now in one, now in another city of Europe, and, seated at tables, with most serious faces they discuss the question how best to persuade those brigands who live by their plunder to give up robbing and become peaceful citizens; and then they put the profound questions: first, whether war is still desirable from the standpoint of history, law, and progress (as if such fictions, invented by us, could demand from us deviation from the fundamental moral law of our life); secondly, as to what are the consequences of war (as if there could be any doubt that the consequences of war are always general distress and corruption); and finally, as to how to solve the problem of war (as if some difficult problem existed as to how to free deluded people from a delusion which we clearly see).
This is terrible! We see, for instance, how healthy, calm, and frequently happy people year after year arrive at some gambling den like Monte Carlo, and, benefiting no one but the keepers of those dens, leave there their health, peace, honour, and often their lives. We pity these people; we see clearly that the deceit to which they are subjected consists in those temptations whereby gamblers are allured; in the inequality of the chances, and in the infatuation of gamblers who, though fully aware that in general they are sure to be losers, nevertheless hope, for once at least, to be more fortunate than the rest. All this is perfectly
