makes　everyone　collect　〃specimens〃　of　the　war。　　Everywhere　the
  souvenir　forces　itself　upon　the　attention。　　The　homecoming
  permissionaire　brings　with　him　invariably　a　considerable　weight
  of　broken　objects；　bits　of　shell；　cartridge　clips；　helmets；　it　is
  a　peripatetic　museum。　　It　is　as　if　he　hoped　for　a　clue。　　It　is
  almost　impossible；　I　have　found；　to　escape　these　pieces　in
  evidence。　　I　am　the　least　collecting　of　men；　but　I　have　brought
  home　Italian　cartridges；　Austrian　cartridges；　the　fuse　of　an
  Austrian　shell；　a　broken　Italian　bayonet；　and　a　note　that　is
  worth　half　a　franc　within　the　confines　of　Amiens。　　But　a　large
  heavy　piece　of　exploded　shell　that　had　been　thrust　very　urgently
  upon　my　attention　upon　the　Carso　I　contrived　to　lose　during　the
  temporary　confusion　of　our　party　by　the　arrival　and　explosion　of
  another　prospective　souvenir　in　our　close　proximity。　　And　two
  really　very　large　and　almost　complete　specimens　of　some　species
  of　/Ammonites/　unknown　to　me；　from　the　hills　to　the　east　of
  the　Adige；　partially　wrapped　in　a　back　number　of　the　/Corriere
  della　Sera/；　that　were　pressed　upon　me　by　a　friendly　officer；
  were　unfortunately　lost　on　the　line　between　Verona　and　Milan
  through　the　gross　negligence　of　a　railway　porter。　　But　I　doubt　if
  they　would　have　thrown　any　very　conclusive　light　upon　the　war。
  2
  I　avow　myself　an　extreme　Pacifist。　　I　am　against　the　man　who
  first　takes　up　the　weapon。　　I　carry　my　pacifism　far　beyond　the
  ambiguous　little　group　of　British　and　foreign　sentimentalists　who
  pretend　so　amusingly　to　be　socialists　in　the　/Labour
  Leader/；　whose　conception　of　foreign　policy　is　to　give　Germany
  now　a　peace　that　would　be　no　more　than　a　breathing　time　for　a
  fresh　outrage　upon　civilisation；　and　who　would　even　make　heroes
  of　the　crazy　young　assassins　of　the　Dublin　crime。　　I　do　not
  understand　those　people。　　I　do　not　merely　want　to　stop　this　war。
  I　want　to　nail　down　war　in　its　coffin。　　Modern　war　is　an
  intolerable　thing。　　It　is　not　a　thing　to　trifle　with　in　this
  Urban　District　Council　way；　it　is　a　thing　to　end　forever。　　I　have
  always　hated　it；　so　far　that　is　as　my　imagination　enabled　me　to
  realise　it；　and　now　that　I　have　been　seeing　it；　sometimes　quite
  closely　for　a　full　month；　I　hate　it　more　than　ever。　　I　never
  imagined　a　quarter　of　its　waste；　its　boredom；　its　futility；　its
  desolation。　　It　is　merely　a　destructive　and　dispersive　instead　of
  a　constructive　and　accumulative　industrialism。　　It　is　a　gigantic；
  dusty；　muddy；　weedy；　bloodstained　silliness。　　It　is　the　plain
  duty　of　every　man　to　give　his　life　and　all　that　he　has　if　by　so
  doing　he　may　help　to　end　it。　　I　hate　Germany；　which　has　thrust
  this　experience　upon　mankind；　as　I　hate　some　horrible　infectious
  disease。　　The　new　war；　the　war　on　the　modern　level；　is　her
  invention　and　her　crime。　　I　perceive　that　on　our　side　and　in　its
  broad　outlines；　this　war　is　nothing　more　than　a　gigantic　and
  heroic　effort　in　sanitary　engineering；　an　effort　to　remove　German
  militarism　from　the　life　and　regions　it　has　invaded；　and　to　bank
  it　in　and　discredit　and　enfeeble　it　so　that　never　more　will　it
  repeat　its　present　preposterous　and　horrible　efforts。　　All　human
  affairs　and　all　great　affairs　have　their　reservations　and　their
  complications；　but　that　is　the　broad　outline　of　the　business　as
  it　has　impressed　itself　on　my　mind　and　as　I　find　it　conceived　in
  the　mind　of　the　average　man　of　the　reading　class　among　the　allied
  peoples；　and　as　I　find　it　understood　in　the　judgment　of　honest
  and　intelligent　neutral　observers。
  It　is　my　unshakeable　belief　that　essentially　the　Allies　fight　for
  a　permanent　world　peace；　that　primarily　they　do　not　make　war　but
  resist　war；　that　has　reconciled　me　to　this　not　very　congenial
  experience　of　touring　as　a　spectator　all　agog　to　see；　through　the
  war　zones。　　At　any　rate　there　was　never　any　risk　of　my　playing
  Balaam　and　blessing　the　enemy。　　This　war　is　tragedy　and　sacrifice
  for　most　of　the　world；　for　the　Germans　it　is　simply　the
  catastrophic　outcome　of　fifty　years　of　elaborate　intellectual
  foolery。　　Militarism；　Welt　Politik；　and　here　we　are！　　What　else
  /could/　have　happened；　with　Michael　and　his　infernal　War
  Machine　in　the　very　centre　of　Europe；　but　this　tremendous
  disaster？
  It　is　a　disaster。　　It　may　be　a　necessary　disaster；　it　may　teach　a
  lesson　that　could　be　learnt　in　no　other　way；　but　for　all　that；　I
  insist；　it　remains　waste；　disorder；　disaster。
  There　is　a　disposition；　I　know；　in　myself　as　well　as　in　others；
  to　wriggle　away　from　this　verity；　to　find　so　much　good　in　the
  collapse　that　has　come　to　the　mad　direction　of　Europe　for　the
  past　half…century　as　to　make　it　on　the　whole　almost　a　beneficial
  thing。　　But　at　most　I　can　find　it　in　no　greater　good　than　the
  good　of　a　nightmare　that　awakens　the　sleeper　in　a　dangerous　place
  to　a　realisation　of　the　extreme　danger　of　his　sleep。　　Better　had
  he　been　awakeor　never　there。　　In　Venetia　Captain　Pirelli；　whose
  task　it　was　to　keep　me　out　of　mischief　in　the　war　zone；　was
  insistent　upon　the　way　in　which　all　Venetia　was　being　opened　up
  by　the　new　military　roads；　there　has　been　scarcely　a　new　road
  made　in　Venetia　since　Napoleon　drove　his　straight；　poplar…
  bordered　highways　through　the　land。　　M。　Joseph　Reinach；　who　was
  my　companion　upon　the　French　front；　was　equally　impressed　by　the
  stirring　up　and　exchange　of　ideas　in　the　villages　due　to　the
  movement　of　the　war。　　Charles　Lamb's　story　of　the　discovery　of
  roast　pork　comes　into　one's　head　with　an　effect　of　repartee。
  More　than　ideas　are　exchanged　in　the　war　zone；　and　it　is　doubtful
  how　far　the　sanitary　precautions　of　the　military　authorities
  avails　against　a　considerable　propaganda　of　disease。　　A　more
  serious　argument　for　the　good　of　war　is　that　it　evokes　heroic
  qualities　that　it　has　brought　out　almost　incredible　quantities　of
  courage；　devotion；　and　individual　romance　that　did　not　show　in
  the　suffocating　peace　time　that　preceded　the　war。　　The　reckless
  and　beautiful　zeal　of　the　women　in　the　British　and　French
  munition　factories；　for　example；　the　gaiety　and　fearlessness　of
  the　common　soldiers　everywhere；　these　things　have　always　been
  therelike　champagne　sleeping　in　bottles　in　a　cellar。　　But　was
  there　any　need　to　throw　a　bomb　into　the　cellar？
  I　am　reminded　of　a　story；　or　rather　of　the　idea　for　a　story　that
  I　think　I　must　have　read　in　that　curious　collection　of　fantasies
  and　observations；　Hawthorne's　/Note　Book。/　　It　was　to　be　the
  story　of　a　man　who　found　life　dull　and　his　circumstances
  altogether　mediocre。　　He　had　loved　his　wife；　but　now　after　all
  she　seemed　to　be　a　very　ordinary　human　being。　　He　had　begun　life
  with　high　hopesand　life　was　commonplace。　　He　was　to　grow
  fretful　and　restless。　　His　discontent　was　to　lead　to　some　action；
  some　irrevocable　action；　but　upon　the　nature　of　that　action　I　do
  not　think　the　/Note　Book/　was　very　clear。　　It　was　to　carry
  him　in　such　a　manner　that　he　was　to　forget　his　wife。　　Then；　when
  it　was　too　late；　he　was　to　see　her　at　an　upper　window；　stripped
  and　firelit；　a　glorious　thing　of　light　and　loveliness　and　tragic
  intensity。。。。
  The　elementary　tales　of　the　world　are　very　few；　and　Hawthorne's
  story　and　Lamb's　story　are；　after　all；　only　variations　upon　the
  same　theme。　　But　can　we　poor　human　beings　never　realise　our
  quality　without　destruction？
  3
  One　of　the　larger　singularities　of　the　great　war　is　its　failure
  to　produce　great　and　imposing　personalities；　mighty　leaders；
  Napoleons；　Caesars。　　I　would　indeed　make　that　the　essential
  thing　in　my　reckoning　of　the　war。　　It　is　a　drama　without　a　hero；
  without　countless　incidental　heroes　no　doubt；　but　no　star　part。
  Even　the　Germans；　with　a　national　predisposition　for　hero…cults
  and　living　still　in　an　atmosphere　of　Victorian　humbug；　can
  produce　nothing　better　than　that　timber　image；　Hindenburg。
  It　is　not　that　the　war　has　failed　to　produce　heroes　so　much　as
  that　it　has　produced　heroism　in　a　torrent。　　The　great　man　of　this
  war　is　the　common　man。　　It　becomes　ridiculous　to　pick　out
  particular　names。　　There　are　too　many　true　stories　of　splendid
  acts　in　the　past　two　years　ever　to　be　properly　set　down。　　The
  V。C。's　and　the　palms　do　but　indicate　samples。　　One　would　need　an
  encyclopaedia；　a　row　of　volumes；　of　the　gloriousness　of
  human　impulses。　　The　acts　of　the　small　men　in　this　war　dwarf　all
  the　pretensions　of　the　Great　Man。　　Imperatively　these
  multitudinous　heroes　forbid　the　setting　up　of　effigies。　　When　I
  was　a　young　man　I　imitated　Swift　and　posed　for　cynicism；　I　will
  confess　that　now　at　fifty　and　greatly　helped　by　this　war；　I　have
  fallen　in　love　with　mankind。
  But　if　I　had　to　pick　out　a　single　figure　to　stand　for　the　finest
  quality　of　the　Allies'　war；　I　should　I　think　choose　the　figure　of
  General　Joffre。　　He　is　something　new　in　history。　　He　is
  leadership　without　vulgar　ambition。　　He　is　the　extreme　antithesis
  to　the　Imperial　boomster　of　Berlin。　　He　is　as　it　were　the
  ordinary　common　sense　of　men；　incarnate。　　He　is　the　antithesis　of
  the　effigy。
  By　great　good　luck　I　was　able　to　see　him。　　I　was　delayed　in　Paris
  on　my　way　to　Italy；　and　my　friend　Captain　Millet　arranged　for　a
  visit　to　the　French　front　at　Soissons　and　put　me　in　charge　of
  Lieutenant　de　Tessin；　whom　ii　had　met　in　England　studying