It is Professor Nippold’s purpose, in his little book Der Deutsche Chauvinismus, to show that the clamor is not all on one side. The watchdogs of the Paris Boulevards are noisy enough, but those of Berlin are just the same. And as these are not all of Germany, so the others are not all of France. A great, thrifty, honest, earnest, cultured nation does not find its voice in the noises of the street. On the other hand, Germany, industrious, learned, profound and brave, is busy with her own affairs. She would harm no one, but mind her own business. But she is entangled in mediæval fashions. She has her own band of watchdogs, as noisy, as futile, as unthinkingly clamorous as ever were those of France. The “Sleepless Watchdog” in France is known as a Chauvinist, in England as a Jingo, in Prussia as a Pangermanist. They all bay at the same moon, are excited over the same fancies; they hear nothing, see nothing but one another. All alike live in an unreal world, in its essentials a world of their own creation. With all of them the bark is worse than the bite, and their “Keep” is more disastrous than both together.
And as each nation should look after its own, Dr. Nippold lists—blacklists if you choose—the Chauvinists of Germany.
[pg 200]At first glance, they make an imposing showing. A long series of newspapers, dozens of pamphlets, categories of bold and impressive warnings against the schemes of England and France, a set of appeals in the name of patriotism, of religion, of force, of violence. A long-drawn call to hate, to hate whatever is not of our own race or class; and above all the banding together of the “noblest” profession as against the encroachments of mere civilians, of men whose hands are soiled with other stains than blood.
We have, first and foremost, General Keim, Keim the invincible, Keim the insatiable, Keim of the Army-League, Keim the arch hater of England and of Russia and of France, Keim the jewel of the fighting Junker aristocracy of Prussia—the band of warriors who despise all common soldiers—“white slave” conscripts, and with them all civilians, who at the best are only potential common soldiers. “War, war, on both frontiers,” is Keim’s obsessing vision. War being inevitable and salutary, it cannot come too soon. The duty of hate, he urges on all the youth of Germany, maidens as well as men. It is said that Keim is the only man of the day who can maintain before an audience of Christians such a proposition as this: “We must learn to hate, and to hate with method. A man counts little who cannot hate to a purpose. Bismarck was hate.”
From Gaston Choisy’s clever character sketch of General Keim, we learn that as a soldier or tactician, he was a man of no note. He has no ability as a thinker or as a speaker, but this he has: “the courage of his vulgarity.” “At the age of 68, suffering from Bright’s Disease, he travelled all Germany, his great head always in ebullition, gathering everywhere for the war-fire all the news, all the stories and all the lies susceptible of aiding the Cause.” “Without Bismarck’s authority, he had his manner—a mixture of baseness, of atrocious joviality, a studied cynicism and a lack of conscience.” “How generous are [pg 201]circumstances! The spirit of Von Moltke the silent, with the speech of an enfant terrible, an endless flow of language, an endless course of words.”
To the Chauvinists of France, Keim is indeed Germany. As to his own country, Von Ferlach sagely remarks: “Keims and Keimlings unfortunately are all about us. But they are a vanishing minority.” The great culture peoples do not hate one another. (“Die grossen Kultur-volker hassen einander nicht.”)
Next on the black list, comes General Frederick von Bernhardi, with his Germany and the Next War, the need to obliterate France, while giving the needed chastisement to England. A retired officer of cavalry, said to be disgruntled through failure of promotion, a tall, spare, serious, prosy figure, a writer without inspiration, a speaker without force. Germany has never taken him seriously; for he lacks even the clown-charm of his rival Keim, but the mediæval absurdities and serious extravagances in his defense of war are well tempered to stir the eager watchdogs in the rival lands. In spite of his pleas, “historical, biological and philosophical,” for war, he is a man of peace, for which, in the words of General Eichhorn, “one’s own sword is the best and strongest pledge.”
Doubtless other retired officers hold views of the same sort, as do doubtless many who could not be retired too soon for the welfare of Germany. Into the nature of their patriotism, the Zabern incident has thrown a great light. “Other lands may possess an army,” a Prussian officer is quoted as saying, “the army possesses Germany.”
The vanities and follies of Prussian militarism are concentrated in the movement called Pangermanism. Behind this, there seem to be two moving forces, the Prussian Junker aristocracy, and the financial interests which center about the house of Krupp. The purposes of Pangermanism seem to be, on the one hand, to prevent parliamentary government in Germany; and on the other, to take part in whatever goes on in the world outside. [pg 202]Just now, the control of Constantinople is the richest prize in sight, and that fateful city is fast replacing Alsace in the passive role of “the nightmare of Europe.” The journalists called Conservative find that “Germany needs a vigorous diplomacy as a supplement to her power on land and sea, if she is to exercise the influence she deserves.” And a vigorous foreign policy is but another name for the use of the War System as a means of pushing business. From the daily press of Germany may be culled many choice examples of idle Jingo talk, but analysis of the papers containing it shows their affiliation with the “extreme right,” a small minority in German politics, potent only through the indiscretions of the Crown Prince, and through the fact that the Constitution of Germany gives its people no control over administrative affairs. The journals of this sort—the Tägliche Rundschau, the Berliner Post, the Deutsche Tageszeitung, and the Berliner Neueste Nachrichten are the property of Junker reactionists, or else, like the Lokal Anzeiger, the Rheinisch-Westphalische Zeitung, the organs merely of the War trade House of Krupp. Out from the ruck of hack writers, there stands a single imposing figure, Maximilian Harden, the “poet of German politics,” who “casts forth heroic gestures and thinks of politics in terms of æsthetics, the prophet of a great, strong and saber-rattling nation,” whose force shall be felt everywhere under the sun.
Bloodthirsty pamphlets in numbers, are listed by Nippold. But the anonymous writers (“Divinator,” “Rhenanus,” “Lookout,” “Deutscher,” “Politiker,” “Activer General” and “Deutscher Officier”) count for less than nothing in personal influence. They do little more than bay at the moon.