civilisation, and boasted the highest culture.

Therefore Germany had the right, and not only the right, but the duty
to make war in order that Germany might be dominant. Of course she
must wait for a favourable opportunity, and when that opportunity came,
she must make war regardless of all the misery and bloodshed that it
must cause.

"The great Elector," said Bernhardi, "laid the foundations of Prussia's
power by deliberately incurred wars."

In the light of all this Bob called to mind the German Emperor's speech
to his soldiers when on their way to the front.

"_Remember that the German people are the chosen of God. On me, on me
as the German Emperor, the Spirit of God has descended. I am His
weapon, his sword, and his vizard. Woe to the disobedient! Death to
the cowards and unbelievers!_"

It would be laughable if it were not so terrible.

Of course the Emperor was sincere and conscientious in all this
mountebankism, but he was a menace and a blighting danger all the same.

Mohammed was earnest and sincere when he led his wild armies forward
crying, "Death or conversion!" Ferdinand and Isabella of Spain were
earnest and conscientious when they roasted the Moors of Spain in the
name of the Holy Church and Jesus the Saviour of the world. Torquemada
was earnest and conscientious as the Grand Inquisitor who burnt
heretics who could not accept his doctrines.

But that did not make this German menace any the less dangerous.
Rather it increased the danger. The military caste, the ruling caste
in Germany, they who had been planning and preparing for war, and
looked upon it as a duty, had no moral standard to which a Christian
could appeal. Their right was our wrong. It would be as easy to argue
with a virus-toothed tiger as to argue with them. They had accepted
the terrible religion of the duty of war as the faith of the nation,
and nothing but equal or superior force would stop them in their onward
march.

This explained the terrible stories in which Bob had not hitherto been
able to believe. The ghastly outrages at Louvain, the unspeakable
deeds at Malines. They were all a part of the same ghastly creed.

"A sacrifice made to an alien nation," said Treitschke, "is
immoral. . . .

"Among all political sins, the sin of feebleness is the most
contemptible. It is the political sin against the Holy Ghost."

It also explained their violation of the Belgian treaty. Bernhardi
argued most earnestly,