Here is the Prussian point of view, expressed by a thoughtful Englishman with a wide experience of education, and a deep concern for the moral welfare of the nation.  What have we, on the British side, to set up against his arguments?

In the first place we must draw attention to the writer’s candour in admitting that a nation cannot adopt Prussianism piecemeal.  It must take it as a whole, its lieutenants included, or not at all.  Lieutenant von Foerstner is as typical a product of the Prussian system as the London policeman is of our own; and if we adopt Prussian or Spartan methods, we must run the risk of being ruled by him.  “No other nation,” says Dr. Sadler, “by imitating a little bit of German organisation can hope thus to achieve a true reproduction of the spirit of German institutions.  The fabric of its organisation practically forms one whole.  That is its merit and its danger.  It must be taken all in all or else left unimitated.  And it is not a mere matter of external organisation....  National institutions must grow out of the needs and character (and not least out of the weakness) of the nation which possesses them.”

But, taking the system as a whole, there are, it seems to me, three great flaws in it—­flaws so serious and vital as to make the word “education” as applied to it almost a misnomer.  The Prussian system is unsatisfactory, firstly, because it confuses external discipline with self-control; secondly, because it confuses regimentation with corporate spirit; thirdly, because it conceives the nation’s duty in terms of “culture” rather than of character.

Let us take these three points in detail.

The first object of national education is—­not anything national at all, but simply education.  It is the training of individual young people.  It is the gradual leading-out (e-ducation), unfolding, expanding, of their mental and bodily powers, the helping of them to become, not soldiers, or missionaries of culture, or pioneers of Empire, or even British citizens, but simply human personalities.  “The purpose of the Public Elementary School,” say the opening words of our English code, “is to form and strengthen the character and to develop the intelligence of the children entrusted to it.”  In the performance of this task external discipline is no doubt necessary.  Obedience and consideration for others are not learnt in a day.  But the object of external discipline is to form habits of self-control which will enable their possessor to become an independent and self-respecting human being—­and incidentally, a good citizen.  “If I had to live under Ramsay MacDonald, or the Prussian Lieutenant,” says our writer, “I would choose the latter, for my soul’s good.”  But our British system of education does not proceed on the assumption that its pupils are destined to “live under” any one.  Our ideal is that of the free man, trained in the exercise of his powers and in the command and control of his faculties, who, like Wordsworth’s “Happy Warrior” (a poem which embodies the best British educational tradition):