War & Peace Quote by George Eliot

Politics as pastoral farce: Eliot frames the election not as a civic sacrament but as a temporary truce declared by predators who suddenly discover a love of harmony. The punchline is the zoological casting. “Universal peace” arrives right on schedule, like bunting hung over a street that will be dirty again tomorrow. Then comes the acid turn: the foxes are “sincere.” That word is doing the dirty work. Eliot isn’t accusing politicians merely of lying; she’s skewering the more disturbing truth that self-interest can feel like virtue from the inside. The fox can genuinely prefer a well-fed, longer-living henhouse if it means steadier meals, fewer alarms, a calmer farmer. “Sincere” exposes how exploitation often survives on good manners and plausible feelings, not just villainy.

The subtext is classically Eliot: moral psychology plus social realism. Elections, in this view, are less about sudden conversions than about strategic performances of care. The powerful adopt the language of protection, stability, and “peace” precisely when they need consent from those they plan to manage. It’s a snapshot of political seasonality: empathy as campaign weather, compassion as a tactic.

Context matters. Writing in Victorian Britain, Eliot watched reform politics expand the franchise while leaving hierarchies largely intact. Her metaphor catches that paradox: the ritual of choice can coexist with predation, even lubricate it. The line still bites because it names a recurring modern sensation: being courted by institutions that will go right back to consuming you once the votes are counted.