Sir Walter Raleigh's England and the War collects six addresses delivered between 1914 and 1918, each shaped by the immediate pressures of the conflict. Raleigh explicitly disclaims military expertise, instead focusing on what he calls 'the characters of the antagonists.' The book opens with a striking analogy: understanding Germany, he writes, is as difficult as fathoming the mind of a rhinoceros—'we see only the folded hide, the horn, and the angry little eye.' This blend of historical reflection and blunt metaphor sets the tone for a work that moves between analysis of national temperament and exhortation to perseverance.

Structure as Occasional Collection

The volume is not a continuous argument but a gathering of separate performances, each with its own occasion and audience. The preface acknowledges this: 'This book was not planned, but grew out of the troubles of the time.' The addresses range from an Oxford pamphlet (October 1914) to a Shakespeare lecture (July 1918), shifting from rallying rhetoric to literary commemoration. This structure mirrors the war's own unfolding—urgent, reactive, and varied in tone. Readers should expect shifts in register: the early pieces are more combative, while later ones, like 'Shakespeare and England,' adopt a reflective, almost valedictory stance. The collection thus offers a layered record of how one public intellectual adapted his voice across four years of total war.

Recurring Images: The Armada and the Storm

Raleigh repeatedly invokes the Spanish Armada as a historical parallel. In 'Some Gains of the War,' he describes how the Armada was 'shattered, by the winds of heaven and the sailors of England, in 1588,' and notes that this victory 'lifted a great shadow of fear from the hearts of the people, as a great shadow of fear has already been lifted from them in the present War.' The image of a storm breaking a hostile fleet recurs as a figure for divine or natural justice. Raleigh also uses the metaphor of 'broken water that follows the passage of a great storm' to describe post-war unrest. These weather-related images tie the war to natural cycles, suggesting that upheaval is temporary and that calmer seas will follow—a rhetorical strategy that bolsters morale without promising immediate peace.

Movement Between Scenes: From the Rhinoceros to Elizabeth I

The addresses move abruptly between concrete, almost grotesque images and elevated historical tableaux. The rhinoceros analogy—a beast 'strong and cunning' with 'desires and instincts inconsistent with our welfare'—gives way to a portrait of Queen Elizabeth I, who declares that 'England hath no need to crave peace.' This juxtaposition is characteristic: Raleigh grounds abstract national character in vivid, sometimes unsettling figures, then pivots to heroic exemplars. The effect is to keep the reader off-balance, shifting from the animalistic to the regal, from the present horror to past glory. Such movement suggests that the war is both a primal struggle and a test of civilized endurance, a duality Raleigh exploits to sustain emotional and intellectual engagement across the collection.

The Rhetoric of Patience and Deferred Gains

A persistent theme across the addresses is that victory's fruits are not immediate. Raleigh warns against 'making elaborate plans of victory, and programmes of all that is to follow victory,' because 'the mixed event is sure to defeat those plans.' He cites the Napoleonic wars: after Waterloo, England faced 'rick-burnings, agitations, popular risings, and something very near to famine.' The real gains—commercial expansion, colonial foundation—came only later, to 'their children.' This argument serves a dual purpose: it tempers expectations while justifying continued sacrifice. Raleigh asks his audience to 'have a good and wide imagination' to endure for the sake of descendants. The addresses thus function as a sustained exercise in patience, using historical precedent to frame the war as a long investment in future security rather than a quick contest of arms.

Readers approaching England and the War will find a document of its moment—passionate, partisan, and shaped by the exigencies of public speech. Raleigh's method is not systematic argument but persuasive juxtaposition: the rhinoceros and the queen, the storm and the calm, the defeat and the deferred gain. To read these addresses is to watch a skilled rhetorician navigate the shifting demands of morale, history, and national identity. The collection rewards attention to its structure and imagery, which together reveal how one English intellectual sought to make sense of a war that defied easy explanation.