Journalists are not the only offenders. It is a
strange, squalid background for the nobility of the soldier that is made
by the deceits and boasts of diplomatists and statesmen. In one of the
prison camps of England, some weeks ago, I saw a Saxon boy who had
fought bravely for his country. Simplicity and openness and loyalty were
written on his face. There are hundreds like him, and I would not
mention him if it were not that that same day I read with a new and
heightened sense of disgust a speech by the German Chancellor, writhing
with timidity and dishonesty and uneasy braggadocio. Those who feel this
contrast as I did may be excused, I think, if they come to the
conclusion that to talk about war is an accursed trade, and that to
fight well, whether on the one side or the other, is the only noble
part.
Yet there is no escape for us; if we are to avoid chaos, if the daily
life of the world is to be re-established and carried on, there must be
an understanding between nations, and there is no possible way to come
to an understanding save by the action and words of representative men
on the one side and the other.
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