think him a patriot and a hero. In
that time the sentimental view will be the only one of interest; and the
sentimental view will put the Transvaal in the same category as Poland."

"You're nothing better than a pro-Boer, James."

"I'm nothing of the kind; but seeing how conflicting was current
opinion, I took some trouble to find for myself a justification of the
war. I couldn't help wondering why I went and killed people to whom I
was personally quite indifferent."

"I hope because it was your duty as an officer of Her Majesty the
Queen."

"Not exactly. I came to the conclusion that I killed people because I
liked it. The fighting instinct is in my blood, and I'm never so happy
as when I'm shooting things. Killing tigers is very good sport, but it's
not in it with killing men. That is my justification, so far as I
personally am concerned. As a member of society, I wage war for a
different reason. War is the natural instinct of all creatures; not only
do progress and civilisation arise from it, but it is the very condition
of existence. Men, beasts, and plants are all in the same position:
unless they fight incessantly they're wiped out; there's no sitting on
one side and looking on.... When a state wants a neighbour's land, it
has a perfect right to take it--if it can. Success is its justification.
We English wanted the Transvaal for our greater numbers, for our trade,
for the continuance of our power; that was our right to take it. The
only thing that seems to me undignified is the rather pitiful set of
excuses we made up."

"If those are your ideas, I think they are utterly ignoble."

"I believe they're scientific."

"D'you think men go to war for scientific reasons?"

"No, of course not; they don't realise them. The great majority are
incapable of abstract ideas, but fortunately they're emotional and
sentimental; and the pill can be gilded with high falutin. It's for them
that the Union Jack and the honour of Old England are dragged through
every newspaper and brandished in every music hall. It's for them that
all these atrocities are invented--most of them bunkum. Men are only
savages with a thin veneer of civilisation, which is rather easily
rubbed off, and then they act just like Red Indians; but as a general
rule they're well enough behaved. The Boer isn't a bad sort, and the
Englishman isn't a bad sort; but there's not room for both of them on
the earth, and one of them has to go."

"My father fough