who believe the contrary. Many say that the Emperor had three opportunities to wage successful wars against each of the countries now in arms against Germany. However this may be, one who tries to hold the balance of judgment fair and true is inclined, from personal study of the Emperor, to think that his natural tendencies are strongly toward peace. But there can be no question that now that his hand has been set to the plow, he will not turn back until the furrow has been run. In this he faithfully reflects German feeling and purpose. When, at the outbreak of hostilities, the Emperor said, “To the last man and the last horse,” he undoubtedly meant every word of it and he expressed in that now historic phrase the deliberate resolve of the German nation. This sketch is to bring the German Emperor to the understanding of the American mind, and is put in terms of Americanism, just as if describing an American public man. Disagree with him if you will; but remember that if you were to meet the Emperor casually, without knowing who he is, you would like him immensely; and this liking would be a sure step to respecting his character and admiring his ability. It will be useful to the American reader who thinks the coloring of this picture too pronounced, if he will reflect that to the German eye it will appear pale and unappreciative. To the Emperor's supporters, among the German people, and at the present moment this means the German nation, this estimate will seem small and cold. There are those in Germany who dislike the Emperor even now; but even these are with him to the uttermost in the terrific crisis now threatening Germany's life; and the masses of the people at the date of this writing, February, 1915, are devoted to him with a fervent and limitless loyalty and love. These facts are mentioned in order that the American reader may be advised that what I have here set down is not an overstatement, but, on the contrary, reserved and guarded and far within the limits of the truth. When this is understood, it will be plain, even to the prejudiced, that much which has been written and spoken of this great man has been penned or uttered in ignorance or malice. WHO WILL PAY THE COST?1 The cost and the damage caused by the war during the first six months have been estimated by authoritative writers at more than four thousand million pounds, apart from all private expenditure and losses, apart from the value to the nation of the dead and the mutilated, and apart from the labor lost to the State represented by the soldiers who are under arms. There can be no question of compensation being paid for these costs and losses of war by the defeated party to the conqueror-if, indeed, a victory of one side or the other is conceivable. In Germany, apart from the empire, the individual states and communes have also incurred millions of debts. Who is to pay these gigantic sums? Who is to labor and pay even the interest on them? "When I see princes and states fighting and quarrelling, it always brings to my mind a match of cudgel-playing fought in a chinashop" (Hume). The fellows with the cudgels are the belligerent nations; the china-shop is the economic organization of the world, and it will not be long before all the china in the world is broken into fragments. Quousque tandem? How is it to go on? How is it to end? Every victory is a Pyrrhic victory. “One more such victory and I am lost." Among the sixty-seven millions of Germans is there not a single soul who will dare to brave the thunderbolts of Jupiter and exclaim, as Themistocles did to Eurybiades: "Strike, but listen!" Must subservient newspaper writers continue to let their scandalous reports run through the press, -while outside on the snow-covered fields, in the damp earthhuts, the children of their country perish and bleed to death, while the widow and the fatherless pour forth a rising flood of tears? 1 From "I Accuse!" (J'Accuse!), by "A German." Copyright, 1915, by George H. Doran Company and reprinted here by permission of the publishers. The blank spaces denote passages omitted owing to the condition of censorship. How is it to end? The How long will all this still go on? nations are not advantaged if after peace the "right trusty cousins" fall into each other's arms in emotion, embrace each other, and once more assume each other's uniforms which they have discarded in the interval. The nation is not advantaged by solemn entrances through the Brandenburger Tor, with crowns of laurel and the blare of trumpets. It is peace the people want; peace they are craving for, peace for which they hunger and thirst. There are enough dead and mutilated; there is enough misery and ruin. The conscience of the world is stirring; the words now being raised in accusation will find the sword of fulfilment if the stern accents of the voice of the people remains unheard. Vivos voco, mortuos plango, fulgura frango; I call the living, I lament the dead, I defy the lightning-such is the call of the bell of the world's conscience to the mighty ones. And on your head Turns he the widows' tears, the orphans' cries, They have suffered enough, the Achaeans The nations have never been enemies. From all letters written at the front it is clear that the feelings of hatred and of revenge are unknown in the trenches. These are the dragon's eggs which are hatched at home at the writing-tables in the coziness of editors' rooms. From trench to trench friendship and brotherhood are concluded. They visit each other, make each other small presents, and shake hands in friendship. And then they return to the trenches, and shoot at each other on commands from above. Is that not unspeakable, incredible? If we had not known long ago that none of the belligerent nations desired war, that a few hundred, at the most a few thousand, criminal men had desired and engineered this murder of the nations, the fraternization between the trenches would prove that between the nations no enmity exists. But just because it proves this, just because it might be prejudicial to the energy of murder, and gradually make it clear to those who are fighting that they are fighting for nothing which concerns them, that they are urged on against each other by higher powers who are pursuing their interests-for this reason, just as I am writing these lines, a strong prohibition against these scenes of fraternization has been issued by the supreme German Command. There must be no fraternization, no handshaking, there must be no pause in the firing, for God's sake, no! The task of murder must go on without loss of time. Nulla dies sine linea, there must be no day without murder and arson. But all army commands will be of no avail. La vérité est en marche. Every hour, every day, brings the illumination nearer. And if they will not-the gentlemen behind the front-in the end they must. Peace will come—soon, as quickly as possible, for it must come. Woe to the generals who still throw their sword into the balance-woe to those rulers who will still refuse to hear the subdued, forcibly restrained voice of the nations! Under the placid surface of internal peace the seething waters are in agitation, boiling and bubbling. Woe to those who refuse to hear the subterranean noises, and who still confide their bark to the treacherous waters. They will be devoured by the waves!-Discite moniti! Learn, you have been warned! THE BARBARIANS1 On August 3 this year bodies of soldiers in blue-grey uniforms began to cross the narrow river which marks the frontier between the German Empire and the little independent state of Belgium. For days they continued to pour across that line, mounted Uhlans with their lances, great masses of infantry closely packed, the tall men of the Prussian Guard, carrying with them a lingering memory of the madness of old Frederick William. Guns also came with them, maxims, field artillery, and a little later the huge howitzer siege guns, the latest masterpieces of Krupp, able to throw shells of a ton weight over miles of country, built to make an end of the forts of Paris. All these things were new, and yet there was that about those 1 From "The Prussian Hath Said in His Heart," by Cecil Chesterton. Copyright, 1915, by Louis H. Wetmore, and published by Lawrence J. Gomme. great masses of moving men that recalled a memory. So, fifteen centuries before, companies of half-civilized mercenaries from the marshes of the empire, and masses of savage raiders from beyond its borders, may have passed that same stream and seen before them the security and wealth of the Roman world with all its rich possibilities of outrage and plunder. The men that now followed in their track were trained in an exact discipline and armed with all the latest instruments of science. But such differences could not prevent a thrill of recollection running through civilized Europe which had seen the thing before. They were the Barbarians. And they were returning. They approached the first of the great fortresses which blocked their path. It was Liège. They demanded its surrender. The thunder of its guns answered them. It was the answer of civilization. Tiny Belgium, standing at the moment alone in the face of that immense aggression, felt her kinship with Europe, answered for Europe, and placed Europe forever in her debt. Of the dreadful price at which Belgium purchased imperishable glory I shall speak here only so far as it is necessary to the understanding of what Prussia is and why she must be destroyed. There are no words that an Englishman can find in which to speak of Belgium and all that we feel about her. I prefer to leave such feeble words as I could use unwritten, and to wait for the day when we may help her to see her desire done upon her enemies. But one aspect of her martyrdom relates so closely to the subject of this book that I may not pass it by. No account of how Prussia makes war would be complete without a corresponding picture of how she wages it. In the two pictures the same outstanding features appear: a contempt of morals and a contempt of honor. It is a favorite gambit of the weak-minded pacifist, who cannot even see what an institution is before he begins to assail it, to say that we must not complain of the outrages incidental to war, since war is itself an outrage. Now war certainly involves the deliberate infliction of physical pain and death; and, if you are a materialist, and think physical pain and death the worst conceivable evils, you are entitled to say that, according to your philosophy, war is itself an outrage. But unless you would be a bigot as well as a materialist, you must not assume that all men accept your first principles as self-evident; and you must recognize that |