Combed Out

ling, and a cause of a great part of the ills from which mankind is suffering; and that, consequently, this feeling should not be

lst

k was all about one subject-not about peace, for we had abandoned all hope of peace and hardly ever thought of it-but about leave. We had been waiting for seventeen months when, without warning, a leave allotment was assigned to our

lf in books-that would be just like old times! Of course, our leave would not last for ever and the return journey would be terrible. No doubt the fortnight would pass very quickly, but I determined to enjoy every single hour with deliberation and unders

y. A night and half a day at Calais Rest Camp. How terrible was the

immense relief, we heard the engines throb and the paddle-wheels begin to turn. I looked overboar

re us lay a wonderful fortnight of freedom and happiness. And at

stinguish the town of Dover, the houses clustered round the harbour, and the Castle up on the cliff. It was there that I had begun my c

rain was waiting for us. We poured out of the ship in two st

in a comfortable compartment an

suppressed excitement were

stures, cornfields, orchards and woodlands. People w

first rows of drab suburban

endous, wonderful fact with all the power of my mind. Somehow or other it

w. The people filled me with intense curiosity. I longed to tal

ent with hasty, trembling hands. I did not wait to change my F

fear that I had changed beyond the power of recovery. The oppressive sensation that I was in a dream forced itself upon me. I felt that there was only one reality in the whole world-the

t full of rapture? Why did not every object fill me with delight? But I ought to have known that habitual discontent and bitterness

moments when a dog, a horse, or a bird fills us with a sense of the uncanny-its mind is an insoluble mystery, with depths so dark and inscrutable that one feels something that approa

spell would be broken, the dream would dissolve and I would be restored to my own fellow creatures. But they spoke about trivial domestic matters

t a number of invisible cobwebs hung between myself and the world around me. I tried to brush t

myself-only by forgetting myself would I enjoy the present. Only those who forget

nt." So I too was regarded as a strange kind of animal. I got out at my home-station. I showed my leave-warrant to the ticket collector. He was a benevolent lookin

at the door, and it opened. The long

tile delight in clean, furnished rooms, in the white table-cloth, the shining silver, the

If the sensation that I was dreaming came upon me again, I would welcome it and then I would destroy it once and for all. I would enjoy my leave at any cost. It would become my only reality, and when it was over

some war enthusiasts. I would tell them something about the war. Ho

on disil

he spirit, engenders heroic ardour, and causes the nostrils to dilate. He was so bellicose that he even desired to do some real righting, not understanding the difference between the two. He thought

many men I had met were gl

earn a much-needed lesson. And yet I did not want him killed or horribly mutilated, although I knew that

ded. He said he was dying

an almost irresistible impulse to stand up and strike him across the face. But I wa

mmonplace. I tried to relate a few of my experiences, bu

sions and ignorant prejudices, and I found myself face to face with towering, strong, unshakabl

t against the conviction that for the rest of my leave I would be able to talk of nothing else and think of no

some anxiety lest they might have changed, or

cold aloofness. But his caustic observations on the war soon made it clear that he had stood the test. I rea

other s

I almost wish I could see German troops marching victoriously through the streets of London. It i

far too well to

ce, I said: "I wonder if an

there are many-more t

Germans whose bitterness prompts them to wish that British troops were marching through the streets of Berlin. I think their wish is juster than yours, but both wishes cann

ed, bu

r every nation to discover its own faults. There are many Germans of courage and honesty who will condemn their country for the crimes she has committed. But condemnation from outside is useless

the responsibility of war upon them and upon themselves. There will be a frenzy of self-accusation-whether just or unjust it doesn't matter-and as for the victors, they will say: 'Our enemies admit their guilt, so what further proof is needed?' Where the real guilt is, that is an irrelevant and trivial question. Success or failure will be the sole ultimate criterion. There is only one hope for the world-that fai

I realized with satisfaction that I was not entirely alone. I also gave up the idea

at surrounded me on the shelves of the reading-room had a depressing ef

at the other readers. They were mostly old men, engrossed in their studies, just as they had been in peace time. I wondered what they thought about the war. I knew they would not allow it

useum became unbearable and

ceived material kindnesses at his hands, I knew I could not tell him what I really thought, and the prospect of meeting him filled me with uneasiness. Moreover, in his presence I felt a kind of pride which I did not usually feel in the presence of others-a pride that forbade me to express any sentiment or to reveal my inner mind. And yet my inner mind was clamouring intolerab

were ju

nunciation were denied to me by the laws of politeness and etiquette. I beat in vain against the solid walls of obstinate prejudice and superficiality. His statements were uttered with dogmatic emphasis. They expressed beliefs held with all the self-assurance born of ignorance. T

any puzzling mental attitude comes before their notice, they pin one of their labels to it, and, having labelled it, they think they understand it. The

narrowed it. Had he never travelled he might have been sufficiently modest to admit that he knew nothing of foreign countries and he might have suspended judgment about them; but the mere fact that he had travelled filled him with a deep conviction that he knew all about the places he had visited, and this conviction,

is years were sufficient to cope with the entire question and answer it satisfactorily for himself. I almost envied him for his self-sufficiency. He would never suffer acutely from any mental strife or agitation due to any but immediate and personal causes. Perhaps such a sta

. It was no exchange of ideas. It was no mutual attempt at discov

d this dictum with a number of false, irrelevant or arbitrary generalizations made me feel a momentary pang of anger and I wished he could experience a term o

f those like him, they all made up popular opinion. All other opinion was abnormal and negligibl

s it is true. The so-called "working-classes" had developed an appetite for wealth and power that nothing could satisfy. This appetite was being fed continually, but the more it devoured the more voracious it became. Nor did the shameless profiteering of the wealthy tend to allay it in any way. Pro

usiasts being incapable, by reason of their grossness and vulgarity, of suffering in a spiritual sense, were immune from

more a man suffered from the war t

it was impossible to talk to them without anger. I could think of nothing else but the war. I could not escape from its invisible presence. The streets and houses seemed the i

a Hebrew prophet and denounce this most wicked of generations.

or a lunatic if He had spoken His mind in the streets of London. And the clergy would have applauded the imprison

arly the

mmit murder. They spewed their venomous slime into every spring of healing water. At a time when clear thinking and balanced judgments were needed more desperately than ever before, they squirted into the air thick clouds of lies, and half-truths, and misleading phrases, and judgments distorted by hatred and warped by malice. And as for those who were either lured on to perpetrate the great iniquity by grandiose and seductive falsehoods or were dragged from their homes and families and sent unwilling to the slaughter, these miserable slaves the Press of all countries urged on, one against the other, brutally deaf to

olical conspiracy that hatred became second nature to vast masses of people. To think evil of the enemy was an article of national faith, and to question this faith, or still more to repudiate it, that

ever been so servile, and that was why its passions were those of the coward and not of the brave man; that was why chivalry a

that gave me some satisfaction. I thought that in time I might get into touch with other people who shared our attitude and then take part in some anti-war movement and fight against the war instead of in it. That would have been the only activity to which I could have devoted myself with energy and enthusiasm. But I would soon have to go back and be muzzled once more by a ruthless discipline and an all-embracing censorship. Moreover, as

nd of the fortnight, I went

s dying!)-all these had a strangely harmonizing influence upon my discordant spirit. We spoke little, and of the war not at all. Indeed, the war suddenly seemed curiously remote and I could hardly hear the throbbing of the guns. I knew t

ccessful effort to control myself.

miserable as I had expected to feel. I did not know how to occupy my time. I had brought several books with me, but

iend, whose place was next to mine, remarked that I was fa

gue regret for what had been and what had gone for ever. My leave seemed like a thing I had drea

-it might come in eight or nine months-that was something to look forward to