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Updated: May 6, 2025
"It is so," persisted Hartrott energetically. "We have the liberty best suited to a great people economical and intellectual liberty." "And political liberty?" The professor received this question with a scornful shrug. "Political liberty! . . . Only decadent and ungovernable people, inferior races anxious for equality and democratic confusion, talk about political liberty.
Exceedingly amiable, with an abject amiability and evident desire to please, but constantly blundering through a tactless desire to make their grandeur felt. The high-toned friends of Hartrott emphasized their love for France, but it was the pious love that a weak and mischievous child inspires, needing protection.
"And now war comes," continued the pedant. "We need the colonies of the others, even though Bismarck, through an error of his stubborn old age, exacted nothing at the time of universal distribution, letting England and France get possession of the best lands. We must control all countries that have Germanic blood and have been civilized by our forbears." Hartrott enumerated these countries.
But in spite of the silence of the maids, Don Marcelo was always in fear of some outburst of exalted patriotism, and that his wife's sister might suddenly find herself confined in a concentration camp under suspicion of having dealings with the enemy. Frau von Hartrott made his uneasiness worse.
And in the tone in which these words were uttered throbbed an expression of hatred and a thirst for vengeance which astonished both listeners. "Even though England attack us," continued Hartrott, "we shall conquer, notwithstanding. This adversary is not more terrible than the others. For the past century she has ruled the world.
Hartrott told his uncle that the Count was a great artist, musician and poet. The Emperor was his friend; they had known each other from boyhood. Before the war, certain scandals concerning his private life had exiled him from Court mere lampoons of the socialists and scandal-mongers. The Kaiser had always kept a secret affection for his former chum.
Von Hartrott continued presiding over patriotic societies and making plans of expansion after the near victory, but he had aged greatly in the last few months. The "sage" was the only one still holding his own. The family afflictions were aggravating the ferocity of Professor Julius von Hartrott.
They were advancing rapidly, forming an extensive and solid wall from Verdun to Paris. His general had sent him to maintain the contact with the next division, but finding himself near the castle, he had wished to visit it. A family tie was not a mere word. He still remembered the days that he had spent at Villeblanche when the Hartrott family had paid a long visit to their relatives in France.
"May every barbarian be exterminated! . . . every one of the bandits in pointed helmets who have just burned Louvain and other towns, shooting defenceless peasants, old men, women and children!" "You forget that I am a mother," sobbed Frau von Hartrott. "You forget that among those whose extermination you are imploring, are my sons."
He thought this notice advisable because His Excellency might go away and other officials might be installed in the castle. Von Hartrott had seen much and his smile seemed to imply that nothing could surprise him, no matter how outrageous it might be. But his relative continued scorning his protection, and laughing bitterly at the impromptu signboard.
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