Finally, and looking back on all we have said, and especially on the
Christmas scenes and celebrations between the trenches in this war and
the many similar fraternizations of the rank and file of opposing armies
in former wars, one realizes the monstrosity and absurdity of the
present conflict--its anachronism and out-of-dateness in the existing
age of human thought and feeling. The whole European situation resembles
a game of marbles played by schoolboys. It is not much more dignified
than that. Each boy tries on the quiet to appropriate some of the
marbles out of another boy's bag. From time to time, in consequence,
furious scrimmages arise--generally between two boys--the others
looking' on and laughing, knowing well that they themselves are guilty
of the same tricks. Presently, in the fortunes of the game, one boy--a
little more blundering or a little less disguised than the others--lays
himself open to the accusations of the whole crew. They all fall upon
him, and give him a good drubbing; and even some of them say they are
punishing him _for his good_! When shall we make an end, once for all,
of this murderous nonsense?

However our Tommy Atkinses have been worked up to fighting point by
fears for the safety of old England, or by indignation at atrocities
actually observed or distantly reported; however the German soldiers
have been affected by similar fears and indignations, or the French the
same; however the political coil has been engineered (as engineered in
such cases it always is), and whatever inducements of pay or patriotism
have been put in operation and sentiments circulated by the Press--one
thing remains perfectly certain: that left to themselves these men would
never have quarrelled, never have attacked each other. One thing is
perfectly certain: that such a war as the present is the result of the
activity of governing cliques and classes in the various nations,