Exertion! I was too tired to undress! The world might be bankrupt and yet survive; the world might be decimated and yet make good its wastage; first and foremost, the world was weary to the marrow of its bones. CHAPTER TWO RETROSPECT “Now tell us what ’t was all about,” Young Peterkin, he cries; And little Wilhelmine looks up With wonder-waiting eyes; “Now tell us all about the war, And what they fought each other for.” “It was the English,” Kaspar cried, “Who put the French to rout; But what they fought each other for, I could not well make out; But every body said,” quoth he, “That ’t was a famous victory. . . . . . . . . . . “With fire and sword the country round Was wasted far and wide, And many a childing mother then, And new-born baby died; But things like that, you know, must be At every famous victory. . . . . . . . . . . “And every body praised the Duke Who this great fight did win.” “But what good came of it at last?” Quoth little Peterkin. “Why that I cannot tell,” said he, “But ’t was a famous victory.” ROBERT SOUTHEY: _The Battle of Blenheim_. 1 When we set out for Cannes three days after my demobilization, I intended to remain out of England for at least a twelvemonth. Since the night when Hornbeck and I waited for news of the armistice I had thought many times of his blank and puzzled confession: ‘_This is what the N.O. has been training for, ever since the old Britannia days._’ If I had not also been preparing for the peace and for the war which preceded it, I had at least toiled for the whole of my adult life to preserve the peace which preceded the war. Now I could have adapted Hornbeck’s reasoning of ‘_no more wars, no more armies and navies_’ to my own case; and, when my friends asked me what I was going to do now, I might have said: ‘No more wars, no more politics or journalism on the old lines.’