this to them,
but he thought he might venture to tell a pacifist.[53]

One notices this fear sometimes in rather amusing ways. In a railway
compartment with me were a loud-mouthed patriotic woman "war-worker" and
a mere soldier back from the front. I'm afraid I got a little at
loggerheads with the war-worker, who adopted in argument a kind of
furious grin which revealed a formidable row of teeth that in my
mind-picture of her have become symbolically almost gigantic. I turned
for relief to the mere soldier, and while the train was moving we had a
pleasant dip into soldier philosophy. "I've come to the conclusion that
there's good and bad everywhere," he said. "I've known bad Germans, and
I've known Germans to look after our wounded as well as a British Tommy
could look after his chum." There was more to this effect, but whenever
the train stopped and our voices became audible to others, we were
silent. The fear of that row of teeth was, I think in both our hearts,
and I could see the mere soldier looking timid before them.

Fair play to the enemy's character is a concession not quite so easy to
the average Englishman as he supposes. "The Anglo-Saxon race has never
been remarkable for magnanimity towards a fallen foe." Just now, when we
are inclined to be almost afraid of the excess of chivalry which
possesses us, there may be useful corrective in these words of
Lieutenant-General Sir William Butler, K.C.B. There has been much
searching of old history books of late to find out what was said in the
days of Tacitus against the Germans.[54] (What Tacitus said in their
favour is not considered.) Perhaps on the other side there are
investigators searching their history books for ancient opinions of the
English. "Strike well these English," said Duke William to his Normans,
"show no weakness towards these English, for they will have no pity for
you. Neither the coward for running well, nor the bold man for fighting
well will be better liked by the English, nor will any be more spared on
either account." Butler approved this verdict. We shall not readily
agree with him. Yet he did not speak without cause: he had known an
English general kick the dead body of an African King, who "was a
soldier every inch of him," and he had known the colonists spit upon an
African chief brought bound and helpless through Natal. ("Far Out," p.
131.) I believe myself there is a great and ready generosity in the
hearts of the English people, but