Which Way Goes Germany?

WILL the German Reich some day really be an Empire once more? Are its sufferings going to be permanent?

I have been traveling through all parts of Germany for many weeks, much of the time afoot, with knapsack and tourist’s stick, the rest of the time in fourth-class railway carriages, — where all but the most well-to-do Germans now ride, — in an effort to find the answer to these questions. I have talked with, or listened to, probably more than a thousand men and women from all classes of the people. The majority did not know that I was a foreigner, and they talked as they would talk to a fellow countryman, uninfluenced by a desire to say what they might think America would like to hear.

I

I left, the train from Berlin at Rudolstadt, the former capital of Schwarzburg-Rudolstadt, which is now one of the governmental departments of Greater Thuringia, and walked nine kilometres to Bad Blankenburg.

When I first knew Guido Leinhoss, ten years ago, he was a waiter. Then he bought a small hotel, and now he has a big one. He welcomed me warmly, and we talked over the events of the years since I had last, seen him. Leinhoss was shot, through both lungs in the war, and lay for a year in various hospitals. When t he Revolution came, he was inclined to rejoice.

‘ I was disgusted with my treatment at the hands of some of our officers and with the whole war,’he said, ‘and my health had been affected seriously by my wound. But I have had enough republic. I don’t think much of t he last. Kaiser, but any Kaiser would be better than what tve have now.’

‘Is that the general sentiment in the city?’ I asked.

‘There are some Socialists in the sawmills,’ he answered; ‘but except, for them, pretty nearly everybody would like to see the monarchy come back.’

The local merchants’ association gave a dance that evening in the hotel. Some three hundred persons, mainly shopkeepers of modest means and their clerks, applauded heartily and unanimously two songs and one recitation of strongly patriotic tone, with an undercurrent of loyalty to the old rulers.

Albin Meinhard, forty-three years old, is one of the wealthiest peasants of Braunsdorf, a tiny village on the hills south of Bad Blankenburg. He owns about seventy-five acres of land, and is proud of the fact that products from his farm were sold throughout the war at the legal maximum prices. He participated in the Boxer Rebellion and served throughout the World War. I walked into his house on a Sunday, unannounced. He gave a shout of surprise, patted me on the back, and broke into a torrent of welcoming phrases. He lifted off my knapsack, brought a chair, and plunged forthwith into politics.

‘You knew our old Germany,’ he said. ‘ What, do you think of the Schweinewirtschaft we have now?’

Schweinewirtschaft is an untranslatable word, meaning a swinish way of doing things. Meinhard did not wait for me to answer his question, but rushed ahead: —

‘Things can’t go on in this way. The day will come when Germany will have a monarchy again, and then we ’ll take up the work where we left off. Look at what we have to-day! No order, no discipline. Republic! Bah!’

In the evening we went over to the Milage Wirtshaus, while the womenfolk were cleaning the stables, milking the cows, bedding down the horses and feeding them, carrying water for the animals and swill for the pigs, and making themselves generally useful. No Thuringian peasant ever condescends to touch a cow or clean the stables. That is women’s work. Female suffrage, one of the gifts of the Republic, has made no difference in the lives of the peasant women. They vote as their menfolk vote, and they regard female politicians as abnormalities.

The Wirtshaus was full of peasants from Braunsdorf and the surrounding villages. I led the conversation to politics. The opinions of Meinhard were the opinions of every other man present. ‘Things ain’t go on like this’ was the regular formula. Only one young man, wearing a patched suit of fieldgray, timidly suggested that, ‘everything was n’t perfect under the monarchy: we did n’t have enough rights.’

‘Of course, everything was n’t perfect,’ said an old peasant; ‘but now we’ve got so many rights that we don’t know what to do with them. There’s no use emptying the baby out with the bath-water. I’d like to trade some of what you call rights for some of the order we used to have.’

‘ I guess you’re right.,’ said the young man.

The schoolmaster from Burkersdorf, an intelligent, well-educated man, told the same story I have heard so many hundred times in all parts of Germany. His left arm was crippled by a bullet; he suffered at the hands of young, overbearing officers, and was inclined to welcome the Revolution and the Republic. But he, too, is cured.

‘The Germans will never amount to anything without a strong man to give them orders,’ he said. ‘They are used to being told what to do, and they can’t get along without it. We need another Bismarck, but we have no strong man. Germany is impossible as a republic, but we shall have to wait a long time before we get the monarchy back.’

There are no Socialists, except among casual laborers, in the Thuringian villages. Although it is anticipating a bit, I note here that Socialism of all shades has gained no foothold whatever among the land-owning peasants of Germany, and comparatively little among what are called ‘hired men’ in America. The man who owns an acre or two of land, a cow, some pigs, goats, and so forth, has a deaf ear for the disciples of Marx.

The hindrances that the Socialists have to overcome were amusingly illustrated in Upper Bavaria during the days immediately following the Revolution. The peasants met in the various villages, to divide up the big estates. As a preliminary, it was necessary to decide what was to be regarded as a big estate. The result was as interesting psychologically as politically. In villages where the richest peasant owned 100 acres, it was decided that 110 acres constituted a big estate. But in the next village, where the richest Bauer had but 70 acres, it was decided that big estates began at 85 acres. Everywhere, in brief, the figure set was some acres larger than the size of the farm owned by the wealthiest peasant. And the big estates are not yet divided up.

The pastor of the village church at Braunsdorf, a former corps student at Jena and Tübingen, left the theological seminary and served throughout the war as a combatant. The non-coms made life pretty miserable for him; it is not every day that one has a chance to take it out on a young man who is at the same time a corps student and a theologian. Altogether he had a hard time of it, and he wavered a bit when the Revolution came. Rut he never became even a November Socialist, as those are called who were carried by the hysteria of the moment into the Socialist camp (and are now fleeing back by thousands), and he is to-day a Monarchist through and through.

The church records show how little the Socialists have made their influence felt, among t he farmers. That party’s away-from-the-Church movement , started some years before the war, had resulted in thousands of withdrawals from the State (Lutheran) church before 1914, and it has set in again since the war. But there has not been a withdrawal for generations from the Braunsdorf church, which serves five villages; and the same is true throughout rural Germany.

The lean, sinewy gendarme, who covers fourteen villages each week, snorts savagely when the questioner intimates that he might, be a Socialist or a bourgeois Republican. Not more than forty-live years old, he is still one of the old guard. The Thuringian government is Socialist, but the gendarme serves the government faithfully, because it is the habit, of old gendarmes to serve faithfully. But he will be glad when other men come into power, and still gladder when there is a king or kaiser at the head again. Meanwhile, he is hoping that the next war with France will come before he is too old to take part.

So is Meinhard. So is almost every man in Germany who has retained any spark of patriotism, including even many Socialists. In my weeks of wandering I have been impressed with the terrible hatred which France is here storing up against herself for the day of reckoning. Germany is to-day disarmed, but she has sixty millions to France’s thirty-eight, a higher birthrate, more vitality, and lives on plainer food. She will not always be as helpless as to-day.

France and the Poles together are making it very difficult for any German to be a pacifist, and the German Pacifist. Society is helping on the work. It recently sent to the Common Council of Greater Berlin a strong protest against the erection of any more monuments in memory of fallen soldiers. Such monuments, declared the society, ‘are a glorification of war and serve to incite to further wars.’ One may hate war greatly , but the idea that one’s son, brother, or father, who fell in what he believed to be a just, cause, shall be denied a memorial at the instance of a society whose moving spirits do not even live in Germany, is one that revolts normal men and women.

In village after village in Thuringia, sitting in the inns, I directed the conversation into political channels. Generally, indeed, this was not necessary. Wherever two or more Germans come together, they start talking politics of their own accord. If one avoids cities possessing industrial plants, one can wander for days on end without hearing a Republican sentiment uttered. And everywhere, whether the speakers be Socialists or members of a bourgeois party, one hears the reference to a Schweinewirtschaft. Nobody is satisfied.

II

In the Wirtshaus of a Bavarian village, I asked a group of men whether there were many Socialists there.

‘Not one; we’re all Germans here,’said one of the men; and the others murmured assent. Pictures of the former rulers hung on the walls, and the peasants talked in tones of genuine sorrow about the death of ‘Her Majesty.’ From north to south, from east to west, in the Bavarian villages, I asked my invariable questions. It may have been mere chance, but I did not find a single Socialist, nor yet a single Republican, anywhere. But for the different dialect I might have been back in the inn at Braunsdorf, listening to my friend Meinhard and the other villagers.

This is, of course, rural opinion, but one must not forget that in Bavaria, in contrast to most German states, 65 per cent of the total population is rural. The opinion of the Bavarian peasantry is mighty important.

Nor are there any cities dominated by Socialists, such as Halle, in Prussia, for example. Except among the laboring classes, and many times even there, one must hunt hard to find a Republican. In a small inn in Coburg, the kind of a place where one is expected to double up with a stranger, and there are four beds in a room, several men were eating dinner. They were of the class that eats with knives and uses the back of the hand as a napkin, but they were damning the government and also the Socialists, the latter for having ‘split us Germans up.’ In Bamberg, Nuremberg, Munich, Augsburg — wherever I went, I heard the same kind of talk. I emphasize that I avoided first-class and even second-class hotels, living and eating where the common people live and eat.

Munich is to-day more absolutist and bureaucratic than it ever was under the monarchy. I narrowly escaped arrest there because I reported at police headquarters with no better proofs of identity than a special certificate from the Foreign Office in Berlin, setting forth that I was an innocuous person well known to the government and requesting all officials throughout the Reich to give me aid and comfort. This, the Munich police declared, was not a ‘pass,’ within the meaning of the city’s police regulations. The aid and comfort given me, after a troubled consultation among the police officials, consisted in an order to leave the city within twenty-four hours.

A striking commentary on the spirit ruling in Munich is given by stories told me later by two North Germans to whom I had related my experience. Both had been on the point of being expelled from the city, perhaps even under custody, when they recalled that, as former officers, they still had permits to carry weapons. When t hey exhibited these permits, the police officials arose, bowed profoundly, and excused themselves.

Six men and four women were seated in the tap-room of a small hotel in Augsburg, when I entered and seated myself inconspicuously in a corner. They were already talking politics, both foreign and domestic. After deciding that America could not be depended on to help Germany ‘get justice,’they turned to home affairs. Every person present was a Monarchist, including an old woman who had lost, two sons in the war.

‘What we need is a Bismarck,’she said. (The reference is as inevitable as that to Schweinevirtschaft.)

‘Ach, there would have been no war if Bismarck had lived,’said one of the men; and everybody agreed heartily. The speaker was a baker, and the others present were of the same social stratum.

The membership of the Independent Socialist Party in the Augsburg district has dropped from 6000 last year to 250. The city’s Communist newspaper suspended publication three months ago, and the party has fewer members than the Independents. Of the 41,000 organized workingmen and working-women of the city, only 8000 altogether are members of one of the three Socialist parties.

Bavaria is overwhelmingly Monarchist in sentiment already. She is going to have her own king back some day; and if Prussia and the national government do not like it, Prussia and the national government will have to lump it. Bavaria would like the return of the monarchical system for the whole country; but the first thought of all Bavarians — deny it though all their politicians will, and do until driven into a corner confidentially — is Bavaria. All Bavarians regularly refer to Berlin as a Saustall, a word which hardly requires translating.

In both Württemberg and Baden the majority of the people are mild Monarchists in principle, but they have, nevertheless, accepted the new order of affairs without visible repugnance. Neither of the two capitals, Stuttgart and Karlsruhe, was much affected by the Revolution. Incipient attempts, by the new proletarian saviors of the world, to loot were quickly put down, and the men in authority to-day are, for the most part, the same men who were in office before November, 1918. In one way the Revolution relieved the Württembergers from an anxiety which had been oppressing them for years. Their king had no male heirs, and since the Salic Law prevailed, the succession could not go to his daughter. This meant that it would go to the Vienna branch of the family, which is Roman Catholic, while Württemberg is predominantly Protestant. Even if the national monarchy should return, Württemberg would remain a republic. Perhaps Baden would, too, for the state has been democratic for a century, and there was talk of a republic there in 1848; but the Grand Duke and his whole family are greatly beloved, and if another state should take the lead,

Baden would probably follow. Württemberg would, at least, not oppose the restoration si rongly.

Among the peasants of both states, however, I found many outspoken Monarchists. Ridiculously unimportant occurrences have frequently determined the politics of the politically unschooled German. One small innkeeper was swept along by the tidal waves of the Revolution, and decided that he, too, was a revolutionary and Socialist. He was cured by one of the commonest manifestations of the communistic theories of the revolutionaries. In the Black Forest, as everywhere in Germany, they put their theories into practical effect by poaching, and shot off the game without regard to ownership, breeding-times, game-laws, or anything else. There was little enough game in the Black Forest already, and the innkeeper, who is a passionate hunter, can now tramp the woods all day without seeing a single deer or even a hare. So he has become a Monarchist.

III

So much for Central and Southern Germany. What of North Germany?

In those districts of East and West Prussia, Mecklenburg, and Pomerania, where big landed estates prevail, the Socialists had made some headway, even before the war, among ordinary farm-laborers. They were helped by the arrogant conduct of the estate-owners themselves. It is hardly seventy years since laborers could be whipped in many parts of Prussia; and in Mecklenburg it was customary to make the victim visit the master afterward and, hat in hand, thank him for ‘the gracious whipping.’ This spirit had by no means died out; and although it could no longer vent itself legally, instances of even corporal punishment were by no means unknown.

The reaction to the Revolution of the laborers in such sections was naturally profound, and the Socialists secured considerable gains; but the natural conservatism of the farmer is gradually resuming its sway, and the gains are crumbling away. I found one big estate where there was not a single Socialist among the forty laborers employed; and on only two estates, both near a big industrial city, did I find any considerable number. Characteristically, too, these were all among the casual laborers. The men and women who live on the estate the year round belonged mainly to one of the two monarchical parties.

On one large estate in the extreme eastern part of the Province of Brandenburg, I found a woman who had been a servant in my family for five years before the Revolution. When I returned to Berlin last year, I was told that she had become a violent Spartacan during the revolutionary period, venting on the remains of the body politic her rage at having lost a brother and her fiancé in the war. I found her on a large estate, happily married to the head dairyman. On the walls of her two-room apartment hung pictures of the Kaiser and the Kaiserin, and a group picture of all the members of the former Imperial family. Her husband saw me looking at them, and said: —

‘It’s really against the law to have them there, but it won’t be some day.’

As a matter of fact, it is not ‘against the law,’ but a good many people have been made to believe that it is.

‘Yes, Germany must have her rulers back,’ said the woman.

‘But, Emma,’ I said, ‘I heard that you were a hot Communist during the Revolution.’

She blushed and looked embarrassed.

‘ Ach, Gott!’ she said, ‘a lot of people had some foolish ideas in those days.’

In the territory between Frankfurton-the-Oder and Breslau, a district of small peasants’ holdings, I encountered again that hostility to Socialism and Republicanism which I had found among the same class of people everywhere in Germany. An old peasant told me that he ‘would jump for joy’ if the Kaiser came back, and that his neighbors all felt the same way. My investigations confirmed the old man’s statement. In a village school which I was permitted to visit, the teacher put the children through their paces in a variety of subjects, to show the visitor what was being accomplished in the rural schools,

‘Who can tell the names of some of the political parties in Germany?' he asked.

A score of eager hands were raised. Ho nodded to the back row.

‘Deutsch-National’ (German National), came the chorus.

‘Still another.’

Again a chorus: —

’Deutsche Volkspartei’ (German People’s Party).

The Clericals (Catholics) were named next, then the Democrats. The Majority Socialists followed, and it. took some thinking on the part of the pupils before they recalled the Independent Socialists and Communists. I was impressed by the fact that the names of the two outspokenly Monarchist parties were the first to occur to the pupils.

‘Their parents all belong to one of those parties,’ said the teacher, ‘most of them to the German Nationals. They only named I he Democrats as a compliment to me, because I was a candidate of that party for the provincial Diet.'

The same evening I had dinner with the teacher. He had served throughout the war and was a glowing patriot. He soon disclosed himself as a convinced Monarchist, hoping and believing that the present, state of affairs cannot last many years.

‘But I understood you to say that you belonged to the Democratic Party,’ I said.

He explained. One could belong to that party and still be a Monarchist, without attracting any attention, so long as he kept still. The Prussian Minister of Education was a Socialist, and it was not politic for a simple teacher to display his feelings too openly. Such a one might easily be overlooked when transfers to better post s were being made. For Monarchists dependent on the good-will of Republican authorities, the Democratic Party afforded a safe refuge.

IV

There remain the cities to be considered. In so far as these are industrial centres, they have large Socialist representations, amounting to a majority in a few places; but Socialism is steadily losing ground everywhere. In city after city in Central and Southern Germany, I found unmistakable evidences of this. The losses are made up chiefly from two classes — the independent craftsmen, such as master-bakers, butchers, tailors, and so forth, and the intellectual proletariat, including teachers, journalists, actors, artists, writers, and the rest, who succumbed to the revolutionary psychosis, but are now shaking it off. As long ago as last February, the Socialist leader, Konrad Haenisch, then Prussian Minister of Education, in a frank article in the Berlin Tageblatt, admitted that the Socialists had not only failed to win any new recruits from das geistige Deutschland, the educated classes, but that even those who had come over during the Revolution had already left, or were about to leave them. State, provincial, and municipal elections throughout Germany in the last year have regularly shown Socialist losses. In Saxony, Red long before the war, the combined parties of the Left had a popular majority of but 77,000 in a total vote exceeding two millions, last November. Greater Berlin, which gave a Socialist vote of 61.7 per cent in June, 1920, gave a clear majority of the popular vote to the bourgeois parties at the elections for the Prussian Diet last February. Even Red Brunswick elected a bourgeois council in June.

I have referred earlier to the radical losses in Augsburg. These are tremendously significant from the fact that Augsburg is practically alone among German cities in having no unemployed. With the decrease of unemployment Socialism is bound to lose ground still more rapidly.

I have dwelt on Socialist losses because the three Socialist parties are virtually the only ones all of whose members are unswervingly Republican and anti-Monarchist. Yet, even here one can find exceptions. I know personally several elderly Socialists of the parent party who would be glad to see Germany a monarchy again.

This solidly Republican Red bloc has to-dav less than forty per cent of the total voting strength of the land, and, as pointed out, is losing steadily. Outside these three parties, one finds a considerable percentage of Republicans only in the German Democratic Party — and that party is going out of existence.

The party is full of titled Germans, some of whom joined it because of genuinely Republican sentiments, others to purge themselves from suspicions which might have ill consequences in the revolutionary days. All the second category have always been Alonarchists at heart, and most of the first category are becoming Monarchists again. The Bavarian wing of the party stands so far to the right, that, the relationship can hardly be discerned. In their innermost, convictions a majority of the Democrats are not Republicans.

The party stands with the Monarchist parties in favoring a return to the old black-white-red flag —a proposal which has aroused the ire of all Socialists and been stamped by them as counter-revolutionary and monarchical. The Majority Socialists recently forced the resignation of one of their leaders hi Hamburg because of his advocacy of the old flag. I note here, in passing, that the new black-red-gold banner is rarely seen anywhere. Recently, in a large garden colony, I counted thirtyfour old Imperial flags and four blackred-gold banners — and two of these last were flying over the same garden. The owners of the gardens are, with few exceptions, laboring men and small clerks.

We have thus something more than 40 per cent of the voters who can be regarded as dependable Republicans. What of the other parties?

Only one comes into consideration at all. This is the Clericals, — the Roman Catholic party, — with 13.6 per cent of the total vote in June, 1920. A left wing of this party is now building, and its eventual strength cannot be estimated confidently. That, it will not get very far, however, is probable, for it is coming more and more into the wake of the Socialists, and the Church will know how to stop that. The big majority of the party is Monarchist at heart, and there are probably no Republicans in the Bavarian delegation, which makes up roundly 40 per cent of that state’s total vote.

This ends the recital of the sources of Republican strength. It is still far short of 50 per cent, and, as we have seen, all the parties from which it is drawn arc losing strength except the Clericals, whose numbers vary little from year to year.

V

Thus the questions at the beginning of this article answer themselves. There is nominally a majority in favor of a return of the monarchy, or rather, of a monarchical system. But the question will be a merely academic one for some time, because many Monarchists would to-day refuse to vote for reestablishment because of their fear that such a course would plunge the country into civil war — as it undoubtedly would. Fear of the consequences that, might be drawn by Germany’s enemies is also a powerful factor against any overt step by the Monarchists at this time.

And one must distinguish between a return of the monarchy and a return of the Kaiser. The latter is impossible for all time; not even the whole membership of the two avowedly Monarchist, parties would vote for his restoration. Quite apart from any other considerations, he removed himself as a factor for all time when he fled to Holland. And any future monarchy will have to be a constitutional one, on the British plan. Moreover, the restoration of many, probably most, of the former state dynasties is impossible.

But if the will of the majority could prevail, without bloodshed or reprisals from foreign countries, Germany would become a monarchy in precisely the length of time required to hold the referendum provided for in the Weimar Constitution for amending that instrument, which requires merely the affirmative vote of 4 a majority of all enrolled voters.’ Nothing further is necessary, to decree that ‘the German Reich is an empire.’ The necessary majority exists.

Readers of the American press have been led to believe that the demonstrations following the national government’s ‘anti-reaction’ decree of August. 29 were of high significance, and were really what they purported to be. Gleeful Republicans have pointed to the 100,000 paraders in Berlin, and scoffed at the idea, that Monarchism has any chances. As a matter of fact, this and all other demonstrations held since the government’s decree were Socialist demonstrations. There was not one Republican banner to twenty red flags. They were merely such parades as the Socialists can organize at any time, by having the shop councils in the various factories order all workingmen to join the procession. I saw the same thing repeatedly in January and March, 1919, and it is still going on. The Berlin parade was, for a large part of those who took part in it, little more than a demonstration in favor of a half-day off with pay.

Not only does a Monarchist majority exist to-day, but it will be increased by the coming generation of voters. Despite the efforts of various ministers of education to eliminate from the schools all instruction tending to honor past traditions and history, to root out patriotic sentiments, the schoolchildren of Germany are still for the most part using the old textbooks, and the vast majority of the teachers are still Monarchist at heart. The situation in the higher institutions of learning is especially unfavorable for the Republicans. Elections in the various universities last winter, to choose members of student committees, showed Monarchist majorities running up to seven to one; rarely did the Republican groups succeed in polling half as many as did the groups that are denounced as ‘ reactionaries.’ And it is a widespread error which assumes that the German university students are recruited mainly from the upper classes. On the contrary, the great majority are sons and daughters of people of the lower middle class — small tradesmen, civil-service employees, and the like.

The Church takes no part in politics, but its influence also is unfavorable to Republicanism.

The existence of a Monarchist majority — or even of a, considerable Monarchist minority — will, of course, be incomprehensible to the average American reader except upon the theory that it. is a natural outgrowth of innate depravity. But there are very real reasons for it. In part, and especially so fa r as the lower classes are concerned, it. is the result of dissatisfaction over dearer food, higher rents, excessive taxes, and deprivations in general. Governments are always made the scapegoats in such cases. It. is the feeling that finds expression in the Italian saying: Piove! Governo ladro! (It is raining! Accursed government!)

Subconsciously this feeling affects everybody. There were some flies in my dining-room last, week, and while shooing them out, I found myself complaining that ‘there were no flies in Berlin under the monarchy.’ It sounds like a joke, — no flies on the monarchy, — but it is true. Berlin was so clean in those days that flies could not breed.

But there are other and more defensible reasons for the growing defection from the Republic among the intelligent classes. The wishy-washy incompetence of the vast majority of the new Republican officials plays into the hands of the Monarchists, The lack of decision, the tergiversations, the backing and filling of most of the responsible heads of government also anger patriotic men and women. Slowly reawakening feelings of patriotism and pride of race are not gratified by the supineness and cringing attitude of a. great part of the Republican masters of the new state. The Germans are not a patriotic people, in the sense that the Americans, French, and Poles are patriotic. Their patriotism has always been rather a narrowly localized attachment to a particular state, or even province. This flared up into a glowing national feeling at the beginning of the war; but the defeat and the Revolution, following the privations of the waryears, brought a powerful revulsion. The exclusive domination of national affairs during the following three months by the Socialists enabled these parties still further to crush out what patriotic sentiments had survived.

The events of the last two years, however, beginning with the Versailles Treaty, have done much to reawaken these feelings, and this reawakening has received mighty impulses in the last few months. The sanctions along the Rhine and the aggressions of the Poles in Upper Silesia have done incalculably much to unite Germans of all classes.

Another reason for the disgust of wide classes of intellectual Germany with the Republic is the pork-barrel spoils-system prevailing in governmental affairs. The dominant Socialists set the example, following the Revolution. Their government was unashamedly a class government first and a national government (if at all) last. This system was carried over into the next government, and the frequent changes of ministry since then have been in large part due to the desire of the outs to get their noses into the public crib. Not even the most hardened apologists for the spoils system have ever dared assert that it makes for efficiency in government; and it is viewed with special repulsion in Germany, which never had it under the Empire, and which did have an efficient governmental machine.

Manifestations of the political immaturity of the Germans continue to disgust thinking people. To be a successful political leader in Republican Germany’s parliaments requires the vocabulary of an Andalusian muleteer, especially among the parties of the Left. Dignity has followed Imperialism, Monarchism, and Militarism into retirement.

These are only a few of the factors that are slowly undermining the credit of the Republic. There are many more. Perhaps no government could have accomplished much more than the various Republican cabinets; for any government in Germany to-day has to contend with class-hatreds unknown and incomprehensible to the average American, with open disloyalty which cannot be checked or punished, with an administration of the criminal law which treats the most brutal crimes with leniency if it appear that the criminals acted ‘from ideal motives,’ and with pacifism of the kind referred to above.

But all this makes no difference to the great mass. ’It’s raining,’as the Italians say. ‘ D—n the Government!'