t criminals! It was entitled:
WHY?

20th June, 1851. I have just left court. I have condemned Blondel to
death! Now, why did this man kill his five children? Frequently one meets
with people to whom the destruction of life is a pleasure. Yes, yes, it
should be a pleasure, the greatest of all, perhaps, for is not killing
the next thing to creating? To make and to destroy! These two words
contain the history of the universe, all the history of worlds, all that
is, all! Why is it not intoxicating to kill?

25th June. To think that a being is there who lives, who walks, who runs.
A being? What is a being? That animated thing, that bears in it the
principle of motion and a will ruling that motion. It is attached to
nothing, this thing. Its feet do not belong to the ground. It is a grain
of life that moves on the earth, and this grain of life, coming I know
not whence, one can destroy at one's will. Then nothing--nothing
more. It perishes, it is finished.

26th June. Why then is it a crime to kill? Yes, why? On the contrary, it
is the law of nature. The mission of every being is to kill; he kills to
live, and he kills to kill. The beast kills without ceasing, all day,
every instant of his existence. Man kills without ceasing, to nourish
himself; but since he needs, besides, to kill for pleasure, he has
invented hunting! The child kills the insects he finds, the little birds,
all the little animals that come in his way. But this does not suffice
for the irresistible need to massacre that is in us. It is not enough to
kill beasts; we must kill man too. Long ago this need was satisfied by
human sacrifices. Now the requirements of social life have made murder a
crime. We condemn and punish the assassin! But as we cannot live without
yielding to this natural and imperious instinct of death, we relieve
ourselves, from time to time, by wars. Then a whole nation slaughters
another nation. It is a feast of blood, a feast that maddens armies and
that intoxicates civilians, women and children, who read, by lamplight at
night, the feverish story of massacre.

One might suppose that those destined to accomplish these butcheries of
men would be despised! No, they are loaded with honors. They are clad in
gold and in resplendent garments; they wear plumes on their heads and
ornaments on their breasts, and they are given crosses, rewards, titles
of every kind. They are proud, respected, loved by women, cheered by the
crowd, solely because