Nor can any one believe that France wanted war. It is true that for a year, or rather more, after the Agadir episode[2] the spirit of France was perturbed. But no Foreign Office in the world--least of all that {24} of Germany--was so ill-informed as to believe that the sporadic demonstrations, which occurred in the press and elsewhere, were caused by any eagerness for adventure or any ambition of conquest. They were due, as every calm observer was aware, to one thing and one thing only--the knowledge that the Republic had come to the very end of her human resources; that all her sons who were capable of bearing arms had already been enrolled in her army; that she could do nothing further to strengthen her defences against Germany, who up to that time, had taken for military training barely one half of her available male population, and who was now engaged in increasing her striking power both by land and sea. The cause of this restlessness in France was the fear that Germany was preparing an invincible superiority and would strike so soon as her weapon was forged. If so, would it not be better for France to strike at once, while she had still a fighting chance, and before she was hopelessly outnumbered? But this mood, the product of anxiety and suspense, which had been somewhat prevalent in irresponsible quarters during the autumn of 1912 and the early part of the following year, had passed away. Partly it wore itself out; partly popular interest was diverted to other objects of excitement. France, during the twelve months preceding Midsummer 1914, had been singularly quiescent as regards foreign affairs. Her internal conditions absorbed attention. Various events had conspired to disturb public confidence in the fidelity of her rulers, and in the adequacy of their military preparations. The popular mood had been sobered, disquieted, and scandalised to such a point that war, {25} so far from being sought after, was the thing of all others which France most wished to avoid. [Sidenote: THE CASE OF BELGIUM]