Bildungsromans; England -- Social life and customs -- Fiction; Illegitimate children -- Fiction
“Doesn’t it amount to the same thing ultimately?” Michael
parried. “But leave out religion for the moment, and consider
this war. The only justification for such a war is the moral
effect it has on the nations engaged. Now, I ask you, do you
sincerely believe there has been a trace of any purifying
influence since we started waving
Union Jacks last September? It’s no good; we simply have not
got it in us to stand defeat or victory. At any rate, if the
Boers win, it will mean the preservation of something. Whereas
if we win, we shall just destroy everything.”
“Michael, what do you think is the important thing for this country at
this moment?” Mr. Viner asked.
“Well, I suppose I still think it is that the people—the great mass of
the nation, that is—should be happier and better. No, I don’t think
that’s it at all. I think the important thing is that the people should
be able to use the power that’s coming to them in bigger lumps every
day. I’d like to think it wasn’t, I’d like to believe that democracy
always will be as it always has been—a self-made failure. But against
my own will I can’t help believing that this time democracy is going to
carry everything before it. And this war is going to hurry it on. Of
course it is. The masses will learn their power. They’ll learn that
generals can make fools of themselves, that officers can be done
without, that professional soldiers can be cowards, but that simply by
paying we can still win. And where’s the money coming from? Why, from
the class that tried to be clever and bluff the people out of their
power by staging this war. Well, do you mean to tell me that it’s good
for a democracy, this sudden realization of their omnipotence? Look
here, you think I’m an excitable young fool, but I tell you I’ve been
pitching my ideals at a blank wall like so many empty bottles and——”
“Were they empty?” asked Mr. Viner. “Are you sure they were empty? May
they not have been cruses of ointment the more precious for being
broken?”
“Well, I wish I could keep one for myself,” Michael said.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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