After the crisis of Agadir, M. Georges Bourdon visited Germany to make an inquiry for the Figaro newspaper into the state of opinion there. His mission belongs to the period between Agadir and the outbreak of the first Balkan war. He interviewed a large number of people, statesmen, publicists, professors, politicians. He does not sum up his impressions, and such summary as I can give here is no doubt affected by the emphasis of my own mind. His book, however, is now translated into English, and the reader has the opportunity of correcting the impression I give him.

Let us begin with Pangermanism, on which M. Bourdon has a very interesting chapter. He feels for the propaganda of that sect the repulsion that must be felt by every sane and liberal-minded man:

Wretched, choleric Pangermans, exasperated and unbalanced, brothers of all the exasperated, wretched windbags whose tirades, in all countries, answer to yours, and whom you are wrong to count your enemies! Pangermans of the Spree and the Main, who, on the other side of the frontier, receive the fraternal effusions of Russian Pan-Slavism, Italian irredentism, English imperialism, French nationalism! What is it that you want?

They want, he replies, part of Austria, Switzerland, Flanders, Luxemburg, Denmark, Holland, for all these are “Germanic” countries! They want colonies. They want a bigger army and a bigger navy. “An execrable race, these Pangermans!” “They have the yellow skin, the dry mouth, the green complexion of the bilious. They do not live under the sky, they avoid the light. Hidden in their cellars, they pore over treaties, cite newspaper articles, grow pale over maps, measure angles, quibble over texts or traces of frontiers.” “The Pangerman is a propagandist and a revivalist.” “But,” M. Bourdon adds, “when he shouts we must not think we hear in his tones the reverberations of the German soul.” The organs of the party seemed few and unimportant. The party itself was spoken of with contempt. “They talk loud,” M. Bourdon was told, “but have no real following; it is only in France that people attend to them.” Nevertheless, M. Bourdon concluded they were not negligible. For, in the first place, they have power to evoke the jingoism of the German public a jingoism which the violent patriotism of the people, their tradition of victorious force, their education, their dogma of race, continually keep alive. And, secondly, the Government, when it thinks it useful, turns to the Pangermans for assistance, and lets loose their propaganda in the press. Their influence thus waxes and wanes, as it is favoured, or not, by authority. “Like the giant Antaeus,” a correspondent wrote to M. Bourdon, “Pangermanism loses its force when it quits the soil of government.”

It is interesting to note, however, that the Pangerman propaganda purports to be based upon fear. If they urge increased armaments, it is with a view to defence. “I considered it a patriotic duty,” wrote General Keim, “in my quality of president of the German League for Defence, to demand an increase of effectives such that France should find it out of the question to dream of a victorious war against us, even with the help of other nations.” “To the awakening of the national sentiment in France there is only one reply the increase of the German forces.” “I have the impression,” said Count Reventlow, “that a warlike spirit which is new is developing in France. There is the danger.” Thus in Germany, as elsewhere, even jingoism took the mask of necessary precaution. And so it must be, and will be everywhere, as long as the European anarchy continues. For what nation has ever admitted an intention or desire to make aggressive war? M. Bourdon, then, takes full account of Pangermanism. Nor does he neglect the general militaristic tendencies of German opinion. He found pride in the army, a determination to be strong, and that belief that it is in war that the State expresses itself at the highest and the best, which is part of the tradition of German education since the days of Treitschke. Yet, in spite of all this, to which M. Bourdon does full justice, the general impression made by the conversations he records is that the bulk of opinion in Germany was strongly pacific. There was apprehension indeed, apprehension of France and apprehension of England. “England certainly preoccupies opinion more than France. People are alarmed by her movements and her armaments.” “The constant interventions of England have undoubtedly irritated the public.” Germany, therefore, must arm and arm again. “A great war may be delayed, but not prevented, unless German armaments are such as to put fear into the heart of every possible adversary.”

Germany feared that war might come, but she did not want it that, in sum, was M. Bourdon’s impression. From soldiers, statesmen, professors, business men, again and again, the same assurance. “The sentiment you will find most generally held is undoubtedly that of peace.” “Few think about war. We need peace too much.” “War! War between us! What an idea! Why, it would mean a European war, something monstrous, something which would surpass in horror anything the world has ever seen! My dear sir, only madmen could desire or conceive such a calamity! It must be avoided at all costs.” “What counts above all here is commercial interest. All who live by it are, here as elsewhere, almost too pacific.” “Under the economic conditions prevailing in Germany, the most glorious victory she can aspire to it is a soldier who says it is peace!”

The impression thus gathered from M. Bourdon’s observations is confirmed at every point by those of Baron Beyens, who went to Berlin as Belgian minister after the crisis of Agadir. Of the world of business he says:

All these gentlemen appeared to be convinced partisans of peace.... According to them, the tranquillity of Europe had not been for a moment seriously menaced during the crisis of Agadir.... Industrial Germany required to live on good terms with France. Peace was necessary to business, and German finance in particular had every interest in the maintenance of its profitable relations with French finance. At the end of a few months I had the impression that these pacifists personified then in 1912 the most common, the most widely spread, though the least noisy, opinion, the opinion of the majority, understanding by the majority, not that of the governing classes but that of the nation as a whole .

The mass of the people, Beyens held, loved peace, and dreaded war. That was the case, not only with all the common people, but also with the managers and owners of businesses and the wholesale and retail merchants. Even in Berlin society and among the ancient German nobility there were to be found sincere pacifists. On the other hand, there was certainly a bellicose minority. It was composed largely of soldiers, both active and retired; the latter especially looking with envy and disgust on the increasing prosperity of the commercial classes, and holding that a “blood-letting would be wholesome to purge and regenerate the social body” a view not confined to Germany, and one which has received classical expression in Tennyson’s “Maud.” To this movement belonged also the high officials, the Conservative parties, patriots and journalists, and of course the armament firms, deliberate fomenters of war in Germany, as everywhere else, in order to put money into their pockets. To these must be added the “intellectual flower of the universities and the schools.” “The professors at the universities, taken en bloc, were one of the most violent elements in the nation.” “Almost all the young people from one end of the Empire to the other have had brought before them in the course of their studies the dilemma which Bernhardi summed up to his readers in the three words ‘world-power or decadence.’ Yet with all this, the resolute partisans of war formed as I thought a very small minority in the nation. That is the impression I obstinately retain of my sojourn in Berlin and my excursions into the provinces of the Empire, rich or poor. When I recall the image of this peaceful population, journeying to business every week-day with a movement so regular, or seated at table on Sundays in the cafes in the open air before a glass of beer, I can find in my memories nothing but placid faces where there was no trace of violent passions, no thought hostile to foreigners, not even that feverish concern with the struggle for existence which the spectacle of the human crowd has sometimes shown me elsewhere.”

A similar impression is given by the dispatch from M. Cambon, French Ambassador to Berlin, written on July 30, 1913. He, too, finds elements working for war, and analyses them much as Baron Beyens does. There are first the “junkers,” or country squires, naturally military by all their traditions, but also afraid of the death-duties “which are bound to come if peace continues.” Secondly, the “higher bourgeoisie” that is, the great manufacturers and financiers, and, of course, in particular the armament firms. Both these social classes are influenced, not only by direct pecuniary motives but by the fear of the rising democracy, which is beginning to swamp their representatives in the Reichstag. Thirdly, the officials, the “party of the pensioned.” Fourthly, the universities, the “historians, philosophers, political pamphleteers, and other apologists of German Kultur.” Fifthly, rancorous diplomatists, with a sense that they had been duped. On the other hand, there were, as M. Cambon insists, other forces in the country making for peace. What were these? In numbers the great bulk, in Germany as in all countries. “The mass of the workmen, artisans and peasants, who are peace-loving by instinct.” Such of the great nobles as were intelligent enough to recognize the “disastrous political and social consequences of war.” “Numerous manufacturers, merchants, and financiers in a moderate way of business.” The non-German elements of the Empire. Finally, the Government and the governing classes in the large southern States. A goodly array of peace forces! According to M. Cambon, however, all these latter elements “are only a sort of make-weight in political matters with limited influence on public opinion, or they are silent social forces, passive and defenceless against the infection of a wave of warlike feeling.” This last sentence is pregnant. It describes the state of affairs existing, more or less, in all countries; a few individuals, a few groups or cliques, making for war more or less deliberately; the mass of the people ignorant and unconcerned, but also defenceless against suggestion, and ready to respond to the call to war, with submission or with enthusiasm, as soon as the call is made by their Government.

On the testimony, then, of these witnesses, all shrewd and competent observers, it may be permitted to sum up somewhat as follows:

In the years immediately preceding the war the mass of the people in Germany, rich and poor, were attached to peace and dreaded war. But there was there also a powerful minority either desiring war or expecting it, and, in either case, preparing it by their agitation. And this minority could appeal to the peculiarly aggressive form of patriotism inculcated by the public schools and universities. The war party based its appeal for ever fresh armaments on the hostile preparations of the Powers of the Entente. Its aggressive ambition masqueraded, perhaps even to itself, as a patriotism apprehensively concerned with defence. It was supported by powerful moneyed interests; and the mass of the people, passive, ill-informed, preoccupied, were defenceless against its agitation. The German Government found the Pangermans embarrassing or convenient according as the direction of its policy and the European situation changed from crisis to crisis. They were thus at one moment negligible, at another powerful. For long they agitated vainly, and they might long have continued to do so. But if the moment should come at which the Government should make the fatal plunge, their efforts would have contributed to the result, their warnings would seem to have been justified, and they would triumph as the party of patriots that had foretold in vain the coming crash to an unbelieving nation.