The fact that they were all warriors was the only thing that remained common to the Teutonic tribes. Their heavens were battlefields, their gods warrior-heroes, their popular assemblies army reviews. Political rule found expression solely in war command. The citizen derived his citizenship from being a warrior. The slave became a citizen when he was invested with arms. The leader’s commands and punishments were supposed to be handed down to him by the gods, and since the leader was also general and judge, he must evidently know everything better. Five hundred years after the poor rose against the rich in Athens, after social revolutions of every kind had rocked the empires of the Mediterranean, all the Teutonic tribes still obeyed their leaders, adhering to this custom down to our own day, almost without wavering.
On the other hand, the Teuton’s every impulse was wild and unpredictable. In a single night he might lose his freedom by a turn of the dice; he might slay his friend in a drunken stupor. When it came to battle he literally hurled himself into the fray with exultation. The utter contempt of death which amazed the peoples of antiquity so much in the Teutons resembled an intoxication such as only wild and pugnacious men develop, who know neither work nor love. Even today it fills a part of German youth.
3
THE ROMANS no more than the Franks or the Italians—indeed, not a single neighbor of the Germans—could ever trust the Germans to remain peaceable. No matter how happy their condition, their restless passion would urge them on to ever more extreme demands. The warlike Germans could no more bear an idyllic state of affairs than could Faust and his thousands of German fellow spirits the calm heights of the mind. To enjoy achievement and the fleeting moment was denied them. What was it these irresistible conquerors lacked?
They lacked spirit, humaneness, vision. The Carthaginians and even the Romans came to colonize with fire and sword and so did the French when they forced the three ideals of the great Revolution upon the world. But with all of them ideals played a part—a theogony or religion, philosophy or natural science, a verse, a song on the lips of the conqueror. In their footsteps followed men who guarded the treasures of the spirit. But the Teutons were barbarians not because they were unable to read, but because they lacked the wisdom of the heart, the instinct of the mind, the knowledge of nature, wisdom and humility—the heritage of the Mediterranean, the source and substance of mankind.
The inner lack of security that dwelt in the Teutonic soul even while the Teutonic body surged forward victoriously—indeed, particularly then—was not assuaged by the conquest of Europe. It grew, betraying itself in a willingness of the Teutons to accept readily whatever was offered them by the Romans, Greeks, Byzantines, whose conquerors but not superiors they were. The occasional efforts by these nomads, shunted from their wild forests to the luxuriant gardens of Sicily or the Provence, to emulate the heritage and lessons of generations were touching in their simple-mindedness. Never have they been more profoundly grasped than in Schubert’s “Wanderer,” who moans:—
I wander still, in pain and tears,
And ever ask with sighing. Where?
A spirit voice doth answer near:
There where thou art not, all joy is there.
Only one of the wandering tribes built up anything within the Roman Empire: the Franks, who conquered Gaul and founded France. Clovis, their chieftain, a typically Teutonic barbarian, brave, naïve and cunning, seems to have been the first constructive force among the Germans, around 500 A.D. By assimilating Teutons and Romans he laid the basis for the later Carolingian Empire. On a Christmas Day he, together with three thousand heathen Franks, was baptized with immense pomp and circumstance. What could have taken a stronger hold on the imagination of these savage people, bound neither by State nor by law, than the complete contrast of this faith? What—a God who did not wreak vengeance, who did not send his thunderbolts in retribution? A God who blessed and forgave? Here were priests who lifted up instead of abasing, a court of judgment that went to the heart! The whole structure of the ancient Teutons was shaken to the core when they were suddenly confronted with an invisible hand that banished all force. This period of transition lasted five centuries—indeed, the last mass baptism among the Frisians took place seven hundred years after the first.
4
THEY were brave, these German noblemen, forerunners of the Junkers. They knew how to die and they did not spare themselves. But loyalty to their leaders was confined to battle. Afterward it was supplanted by demands for booty or for so-called fiefs which closely resembled outright property. Woe unto the leader who did not yield what the nobles demanded! They were his swords, his lances and his daggers, and he had to stand in constant fear that these human weapons might turn against him. The history of the German kings and leaders during the Middle Ages is a story of revolt and conspiracy on the part of vassals. The reason that loyalty has always been and still is held in such high esteem by the Germans is that it is so rare, an ideal emulated by but a few. A red streak of murder and treachery ran through the history of the German noble families, and if later they grew more sedate it was because there was less killing and more bargaining. The intimate memoirs of the kings are studded with plaints at the constant threats to which they so often had to yield in order to hand down their power to their sons. Indeed, the kings often showed their feelings by seeking refuge with commoners. Later the Prussian Junkers, descendants of the ancient vassals, defiantly succeeded in maintaining the subjection of all other classes down to our own days.
The lack of unity which constitutes the tragedy and at the same time the fascination of German history, this weakness which rests on the strength of German individualism, bore even at this early age the significant result that every prince provided for his own family, while few provided for the realm. Thus the new country of France was constantly divided and redivided, first by Clovis and later by his successors. This partitioning weakened the country and slowed up its attainment of national integrity.
From the welter of family feuds and partitions there emerged a valiant major-domo, who was proclaimed king. But before risking his coup d’état, he secured the blessings of heaven. He had inquiries made from the Bishop of Rome, who even then was styling himself Pope, as to what should be done with heedless kings who did nothing beyond accepting the gift offerings of the people. The situation was not unlike today when the few remaining kings are guided like puppets by dictators and by ministers.
Pope Zachary recognized the immeasurable advantage that might accrue to his successors for a thousand years to come from an alliance with the rising world power. Zachary decided upon a reply of world-historic importance: Pepin the upstart must be anointed by the Pope.
Here we see the beginnings of the German tragedy that did so much harm to the German nation. By voluntarily submitting to ecclesiastic power, the boldest leaders of Europe renounced their power as such. This established a paradox in the field of State power—a paradox that arose from the internal contradictions within the German soul which were thus perpetuated.
For Pepin was but the first of many who, having been anointed, pronounced the lie: “Not on behalf of any man but for Saint Peter alone have I gone out to do battle, that my sins may be forgiven.” It was a blending of self-interest and mysticism, typically German; and with this sentimental apology for his coup d’état Pepin spoke straight from the heart of his people, giving them the ideal pretext to justify violence. Show the Teuton a sacred motive, let him glimpse the Savior above his sword, and he will feel himself to be Saint Michael. Even when robbing alien peoples, he will believe his mission to be highly moral. With this psychology Pepin became