"The Prussian was born a brute, and civilisation will make him GOETHE.
The apposite nature of this moral dictum could have been exemplified in no degree more accurately, nor indeed remarkably, than in the light of events which transpired during the forty odd years intervening between the Franco-Prussian War of 1870 and the present-day world conflict; events which may, perhaps, best be summarised as comprising a persistent policy of unremittant and so-called peaceful penetration, intense warlike preparation, and provocative "braggadocio," or diplomatic bluff. Born in an atmosphere of arrogance and lust, imbued with a spirit of savagery, the Hun stood forth at last in the blood-red dawn of "Der Tag," naked, stripped of his pharisaical veneer of social development.
"Vous ne devez laisser," wrote Bismarck in 1870, "aux populations que vous traversez que leurs yeux pour pleurer," and clearly a decade of "Civilisation" had sufficed to make his countrymen indeed ferocious, to prove them obedient, albeit enthusiastic, disciples of the bestial doctrine which he had expounded. No longer was the soldier alone to be called upon to pass "half his time on the field of battle, and half of it on a bed of pain"; civilian populations too, innocent old men, defenceless women, young girls, and little children, all were to be drawn alike, pitilessly, into the vortex; naught but their eyes wherewith to weep remaining to them.
One has but to refer again to that arresting little volume "Enseignements Psychologiques de la Guerre Européenne" (M. Gustave le Bon) to be reminded of the pre-determined methods that were to be adopted. "Notre principe directeur," Bismarck goes on to declare, "est de rendre la guerre si terrible aux populations civiles, qu'elles-mêmes supplient en faveur de la paix."
Four years of uncivilised warfare, of barbarity unprecedented in the annals of modern history, have since taught us how terrible was the meaning of these words, and if the possibility is conceded that tragedy and comedy may, on occasion, run riot hand in hand together, the climax was perhaps never more nearly approached that when in August, 1914, the arch-criminal himself, Wilhelm II, that "born actor and master of mis-statement,"[3] indited an agonising epistle to his doddering confederate the Emperor Francis Joseph of Austria: "My soul is torn," so ran this apostolic lamentation--"my soul is torn, but everything must be put to fire and sword. Men, women, children, and old men must be slaughtered, and not a tree or house left standing. With these methods of terrorism which alone are capable of affecting a people as degenerate as are the French, the war will be over in two months, whereas if I admit humanitarian considerations it will last years. In spite of my repugnance, I have been obliged to recommend the former system."