That is to say, when the Germans at the very first outbreak of war departed from the rules of the Hague Conference against the type of mine they used, we had two courses open to us: there was the moral advantage of refusing to follow the bad lead, or we could seek a physical advantage by forcing the enemies’ crime to its utmost consequences. We were effete. We were pusillanimous, and we were like Jelly-fish. _And we “Waited and See’d.”_ CHAPTER X APOLOGIA PRO VITA SUA We started out on the compilation of this book on the understanding that it was not to be an Autobiography, nor a Diary, nor Meditations (_à la_ Marcus Aurelius), but simply “MEMORIES.” And now you drive me to give you a Synopsis of my life (which is an artful periphrasis), and request me to account for my past life being one continuous series of fightings--Love and Hate alternating and Strife the thread running through this mortal coil of mine. (When a coil of rope is made in a Government Dockyard a coloured worsted thread is introduced; it runs through the centre of the rope: if the rope breaks and sends a man to “Kingdom Come,” you know the Dockyard that made it and you ask questions; if it’s purloined the Detective bowls out the purloiner.) So far my rope of life has not broken and the thread is there--Strife. Greatly daring, and “storms of obloquy” having been my portion, I produce now an _apologia pro vita mea_, though it may not pulverise as that great Cardinal pulverised with his famous Apologia (“He looked like Heaven and he fought like Hell”). * * * * *