There is
an inward equivocation which fears to see clearly in itself, wants
to make the best of everything, to reconcile old instincts and new
beliefs, mutually destructive forces, like the ideas of Country and
Humanity, War and Peace.... We are not sure which side to take; we
lean first one way and then the other, like a see-saw; afraid of
the effort needed to come to a decision and choose. What slothful
cowardice is here! All whitewashed over with a comfortable faith in
the goodness of things, which will, we think, settle themselves. And
we continue to look on, and glorify the impeccable course of Destiny,
paying court to blind Force_.
_Failing us, other things--and other men--have chosen; and not till
then did we understand our mistake, but it was so dreadful to admit
it, and we were so unaccustomed to be honest, that we acted as if we
were in sympathy with the crime. In proof of this sympathy we have
given up our own sons whom we love with all our hearts, more than
life--if we could but give our lives for theirs!--but not more than
our pride, with which we try to veil the moral confusion, the empty
darkness of mind and heart_.
_We will say nothing of those who still believe in the old idol; grim,
envious, blood be-spattered as she is--the barbarous Country.
Pages:
122
123
124
125
126
127
128
129
130
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146