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Page 70
Yet, such is the nature of dogs and men, the watchdog was never more
numerous nor more alert than today. He was never in better voice, and
having nothing whatever to do, he does it to the highest artistic
perfection. At least one justification remains. Civilization has not done
away with the moon. In the stillness of night, its great white face peeps
over the hills at intervals no dog has yet determined. Under this weird
light, strange shadowy forms trip across the fields. The watchdogs of each
farm have given warning, and the whole countryside is eager with
vociferation.
Men say the Sleepless Watchdog's bark is worse than his bite. This may be,
but it is certain that his feed is worse than both bark and bite together.
In the language of economics, the Sleepless Watchdog is an unremunerative
investment. He has "eaten his master out of house and home," and by the
same token, he imagines that he himself is now the master.
* * * * *
By this time, the gentle but astute reader has observed that this is no
common "Dog Story," but a parable of the times we live in; and that the
real name of the Land of the Sleepless (but unremunerative) Watchdog is
indeed Europe.
And because of the noisy and costly futility of the whole system in his own
and other countries, Professor Ottfried Nippold of Frankfort-on-the-Main,
has made a special study of the Watchdogs of Germany.
The good people of the Fatherland some forty years ago were drawn into a
great struggle with their neighbors beyond the Rhine. To divert his
subjects' attention from their ills at home, the Emperor of France wagered
his Rhine provinces against those of Prussia, in the game of War. The
Emperor lost, and the King of Prussia took the stakes: for in those days
it was a divine right of Kings to deal in flesh and blood.
The play is finished, the board is cleared, Alsace and Lorraine were added
to Germany, and the mistake is irretrievable. A fact accomplished cannot
be blotted out. But hopeless as it all is, there are watchdogs who, on
moonlight nights, call across the Vosges for revenge--for honor, for War,
War, War. And the German watchdogs cry War, War, War. The word sounds the
same in all languages. The watchdogs bark, but the battle will never
begin.
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 medi�val 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.
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."
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