among European nations are immeasureably greater than their differences. Congresses, conferences, and international bodies of many kinds testified to the diffused consciousness of a common purpose, a common task in the life of a civilisation. Suddenly, between one day and the next, all this is forgotten: German scholars repudiate English honours, English scholars say that Germany has done nothing of importance in learning. In a moment, all the great co-operative work for which academic bodies exist is set aside for the pleasure of indulging a bitter and trivial hatred.
This war is trivial, for all its vastness. No great principle is at stake, no great human purpose is involved on either side. The supposed ideal ends for which it is being fought are merely part of the myth. Every nation is fighting in self-defence, every nation is fighting to destroy the tyranny of armaments, every nation is fighting to show that unprovoked aggression cannot be practised with impunity. Every nation pays homage to peace by maintaining that its enemies began the war. The fact that these assertions carry equal conviction on both sides shows that they are not based on reason, but are merely inspired by prejudice. But besides these common objects, there are some in which the two sides differ. Probably the two Kaisers would say, and perhaps believe, that they are fighting to prove it a crime to assassinate heirs to thrones. It can hardly be supposed that the Tsar would deny that this is a crime, but he would say, as the English do, that it is a crime for a great nation to oppress a small one. This proposition, however, is only true in certain latitudes; it does not apply to Finland or Persia. The English and French say they are fighting in defence
