istian deal with each other as if they were of
the same religion, and call infidels only those who become bankrupt.
There the Presbyterian trusts the Anabaptist, and the Anabaptist relies
on the promise of the Quaker. On leaving these free and peaceful
assemblies, some proceed to the synagogue, others to the tavern.... If
in England there were only one religion, its despotism would be to be
dreaded; if there were only two, their followers would cut each other's
throats; but there are thirty of them, and they live in peace and
happiness.'
Since we have had so much practice in tolerating one another, and in
living together even when our ideas on life and the conduct of life seem
absolutely incompatible, it is no wonder that we approach the treatment
of international affairs in a temper very unlike the solemn and dogmatic
ferocity of the German. We do not expect or desire that other peoples
shall resemble us. The world is wide; and the world-drama is enriched
by multiplicity and diversity of character. We like bad men, if there is
salt and spirit in their badness. We even admire a brute, if he is a
whole-hearted brute. I have often thought that if the Germans had been
true to their principles and their programme--if, after proclaiming that
they meant to win by sheer strength and that they recognized no other
right, they had continued as they began, and had battered and hacked,
burned and killed, without fear or pity, a certain reluctant admiration
for them might have been felt in this country. There is no chance of
that now, since they took to whining about humanity. Yet it is very
difficult wholly to alienate the sympathies of the English people. It is
perhaps in some ways a weakness, as it is certainly in other ways a
strength, that we are fanciers of other peoples. Our soldiers have a
tendency to make pets of their prisoners, to cherish them as curiosities
and souvenirs. The fancy becomes a passion when we find a little fellow
struggling valiantly against odds. I suppose we should be at war with
Germany to-day, even if the Germans had respected the neutrality of
Belgium. But the unprovoked assault upon a little people that asked only
to be let alone united all opinions in this country and brought us in
with a rush. I believe there is one German, at least (I hope he is
alive), who understands this. Early in July, 1914, a German student at
Oxford, who was a friend and pupil of mine, came to say good-bye to me.
I have sin
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