most complex maze of indirect motive; and still the man who keeps faith for
money cannot possibly be worse than the man who breaks faith for money. It
will be noted that this ultimate test applies in the same way to Servia as
to Belgium and Britain. The Servians may not be a very peaceful people,
but on the occasion under discussion it was certainly they who wanted
peace. You may choose to think the Serb a sort of born robber: but on this
occasion it was certainly the Austrian who was trying to rob. Similarly,
you may call England perfidious as a sort of historical summary; and
declare your private belief that Mr. Asquith was vowed from infancy to the
ruin of the German Empire, a Hannibal and hater of the eagles. But, when
all is said, it is nonsense to call a man perfidious because he keeps his
promise. It is absurd to complain of the sudden treachery of a business man
in turning up punctually to his appointment: or the unfair shock given to a
creditor by the debtor paying his debts.

Lastly, there is an attitude, not unknown in the crisis, against which I
should particularly like to protest. I should address my protest especially
to those lovers and pursuers of peace who, very shortsightedly, have
occasionally adopted it. I mean the attitude which is impatient of these
preliminary details about who did this or that, and whether it was right
or wrong. They are satisfied with saying that an enormous calamity, called
war, has been begun by some or all of us and should be ended by some or
all of us. To these people, this preliminary chapter about the precise
happenings must appear not only dry (and it must of necessity be the driest
part of the task) but essentially needless and barren. I wish to tell
these people that they are wrong; that they are wrong upon all principles
of human justice and historic continuity; but that they are specially and
supremely wrong upon their own principles of arbitration and international
peace.