if its commanders push it beyond human endurance when its eyes are
opening to the fact that in murdering its neighbours it is biting off
its nose to vex its face, besides riveting the intolerable yoke of
Militarism and Junkerism more tightly than ever on its own neck. But
there is no chance--or, as our Junkers would put it, no danger--of our
soldiers yielding to such an ecstasy of common sense. They have enlisted
voluntarily; they are not defeated nor likely to be; their
communications are intact and their meals reasonably punctual; they are
as pugnacious as their officers; and in fighting Prussia they are
fighting a more deliberate, conscious, tyrannical, personally insolent,
and dangerous Militarism than their own. Still, even for a voluntary
professional army, that possibility exists, just as for the civilian
there is a limit beyond which taxation, bankruptcy, privation, terror,
and inconvenience cannot be pushed without revolution or a social
dissolution more ruinous than submission to conquest. I mention all
this, not to make myself wantonly disagreeable, but because military
persons, thinking naturally that there is nothing like leather, are now
talking of this war as likely to become a permanent institution like the
Chamber of Horrors at Madame Tussaud's, forgetting, I think, that the
rate of consumption maintained by modern military operations is much
greater relatively to the highest possible rate of production
maintainable under the restrictions of war time than it has ever been
before.


*The Day of Judgment.*

The European settlement at the end of the war will be effected, let us
hope, not by a regimental mess of fire-eaters sitting around an up-ended
drum in a vanquished Berlin or Vienna, but by some sort of Congress in