It brings us back to the original question. Is it mainly, or at all, the cruelty or the danger of oppression which moves us, which is at the bottom of our flaming indignation over the crimes of the enemy? We believed that we were fighting because of a passionate feeling for self-rule; for freedom of discussion, of respect for the rights of others, particularly the weak; the hatred of the mere pride of power out of which oppression grows; of the regimentation of minds which is its instrument. But after the War we find that in truth we have no particular feeling about the things we fought to make impossible. We rather welcome them, if they are a means of harassing people that we do not happen to like. We get the monstrous paradox that the very tendencies which it was the object of the War to check, are the very tendencies that have acquired an elusive power in our own country--possibly as the direct result of the War! Perhaps if we examine in some detail the process of the break-up after war, within the nation, of the unity which marked it during war, we may get some explanation of the other change just indicated. The unity on which we congratulated ourselves was for a time a fact. But just as certainly the patriotism which prompted the duchess to scrub floors was not simply love of her countrymen, or it would not suddenly cease when the war came to an end. The self-same man who in khaki was a hero to be taken for drives in the duchess's motor-car, became as workman--a member of some striking union, say--an object of hostility and dislike. The psychology revealed here has a still more curious manifestation.