A consciência de Zeno

Trechos de A Consciência De Zeno (1923), de Italo Svevo.

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26 de junho de 1915. A guerra atingiu-me afinal! Eu, que andava a ouvir as histórias de guerra como se se tratasse de um conflito de outros tempos sobre o qual era divertido falar, mas que seria tolice deixar-me preocupar, eis que me vi metido nela sem querer e ao mesmo tempo surpreso por não haver percebido antes que mais cedo ou mais tarde acabaria envolvido. Era como se vivesse tranquilamente num prédio cujo andar térreo estava em chamas e eu não imaginasse que mais cedo ou mais tarde todo o edifício acabaria por arder.

A guerra apoderou-se de mim, sacudiu-me como um trapo, privou-me de uma só vez de toda a minha família e até de meu administrador. De um dia para o outro, eu era um homem totalmente diferente, ou, para ser mais exato, todas as minhas vinte e quatro horas foram inteiramente diversas. Desde ontem estou um pouco mais calmo porque finalmente, depois de esperar um mês, tive as primeiras notícias de minha família. Estão sãos e salvos em Turim, quando eu já perdia todas as esperanças de revê-los.

Devo passar o dia inteiro no escritório. Não tenho muito o que fazer, mas é que os Olivi, como cidadãos italianos, tiveram que partir e todos os meus poucos empregados, os melhores, foram convocados para um lado ou outro, daí ter eu que permanecer vigilante em meu posto. À noite vou para casa carregando o peso das grandes chaves do armazém. Hoje, que me sinto bem mais calmo, trouxe comigo para o escritório este manuscrito, que pode ajudar-me a passar o tempo sem fim.

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Caminho pelas ruas de nossa mísera cidade, sentindo-me um privilegiado que não vai à guerra e que encontra todos os dias aquilo que lhe agrada para comer. Em comparação com os demais, sinto-me tão feliz - principalmente depois que tive notícias dos meus - que seria provocar a ira dos deuses se quisesse estar perfeitamente bem.

A guerra e eu nos encontramos de um modo violento, que agora me parece um tanto ridículo.

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[O pai de Teresina] Alcançando-me, perguntou em voz muito baixa:

- O senhor não soube nada? Dizem que arrebentou a guerra.

- Ora essa! Claro que sabemos! Já faz um ano - respondi.

- Não falo dessa - disse impaciente. - Falo da guerra com... - e fez um sinal em direção à fronteira italiana vizinha. - O senhor não sabe nada? - Ficou a me olhar ansioso pela resposta.

- Há de compreender - disse-lhe com toda a segurança - que se nada sei é porque realmente não há nada. Venho de Trieste e as últimas novidades que soube davam a possibilidade de guerra como definitivamente afastada. Em Roma haviam derrubado o ministério que queria a guerra e chamaram Giolitti.

Ele sossegou imediatamente.

- Então estas batatas que estamos cobrindo e que tanto prometem hão de ser nossas! O que não falta por aí é gente boateira! - Com a manga da camisa enxugou o suor que lhe corria da testa.

Vendo-o tão contente, tratei de fazê-lo ainda mais feliz. Gosto de ver as pessoas felizes. Por isso falei coisas de que verdadeiramente não gosto de recordar. Afirmei-lhe que, mesmo no caso de rebentar a guerra, os combates não se travariam ali. Em primeiro lugar haveriam de bater-se no mar, e na Europa não faltavam campos de batalha para quem quisesse. Havia a Flandres e vários departamentos franceses. Além disso, ouvira dizer - já não sabia de quem - que havia no mundo tal carência de batatas que estas eram colhidas cuidadosamente até nos campos de batalha.

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Tornou-me ainda mais nervoso um encontro casual com um pelotão de soldados que marchava pela estrada em direção a Lucinico. Eram soldados nada jovens e com fardamento e apetrechos ordinários. Pendia-lhes da cintura aquela baioneta longa que em Trieste chamávamos de durlindana e que os austríacos, no verão de 1915, deviam ter exumado de velhos depósitos.

Por algum tempo caminhei à retaguarda deles, ansioso por chegar a casa. Porém, como me desagradasse o cheiro azedo que emanava deles, acabei por diminuir o passo. Minha inquietação e minha pressa eram injustificadas. [...] Acelerei o passo para chegar finalmente ao meu café da manhã. Foi aí que começou a minha aventura. Numa curva do caminho, fui detido por uma sentinela que me gritou:

- Zurück! - pondo-se em posição de tiro. Quis responder-lhe em alemão, já que me havia gritado nessa língua, mas de alemão a sentinela só conhecia aquela palavra que repetia sempre mais ameaçador.

Era necessário voltar zurück (para trás) e eu, olhando sempre em sua direção, com medo de que ele, para se fazer compreender melhor, disparasse, retirei-me com certa rapidez de que não descuidei nem mesmo quando o soldado desapareceu de vista.

Contudo, não renunciei logo a voltar imediatamente para a minha vila. Pensei que, galgando a colina à minha direita, poderia contornar a sentinela, saindo muito à frente.

A subida não foi difícil, principalmente porque o capim alto estava curvado pelas pisadas de muita gente, que devia ter passado por ali antes de mim, sem dúvida obrigada como eu por causa da proibição de transitar pela estrada. Caminhando, readquiri minha segurança e pensei que a primeira coisa que ia fazer, quando chegasse a Lucinico, seria protestar junto ao burgomestre pelo tratamento que eu fora constrangido a sofrer. Se permitissem que os veranistas fossem tratados daquela forma, com pouco ninguém mais visitaria Lucinico.

Contudo, ao atingir o alto da colina, tive a desagradável surpresa de vê-la ocupada pelo pelotão dos soldados que cheiravam a azedo. Muitos deles repousavam à sombra de uma cabana de camponês que eu conhecia desde muito e que sabia inteiramente abandonada; três pareciam de guarda, mas não do lado por onde eu subira, e alguns outros formavam um semicírculo em torno a um oficial que lhes transmitia instruções, utilizando-se de um mapa que trazia à mão.

Eu não dispunha nem mesmo de chapéu com que servir-me para cumprimentá-los. Inclinando-me várias vezes e com o mais belo dos sorrisos, encaminhei-me em direção ao oficial que, vendo-me, parou de falar aos soldados e pôs-se a olhar-me. Os cinco "mamelucos" que o circundavam regalaram-me com toda a sua atenção. Andando sob todos aqueles olhares e por um terreno não plano, não era nada fácil mover-me. O oficial gritou:

- Was will der dumme kerl hier? (Que vem fazer aqui este idiota?)

Estupefato de que me ofendessem sem qualquer provocação minha, quis demonstrar virilmente que compreendera a ofensa, mas ainda com a discrição que o caso me impunha, desviei da estrada e tentei chegar à encosta que me levaria a Lucinico. O oficial pôs-se a gritar que, se desse mais um passo, mandaria abrir fogo sobre mim. Tornei-me muito cortês e daquele dia até este em que escrevo jamais deixei de demonstrar cortesia. Era uma barbaridade ser constrangido a tratar com um tipo semelhante; pelo menos, porém, ele tinha a vantagem de falar corretamente o alemão. Recordando essa vantagem, tornou-se mais fácil para mim falar-lhe com brandura. Se aquela toupeira não compreendesse o alemão, eu decerto estaria perdido.

Pena é que eu não falasse fluentemente essa língua pois, do contrário, ter-me-ia sido fácil fazer rir o azedo senhor. Contei-lhe que em Lucinico esperava-me um café da manhã do qual eu estava separado apenas por seu pelotão.

Ele riu afinal, juro que sim. Riu sempre a praguejar e nem teve a paciência de me deixar concluir. Declarou que alguém haveria de beber meu café em Lucinico e quando soube que além do café me esperava ainda minha mulher, gritou:

- Seine frau wird auch nahrung für andere. (Sua mulher também será comida por outros.)

Ele estava agora com melhor humor que o meu. Pareceu-me em seguida que se arrependera de me ter dito algo que, sublinhado pelo riso clamoroso dos cinco mamelucos, pudesse parecer ofensivo. Pôs-se sério e explicou que eu não devia esperar regressar aquele dia a Lucinico e, mesmo a título de amizade, me aconselhava a não lhe perguntar mais nada, porque bastaria uma pergunta qualquer para comprometer-me.

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[O cabo] Perguntou-me se tinha notícias da guerra e se era verdade que estava iminente a intervenção italiana. Olhava-me ansioso, à espera da resposta. Com que então nem mesmo eles que faziam a guerra sabiam ao certo se ela existia ou não!

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A julgar pelas notícias que lhe dera, achava ele que as eventualidades que me impediam de retornar a casa seriam levantadas no dia seguinte. Mas até lá me aconselhava a ir ao Platzkommando de Trieste, onde talvez pudesse obter uma permissão especial.

- Ir a Trieste? - perguntei apavorado. - A Trieste, sem casaco, sem chapéu e sem ter tomado o café da manhã?

A julgar pelo que sabia o cabo, enquanto falávamos, um forte cordão de infantaria fechava o trânsito para a Itália, criando uma fronteira nova e intransponível. Com sorriso superior afirmou que, segundo ele, o caminho mais curto para Lucinico era o mesmo que conduzia a Trieste.

À força de ouvi-lo dizer, resignei-me e rumei para Gorizia, pensando poder ali pegar o trem do meio-dia para Trieste.

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Corri, no entanto, à agência postal para telefonar a Augusta. De casa, contudo, ninguém me respondeu.

O empregado, um homenzinho de barbicha rala que parecia, na sua pequenez e severidade, algo de ridículo e obstinado - que é tudo quanto dele me lembro -, ouvindo-me praguejar furioso diante do aparelho mudo, aproximou-se de mim e disse:

- Hoje já é a quarta vez que Lucinico não responde.

[...] Foram necessários uns dez minutos para que eu compreendesse. Já não havia dúvidas para mim. Lucinico encontrava-se, ou em poucos minutos se encontraria, na linha de fogo.

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Agora que sei minha família sã e salva, a vida que levo não me desagrada. Não tenho muito o que fazer, mas não posso afirmar que esteja inerte. Não se deve comprar nem vender. O comércio renascerá quando vier a paz. Olivi mandou-me conselhos da Suíça. Se soubesse como seus conselhos destoam deste ambiente de todo mudado! Quanto a mim, no momento nada faço.

Conan Doyle

THE PRINCE HENRY TOUR

Conan Doyle had a strong feeling that conflict was coming after a 1911 automobile event. That year he took part in the International Road Competition organized by Prince Henry of Prussia. Known as the Prince Henry Tour, this contest was designed to pit the quality of British automobiles against German automobiles. The route took the participants from Hamburg, Germany to London.

Conan Doyle and his wife, Jean, were one of the British driving teams. Each of the ninety cars involved in the contest carried a military observer from the opposite team. Conan Doyle was surprised at the hostile attitudes of many of the German observers. He also heard much talk about the inevitability of war.

The British won the competition, but most of the participants came away with the conviction that war was near.

DANGER!

Alarmed by what he'd seen in the Prince Henry Tour Conan Doyle began to study German war literature. He saw that the submarine and the airplane were going to be important factors in the next war. He was particularly concerned about the threat of submarines blockading food shipments to Britain.

Conan Doyle endorsed the Channel Tunnel proposal as a way of safeguarding Britain from this threat. The tunnel would run between France and England. Conan Doyle argued that the tunnel would ensure that Britain couldn't be cut off from the rest of Europe during wartime and would provide increased tourism revenues during peacetime.

Convinced that this was a vital precaution Conan Doyle eventually took his idea to the public in the form of a story. "Danger! Being the Log of Captain John Sirius" appeared in the July, 1914 edition of the Strand Magazine. The story dealt with a conflict between Britain and a fictional country called Norland. In the story, Norland is able to bring Britain to its knees by the use of a small submarine fleet.

Sadly Conan Doyle's warnings were ignored, at least by the British. German officials were later quoted as saying that the idea of the submarine blockade came to them after hearing Conan Doyle's warnings against such an event. How much of that statement was truth and how much was propaganda designed to cause conflict within Britain is not known.

PRIVATE CONAN DOYLE

When war finally did break out in 1914 Conan Doyle was fifty-five years old. His age didn't stop him from trying to enlist in the military.

In a letter to the war office he stated, "I think I may say that my name is well known to the younger men of this country and that if I were to take a commission at my age it would set an example which might be of help." He went on to list some of his qualifications, "I am fifty-five but I am very strong and hardy, and can make my voice audible at great distances, which is useful at drill."

Despite his generous offer and his loud voice Conan Doyle's application was denied. However he was determined to help the war effort in any way possible. He next set about to organize defense units comprised of civilian volunteers. The War Office ordered those units to be disbanded and replaced them with units that were centrally administered through their office.

Conan Doyle's unit became the Crowborough Company of the Sixth Royal Sussex Volunteer Regiment. He was offered the command position in the new battalion, but Conan Doyle refused. He wanted to show his countrymen that all were equal in the defense of Britain. He entered the group as Private Sir Arthur Conan Doyle.

POWER OF THE PRESS

In the first few weeks of the war three British cruisers were lost. The 1,400 men aboard the cruisers were lost as well. Conan Doyle thought the loss of life was preventable. He wrote to the War Office urging that each sailor be given an "inflatable rubber belt" to assist the sailors in case their ships went down.

Sir Arthur was never reluctant to use his personal popularity when fighting for a just cause. Therefore he also sent letters to the press proposing these very same ideas. He knew that while the War Office might ignore the voice of one man, it couldn't ignore the voice of public opinion.

His plan worked. The government soon ordered inflatable rubber collars, the forerunner of today's lifejackets, for the country's sailors.

Conan Doyle would use this same tactic later when advocating that lifeboats be carried on military vessels. He also urged that body armor be issued to frontline soldiers.

THE BRITISH CAMPAIGN IN FRANCE AND FLANDERS

While World War One still raged on Conan Doyle began work on The British Campaign in France and Flanders. It was an extremely detailed history of the war. Conan Doyle was very proud of it and went to great pains to make it as accurate as possible.

He gathered material for the book from any sources including the British military. However the book wasn't as balanced as it could be. Conan Doyle totally trusted the material he received from some of his sources. The bias of these sources made its way into the book.

The British Campaign in France and Flanders was initially published in six volumes. The first volumes didn't sell well because they were published when the war was still being fought. The public wanted to hear about the day's battles rather that read a history of the early days of the war. After the war ended the public, possibly wanting a break from death and destruction, had little interest in reading about the conflict. Conan Doyle said the book was, "an undeserved literary disappointment".

FROM ONE WAR TO THE NEXT

Sir Arthur's suggestions on warfare were thought of as intrusive by some members of the British government. However he had some supporters as well. One of those, the First Sea Lord of the Admiralty, would play an important role in World War Two. The man's name was Winston Churchill.

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Fonte:
http://www.siracd.com/life_wwone.shtml

Mais:
http://docs.google.com/file/d/0BxwrrqPyqsnIajdXZllhY1hrTEE

Shot at dawn

BBC
March 3, 2011

Shot at dawn: cowards, traitors or victims?

During World War One, the execution of troops for desertion was intended both as punishment and a deterrent to others. What was the reason for this form of military justice, and should these cases now be pardoned?

(Peter Taylor-Whiffen)

EXPECTATIONS OF WAR

World War One soldiers knew their king and country expected them to fight to the death. Such was the expectation of their military commanders, their political leaders and even their loved ones that there was no question that if mortal danger came, they should face it like men. It was the only way for good to triumph over evil.

But this conflict quickly became the most brutal war in history and not even the most seasoned serviceman was prepared for the scale of carnage that unfolded before him. For many the horror proved too much. Hundreds were unable to cope, many were driven insane and several simply ran away.

But the army could no more afford to carry cowards than it could traitors, and many of those who did flee faced instant retribution with a court martial and death by firing squad.

British and Commonwealth military command executed 306 of its own men during the Great War. Those shot brought such shame on their country that nearly a century on, their names still do not appear on official war memorials.

Relatives and supporters of the executed men are fighting to win them a posthumous pardon. Their Shot at Dawn campaign claims the soldiers were blameless because it was severe psychological trauma, not cowardice, that rendered them physically unable to cope with the shocking scenes they had witnessed.

But others believe it is impossible to condemn the events of a century ago from a modern-day perspective. Whatever the rights and wrongs, they say, a pardon is inappropriate and impossible.

MILITARY JUSTICE

Most of the three million British troops soon knew they faced almost certain death on the battlefield. Day after day they would witness the annihilation of their friends, never knowing if or when they would be next. On some occasions whole battalions were wiped out, leaving just a handful of confused, terrified men. But those who shirked their responsibility soon learned there was no way out of the horror - if they ran from German guns, they would be shot by British ones.

Private Thomas Highgate was the first to suffer such military justice. Unable to bear the carnage of 7,800 British troops at the Battle of Mons, he had fled and hidden in a barn. He was undefended at his trial because all his comrades from the Royal West Kents had been killed, injured or captured. Just 35 days into the war, Private Highgate was executed at the age of 17.

Many similar stories followed, among them that of 16-year-old Herbert Burden, who had lied that he was two years older so he could join the Northumberland Fusiliers. Ten months later, he was court-martialled for fleeing after seeing his friends massacred at the battlefield of Bellwarde Ridge. He faced the firing squad still officially too young to be in his regiment.

To their far-off generals, the soldiers' executions served a dual purpose - to punish the deserters and to dispel similar ideas in their comrades. Courts martial were anxious to make an example and those on trial could expect little support from medical officers. One such doctor later recalled, "I went to the trial determined to give him no help, for I detest his type - I really hoped he would be shot."

Those condemned to death usually had their sentences confirmed by Field Marshal Sir Douglas Haig on the evening following their court-martial. A chaplain was dispatched to spend the night in the cell with the condemned man and execution took place the following dawn, with some men facing their last moments drugged with morphine or alcohol.

When the time came, the offender was tied to a stake, a medical officer placed a piece of white cloth over the man's heart and a priest prayed for him. Then the firing line - usually made up of six soldiers - was given orders to shoot. One round was routinely blank and no soldier could be sure he had fired a fatal shot.

Immediately after the shooting, the medical officer would examine the man. If he was still alive, the officer in charge would finish him off with a revolver.

"So many of those who were executed were just boys," argues Shot at Dawn campaign leader John Hipkin. "They made no allowance for that. They and their families were let down. The whole issue was, and still is, a disgrace."

SHELL SHOCK

Not one of the executed soldiers would be shot today - the military death penalty was outlawed in 1930. But psychologist Dr Petra Boynton believes that, even 90 years ago, there was no excuse for killing soldiers who were so obviously under the most extreme stress.

"Letters home from the front line show soldiers in stages of mental collapse," she says. "Men were obviously breaking down as they wrote about the horrors they'd seen. Those who did survive were changed forever."

Shell shock - now called post-traumatic stress disorder - was first recognised in print by Dr Charles Myers of the British Psychological Society in 1915. By the end of the war the army had dealt with more than 80,000 cases.

"Even the ancient Greeks knew about what they called 'war exhaustion', whether it was physical or mental," says Dr Boynton from the Royal Free and University Medical School.

"This condition would make soldiers behave erratically or hysterically, or go to the other extreme and become catatonic. Some who had run away claimed they could no longer stand the noise, and we know that if the eardrums take a constant pounding, the discomfort is too painful to bear. I'm sure thousands of men were terrified, but this is different. This is about inability to cope.

"Many of these men later proved they were brave by refusing to be blindfolded for their executions. They stared down the barrels of the guns which would kill them. That's not cowardice. That's courage."

Dr Boynton believes those in the firing line would also have suffered. "It was an extremely powerful form of bullying, having to kill your own friends," she says. "It sent out the message that you could be next."

THE CASE AGAINST A PARDON

Britain was not alone in executing its own soldiers. The French are thought to have killed about 600. The Germans, whose troops outnumbered the British by two to one, shot 48 of their own men, and the Belgians 13. In 2001, 23 executed Canadians were posthumously honoured by their government, and five troops killed by New Zealand's military command also recently won a pardon. Not one American or Australian soldier was executed.

Five successive British governments have rejected appeals to pardon the soldiers and the Ministry of Defence refuses to re-open the court martial files, even on the youngest troops.

"There are lots of problems with second-guessing the reasoning behind these actions from today's standpoint," says an MoD spokesman. "Anyone over the age of 14 was deemed legally responsible for his actions and army regulations provided no immunity from military law for an underage soldier.

"A blanket pardon is impossible because all the cases were different. It would be very difficult to review each case separately because in 80 years a lot of the papers have disappeared."

Offences other than desertion carried the death penalty and Cathryn Corns, co-author of Blindfold and Alone, which examines all 306 courts martial, agrees pardons would be entirely inappropriate.

"The number of rogues outnumbered those with mitigating circumstances by about six to one," she said. "Many were repeat deserters who showed no sign of shell shock. An individual re-assessment of these cases would undoubtedly reconvict the majority, which would be a terrible thing for families to bear - even worse, probably, than clinging to the hope of a pardon for the ancestors they believe to be innocent.

"Sometimes there were no witnesses at the original trials. If evidence wasn't available then to say exactly what happened, we certainly won't find it now.

"Military justice was harsh, but life was much harsher then. Capital punishment was still used in Britain. And while the military law used was written for previous campaigns in Africa, and perhaps was not appropriate, every one of the soldiers signed up to those regulations."

CHANGING TIMES

Opinion continues to be divided. The Royal British Legion supports calls for a pardon and, for the past two years, has invited the Shot at Dawn campaigners to take part in the march past the Cenotaph in London on Remembrance Sunday. Last year a memorial to the executed soldiers was erected at the National Memorial Arboretum in Lichfield, Staffs.

"We don't want pardons for villains. We want justice for people who were shot for insubordination because they refused to put on a hat, or who fell asleep at their post, or were just so terrified they simply could not cope."

But Cathryn Corn's co-author, former Intelligence Corps officer Colonel John Hughes-Wilson, is adamant history should not be rewritten. "The real issue is not about the convictions but about the severity of the sentences," he says.

"Some men, and there are tragic cases, were undoubtedly suffering from what we would now recognise as combat stress. But our great-grandfathers didn't understand that any more than they knew about blood transfusions or penicillin.

"If these men were alive today, we would not kill them. But we must be very wary about applying our modern sentiments and values to the 1914-18 war. We cannot re-invent the past to suit ourselves today. And even now we expect our servicemen, and women, to do what they presumably signed up to do - risk their lives and fight."

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Fonte:
http://www.bbc.co.uk/history/british/britain_wwone/shot_at_dawn_01.shtml

Mais:
http://www.executedtoday.com/2008/03/17/1915-french-corporals-maupas-lefoulon-girard-lechat
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Qzr39g0Yqdo

Heinrich von Treitschke

Trechos de ensaios de Heinrich von Treitschke (1834-1896).

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ON THE GERMAN CHARACTER

Depth of thought, idealism, cosmopolitan views; a transcendent philosophy which boldly oversteps (or freely looks over) the separating barriers of finite existence, familiarity with every human thought and feeling, the desire to traverse the world-wide realm of ideas in common with the foremost intellects of all nations and all times. All that has at all times been held to be characteristic of the Germans and has always been praised as the essence of German character and breeding.

The simple loyalty of the Germans contrasts remarkably with the lack of chivalry in the English character. This seems to be due to the fact that in England physical culture is sought, not in the exercise of noble arms, but in sports like boxing, swimming, and rowing, sports which undoubtedly have their value, but which obviously tend to encourage a brutal and purely athletic point of view, and the single and superficial ambition of getting a first prize.

ON THE STATE

The state is a moral community, which is called upon to educate the human race by positive achievement. Its ultimate object is that a nation should develop in it, a nation distinguished by a real national character. To achieve this state is the highest moral duty for nation and individual alike. All private quarrels must be forgotten when the state is in danger.

At the moment when the state cries out that its very life is at stake, social selfishness must cease and party hatred be hushed. The individual must forget his egoism, and feel that he is a member of the whole body.

The most important possession of a state, its be-all and end-all, is power. He who is not man enough to look this truth in the face should not meddle in politics. The state is not physical power as an end in itself, it is power to protect and promote the higher interests. Power must justify itself by being applied for the greatest good of mankind. It is the highest moral duty of the state to increase its power.

Only the truly great and powerful states ought to exist. Small states are unable to protect their subjects against external enemies; moreover, they are incapable of producing genuine patriotism or national pride and are sometimes incapable of Kultur in great dimensions. Weimar produced a Goethe and a Schiller; still these poets would have been greater had they been citizens of a German national state.

ON MONARCHY

The will of the state is, in a monarchy, the expression of the will of one man who wears the crown by virtue of the historic right of a certain family; with him the final authority rests. Nothing in a monarchy can be done contrary to the will of the monarch. In a democracy, plurality, the will of the people, expresses the will of the state. A monarchy excels any other form of government, including the democratic, in achieving unity and power in a nation. It is for this reason that monarchy seems so natural, and that it makes such an appeal to the popular understanding. We Germans had an experience of this in the first years of our new empire. How wonderfully the idea of a united Fatherland was embodied for us in the person of the venerable Emperor! How much it meant to us that we could feel once more: "That man is Germany; there is no doubting it!"

ON WAR

The idea of perpetual peace is an illusion supported only by those of weak character. It has always been the weary, spiritless, and exhausted ages which have played with the dream of perpetual peace. A thousand touching portraits testify to the sacred power of the love which a righteous war awakes in noble nations. It is altogether impossible that peace be maintained in a world bristling with arms, and even God will see to it that war always recurs as a drastic medicine for the human race. Among great states the greatest political sin and the most contemptible is feebleness.

War is elevating because the individual disappears before the great conception of the state. The devotion of the members of a community to each other is nowhere so splendidly conspicuous as in war.

Modern wars are not waged for the sake of goods and resources. What is at stake is the sublime moral good of national honor, which has something in the nature of unconditional sanctity, and compels the individual to sacrifice himself for it.

The grandeur of war lies in the utter annihilation of puny man in the great conception of the State, and it brings out the full magnificence of the sacrifice of fellow-countrymen for one another. In war the chaff is winnowed from the wheat. Those who have lived through 1870 cannot fail to understand Niebuhr's description of his feelings in 1813, when he speaks of how no one who has entered into the joy of being bound by a common tie to all his compatriots, gentle and simple alike, can ever forget how he was uplifted by the love, the friendliness, and the strength of that mutual sentiment.

It is war which fosters the political idealism which the materialist rejects. What a disaster for civilization it would be if mankind blotted its heroes from memory. The heroes of a nation are the figures which rejoice and inspire the spirit of its youth, and the writers whose words ring like trumpet blasts become the idols of our boyhood and our early manhood. He who feels no answering thrill is unworthy to bear arms for his country. To appeal from this judgment to Christianity would be sheer perversity, for does not the Bible distinctly say that the ruler shall rule by the sword, and again that greater love hath no man than to lay down his life for his friend? To Aryan races, who are before all things courageous, the foolish preaching of everlasting peace has always been in vain. They have always been man enough to maintain with the sword what they have attained through the spirit.

ON THE ENGLISH

The hypocritical Englishman, with the Bible in one hand and a pipe of opium in the other, possesses no redeeming qualities. The nation was an ancient robber-knight, in full armor, lance in hand, on every one of the world's trade routes.

The English possess a commercial spirit, a love of money which has killed every sentiment of honor and every distinction of right and wrong. English cowardice and sensuality are hidden behind unctuous, theological fine talk which is to us free-thinking German heretics among all the sins of English nature the most repugnant. In England all notions of honor and class prejudices vanish before the power of money, whereas the German nobility has remained poor but chivalrous. That last indispensable bulwark against the brutalization of society - the duel - has gone out of fashion in England and soon disappeared, to be supplanted by the riding whip. This was a triumph of vulgarity. The newspapers, in their accounts of aristocratic weddings, record in exact detail how much each wedding guest has contributed in the form of presents or in cash; even the youth of the nation have turned their sports into a business, and contend for valuable prizes, whereas the German students wrought havoc on their countenances for the sake of a real or imaginary honor.

ON JEWS

The Jews at one time played a necessary role in German history, because of their ability in the management of money. But now that the Aryans have become accustomed to the idiosyncrasies of finance, the Jews are no longer necessary. The international Jew, hidden in the mask of different nationalities, is a disintegrating influence; he can be of no further use to the world. It is necessary to speak openly about the Jews, undisturbed by the fact that the Jewish press befouls what is purely historical truth.

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Fonte:
http://college.cengage.com/history/primary_sources/world/history_germany_19th.htm