hat the German people submit complacently to the
infringements on political liberty which form part of the normal _regime_
of German life--the domineering arrogance of officers and officials,
the restraints upon the Press and the shameless manufacture of news
and inspiration of opinion from official sources, the control of the
Universities, the schools, and the public services by the State in the
interest of "orthodox" political opinions, and the ridiculous laws which
have sent editors and cartoonists to prison in scores for criticising the
behaviour and utterances of the Emperor or the Crown Prince. In England and
in America underground attempts are sometimes made to injure the careers of
men whose opinions are considered "dangerous" by those who employ them.
In Germany such interference with freedom of political thought is not the
exception: it has become the rule. No man can make a successful career
in the public service (and education is a public service) unless he is
considered politically "orthodox" (_gesinnungstuechtig_); and orthodoxy does
not simply mean abstention from damaging criticism or dangerous opinions:
it means, in practice, deference to the opinions of those who "know
better," that is, to the clique of Prussian generals and bureaucrats who,
together with the Kaiser, control the policy of the country.

British readers who do not know Germany may think the foregoing indictment
of German political incapacity severe. It is not so severe as Prince
Buellow's. The portion of the late Imperial Chancellor's book which deals
with domestic policy opens with these crushing sentences: "The history of
our home policy, with the exception of a few bright spots, is a history of
political mistakes. Despite the abundance of merits and great qualities
with which the German nation is endowed, political talent has been denied
it.... We are not a political people." A page or two later he goes even
further and quotes with approval a dictum that the Germans are
"political donkeys." That a modern statesman should think this of his
fellow-countrymen is remarkable enough; that he should say it outright is
a still more remarkable proof of his unshakeable belief in their
submissiveness. Therein lies the whole tragedy of the present situation.
The German people, so kindly and, alas! so docile, is suffering, not for
its sins, but for its deficiencies; not for its own characteristic acts or
natural ambitions, but for what it has too ta