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 further
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