They certainly had no faith in the war, but neither did they
believe in anything against it;--fatalists, pessimists all.
It was clear to Clerambault that when personal energy is lacking,
the highest qualities of head and heart only increase the public
servitude. The stoicism which submits to the laws of the universe
prevents us from resisting those which are cruel, instead of saying to
destiny: "No, thus far, and no farther!" ... If it pushes on you
will see the stoic stand politely aside, as he murmurs: "Please come
in!"--Cultivated heroism, the taste for the superhuman, even the
inhuman, chokes the soul with its sacrifices, and the more absurd they
are, the more sublime they appear--Christians of today, more generous
than their Master, render all to Caesar; a cause seems sacred to them
from the moment that they are asked to immolate themselves to it. To
the ignominy of war they piously kindle the flame of their faith, and
throw their bodies on the altar. The people bend their backs, and
accept with a passive, ironic resignation.... "No need to borrow
trouble." Ages and ages of misery have rolled over this stone, but in
the end stones do wear down and become mud.
Clerambault tried to talk with one and another of these people but
found himself everywhere opposed by the same hidden, half-unconscious
resistance.
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