After the massacre

Wherever there is spilt blood to justify, acts of piracy to be consecrated, violation to bless, hideous trade to protect, you are sure to see him, that British Tartuffe, pursuing the work of abominable conquest on the pretext of religious proselytism or scientific study. His cunning and ferocious shadow hangs over the desolation of conquered peoples, tied up with that of the cut-throat soldier and vindictive Shylock. In virgin forests, where the European rightly inspires more dread than the tiger, on the threshold of the humble straw-huts that have been devastated, between the burned-out shacks, he appears after the massacre, like a scavenger, to plunder the dead the evening after the battle. A worthy counterpart of his rival the Catholic missionary who also brings civilization on the end of torches, and the point of sabers and bayonets.

The Torture Garden, Octave Mirabeau