ABSTRACT
Two years ago, when the fighting in France came to an end, many people were at a loss. The war had a most paradoxical effect on them. For, while it was disarranging the universe at large, it was providing cultivated people with the most orderly spiritual universe they had ever lived in. Black was black, white was white, sheep were sheep and goats were goats. In all their lives the distinction between right and wrong, between glorious friend and unspeakable foe, had never been so absolutely clear. Men and women could love and hate without a sickly doubt. They felt completely at home in the world. If they were puzzled for a moment, the government soon reassured them. If they wished facts, the newspapers in no uncertain tone soon supplied them. It was a thoroughly reliable world while it lasted.
