I often arrive at quite
sensible ideas and judgments, on the spur of the moment. It is when
I stop to think that I become foolish.
Our first thoughts are the thoughts that are given to us; our second
thoughts are the thoughts that we make for ourselves. I prefer to
trust to the former.
The Germans are a big, square-shouldered, deep-chested race. They
do not talk much, but look as though they thought. Like all big
things, they are easy-going and good-tempered.
Anti-tobacconists, teetotallers, and such-like faddists, would fare
badly in Germany. A German has no anti-nature notions as to its
being wicked for him to enjoy his life, and still more criminal for
him to let anybody else enjoy theirs. He likes his huge pipe, and
he likes his mug of beer, and as these become empty he likes to have
them filled again; and he likes to see other people like THEIR pipe
and THEIR mug of beer. If you were to go dancing round a German,
shrieking out entreaties to him to sign a pledge that he would never
drink another drop of beer again as long as he lived, he would ask
you to remember that you were talking to a man, not to a child or an
imbecile, and he would probably impress the request upon you by
boxing your ears for your impertinence. He can conduct himself
sensibly without making an ass of himself. He can be "temperate"
without tying bits of coloured ribbon all about himself to advertise
the fact, and without rushing up and down the street waving a banner
and yelling about it.
The German women are not beautiful, but they are lovable and sweet;
and they are broad-breasted and broad-hipped, like the mothers of
big sons should be. They do not seem to trouble themselves about
their "rights," but appear to be very contented and happy even
without votes. The men treat them with courtesy and tenderness, but
with none of that exaggerated deference that one sees among more
petticoat-ridden nations. The Germans are women lovers, not women
worshippers; and they are not worried by any doubts as to which sex
shall rule the State, and which stop at home and mind the children.
The German women are not politicians and mayors and county
councillors; they are housewives.
All classes of Germans are scrupulously polite to one another; but
this is the result of mutual respect, not of snobbery. The tramcar
conductor expects to be treated with precisely the same courtesy
that he tenders. The Count raises his hat to the shopkeeper, and
expects the shopkeeper to raise his hat to him.
The Germans are hearty eaters; but they are not, like the French,
fussy and finicky over their food. Their stomach is not their God;
and the cook, with his sauces and pates and ragouts, is not their
High Priest. So long as the dish is wholesome, and there is
sufficient of it, they are satisfied.
In the mere sensuous arts of painting and sculpture the Germans are
poor, in the ennobling arts of literature and music they are great;
and this fact provides a key to their character.
They are a simple, earnest, homely, genuine people. They do not
laugh much; but when they do, they laugh deep down. They are slow,
but so is a deep river. A placid look generally rests upon their
heavy features; but sometimes they frown, and then they look
somewhat grim.
A visit to Germany is a tonic to an Englishman. We English are
always sneering at ourselves, and patriotism in England is regarded
as a stamp of vulgarity. The Germans, on the other hand, believe in
themselves, and respect themselves. The world for them is not
played out. Their country to them is still the "Fatherland." They
look straight before them like a people who see a great future in
front of them, and are not afraid to go forward to fulfil it.
GOOD-BYE, SIR (OR MADAM).
End of Diary of a Pilgrimage by Jerome K. Jerome
