When he reached the Great Opera House, early as it was, he found a vast concourse of people. After some little difficulty he found a seat in a good position for viewing the audience. He was immediately struck by the fact that here was no thoughtless, irresponsible crowd; rather one largely made up of men of grim determination and iron will. They were intelligent, well-read men too. They knew the history of their country, knew its weakness, and realised its faults. Nevertheless they loved it.
They were not saints. They were just commonplace people, who lived commonplace lives, amidst commonplace surroundings. But they had a sense of right and wrong, and in spite of their failings they had an inherent love of right. They were Englishmen who instinctively hated war, and would do anything in their power to avoid it. But there were, to them, worse things than war. Breach of faith was one; the destruction of truth, honour, and the nation's good name was another. If England had made a promise, no matter what it cost her, she must keep it. England could not stand by and see a little nation whom she had promised to protect, crushed:
But above all, they were Englishmen. Love of country was a tremendous factor. The homeland was dearer than their own lives. They could not stand by and see it filched from them.
Of course there were a lot of patriotic songs in which the whole audience joined. Some of them were silly doggerel, but there was nothing coarse or unworthy in them.
"Yes," thought Bob, "there is something almost divine in this love of home and country. It is eternal in the human heart. One can't get away from that."
Presently the speakers came on the stage, amidst great cheering and waving of handkerchiefs.
The chief speaker, one who held the supreme position in Naval matters, spoke first. It was a masterly speech, every sentence of which was carefully prepared and tellingly delivered. He did not appeal to passion, but in cold, measured terms spoke of the causes which led to the war, and then passed on to the success of the Navy and the Army.
"Yes," reflected Bob, as the young statesman sat down amidst the thundering applause of the multitude, "as far as a war can be righteous, this is. If ever a war were justified, this is. But can a resort to brute force and instruments of murder ever be justified? That is the question. No, it is not right that these Germans should be a menace to Europe and the world; but do we not believe in God? Can we not trust Him? Must blood be washed out by blood, must brutal arrogance be swept away at the cost of carnage and infinite misery?"
The second speaker, although he had not the same weight, deepened the impression the other had made by his brilliance and rhetoric. He too told the story of the English Ambassador in Berlin who was asked whether England would go to war for "a scrap of paper."
That was the question which he asked amidst the cheers of the crowd, and then waited a second.