At the same time I am sceptical as to the spread of Bolshevist ideas on any large scale among the German nation outside certain industrial circles. The genius of the race is essentially law-abiding and orderly. If it is allowed to eat and to work, and is not kept artificially in a state of hunger and unemployment, the country will, I believe, in time settle down. Bolshevism is a disease drawing its strength from hunger and despair. It is only dangerous when such conditions exist or are provoked by a short-sighted policy of fear and reprisals. “Oh, I should like to see Germany go Bolshevist for a time and all the people killing one another,” was the genial remark I overheard once in England, the speaker being an English civilian. I do not think this wish will be gratified, but what the speaker and his kind forget is that Bolshevism is a disease which can be treated by no _cordon sanitaire_, and that the spread of ruin and confusion in Central Europe means that the same evil spectres will knock assuredly at our own doors. The fatal habit of “thinking war” still dominates whole classes of people throughout the Allied countries. But the business of the hour is peace, and to be a laggard about peace to-day is as criminal as to have been a laggard about war when Europe and civilisation stood menaced. CHAPTER III THE KÖLNER DOM In the Wallraf-Richartz Museum, where, after the manner of German collections, pictures and antiques, both good and bad, jostle each other with small regard to quality, a series of modern frescoes execrable in colour and design decorate the main staircase. The artist has been at pains to cover the walls with various incidents, allegorical and otherwise, in the long history of Cologne. The final fresco is the most entertaining of the series. It represents the scene in 1842 when Frederick William IV. visited Cologne on a memorable occasion. In this year work was resumed on the ruined and neglected shell of the cathedral, and the citizens of Cologne dedicated themselves anew to the task of making a success of the failure of centuries. The King attended in person to inaugurate the great effort. Frederick William had many of the showy and histrionic qualities for which his great-nephew was conspicuous, and like William II. was by way of having a great deal of taste in artistic matters--most of it bad. Blessed with the gift of fluent speech, he adored ceremonial occasions, especially those on which he could pose before Europe as a patron of the Muses.