heartbreak house-第5章

按键盘上方向键 ← 或 → 可快速上下翻页，按键盘上的 Enter 键可回到本书目录页，按键盘上方向键 ↑ 可回到本页顶部！
————未阅读完？加入书签已便下次继续阅读！


drudge　at　destruction；　exactly　as　they　would　have　left　it　to　take
their　turn　at　the　pumps　in　a　sinking　ship。　They　did　not；　like
some　of　the　conscientious　objectors；　hold　back　because　the　ship
had　been　neglected　by　its　officers　and　scuttled　by　its　wreckers。
The　ship　had　to　be　saved；　even　if　Newton　had　to　leave　his
fluxions　and　Michael　Angelo　his　marbles　to　save　it；　so　they　threw
away　the　tools　of　their　beneficent　and　ennobling　trades；　and　took
up　the　blood…stained　bayonet　and　the　murderous　bomb；　forcing
themselves　to　pervert　their　divine　instinct　for　perfect　artistic
execution　to　the　effective　handling　of　these　diabolical　things；
and　their　economic　faculty　for　organization　to　the　contriving　of
ruin　and　slaughter。　For　it　gave　an　ironic　edge　to　their　tragedy
that　the　very　talents　they　were　forced　to　prostitute　made　the
prostitution　not　only　effective；　but　even　interesting；　so　that
some　of　them　were　rapidly　promoted；　and　found　themselves　actually
becoming　artists　in　wax；　with　a　growing　relish　for　it；　like
Napoleon　and　all　the　other　scourges　of　mankind；　in　spite　of
themselves。　For　many　of　them　there　was　not　even　this　consolation。
They　〃stuck　it；〃　and　hated　it；　to　the　end。



Evil　in　the　Throne　of　Good

This　distress　of　the　gentle　was　so　acute　that　those　who　shared　it
in　civil　life；　without　having　to　shed　blood　with　their　own　hands；
or　witness　destruction　with　their　own　eyes；　hardly　care　to
obtrude　their　own　woes。　Nevertheless；　even　when　sitting　at　home
in　safety；　it　was　not　easy　for　those　who　had　to　write　and　speak
about　the　war　to　throw　away　their　highest　conscience；　and
deliberately　work　to　a　standard　of　inevitable　evil　instead　of　to
the　ideal　of　life　more　abundant。　I　can　answer　for　at　least　one
person　who　found　the　change　from　the　wisdom　of　Jesus　and　St。
Francis　to　the　morals　of　Richard　III　and　the　madness　of　Don
Quixote　extremely　irksome。　But　that　change　had　to　be　made；　and　we
are　all　the　worse　for　it；　except　those　for　whom　it　was　not　really
a　change　at　all；　but　only　a　relief　from　hypocrisy。

Think；　too；　of　those　who；　though　they　had　neither　to　write　nor　to
fight；　and　had　no　children　of　their　own　to　lose；　yet　knew　the
inestimable　loss　to　the　world　of　four　years　of　the　life　of　a
generation　wasted　on　destruction。　Hardly　one　of　the　epoch…making
works　of　the　human　mind　might　not　have　been　aborted　or　destroyed
by　taking　their　authors　away　from　their　natural　work　for　four
critical　years。　Not　only　were　Shakespeares　and　Platos　being
killed　outright；　but　many　of　the　best　harvests　of　the　survivors
had　to　be　sown　in　the　barren　soil　of　the　trenches。　And　this　was
no　mere　British　consideration。　To　the　truly　civilized　man；　to　the
good　European；　the　slaughter　of　the　German　youth　was　as
disastrous　as　the　slaughter　of　the　English。　Fools　exulted　in
〃German　losses。〃　They　were　our　losses　as　well。　Imagine　exulting
in　the　death　of　Beethoven　because　Bill　Sykes　dealt　him　his　death
blow！



Straining　at　the　Gnat　and　swallowing　the　Camel

But　most　people　could　not　comprehend　these　sorrows。　There　was　a
frivolous　exultation　in　death　for　its　own　sake；　which　was　at
bottom　an　inability　to　realize　that　the　deaths　were　real　deaths
and　not　stage　ones。　Again　and　again；　when　an　air　raider　dropped　a
bomb　which　tore　a　child　and　its　mother　limb　from　limb；　the　people
who　saw　it；　though　they　had　been　reading　with　great　cheerfulness
of　thousands　of　such　happenings　day　after　day　in　their
newspapers；　suddenly　burst　into　furious　imprecations　on　〃the
Huns〃　as　murderers；　and　shrieked　for　savage　and　satisfying
vengeance。　At　such　moments　it　became　clear　that　the　deaths　they
had　not　seen　meant　no　more　to　them　than　the　mimic　death　of　the
cinema　screen。　Sometimes　it　was　not　necessary　that　death　should
be　actually　witnessed：　it　had　only　to　take　place　under
circumstances　of　sufficient　novelty　and　proximity　to　bring　it
home　almost　as　sensationally　and　effectively　as　if　it　had　been
actually　visible。

For　example；　in　the　spring　of　1915　there　was　an　appalling
slaughter　of　our　young　soldiers　at　Neuve　Chapelle　and　at　the
Gallipoli　landing。　I　will　not　go　so　far　as　to　say　that　our
civilians　were　delighted　to　have　such　exciting　news　to　read　at
breakfast。　But　I　cannot　pretend　that　I　noticed　either　in　the
papers；　or　in　general　intercourse；　any　feeling　beyond　the　usual
one　that　the　cinema　show　at　the　front　was　going　splendidly；　and
that　our　boys　were　the　bravest　of　the　brave。　Suddenly　there　came
the　news　that　an　Atlantic　liner；　the　Lusitania；　had　been
torpedoed；　and　that　several　well…known　first…class　passengers；
including　a　famous　theatrical　manager　and　the　author　of　a　popular
farce；　had　been　drowned；　among　others。　The　others　included　Sir
Hugh　Lane；　but　as　he　had　only　laid　the　country　under　great
obligations　in　the　sphere　of　the　fine　arts；　no　great　stress　was
laid　on　that　loss。　Immediately　an　amazing　frenzy　swept　through
the　country。　Men　who　up　to　that　time　had　kept　their　heads　now
lost　them　utterly。　〃Killing　saloon　passengers！　What　next？〃　was
the　essence　of　the　whole　agitation；　but　it　is　far　too　trivial　a
phrase　to　convey　the　faintest　notion　of　the　rage　which　possessed
us。　To　me；　with　my　mind　full　of　the　hideous　cost　of　Neuve
Chapelle；　Ypres；　and　the　Gallipoli　landing；　the　fuss　about　the
Lusitania　seemed　almost　a　heartless　impertinence；　though　I　was
well　acquainted　personally　with　the　three　best…known　victims；　and
understood；　better　perhaps　than　most　people；　the　misfortune　of
the　death　of　Lane。　I　even　found　a　grim　satisfaction；　very
intelligible　to　all　soldiers；　in　the　fact　that　the　civilians　who
found　the　war　such　splendid　British　sport　should　get　a　sharp
taste　of　what　it　was　to　the　actual　combatants。　I　expressed　my
impatience　very　freely；　and　found　that　my　very　straightforward
and　natural　feeling　in　the　matter　was　received　as　a　monstrous　and
heartless　paradox。　When　I　asked　those　who　gaped　at　me　whether
they　had　anything　to　say　about　the　holocaust　of　Festubert；　they
gaped　wider　than　before；　having　totally　forgotten　it；　or　rather；
having　never　realized　it。　They　were　not　heartless　anymore　than　I
was；　but　the　big　catastrophe　was　too　big　for　them　to　grasp；　and
the　little　one　had　been　just　the　right　size　for　them。　I　was　not
surprised。　Have　I　not　seen　a　public　body　for　just　the　same　reason
pass　a　vote　for　？0；000　without　a　word；　and　then　spend　three
special　meetings；　prolonged　into　the　night；　over　an　item　of　seven
shillings　for　refreshments？



Little　Minds　and　Big　Battles

Nobody　will　be　able　to　understand　the　vagaries　of　public　feeling
during　the　war　unless　they　bear　constantly　in　mind　that　the　war
in　its　entire　magnitude　did　not　exist　for　the　average　civilian。
He　could　not　conceive　even　a　battle；　much　less　a　campaign。　To　the
suburbs　the　war　was　nothing　but　a　suburban　squabble。　To　the　miner
and　navvy　it　was　only　a　series　of　bayonet　fights　between　German
champions　and　English　ones。　The　enormity　of　it　was　quite　beyond
most　of　us。　Its　episodes　had　to　be　reduced　to　the　dimensions　of　a
railway　accident　or　a　shipwreck　before　it　could　produce　any
effect　on　our　minds　at　all。　To　us　the　ridiculous　bombardments　of
Scarborough　and　Ramsgate　were　colossal　tragedies；　and　the　battle
of　Jutland　a　mere　ballad。　The　words　〃after　thorough　artillery
preparation〃　in　the　news　from　the　front　meant　nothing　to　us；　but
when　our　seaside　trippers　learned　that　an　elderly　gentleman　at
breakfast　in　a　week…end　marine　hotel　had　been　interrupted　by　a
bomb　dropping　into　his　egg…cup；　their　wrath　and　horror　knew　no
bounds。　They　declared　that　this　would　put　a　new　spirit　into　the
army；　and　had　no　suspicion　that　the　soldiers　in　the　trenches
roared　with　laughter　over　it　for　days；　and　told　each　other　that
it　would　do　the　blighters　at　home　good　to　have　a　taste　of　what
the　army　was　up　against。　Sometimes　the　smallness　of　view　was
pathetic。　A　man　would　work　at　home　regardless　of　the　call　〃to
make　the　world　safe　for　democracy。〃　His　brother　would　be　killed
at　the　front。　Immediately　he　would　throw　up　his　work　and　take　up
the　war　as　a　family　blood　feud　against　the　Germans。　Sometimes　it
was　comic。　A　wounded　man；　entitled　to　his　discharge；　would　return
to　the　trenches　with　a　grim　determination　to　find　the　Hun　who