himself. This is a strange thing; and is perhaps the widest breach of
all. We are hopelessly separated from the Germans; we have lost the use
of a common language, and cannot talk with them if we would.

We cannot understand them; is it remotely possible that they will ever
understand us? Here, too, the difficulties seem insuperable. It is true
that in the past they have shown themselves willing to study us and to
imitate us. But unless they change their minds and their habits, it is
not easy to see how they are to get near enough to us to carry on their
study. While they remain what they are we do not want them in our
neighbourhood. We are not fighting to anglicize Germany, or to impose
ourselves on the Germans; our work is being done, as work is so often
done in this idle sport-loving country, with a view to a holiday. We
wish to forget the Germans; and when once we have policed them into
quiet and decency we shall have earned the right to forget them, at
least for a time. The time of our respite perhaps will not be long. If
the Allies defeat them, as the Allies will, it seems as certain as any
uncertain thing can be that a mania for imitating British and American
civilization will take possession of Germany. We are not vindictive to a
beaten enemy, and when the Germans offer themselves as pupils we are not
likely to be either enthusiastic in our welcome or obstinate in our
refusal. We shall be bored but concessive. I confess that there are
some things in the prospect of this imitation which haunt me like a
nightmare. The British soldier, whom the German knows to be second to
none, is distinguished for the levity and jocularity of his bearing in
the face of danger. What will happen when the German soldier attempts to
imitate that? We shall be delivered from the German peril as when Israel
came out of Egypt, and the mountains skipped like rams.

The only parts of this book for which I claim any measure of authority