war and the future-第2章

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Urban　District　Council　way；　it　is　a　thing　to　end　forever。　　I　have
always　hated　it；　so　far　that　is　as　my　imagination　enabled　me　to
realise　it；　and　now　that　I　have　been　seeing　it；　sometimes　quite
closely　for　a　full　month；　I　hate　it　more　than　ever。　　I　never
imagined　a　quarter　of　its　waste；　its　boredom；　its　futility；　its
desolation。　　It　is　merely　a　destructive　and　dispersive　instead　of
a　constructive　and　accumulative　industrialism。　　It　is　a　gigantic；
dusty；　muddy；　weedy；　bloodstained　silliness。　　It　is　the　plain
duty　of　every　man　to　give　his　life　and　all　that　he　has　if　by　so
doing　he　may　help　to　end　it。　　I　hate　Germany；　which　has　thrust
this　experience　upon　mankind；　as　I　hate　some　horrible　infectious
disease。　　The　new　war；　the　war　on　the　modern　level；　is　her
invention　and　her　crime。　　I　perceive　that　on　our　side　and　in　its
broad　outlines；　this　war　is　nothing　more　than　a　gigantic　and
heroic　effort　in　sanitary　engineering；　an　effort　to　remove　German
militarism　from　the　life　and　regions　it　has　invaded；　and　to　bank
it　in　and　discredit　and　enfeeble　it　so　that　never　more　will　it
repeat　its　present　preposterous　and　horrible　efforts。　　All　human
affairs　and　all　great　affairs　have　their　reservations　and　their
complications；　but　that　is　the　broad　outline　of　the　business　as
it　has　impressed　itself　on　my　mind　and　as　I　find　it　conceived　in
the　mind　of　the　average　man　of　the　reading　class　among　the　allied
peoples；　and　as　I　find　it　understood　in　the　judgment　of　honest
and　intelligent　neutral　observers。

It　is　my　unshakeable　belief　that　essentially　the　Allies　fight　for
a　permanent　world　peace；　that　primarily　they　do　not　make　war　but
resist　war；　that　has　reconciled　me　to　this　not　very　congenial
experience　of　touring　as　a　spectator　all　agog　to　see；　through　the
war　zones。　　At　any　rate　there　was　never　any　risk　of　my　playing
Balaam　and　blessing　the　enemy。　　This　war　is　tragedy　and　sacrifice
for　most　of　the　world；　for　the　Germans　it　is　simply　the
catastrophic　outcome　of　fifty　years　of　elaborate　intellectual
foolery。　　Militarism；　Welt　Politik；　and　here　we　are！　　What　else
/could/　have　happened；　with　Michael　and　his　infernal　War
Machine　in　the　very　centre　of　Europe；　but　this　tremendous
disaster？

It　is　a　disaster。　　It　may　be　a　necessary　disaster；　it　may　teach　a
lesson　that　could　be　learnt　in　no　other　way；　but　for　all　that；　I
insist；　it　remains　waste；　disorder；　disaster。

There　is　a　disposition；　I　know；　in　myself　as　well　as　in　others；
to　wriggle　away　from　this　verity；　to　find　so　much　good　in　the
collapse　that　has　come　to　the　mad　direction　of　Europe　for　the
past　half…century　as　to　make　it　on　the　whole　almost　a　beneficial
thing。　　But　at　most　I　can　find　it　in　no　greater　good　than　the
good　of　a　nightmare　that　awakens　the　sleeper　in　a　dangerous　place
to　a　realisation　of　the　extreme　danger　of　his　sleep。　　Better　had
he　been　awakeor　never　there。　　In　Venetia　Captain　Pirelli；　whose
task　it　was　to　keep　me　out　of　mischief　in　the　war　zone；　was
insistent　upon　the　way　in　which　all　Venetia　was　being　opened　up
by　the　new　military　roads；　there　has　been　scarcely　a　new　road
made　in　Venetia　since　Napoleon　drove　his　straight；　poplar…
bordered　highways　through　the　land。　　M。　Joseph　Reinach；　who　was
my　companion　upon　the　French　front；　was　equally　impressed　by　the
stirring　up　and　exchange　of　ideas　in　the　villages　due　to　the
movement　of　the　war。　　Charles　Lamb's　story　of　the　discovery　of
roast　pork　comes　into　one's　head　with　an　effect　of　repartee。
More　than　ideas　are　exchanged　in　the　war　zone；　and　it　is　doubtful
how　far　the　sanitary　precautions　of　the　military　authorities
avails　against　a　considerable　propaganda　of　disease。　　A　more
serious　argument　for　the　good　of　war　is　that　it　evokes　heroic
qualities　that　it　has　brought　out　almost　incredible　quantities　of
courage；　devotion；　and　individual　romance　that　did　not　show　in
the　suffocating　peace　time　that　preceded　the　war。　　The　reckless
and　beautiful　zeal　of　the　women　in　the　British　and　French
munition　factories；　for　example；　the　gaiety　and　fearlessness　of
the　common　soldiers　everywhere；　these　things　have　always　been
therelike　champagne　sleeping　in　bottles　in　a　cellar。　　But　was
there　any　need　to　throw　a　bomb　into　the　cellar？

I　am　reminded　of　a　story；　or　rather　of　the　idea　for　a　story　that
I　think　I　must　have　read　in　that　curious　collection　of　fantasies
and　observations；　Hawthorne's　/Note　Book。/　　It　was　to　be　the
story　of　a　man　who　found　life　dull　and　his　circumstances
altogether　mediocre。　　He　had　loved　his　wife；　but　now　after　all
she　seemed　to　be　a　very　ordinary　human　being。　　He　had　begun　life
with　high　hopesand　life　was　commonplace。　　He　was　to　grow
fretful　and　restless。　　His　discontent　was　to　lead　to　some　action；
some　irrevocable　action；　but　upon　the　nature　of　that　action　I　do
not　think　the　/Note　Book/　was　very　clear。　　It　was　to　carry
him　in　such　a　manner　that　he　was　to　forget　his　wife。　　Then；　when
it　was　too　late；　he　was　to　see　her　at　an　upper　window；　stripped
and　firelit；　a　glorious　thing　of　light　and　loveliness　and　tragic
intensity。。。。

The　elementary　tales　of　the　world　are　very　few；　and　Hawthorne's
story　and　Lamb's　story　are；　after　all；　only　variations　upon　the
same　theme。　　But　can　we　poor　human　beings　never　realise　our
quality　without　destruction？


3

One　of　the　larger　singularities　of　the　great　war　is　its　failure
to　produce　great　and　imposing　personalities；　mighty　leaders；
Napoleons；　Caesars。　　I　would　indeed　make　that　the　essential
thing　in　my　reckoning　of　the　war。　　It　is　a　drama　without　a　hero；
without　countless　incidental　heroes　no　doubt；　but　no　star　part。
Even　the　Germans；　with　a　national　predisposition　for　hero…cults
and　living　still　in　an　atmosphere　of　Victorian　humbug；　can
produce　nothing　better　than　that　timber　image；　Hindenburg。

It　is　not　that　the　war　has　failed　to　produce　heroes　so　much　as
that　it　has　produced　heroism　in　a　torrent。　　The　great　man　of　this
war　is　the　common　man。　　It　becomes　ridiculous　to　pick　out
particular　names。　　There　are　too　many　true　stories　of　splendid
acts　in　the　past　two　years　ever　to　be　properly　set　down。　　The
V。C。's　and　the　palms　do　but　indicate　samples。　　One　would　need　an
encyclopaedia；　a　row　of　volumes；　of　the　gloriousness　of
human　impulses。　　The　acts　of　the　small　men　in　this　war　dwarf　all
the　pretensions　of　the　Great　Man。　　Imperatively　these
multitudinous　heroes　forbid　the　setting　up　of　effigies。　　When　I
was　a　young　man　I　imitated　Swift　and　posed　for　cynicism；　I　will
confess　that　now　at　fifty　and　greatly　helped　by　this　war；　I　have
fallen　in　love　with　mankind。

But　if　I　had　to　pick　out　a　single　figure　to　stand　for　the　finest
quality　of　the　Allies'　war；　I　should　I　think　choose　the　figure　of
General　Joffre。　　He　is　something　new　in　history。　　He　is
leadership　without　vulgar　ambition。　　He　is　the　extreme　antithesis
to　the　Imperial　boomster　of　Berlin。　　He　is　as　it　were　the
ordinary　common　sense　of　men；　incarnate。　　He　is　the　antithesis　of
the　effigy。

By　great　good　luck　I　was　able　to　see　him。　　I　was　delayed　in　Paris
on　my　way　to　Italy；　and　my　friend　Captain　Millet　arranged　for　a
visit　to　the　French　front　at　Soissons　and　put　me　in　charge　of
Lieutenant　de　Tessin；　whom　ii　had　met　in　England　studying　British
social　questions　long　before　this　war。　　Afterwards　Lieutenant　de
Tessin　took　me　to　the　great　hotelit　still　proclaims
〃/Restaurant/〃　in　big　black　letters　on　the　garden　wall
which　shelters　the　General　Headquarters　of　France；　and　here　I　was
able　to　see　and　talk　to　Generals　Pelle　and　Castelnau　as
well　as　to　General　Joffre。　　They　are　three　very　remarkable　and
very　different　men。　　They　have　at　least　one　thing　in　common；　it
is　clear　that　not　one　of　them　has　spent　ten　minutes　in　all　his
life　in　thinking　of　himself　as　a　Personage　or　Great　Man。　　They
all　have　the　effect　of　being　active　and　able　men　doing　an
extremely　complicated　and　difficult　but　extremely　interesting　job
to　the　very　best　of　their　ability。　　With　me　they　had　all　one
quality　in　common。　　They　thought　I　was　interested　in　what　they
were　doing；　and　they　were　quite　prepared　to　treat　me　as　an
intelligent　man　of　a　different　sort；　and　to　show　me　as　much　as　I
could　understand。。。。

Let　me　confess　that　de　Tessin　had　had　to　persuade　me　to　go　to
Headquarters。　　Partly　that　was　because　I　didn't　want　to　use　up
even　ten　minutes　of　the　time　of　the　French　commanders；　but　much
more　was　it　because　I　have　a　dread　of　Personages。

There　is　something　about　these　encounters　with　personagesas　if
one　was　dealing　with　an　effigy；　with　something　tremendous　put　up
to　be　seen。　　As　one　approaches　they　become　remoter；　great
unsuspected　crevasses　are　discovered。　　Across　these　gulfs　one
makes　ineffective　gestures。　　They　do　not　meet　you；　they　pose　at
you　enormously。　　Sometimes　there　is　something　more　terrible　than
dignity；　there　is　condescension。　　They　are　affable。　　I　had　but
recently　had　an　encounter　with　an　imported　Colonial　statesman；
who　was　being　advertised　like　a　soap　as　the　coming　saviour　of
England。　　I　was　curious　to　meet　him。　　I　wanted　to　talk　to　him
about　all　sorts　of　things　that　would　have　been　profoundly
interesting；　as　for　example　his　impressions　of　the　Anglican
bishops。　　But　I　met　a　hoarding。　　I　met　a　thing　like　a　mask；
something　surrounded　by　touts；　that　was　dully　tryingas　we　say
in　Londonto　〃come　it〃　over　me。　　He　said　he　had　heard　of　me。　　He
had　read　/Kipps。/　　I　intimated　that　though　I　had　written
/Kipps/　I　had　continued　to　existbut　he　did　not　see　the
point　of　that。　　I　said　certain　things　to　him　about　the　difference
in　complexity　between　political　life　in　Great　Britain　and　the
colonies；　that　he　was　manifestly　totally　capable　of
understanding。　　But　one　could　as　soon　have　talked　with　one　of　the
statesmen　at　Madame　Tussaud's。　　An　antiquated　figure。

The　effect　of　these　French　commanders　upon　me　was　quite　different
from　my　encounter　with　that　last　belated　adventurer　in　the　effigy
line。　　I　felt　indeed　that　I　was　a　rather　idle　and　flimsy　person
coming　into　the　presence　of　a　tremendously　compact　and　busy
person；　but　I　had　none　of　that　unpleasant　sensation　of　a
conventional　role；　of　being　expected　to　play　the　minute
worshipper　in　the　presence　of　the　Great　Image。　　I　was　so　moved　by
the　common　humanity　of　them　all　that　in　each　case　I　broke　away
from　the　discreet　interpretations　of　de　Tessin　and　talked　to　them
directly　in　the　strange　dialect　which　I　have　inadvertently　made
for　myself　out　of　French；　a　disemvowelled　speech　of　epicene
substantives　and　verbs　of　incalculable　moods　and　temperaments；
〃/Entente　Cordiale。/〃　The　talked　back　as　if　we　had　met　in　a
club。　　General　Pelle　pulled　my　leg　very　gaily　with　some
quotations　from　an　article　I　had　written　upon　the　conclusion　of
the　war。　　I　think　he　found　my　accent　and　my　idioms　very
refreshing。　　I　had　committed　myself　to　a　statement　that　Bloch　has
been　justified　in　his　theory　that　under　modern　conditions　the
defensive　wins。　　There　were　excellent　reasons；　and　General
Pelle　pointed　them　out；　for　doubting　the　applicability　of
this　to　the　present　war。

Both　he　and　General　Castelnau　were　anxious　that　I　should　see　a
French　offensive　sector　as　well　as　Soissons。　　Then　I　should
understand。　　And　since　then　I　have　returned　from　Italy　and　I　have
seen　and　I　do　understand。　　The