Even had England adopted compulsion at the beginning of the war, there were corps of instructors to form, barracks to build, training-grounds to be found. These difficulties were quite apart from equipment, which hinged largely upon the supply of labour for the making of rifles. Lastly, there was the supreme difficulty of the higher command. Generals and staff-officers cannot be turned out with the speed of drill-sergeants. Happily the Press, instead of inflaming the spirit of criticism, set to work to explain the difficulties under which England laboured by reason, even, of the character of her institutions slowly evolved by the centuries. Both M. Cruppi and M. Henry Davray emphasised England’s marvellous achievement in raising and equipping so vast an army, even before she adopted the principle of Conscription, and appreciated the difficulty of accommodating compulsory service to the notion of that individual liberty which is the corner-stone of English national life. It was clear that a certain section of the British public confounded a national army, formed for a definite national purpose, with militarism of the Prussian type, and, therefore, had created a bogey which it was necessary to knock down before the principle of obligation could be accepted by a free and enlightened people. And it is typical of the conduct of the present war in England that it was the voice of the people themselves, the clamour of the man-in-the-street, which forced the Government to a decision. When the war broke out many thousands of Englishmen voluntarily sacrificed their careers to join the army. But in so doing they insisted that the manhood remaining in the country should be forced to do likewise. And the man who stayed at home? Was he averse from Conscription? Almost without exception the men who stayed turned to Westminster and said, "Fetch me if you really want me. Fetch me if the need is honestly great." No, the great British public—the men in the trenches, the men at home, and the women (above all, the women) insisted upon Conscription. It was Westminster that slept; Westminster that hesitated, Westminster (slow as ever in learning to "trust the people") that mumbled about votes when, even in those first days of the war, they could have insured probably speedy victory! Only when forced by the man-in-the-street did the Government act. Throughout the first stages of the war, the British Government, instead of leading public opinion, was driven by it. But in the eyes of a foreign nation, a country, unfortunately, has only the prestige of its Government, and the French, chafing against our slowness to adopt compulsion, little knew that John Bull himself was fighting, through a maze of lawyers’ arguments, for that very principle. The farm labourer who, at the beginning of things, asked, "Why can’t they treat us all alike?" had his finger upon the pulse of the nation while the politicians hesitated and gambled with time.