Was
it not that excellent bourgeoise, Princess Bismarck (to keep only to
great examples), who was so righteously anxious to see men, women and
children--emphatically the children, too--of the abominable French nation
massacred off the face of the earth? This illustration of the new war-
temper is artlessly revealed in the prattle of the amiable Busch, the
Chancellor's pet "reptile" of the Press. And this was supposed to be a
war for an idea! Too much, however, should not be made of that good
wife's and mother's sentiments any more than of the good First Emperor
William's tears, shed so abundantly after every battle, by letter,
telegram, and otherwise, during the course of the same war, before a dumb
and shamefaced continent. These were merely the expressions of the
simplicity of a nation which more than any other has a tendency to run
into the grotesque. There is worse to come.
To-day, in the fierce grapple of two nations of different race, the short
era of national wars seems about to close. No war will be waged for an
idea. The "noxious idle aristocracies" of yesterday fought without
malice for an occupation, for the honour, for the fun of the thing.
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