Prussian should not have scars all over his face if he likes them; nay,
they are often the redeeming points of interest on an otherwise somewhat
unenlightening countenance. The duel may be defended; the sham duel may be
defended.

What cannot be defended is something really peculiar to Prussia, of which
we hear numberless stories, some of them certainly true. It might be called
the one-sided duel. I mean the idea that there is some sort of dignity
in drawing the sword upon a man who has not got a sword; a waiter, or a
shop assistant, or even a schoolboy. One of the officers of the Kaiser
in the affair at Saberne was found industriously hacking at a cripple. In
all these matters I would avoid sentiment. We must not lose our tempers
at the mere cruelty of the thing; but pursue the strict psychological
distinction. Others besides German soldiers have slain the defenceless,
for loot or lust or private malice, like any other murderer. The point is
that nowhere else but in Prussian Germany is any theory of honour mixed
up with such things; any more than with poisoning or picking pockets. No
French, English, Italian or American gentleman would think he had in some
way cleared his own character by sticking his sabre through some ridiculous
greengrocer who had nothing in his hand but a cucumber. It would seem as if
the word which is translated from the German as "honour," must really mean
something quite different in German. It seems to mean something more like
what we should call "prestige."

The fundamental fact, however, is the absence of the reciprocal idea. The
Prussian is not sufficiently civilised for the duel. Even when he crosses
swords with us his thoughts are not as our thoughts; when we both glorify
war, we are glorifying different things. Our medals are wrought like his,
but they do not mean the same thing; our regiments are cheered as his are,
but the thought in the heart is not the same; the Iron Cross is on the