That is the importance of the German Chancellor’s
phrase. He did not allege some special excuse
in the case of Belgium, which might make it seem an
exception that proved the rule. He distinctly
argued, as on a principle applicable to other cases,
that victory was a necessity and honour was a scrap
of paper. And it is evident that the half-educated
Prussian imagination really cannot get any farther
than this. It cannot see that if everybody’s
action were entirely incalculable from hour to hour,
it would not only be the end of all promises, but the
end of all projects. In not being able to see
that, the Berlin philosopher is really on a lower
mental level than the Arab who respects the salt, or
the Brahmin who preserves the caste. And in this
quarrel we have a right to come with scimitars as
well as sabres, with bows as well as rifles, with assegai
and tomahawk and boomerang, because there is in all
these at least a seed of civilisation that these intellectual
anarchists would kill. And if they should find
us in our last stand girt with such strange swords
and following unfamiliar ensigns, and ask us for what
we fight in so singular a company, we shall know what
to reply: “We fight for the trust and for
the tryst; for fixed memories and the possible meeting
of men; for all that makes life anything but an uncontrollable
nightmare. We fight for the long arm of honour
and remembrance; for all that can lift a man above
the quicksands of his moods, and give him the mastery
of time.”
II
THE REFUSAL OF RECIPROCITY
In the last summary I suggested that Barbarism, as
we mean it, is not mere ignorance or even mere cruelty.
It has a more precise sense, and means militant hostility
to certain necessary human ideas. I took the case
of the vow or the contract, which Prussian intellectualism
would destroy. I urged that the Prussian is a
spiritual Barbarian, because he is not bound by his
own past, any more than a man in a dream. He avows
that when he promised to respect a frontier on Monday,
he did not foresee what he calls “the necessity”
of not respecting it on Tuesday. In short, he
is like a child, who at the end of all reasonable
explanations and reminders of admitted arrangements
has no answer except “But I want to.”
There is another idea in human arrangements so fundamental
as to be forgotten; but now for the first time denied.
It may be called the idea of reciprocity; or, in better
English, of give and take. The Prussian appears
to be quite intellectually incapable of this thought.
He cannot, I think, conceive the idea that is the
foundation of all comedy; that, in the eyes of the
other man, he is only the other man. And if we
carry this clue through the institutions of Prussianised
Germany, we shall find how curiously his mind has
been limited in the matter. The German differs
from other patriots in the inability to understand
patriotism. Other European peoples pity the Poles