It is essential that this perilous peculiarity in the Pruss, or Positive Barbarian, should be seized.  He has what he fancies is a new idea; and he is going to apply it to everybody.  As a fact it is simply a false generalisation; but he is really trying to make it general.  This does not apply to the Negative Barbarian:  it does not apply to the Russian or the Servian, even if they are barbarians.  If a Russian peasant does beat his wife, he does it because his fathers did it before him:  he is likely to beat less rather than more, as the past fades away.  He does not think, as the Prussian would, that he has made a new discovery in physiology in finding that a woman is weaker than a man.  If a Servian does knife his rival without a word, he does it because other Servians have done it.  He may regard it even as piety, but certainly not as progress.  He does not think, as the Prussian does, that he founds a new school of horology by starting before the word “Go.”  He does not think he is in advance of the world in militarism merely because he is behind it in morals.  No; the danger of the Pruss is that he is prepared to fight for old errors as if they were new truths.  He has somehow heard of certain shallow simplifications, and imagines that we have never heard of them.  And, as I have said, his limited, but very sincere lunacy concentrates chiefly in a desire to destroy two ideas, the twin root ideas of rational society.  The first is the idea of record and promise:  the second is the idea of reciprocity.

It is plain that the promise, or extension of responsibility through time, is what chiefly distinguishes us, I will not say from savages, but from brutes and reptiles.  This was noted by the shrewdness of the Old Testament, when it summed up the dark irresponsible enormity of Leviathan in the words, “Will he make a pact with thee?” The promise, like the wheel, is unknown in Nature:  and is the first mark of man.  Referring only to human civilisation, it may be said with seriousness that in the beginning was the Word.  The vow is to the man what the song is to the bird, or the bark to the dog; his voice, whereby he is known.  Just as a man who cannot keep an appointment is not fit even to fight a duel, so the man who cannot keep an appointment with himself is not sane enough even for suicide.  It is not easy to mention anything on which the enormous apparatus of human life can be said to depend.  But if it depends on anything, it is on this frail cord, flung from the forgotten hills of yesterday to the invisible mountains of to-morrow.  On that solitary string hangs everything from Armageddon to an almanac, from a successful revolution to a return ticket.  On that solitary string the Barbarian is hacking heavily, with a sabre which is fortunately blunt.