war and the future-第1章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！





War　and　the　Future

by　H。　G。　Wells

Italy；　France　and　Britain　at　War





Contents
The　Passing　of　the　Effigy
The　War　in　Italy　（August；　1916）
　　I。　The　Isonzo　Front
　II。　The　Mountain　War
III。　Behind　the　Front
The　Western　War　（September；　1916）
　　I。　Ruins
　II。　The　Grades　of　War
III。　The　War　Landscape
　IV。　New　Arms　for　Old　Ones
　　V。　Tanks
How　People　Think　About　the　War
　　I。　Do　they　Really　Think　at　all？
　II。　The　Yielding　Pacifist　and　the　Conscientious　Objector
III。　The　Religious　Revival
　IV。　The　Riddle　of　the　British
　　V。　The　Social　Changes　in　Progress
　VI。　The　Ending　of　the　War




THE　PASSING　OF　THE　EFFIGY


1

One　of　the　minor　peculiarities　of　this　unprecedented　war　is　the
Tour　of　the　Front。　　After　some　months　of　suppressed　information
in　which　even　the　war　correspondent　was　discouraged　to　the　point
of　eliminationit　was　discovered　on　both　sides　that　this　was　a
struggle　in　which　Opinion　was　playing　a　larger　and　more　important
part　than　it　had　ever　done　before。　　This　wild　spreading　weed　was
perhaps　of　decisive　importance；　the　Germans　at　any　rate　were
attempting　to　make　it　a　cultivated　flower。　　There　was　Opinion
flowering　away　at　home；　feeding　rankly　on　rumour；　Opinion　in
neutral　countries；　Opinion　getting　into　great　tangles　of
misunderstanding　and　incorrect　valuation　between　the　Allies。　　The
confidence　and　courage　of　the　enemy；　the　amiability　and
assistance　of　the　neutral；　the　zeal；　sacrifice；　and　serenity　of
the　home　population；　all　were　affected。　　The　German　cultivation
of　opinion　began　long　before　the　war；　it　is　still　the　most
systematic　and；　because　of　the　psychological　ineptitude　of　the
Germans；　it　is　probably　the　clumsiest。　　The　French　/Maison　de
la　Presse/　is　certainly　the　best　organisation　in　existence　for
making　things　clear；　counteracting　hostile　suggestion；　the
British　official　organisations　are　comparatively　ineffective；　but
what　is　lacking　officially　is　very　largely　made　up　for　by　the
good　will　and　generous　efforts　of　the　English　and　American　press。
An　interesting　monograph　might　be　written　upon　these　various
attempts　of　the　belligerents　to　get　themselves　and　their
proceedings　explained。

Because　there　is　perceptible　in　these　developments；　quite　over
and　above　the　desire　to　influence　opinion；　a　very　real　effort　to
get　things　explained。　　It　is　the　most　interesting　and　curious
one　might　almost　write　touchingfeature　of　these　organisations
that　they　do　not　constitute　a　positive　and　defined　propaganda
such　as　the　Germans　maintain。　　The　German　propaganda　is　simple；
because　its　ends　are　simple；　assertions　of　the　moral　elevation
and　loveliness　of　Germany；　of　the　insuperable　excellences　of
German　Kultur；　the　Kaiser；　and　Crown　Prince；　and　so　forth；　abuse
of　the　〃treacherous〃　English　who　allied　themselves　with　the
〃degenerate〃　French　and　the　〃barbaric〃　Russians；　nonsense　about
〃the　freedom　of　the　seas〃the　emptiest　phrase　in　history
childish　attempts　to　sow　suspicion　between　the　Allies；　and　still
more　childish　attempts　to　induce　neutrals　and　simple…minded
pacifists　of　allied　nationality　to　save　the　face　of　Germany　by
initiating　peace　negotiations。　　But　apart　from　their　steady
record　and　reminder　of　German　brutalities　and　German　aggression；
the　press　organisations　of　the　Allies　have　none　of　this
definiteness　in　their　task。　　The　aim　of　the　national　intelligence
in　each　of　the　allied　countries　is　not　to　exalt　one's　own　nation
and　confuse　and　divide　the　enemy；　but　to　get　a　real　understanding
with　the　peoples　and　spirits　of　a　number　of　different　nations；　an
understanding　that　will　increase　and　become　a　fruitful　and
permanent　understanding　between　the　allied　peoples。　　Neither　the
English；　the　Russians；　the　Italians；　nor　the　French；　to　name　only
the　bigger　European　allies；　are　concerned　in　setting　up　a　legend；
as　the　Germans　are　concerned　in　setting　up　a　legend　of　themselves
to　impose　upon　mankind。　　They　are　reality　dealers　in　this　war；
and　the　Germans　are　effigy　mongers。　　Practically　the　Allies　are
saying　each　to　one　another；　〃Pray　come　to　me　and　see　for　yourself
that　I　am　very　much　the　human　stuff　that　you　are。　　Come　and　see
that　I　am　doing　my　bestand　I　think　that　is　not　so　very　bad　a
best。。。。〃　　And　with　that　is　something　else　still　more　subtle；
something　rather　in　the　form　of；　〃And　please　tell　me　what　you
think　of　meand　all　this。〃

So　we　have　this　curious　byplay　of　the　war；　and　one　day　I　find　Mr。
Nabokoff；　the　editor　of　the　/Retch/；　and　Count　Alexy
Tolstoy；　that　writer　of　delicate　short　stories；　and　Mr。
Chukovsky；　the　subtle　critic；　calling　in　upon　me　after　braving
the　wintry　seas　to　see　the　British　fleet；　M。　Joseph　Reinach
follows　them　presently　upon　the　same　errand；　and　then　appear
photographs　of　Mr。　Arnold　Bennett　wading　in　the　trenches　of
Flanders；　Mr。　Noyes　becomes　discreetly　indiscreet　about　what　he
has　seen　among　the　submarines；　and　Mr。　Hugh　Walpole　catches
things　from　Mr。　Stephen　Graham　in　the　Dark　Forest　of　Russia。　　All
this　is　quite　over　and　above　such　writing　of　facts　at　first　hand
as　Mr。　Patrick　McGill　and　a　dozen　other　real　experiencing
soldiersnot　to　mention　the　soldiers'　letters　Mr。　James　Milne
has　collected；　or　the　unforgettable　and　immortal　/Prisoner　of
War/　of　Mr。　Arthur　Greenor　such　admirable　war
correspondents'　work　as　Mr。　Philip　Gibbs　or　Mr。　Washburne　has
done。　　Some　of　us　writersI　can　answer　for　onehave　made　our
Tour　of　the　Fronts　with　a　very　understandable　diffidence。　　For　my
own　part　I　did　not　want　to　go。　　I　evaded　a　suggestion　that　I
should　go　in　1915。　　I　travel　badly；　I　speak　French　and　Italian
with　incredible　atrocity；　and　am　an　extreme　Pacifist。　　I　hate
soldiering。　　And　also　I　did　not　want　to　write　anything　〃under
instruction〃。　　It　is　largely　owing　to　a　certain　stiffness　in　the
composition　of　General　Delme…Radcliffe　is　resolved　that
Italy　shall　not　feel　neglected　by　the　refusal　of　the　invitation
from　the　Commando　Supremo　by　anyone　who　from　the　perspective　of
Italy　may　seem　to　be　a　representative　of　British　opinion。　　If
Herbert　Spencer　had　been　alive　General　Radcliffe　would　have
certainly　made　him　come；　travelling…hammock；　ear　clips　and　all
and　I　am　not　above　confessing　that　I　wish　that　Herbert　Spencer
was　alivefor　this　purpose。　　I　found　Udine　warm　and　gay　with
memories　of　Mr。　Belloc；　Lord　Northcliffe；　Mr。　Sidney　Low；　Colonel
Repington　and　Dr。　Conan　Doyle；　and　anticipating　the　arrival　of
Mr。　Harold　Cox。　　So　we　pass；　mostly　in　automobiles　that　bump
tremendously　over　war　roads；　a　cloud　of　witnesses　each　testifying
after　his　manner。　　Whatever　else　has　happened；　we　have　all　been
photographed　with　invincible　patience　and　resolution　under　the
direction　of　Colonel　Barberich　in　a　sunny　little　court　in　Udine。

My　own　manner　of　testifying　must　be　to　tell　what　I　have　seen　and
what　I　have　thought　during　this　extraordinary　experience。　　It　has
been　my　natural　disposition　to　see　this　war　as　something
purposeful　and　epic；　as　it　is　great；　as　an　epoch；　as　〃the　War
that　will　end　War〃but　of　that　last；　more　anon。　　I　do　not　think
I　am　alone　in　this　inclination　to　a　dramatic　and　logical
interpretation。　　The　caricatures　in　the　French　shops　show
civilisation　（and　particularly　Marianne）　in　conflict　with　a　huge
and　hugely　wicked　Hindenburg　Ogre。　　Well；　I　come　back　from　this
tour　with　something　not　so　simple　as　that。　　If　I　were　to　be　tied
down　to　one　word　for　my　impression　of　this　war；　I　should　say　that
this　war　is　/Queer。/　　It　is　not　like　anything　in　a　really
waking　world；　but　like　something　in　a　dream。　　It　hasn't　exactly
that　clearness　of　light　against　darkness　or　of　good　against　ill。
But　it　has　the　quality　of　wholesome　instinct　struggling　under　a
nightmare。　　The　world　is　not　really　awake。　　This　vague　appeal　for
explanations　to　all　sorts　of　people；　this　desire　to　exhibit　the
business；　to　get　something　in　the　way　of　elucidation　at　present
missing；　is　extraordinarily　suggestive　of　the　efforts　of　the　mind
to　wake　up　that　will　sometimes　occur　at　a　deep　crisis。　　My　memory
of　this　tour　I　have　just　made　is　full　of　puzzled…looking　men。　　I
have　seen　thousands　of　/poilus/　sitting　about　in
cafes；　by　the　roadside；　in　tents；　in　trenches；　thoughtful。
I　have　seen　Alpini　sitting　restfully　and　staring　with　speculative
eyes　across　the　mountain　gulfs　towards　unseen　and　unaccountable
enemies。　　I　have　seen　trainloads　of　wounded　staring　out　of　the
ambulance　train　windows　as　we　passed。　　I　have　seen　these　dim
intimations　of　questioning　reflection　in　the　strangest
juxtapositions；　in　Malagasy　soldiers　resting　for　a　spell　among
the　big　shells　they　were　hoisting　into　trucks　for　the　front；　in　a
couple　of　khaki…clad　Maoris　sitting　upon　the　step　of　a　horse…van
in　Amiens　station。　　It　is　always　the　same　expression　one　catches；
rather　weary；　rather　sullen；　inturned。　　The　shoulders　droop。　　The
very　outline　is　a　note　of　interrogation。　　They　look　up　as　the
privileged　tourist　of　the　front；　in　the　big　automobile　or　the
reserved　compartment；　with　his　officer　or　so　in　charge；　passes
importantly。　　One　meets　a　pair　of　eyes　that　seems　to　say：
〃Perhaps　/you/　understand。。。。

〃In　which　case…。。。？〃

It　is　a　part；　I　think；　of　this　disposition　to　investigate　what
makes　everyone　collect　〃specimens〃　of　the　war。　　Everywhere　the
souvenir　forces　itself　upon　the　attention。　　The　homecoming
permissionaire　brings　with　him　invariably　a　considerable　weight
of　broken　objects；　bits　of　shell；　cartridge　clips；　helmets；　it　is
a　peripatetic　museum。　　It　is　as　if　he　hoped　for　a　clue。　　It　is
almost　impossible；　I　have　found；　to　escape　these　pieces　in
evidence。　　I　am　the　least　collecting　of　men；　but　I　have　brought
home　Italian　cartridges；　Austrian　cartridges；　the　fuse　of　an
Austrian　shell；　a　broken　Italian　bayonet；　and　a　note　that　is
worth　half　a　franc　within　the　confines　of　Amiens。　　But　a　large
heavy　piece　of　exploded　shell　that　had　been　thrust　very　urgently
upon　my　attention　upon　the　Carso　I　contrived　to　lose　during　the
temporary　confusion　of　our　party　by　the　arrival　and　explosion　of
another　prospective　souvenir　in　our　close　proximity。　　And　two
really　very　large　and　almost　complete　specimens　of　some　species
of　/Ammonites/　unknown　to　me；　from　the　hills　to　the　east　of
the　Adige；　partially　wrapped　in　a　back　number　of　the　/Corriere
della　Sera/；　that　were　pressed　upon　me　by　a　friendly　officer；
were　unfortunately　lost　on　the　line　between　Verona　and　Milan
through　the　gross　negligence　of　a　railway　porter。　　But　I　doubt　if
they　would　have　thrown　any　very　conclusive　light　upon　the　war。


2

I　avow　myself　an　extreme　Pacifist。　　I　am　against　the　man　who
first　takes　up　the　weapon。　　I　carry　my　pacifism　far　beyond　the
ambiguous　little　group　of　British　and　foreign　sentimentalists　who
pretend　so　amusingly　to　be　socialists　in　the　/Labour
Leader/；　whose　conception　of　foreign　policy　is　to　give　Germany
now　a　peace　that　would　be　no　more　than　a　breathing　time　for　a
fresh　outrage　upon　civilisation；　and　who　would　even　make　heroes
of　the　crazy　young　assassins　of　the　Dublin　crime。　　I　do　not
understand　those　people。　　I　do　not　merely　want　to　stop　this　war。
I　want　to　nail　down　war　in　its　coffin。　　Modern　war　is　an
intolerable　thing。　　It　is　not　a　thing　to　trifle　with　in　this
Urban　District　Council　way；　it　is　a　thing　to　end　forever。　　I　ha