_The Making of Germany, by Ferdinand Schevill. Chicago: A. C.
McClurg and Company._
_Great Russia, by Charles Sarolea. New York: Alfred A. Knopf._
_Imperial Germany and the Industrial Revolution, by Thorstein
Veblen. New York: Macmillan._
These books are not war-literature—a compliment not often deserved in
these days of ink-war demoralization. The lay, unbiased reader, who is
inclined to learn facts rather than to find interpretations
substantiating his prejudices, will enjoy the three books as a rare
treat. They are very much unlike. Mr. Schevill is a historian par
excellence, and lends a broad perspective to the related facts. He also
lends a rich romantic flavor to his narrative, an emotional
undercurrent—so unfrequent a feature with academic writers. His point of
view may not be universally acceptable; even in history there are events
and phenomena which belong to the autonomous region of taste and
opinion. The scene of the triumphant Prussians solemnizing their victory
in Versailles, for example, may arouse differing emotions and
reflections. Mr. Schevill bows in reverence before the three heroic
figures of Emperor William (“not unlike the legendary Barbarossa”),
Bismarck, and Moltke. We may likewise not share his enthusiasm for the
German idea of State, as superior to Anglo-Saxon individualism. But we
cannot help admiring the general brilliancy of the treatment of the
gigantic subject, and if we are capable of getting instructed, our
reading of the book will amply reward us.
M. Sarolea is a Belgian, hence pro-Ally and anti-German, hence
unreservedly Russophil, hence not wholly impartial. It is a poor service
to Russia, the unqualified praise of all her institutions and traits on
the part of her friends. Exaggerated eulogy is apt to arouse suspicion.
If M. Sarolea had interchanged his Mercurian sprightliness for Professor
Veblen’s solidity, both would have gained considerably. Mr. Veblen takes
us as far back as the pre-historic Baltic tribes in order to prove his
point of the peculiar aptitude of the Prussians for borrowing. He
certainly succeeds in his attempt, but at the expense of the reader’s
patience and eye-sight which is subjected to the perusal of endless
pages of miniature type. His scientific style is surcharged with
profound sarcasm, and if you are fond of delicate subtleties the book
will afford you “great sport.” Schevill, historian; Sarolea, publicist;
Veblen, economist—the common feature of the three, particularly of the
first and of the last, is respect for the reader who is treated with
facts and not with phantoms for the sake of argument.