're fighting "so that our children won't have to." Rot again. Every
war makes other wars more likely. Why can't people say simply that
the reason why we're fighting is partly to uphold decent international
principles, and mainly to win the war--to be a conquering nation, not a
conquered one, and to save ourselves from having an ill-conditioned
people like the Germans strutting all over us. It's a very laudable object,
and needs no camouflage. Sheer Potterism, all this cant and posturing.
I'd rather say, like the _Daily Mail_, that we're fighting to capture the
Hun's trade; that's a lie, but at least it isn't cant.'
'Let them talk,' said Juke lazily. 'Let them jabber and cant. What does it
matter? We're in this thing up to the neck, and every one's got to relieve
themselves in their own way. As long as we get the job done somehow,
a little nonsense-talk more or less won't make much difference to this
mighty Empire, which has always indulged in plenty. It's the rash
coming out; good for the system.'
So, each individual in his own way, the nation entered into the worst
period of time of which Europe has so far had experience, and on
which I do not propose to dwell in these pages except in its aspect of a

source of profit to those who sought profit; its more cheerful aspect, in
fact.
3
Mrs. Potter put away the writing of fiction, as unsuitable in these dark
days. (It may be remembered that there was a period at the beginning of
the war when it was erroneously supposed that fiction would not sell
until peace returned). Mrs. Potter, like many other writers, took up
Y.M.C.A. canteen work, and went for a time to France. There she
wrote _Out There_, an account of the work of herself and her
colleagues in Rouen, full of the inimitable wit and indomitable courage
of soldiers, the untiring activities of canteen workers, and the
affectionate good-fellowship which existed between these two classes.
The world was thus shown that Leila Yorke was no mere _flâneuse_ of
letters, but an Englishwoman who rose to her country's call and was
worthy of