ABSTRACT
It is a platitude that an old world came to an end when the guns spoke in the summer of 1914. From time to time one hears sincere, if sentimental, plans for a return to that halcyon world before the death. But, even though the historian may debate whether those years were in truth good or bad, the practical politician cannot but record that the dead, whatever were their virtues, are dead. The world of Edward VII has passed away as completely as the world of Richard Cœur de Lion.
