The Crimes of England | Page 4

disregard them altogether. Even your foreign policy is
domestic policy. It does not even apply to any people who are not
Germans; and of your wild guesses about some twenty other peoples,
not one has gone right even by accident. Your two or three shots at my
own not immaculate land have been such that you would have been
much nearer the truth if you had tried to invade England by crossing
the Caucasus, or to discover England among the South Sea Islands.
With your first delusion, that our courage was calculated and malignant
when in truth our very corruption was timid and confused, I have
already dealt. The case is the same with your second favourite phrase;
that the British army is mercenary. You learnt it in books and not in
battlefields; and I should like to be present at a scene in which you tried
to bribe the most miserable little loafer in Hammersmith as if he were a
cynical condottiere selling his spear to some foreign city. It is not the
fact, my dear sir. You have been misinformed. The British Army is not
at this moment a hireling army any more than it is a conscript army. It
is a volunteer army in the strict sense of the word; nor do I object to
your calling it an amateur army. There is no compulsion, and there is
next to no pay. It is at this moment drawn from every class of the

community, and there are very few classes which would not earn a little
more money in their ordinary trades. It numbers very nearly as many
men as it would if it were a conscript army; that is with the necessary
margin of men unable to serve or needed to serve otherwise. Ours is a
country in which that democratic spirit which is common to
Christendom is rather unusually sluggish and far below the surface.
And the most genuine and purely popular movement that we have had
since the Chartists has been the enlistment for this war. By all means
say that such vague and sentimental volunteering is valueless in war if
you think so; or even if you don't think so. By all means say that
Germany is unconquerable and that we cannot really kill you. But if
you say that we do not really want to kill you, you do us an injustice.
You do indeed.
I need not consider the yet crazier things that some of you have said; as
that the English intend to keep Calais and fight France as well as
Germany for the privilege of purchasing a frontier and the need to keep
a conscript army. That, also, is out of books, and pretty mouldy old
books at that. It was said, I suppose, to gain sympathy among the
French, and is therefore not my immediate business, as they are
eminently capable of looking after themselves. I merely drop one word
in passing, lest you waste your powerful intellect on such projects. The
English may some day forgive you; the French never will. You Teutons
are too light and fickle to understand the Latin seriousness. My only
concern is to point out that about England, at least, you are invariably
and miraculously wrong.
Now speaking seriously, my dear Professor, it will not do. It could be
easy to fence with you for ever and parry every point you attempt to
make, until English people began to think there was nothing wrong
with England at all. But I refuse to play for safety in this way. There is
a very great deal that is really wrong with England, and it ought not to
be forgotten even in the full blaze of your marvellous mistakes. I
cannot have my countrymen tempted to those pleasures of intellectual
pride which are the result of comparing themselves with you. The deep
collapse and yawning chasm of your ineptitude leaves me upon a
perilous spiritual elevation. Your mistakes are matters of fact; but to

enumerate them does not exhaust the truth. For instance, the learned
man who rendered the phrase in an English advertisement "cut you
dead" as "hack you to death," was in error; but to say that many such
advertisements are vulgar is not an error. Again, it is true that the
English poor are harried and insecure, with insufficient instinct for
armed revolt, though you will be wrong if you say that they are
occupied literally in shooting the moon. It is true that the average
Englishman is too much attracted by aristocratic society; though you
will be in error if you quote dining with Duke Humphrey as an example
of it. In more ways than one you forget what is meant by idiom.
I have therefore thought it advisable to provide you with