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Entered at the New York Post Office as second-class matter. Copyright by the McClure Publications, Fourth Ave. and 20th Street, New York. All rights reserved. Entered at Stationers’ Hall, London.
VoL LX I No. 3054
Week ending Saturday , July 3, 1915
$5 a rear
sots a Copy
A Comparison
TITR. BRYAN left the cabinet for high conscientious •*■*■*- reasons. Those who continue to speak harshly of him, after the first burst of hysteria is over, ac- cusing him of politics or imbecility, are playing a successful game if their object is to hurt the admin- istration. Largely, however, it is merely a cult. Every eastern editor thinks he has to take a shot at Mr. Bryan about twice a week. Otherwise he would not be a real editor. Mr. Bryan has a whole-hearted desire to help the President, at the same time that he preserves his own point of view and carries out what he conceives to be his own mission. Now it is possible that he elaborates his views in the present crisis more than is necessary. Harper’s Weekly happens to believe he does. But that is a mere difference of opinion about practical procedure. It is no excuse for assault on motives. Such assaults will be resented by Mr. Bryan’s many followers and hence will make Democratic unity more difficult.
The two minds are obviously different. The Wilson type is more frequent in the East, the Bryan type in the West. The President has the mind and habits of the trained student of history and govern- ment, accustomed to work out his problems in quiet, profoundly. During the first hour of his administra- tion he let it be known that, when the country’s in- terest required it, he would exclude himself from visitors and give all of his time and strength to its important problems. The value of this method of work was demonstrated when, after Congress ad- journed, he went into retirement for two weeks and made himself master of our international situation, with the result of becoming in the minds of many of the best observers the foremost figure in this unhappy world.
Mr. Bryan, on the other hand, was brought up where not so much emphasis is put on exactness. He is wide in his sympathies. His method is to trust common men and to exhort them. He was always accessible while_in office, both at his office and his home, at any hour of the day or the night to anyone he might help; not only to the various Ambassadors, Ministers and Secretaries with whom he had official relations, but also to the humblest American from some distant State. With Mr. Bryan the close per- sonal doncems of his constituents are a heart-felt interest.
The patmership between the President and the Secretary of State was, like many other happy friendships, foumfecl on contrasts combined with mutaal respecL^p was a relationship cemented by proHbd religifitts convictions on both sides, and on
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both sides also a sincere desire for public service.
It is not necessary now to refer at length to the prolific achievements of the administration. Great as they are in material things, probably the most important one is the purification of political life at Washington. If, as Mr. Taft says, we are now free from the menace of oligarchy, that happy result is more due to this partnership than to any other one element working for political righteousness today.
If he is permitted to do so, Mr. Bryan will continue in the future, as in the past, to be the most effective and sympathetic interpreter of the President’s poli- cies to the great mass of Mr. Bryan’s devoted fol- lowers.
*What Is Ignorance ?
A STUPID, ill-informed resident of Fifth Avenue has no more right to vote than an illiterate, but possibly thoughtful Polish immigrant. The sug- gestion that the New York constitut’onal convention introduce a reading and writing test is both snobbish and unnecessary. It may also have politics in it, along with the reapportionment suggestion. It is per- fectly easy to disfranchise the ignorant, without mak- ing the absurd assumption that large percentages of the literate are not ignorant. All you need is a ballot with few names and no party designations whatever, in state and city elections. Then nobody, rich or poor, illiterate or merely indifferent, will have any temptation to vote unless he is also willing to acquire a certain amount of information.
Somewhat Different
rpHE obloquy which the University of Pennsyl- * vania is earning for itself in the Nearing case recalls two episodes in Harvard’s recent history. One has already been revealed in Harper’s Weekly , the other we take the liberty of revealing now.
When President Eliot was still in office, one of the overseers (almost by necessity a reactionary body) tried to bring about the removal of a certain profes- sor because his teaching was deemed not of a nature to strengthen revealed religion. President Eliot re- marked that as long as he was president.no man would be removed on the mere groufid of JiiS^philo- sophic opinions.
When Professor Munsterberg made his futile $10,000,000 grand stand play, as narrated in Har- per’s Weekly for November 14, 1914, President ' Lowell said he believed it was generally understood that Harvard did not receive bribes.
The Pennsylvania moral is too obvious to draw.
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Tj1 ULOGIES* inevitably followed tbe. Qijjden death ^ of former: Senator, - Nete&n* ' !VV. . Alihricji. Like most who become .rulers by their oiyq powers he had virtues. He was :not; a- hygocrtfe'f He was bold to the point of audacity in 'standing* for* the rights of the great capitalists of the country, with whom he was very closely allied, whether in granting the exorbitant profits to the manufacturers in the tariff bills which he framed for their benefit, in promoting the interests of the railroads as against those of the traveling and shipping public, or in his advocacy of a central bank in the form which the masters of finance desired. Aldrich was able to secure, under the threat of pun- ishment in the distribution of pork, whether in the way of tariff favors or appropriations for public buildings or for rivers and harbors, the vote of a Democratic Senator to take the place of each recal- citrant Republican. The Aldrich machine was as per- fect in its mechanism as political art could make it; yet it went to pieces when the Republican party had a two-third majority in the Senate. What Aldrich lacked was the ability as floor-leader of the Senate to defend his own policies as against the eloquence of such men as Dolliver, La Follette, Borah, Clapp, and Cummins, on the Republican side, and of Demo- cratic Senators who could not be coerced. He under- estimated the effect of the appeal which these men made to the people; and the Republican majority of two-thirds when President Taft took office became a Democratic majority four years later.
For Headline Readers
TT IS often said that we are governed by headlines.
In a talk with the newspaper correspondents the President was interrogated as to the relation between the Administration and the Riggs Bank controversy. The headline reader had a liberal choice in the pub- lications following:
Washington Star : President Upholds Controller’s Acts — Mr. Wilson Indicates He Is Behind Mr. Wil- liams in Riggs Bank Case— Says Currency Chief’s Powers Perfectly Clear.
Washington Times : Riggs Bank Case Is No Wil- son Affair — President Denies Controversy With Treasury Touches Administration Policies.
Washington Post: Stands By Williams — President Says Comptroller’s Bank Rights Are Clear — Power to Limit In Congress — Chief Executive Holds Pro- ceedings Taken By Riggs Officials Do Not Involve Any Administration Policy, But Will Defend Treas- ury, As Matter of Course.
Washington Herald : Wilson Drops Riggs Anchor — Political Effect of Case Moves Him to Disclaim Con- nection With It — Issue Up To Williams — Presi- dent Regards Question as Being Between Bank and Comptroller.
Who Thinks ?
■V1AXIMILIAN HARDEN, redoubtable editor of the Zukunft , who has the habit of frankness, says that what the neutral nations lack is not in- formation about Germany; they have the facts; what they lack is the ability to think as the Germans think. That is the gist of the matter. Either the rest of the world has lost its thinking power, or Ger-
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many has. The Germans have no doubt which is the case. A well-known form of delusion is the idea that everybody else is crazy. A type of logic very current in Germany just now is shown wherever the question of Belgium comes up. It will be explained in a con- versation that as war approached the French army was so much smaller than the German army that it could only plan one offensive, and that one was obviously through Alsace-Lorraine. A few minutes later as excuse for the German invasion of Belgium it will be said that if the Germans had not invaded Belgium the French were about to do it. There are kinds of emotional exaltation that destroy logic. There are fixed, simple ideas that if sufficiently in- tense have the power to kill the general sanity of thought.
A Great Awakening
TF WE go to war one of the things we shall have to learn is a more relative conception of private right. In that respect the spectacle of England tak- ing a necessary and most important step in May in- stead of the preceeding August may teach us some- thing. Nobody except the Germans realized ahead to what an extent the result would be determined in the workshop. It seems now obvious enough that if the side with the most explosives wins, the side that has the biggest workshop force manufacturing explo- sives wins. Germany knew that fact ahead. France learned with surprising quickness, and put the lesson into effect with splendid speed and thoroughness. To England the lesson came very hard, for the individ- ualistic idea of freedom was deep-grained. “Busi- ness as usual” was a proud boast earlier in the war.
It had to give place to “nothing as usual.” Some of the changes in ways of living were obviously wholesome discipline. The Board of Trade requested the public to eat less meat. Racing was stopped. Some steps were taken to lessen the interference of liquor with efficiency, but the Irish and the Tories in the House of Commons prevented any radical action. Strikes were allowed that in Germany, France, or Switzerland (if she were at war) would be put down with the bayonet. An amazing example of British clinging to principle in the midst of a world-quake was when the supply of cartridges was endangered by a prosecution to prevent girls from working over hours, because it was against the law ; and this prosecution was by the Home office with the assent of the war office! Then came the final decis- ion— the Defense of the Realm act, which was based j on the realization, as Lloyd-George put it, that “you j can’t wait in a war until every unreasonable person becomes reasonable, until every intractable person I becomes tractable.” At the time of his famous bod- * get and of the fight with the House of Lords, T.lov-t- j George became the leader of the radical democrat n* movement in the Anglo-Saxon world. Yet he it is who now says: “Public discussion cs a prelim- inary to action, is all right in times o' peace; you can’t afford it in war. . . I don't mind the guillotining of ministers or tr U ii necessary, but until they reach the scr icy ought to be
obeyed. And above all, don’ e them by snip- ing at them from behind. In war individ-
ualism has its manifold def- . Don’t let the flag j be shot down for any man profit.” As to labor, ! think of its being David Llovd-George who said, .
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“We must increase the mobility of labor and we must have greater subordination in labor to the direction and control of the state.” Think of its being not a Tory but David Lloy.: rge who, as an argument
for the control of v ■ in the factories, gave this picture of the conti ui of workmen in the trenches:
The enlisted workman cannot choose his locality of action. He cannot say, “Well, I am quite pre- pared to fight at Neuve Chapelle, but I won’t fight at Festubert, and I am not going near the place they call ‘Wipers.’ ” He cannot say, “Well, I have been in the trenches 10 hours and a half, and my trade union won’t allow me to work more than 10 hours.” He cannot say, “You have not enough men, and I have been doing the work of two men. My trade union won’t allow me to do more than by own share.” The veteran who has been seven years at the job, seven years in the Army, cannot say, “Who is this fellow by my side — this mere fledgling? He has only had just a few weeks’ training, and it is against my union’s reg- ulations, and I am off.”
War does immeasurable harm. We can only hope it may sometimes do a corresponding good. The gain to Germany will be in less subordination, less obedient organization. Possibly the gain to England, and to us, will be in precisely the opposite direction.
Why Is Partisanship ?
TWO kinds of support are frequently confused. * The man who, because he calls himself a Demo- crat, supports Roger Sullivan, Charles Murphy, or Tom Taggart, or the Republican who steadily follows Barnes, Penrose or Gallinger, has no more initiative than a sheep. On the other hand the man who sup- ported Roosevelt as President against the Aldrich- Cannon system, or Hughes as Governor against Barnes, or who supports Wilson as President, at points where the multiform assaults are made against his leadership, or Mitchel where his constructive and patient work is threatened either by politicians or by easily fatigued theorists, may not lack critical judg- ment merely because his support is persistent and in- tense. It may be with him a matter not of blindness but of perspective. He may feel that the weakness of the American reformer is usually shortness of wind, and inability to stay in the race as steadily as the machine politician. Judgment is that quality of the mind which estimates the relative values of con- flicting principles and considerations. Good judg- ment in an independent voter or publicist does not require him to be indiscriminate in the emphasis he gives to his own opinion? on every detail. It requires him to combine candor and freedom of thought with perspective. To be usefully independent does not re- quire one to imitate an aspen leaf.
Much In a Name
rPHERE ought to be h system by which editors could be prevented from making foolish mis- takes. Recently Harper’s Weekly made one of peculiar atrocity. It confused two Hinmans. It scolded H. D. Hinman for the sins of H. J. Hinman. There is no excuse for us. H. D. Hinman’s record is progressive and admirable. To attack him for the doings of a marked reactionary is the limit of ir- relevance and stupidity. An apology is small con- solation, but-H. D. has ours and has it in full, igitized by ^ tQ QQ [£
What Is an Indian ?
A MERICANS who hold that Porfirio Diaz was a great President of Mexico, and have never ceased to regret the refusal of the Wilson Admin- istration to recognize Huerta as President, argue that the Mexican Indians, forming a large percentage of the population, are totally unfit for self-govern- ment. Diaz was an “Indian” and so is Huerta. The Aztecs and Toltecs had wrought out for. themselves a high degree of civilization before the Spanish Con- quistadores landed on Mexican soil. But little in- ferior to these two races is the Mayan type of Indian. The Yaquis, now making trouble again, alone of the Mexican tribes are comparable to the Indians best known to the people of the United States. The Yaquis are the Mexican Apaches. They proved themselves unconquerable until Diaz adopted the ex- pedient of wholesale transportation to Yucatan and their exploitation in a state of slavery by the own- ers of the hennequen plantations. Obregon made use of the remnant left in Sonora in his first conflicts with the armies of Huerta, and they are still fighting for the right of possession of their own lands. The Mexican middle class, which has formed the back- bone of the Mexican Revolution, is really a Meztizo class, the mixture of Spanish with Aztec, Toltec or Mayan strains. The requisite to modern government in Mexico has much less to do with race origin than it has to do with industrial development and popular education.
The Future of Charity
AT THE National Conference of Charities and Correction in Baltimore, the duty seems to have been felt all the more clearly at this time that Ameri- ca shoulcThold high its standards of help and of social reform because of the danger that so much may be lost in the wrack and ruin of war. Perhaps the most significant movement of the Conference was the feeling of the .majority that public administration of charity must succeed private agencies. As the vice of private charity has been its inadequacy, and that of public relief has been its inefficiency, the education of the public on efficiency lines by social experts to- ward the assumption of the whole responsibility by public agencies is the road to progress. There is a growing feeling also that the name “charity” is one soon to be foregone.
Steering One’s Course
COMEBODY has said — many have said, no doubt ^ — that the way to succeed is to look 20 years ahead. That is the practical point of view, the or- dinary acceptation, and the stereotyped biographies of great men, which are all alike, have their heroes choose in youth the final triumph of age. But there is another thing, that some great man said, to the effect that he goes furthest who does not know where he is going. It is a half of the truth, the more im- aginative half. Putting the two halves together we decide that for final distinction it is well to have an end in view, but often well not to have one too precise and limited in its nature ; to have a direction, but not a literally charted route; to have various possibili- ties, but all of them akin.
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Needed— A Revolution
By NORMAN HAPGOOD
IN AN earlier article of this series I wrote that France was more fundamentally determined than either Ger- many or England to avoid discussion of peace terms. The reason is that there is something France desires even more than Alsace-Lorraine, and it is something that no terms can give. It is something that can come only from a change in the internal conditions of Ger- many. What France desires is security. She is paying more, in a human sense, for this war than any other great power, and the one object in her mind, infinitely more important to her than Alsace-Lorraine or than any indemnity, is to see an end of terror. She had really given up, some years ago, any serious revenge ideas. She was reconciled to taking the world as it was, to work- ing out her industrial and intellectual destiny within her present borders. She loves life as she knows life. She desires no intense modern strain. Her children do not commit suicide. She believes herself the most civilized of nations, the one in which thought and manners are most subtle, finished, and agreeable. She does not re- quire violence or change or external accomplishment to make her happy. Existence to her is very pleasant if external forces cease to threaten.
What, then, can give her spiritual security, give her the right to the calm pursuit of comfort, knowledge, and beauty? No treaty, surely. No territory. No money, even. Only, in her opinion, a Germany filled with some- what similar ideals. As she understands Germany, that country now says that the arrangements of Europe should be modified; that German exuberance requires the infliction of her talents on other nations; and that by the laws of progress those changes may be brought about through force of arms. German war literature before this conflict contained a thousand times the state- ment that France must be further weakened, must be crushed, as she should have been more thoroughly in 1870, in order that German plans of expansion might have an obstacle the less. The German nation was organized for forcible control as no nation has been organized since Rome. The dream was not unlike a modern version of the Roman dream. The contest was prepared with a business ability never surpassed. The thing that France seeks is the destruction of that dream. She seeks it more lucidly than any other country, be- cause it is aimed at her heart more directly than at the heart of any other principal belligerent. Little Belgium had something of the same idea when she took the plunge and the thoughts of Holland and Switzerland turn more and more in that direction as the amazing German material forceful- ness is made clear. The German-speaking part of Switzerland was very strong- ly pro-German in August, but is perhaps evenly divided now. But of course these little countries and their ideals are not in the same scale of importance as is the stand of France. The fates of the little countries hang on the fates of the big coun- tries. Among the big countries France is the one whose principal object is the simplest and the least sub- ject to question. Objects, such as Alsace-Lorraine, and an indemnity, may or may not be questioned, buf they are far less rooted in the minds either of the statesmen or of the pc pie. There are certain other de- mands in contemplation, which perhaps I jught to leave for my coming article on utroeLies, but I will sketch them here. The French eaders think that the fr » of victory will not be )lete unless certain •s of the conduct of are vindicated, re they plan to bring it ut, after the war has been fought to a successful end, that punishment shall be inflicted on; those German
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HARPER’S WEEKLY for July 3, 1915
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ARTICLE II.
Sa Majeste la Reine du Royaume Uni de la Grande Bretagne et d’lrlande, Sa Majeste l'Empereur d’Autriche, Roi de Hongrie et de Boheme, Sa Majeste le Roi des Francjais, Sa Majeste le Roi de Prusse, et Sa Majeste TEmpereur de toutes les Russies, declarent, que les Articles mentionnes dans 1’ Article qui precede, sont consideres comme ayant la meme force et valeur que s'ils etaient inseres textuellement dans le present Acte; et qu’ils se trouvent ainsi places sous la garantie de Leurs dites Majestes.
ARTICLE VII.
La Belgique, dans les limites indiquees aux Articles I, II, et IV, formera un Etat independant et perpeTuellement neutre. Elle sera tenue d’observer cette meme neutrality envers tous les autres Etats.
I The famous “ scrap of paper”
guaranteeing Belgiums neu- trality; and signed by Billow for Germany.
officers who shall be proud to have given orders which are of recognized barbarity. Also they think that, apart from any more general indemnity question, it is clear that Germany should pay for studied destruction of in- dustrial plants in the territory she has over-run, and notably for the machinery she has carried off in enor- mous amounts to Germany from French as well as from Belgian factories.
Among all the French people I saw, largely soldiers, I did not see one who seemed to enjoy the war. The predominating tone is gravity, necessity, duty. They do not pretend to be gay. They are frankly sad. They wear mourning profusely. The classics crowd farces and musical comedies out of the theatres. That solemn spirit is a reason why the French so thoroughly believe
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' v - v ,, * no romantic dream, to be shat-
tered if things do not go smoothly. There is the sense of the inevit- able, the defense of wives, of country, of future generations, in the calm and settled spirit in which fundamental necessities are accepted. It is to be remembered always that armies nowadays are composed largely of husbands and fathers. I asked a distinguished French officer who fought the best, the young men or the older ones. “Well,” he said, “there are occasions on which youthful enthusiasm, the desire to surpass, is better than the sense of duty. The boys and very young men are therefore better in desperate feats. On the other hand, in lasting spirit, in the cer- tainty of seeing it through to the end, I am inclined to give preference to the fathers of families.” I asked him, and many others, about how much there was left of the old talk of honor and glory. All agreed that the words are still used, although much less than in former wars, and that when they are used it is with a changed sig- nificance: it is the honor and glory of giving all for a duty clearly seen. Not once have I heard a French soldier express the eat-’em-alive spirit, the self-pleased bellicosity, that are familiar in the past. There is, however, one strong analogy between the French army of today and the armies of' the Revolution. If the French army has grown better with every passing month, the reason lies largely in the fact that every soldier has a definite idea of what he is fighting for, just as every soldier had in the Revolution days. This being so, he improves, because technical experience comes, and his heart remains unflagging. He felt inferior to the Ger- man in September, man for man.. Now he feels that wherever numbers and artillery are equal he wins. There- fore, as he sees numbers and artillery ultimately on his side, he is confident. Perhaps he is too confident, for it is a predominant belief, in striking contrast to what is thought in England, that the war will end with a com- plete victory for the allies between October and De- cember. This is partly based on careful reasoning and is partly temperamental. The Englishman does his best if he thinks he has a long and arduous task ahead. The French temperament, even in its modified present form, likes to think of being in Berlin before another winter begins.
By a complete victory the Frenchman means especial- ly a victory that will restore individuality to Germany ; that will overthrow oligarchic government; that will take the country through some kind: ,qf . a .revolution to
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HARPER’S WEEKLY for July 3, 1915
democratic control. Of course almost nobody is shallow enough to suppose the form of government can be dic- tated from outside. You do hear a number of French- men insist that Great Britain will- never stop the war until she has William the Second in her physical pos- session, even as she once had the great Napoleon, but this is not the responsible opinion about the nature of the change in Germany’s ideals. The change must come because the people want it and they will not want it unless they are so completely beaten in this war that the ideals of the militarist and imperalist class are dis- credited. If France, last December, rejected secret overtures which were to give her back Alsace and Lorraine it was not merely because she was bound in honor not to make a separate peace. She would have done the same had there been no agreement. Her in- dustry is more crippled by the war than the industry of Germany, England or Russia. The loss in men can be less easily borne by her, than by Germany, or of course Russia, and England has no such loss. Therefore France feels that at bottom it is she among great nations who suffers most. She will not pay the awful price — the oppressing of rich industrial regions, the de- struction of cities, the irreparable loss of men — without getting the one thing which will enable her and her children to draw a free breath, and that one thing is the democratization of Germany. That end cannot be brought about by any drawn battle, since a draw, in a fight against the whole world, would merely increase German pride, and lead it to wait for another chance, with better statesmanship. It is not a happy necessity, this need of pounding Germany into democracy and therefore into peace; not happy from any point of view, for France is worried by Russia, just as England is. She hopes Russia will make herself democratic, and thus avoid another great war, half a century hence, but she is none too sure of it. However, the remote future is in the fog of uncertainty. Men can only deal with the immediate. The immediate is that one powerful nation
is organized completely to impose its will on others, and therefore that one nation must be changed. All France believes that Germany will be a tremendous gainer b> defeat, whereas defeat for France would deprive her o' civilization, of self-realization, of the very soul of toler- ance and peace. That is why France is so calm today so brave, so patient, so unlike the ignorant outside con- ception of her as frothy and unstable. She says proudly that all the world knows she desired peace, but that nobody can expect her to face so terrible a menace more than once. Therefore is it that she will hear of no com- promise, no terms that leave German military pride un- broken. Therefore is it that she of all the nations most intensely feels that peace would be nothing but an evil truce unless it were a victory by the peace-loving coun- tries over a thoroughly beaten militarism; a humbling; a demonstration that nothing can any more be accom- plished by arms against the opinion of the world. Her government has taken that stand, in all the secret moves toward an understanding, and her government in' that respect is absolutely at one with the men and women who are paying the price. I am not expressing any opinion of my own about whether a complete defeat is needed to change the threatening spirit of Germany; I am only reporting the belief of France.
I spoke to a man in Paris about the possibility of Germany’s returning to her earlier attitude even if the war ended in a draw. I reminded him of what the Ger- man spirit was before Prussia won three wars of ag- gression, made the modern German empire out of iron, and then planned the present war and marvelously pre- pared for it. “Yes,” he said, “you can talk like that. You have not been bitten by the wild dog. You can converse about what a good dog he used to be. You hope he can be easily taught to sit up again on his hind legs and behave as properly as a baby who says: ‘Ma- ma!’ and ‘Papa!’ But France has been bitten twice. She wants to make perfectly sure he will not bite again. And she will pay all she has in order to make sure.”
The Laboring-Man
By EDMUND VANCE COOKE
THERE are huge hotels where the fare is fine, There are restaurants of a proud pretence, There are servitors laden with game and wine, And a cabaret fillips the sated sense.
0, the sea is sieved for a ticklesome taste And the earth is searched for the belly's gain;
There is food to spare, there is wine to waste,
So why should the laboring-man complain?
There are sables and silks in the sumptuous shops, There are pearls as pure as a summer morn;
There are jewels and plumes for the belles and fops, There are coats as soft as the lamb’s, unborn.
Every bird and beast has given its life And even the worm has spun its skein To cover man and bedizen his wife,
So why should the laboring-man complain.
0, the laboring-man is a stubborn wight,
He scorns the corn and devours the husk. The world is full of beauty and light,
But he grinds at his task from dawn to dusk. He will not ride in the regal yacht,
He will not drink of the bright champagne;
He holds to his mean and narrow lot,
So why should the laboring-man complain?
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The Fireworks of Mars
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By CHARLES JOHNSON POST
A GERMAN general was comfort- ably adjusting himself in the seat of his automobile early last spring; leisurely his staff were preparing them- selves for the day’s duties. Miles away to the front were the trenches and the fighting line. At this headquarters was security; even the artillery of the enemy could not reach it.
Suddenly he crumpled up on the seat with the quick, choking cough of a man mortally wounded. He was carried, dying, back into the house that he had taken for his headquarters. On the shoulder of his immaculate war-grey coat, directly above the shoulder-knot, was noticed a little hole; embedded in the cushions of the tonneau an orderly picked out a blood-stained pencil of steel, sharp pointed, about six inches long and with four deep grooves cut for three-quarters of its length to serve as did the feathering on the arrows of ancient battles, to keep the point true in its flight, end-on. It had passed the length of the general’s body.
Overhead and only to be picked out with glasses was the tiny waspish speck of a French aeroplane. It was from this that the steel arrow had been thrown; for they aio simply tossed over and given no initial 'mpetus. Thirty, forty, fifty at a time Lre thrown over- board in a shower by the, aerial observer when he sees a suitable target and from a mile and more above the earth they gather the speed of a rifle bullet.
Curiously enough all of the deadly strides that have been made in the art of war — or rather the implements used therein — has occurred almost in the last fifty years. TJmeJc>efore that there was a Digitized by
progress but it was of a slow, stodgy order in which, following the invention of gunpowder itself, there were centuries before there came the only other basic invention: this was the rifling, or boring the barrel of a gun so that the pro- jectile is made to whirl about its own axis in its flight. It is this alone that has made the high precision of artillery accuracy possible.
Sheer mass or huge size weapons of warfare is of little moment compared with accuracy. In Edinburgh Castle there is still preserved “Mons Meg” a cannon that was dragged to the siege of Dumbarton by James IV in 1489. That is over four hundred years ago. And “Mons Meg” fired a projectile twenty inches in diameter! It Was loaded with “a peck of powder and fired a granite ball almost as heavy as a cow.”
The great gun of the Germans that shelled Dunkirk is approximately but sixteen inches in diameter and it hurls a half-ton of steel earthquake twenty miles with the precision of destiny. “Mons Mag” is four inches greater and as inefficient as would be David’s sling and a Hebrew pebble.
In Cromwell’s time the famous old musket known as “Brown Bess,” which had directly succeeded the arquebus, shot a heavy leaden bullet — eight to the pound — with a striking energy of two thousand foot pounds, or forty times heavier than the energy from a baseball thrown by the pitcher to the plate. A man struck by such a bullet of those days was knocked down by the crushing impact. And the “Brown Bess” was deadly at only two hundred yards — as far as a baseball can be thrown — while
at twice that distance its force was spent.
The rifle bullet of today is no bigger than a lead pencil and but littje over an inch in length yet it has force enough to kill at three miles and will shoot through eight men placed one behind the other at four hundred yards — the range at which the “Brown Bess” bullet dropped exhausted !
And up to within the last century can- non were but little better; their best range with grape-shot — a variety of pro- jectile that scattered half-pound or heavier balls in a sheaf which spread from the muzzle of the gun — was not over four hundred yards although with a solid shot they could reach a thousand yards with the shot bounding ajong the ground and kicking up clods of turf or spurts of dust. Even in our Civil War a column of troops would raise the cry of “Gangway! Gangway!” to let some perfectly round visible shot or shell come bounding down the hasty lane. Of course sixteen pounds of iron Ball bouncing along like a hot batted grounder in a league series was no trifling matter; it could crush and mangle. Today the field artillery of the armies in Europe are placing shots three and four miles away at objects which they never see. And there is no more chance of dodging the modern projectiles of invisible speed than in jumping aside from the finger of fate.
A century ago they had shells for the artillery in which were plugs of wood as fuses; each wooden plug was bored with a hole and this was filled with a fine powder. This fuse was ignited by the hot explosion of firing. If the artil- lerist wanted the shell to burst at a shorter range he^jp^fj ofjf the wooden
PENN STATE 7
8
HARPER’S WEEKLY for July 3, 1915
plug so the fine powder in the tube would not have so long to burn; or else he bored a hole in the wood in order that the fine fuse powder would first ignite through this hole by the blast of flame as the shell was fired and thereby accomplish a similar effect. It was rough and ineffective. Napoleon and Welling- ton fought each other at Waterloo main- ly with solid shot placing great reliance on the bounding balls of cast iron.
Today the great weapon is the ex- plosive shell. There are many varieties, each with its special use. But the time that they shall burst after being fired is a matter of such nice accuracy that such exact instant can be computed to the hundredths of a second! There is one German shell that was evolved in which the instant of bursting was determined by a clockwork inside the shell ; when the gun was fired the clockwork was released and at the exact instant for which it had been set this shell would explode. This was a shrapnel shell.
PUT the great reliance in artillery to- day is on the shrapnel shell. Shrapnel was invented over one hundred years ago by a young English officer of artil- lery. He had studied the solid shot that could spectacularly damage one man but whose area of effectiveness was too small and the comparative ineffectiveness of the ordinary shell that burst into a few unaimed fragments. This officer filled a shell with bullets and added a charge of powder sufficient to burst the shell. This officer was Colonel Shrapnel and the projectile still carries his name. For years it held but slight esteem; we used it in the Civil War but, unless the buret was exactly timed the effect was slight. But with the burst accurately regulated so that it would occur a trifle above and fifty to sixty yards in front of the en- emies’ lines it hurled a blast of bullets with deadly effect. Shrapnel does not buret into fragments like common ex- plosive shell, it has merely a sufficient charge of powder to blow its own head off and at the same time throw out the bullets contained in the shell casing. These have, naturally, the velocity of the projectile itself together with the slight additional force of the bursting charge. These bullets scatter in a cone shaped spray like a charge of shot from a shot gun. Properly bursting under all ideal conditions, one three inch in diameter shrapnel from a field gun can disorganize a company of infantry, and two or three, also bursting perfectly, simpjy annihilate it.
And shrapnel is fired today from all forms of guns. It is used in howitzer fire — the howitzer being a cannon that throws a very heavy projectile a short distance with a light charge of powder. It is dropped upon troops with this high angle howitzer fire, bursting above an army like a shower-bath of leaden death.
In any discussion of the tools of war all that can be told is the bare outlines of the sizes and shapes and properties of the weapons. They cannot be dra- matized for the vision except in a field hospital where the shattered and mang- led men are brought in. War has been conventionalized ; the individual tortures and agonies are lost in the splendor of the liberties which have been achieved through them.
Lyrics do /no? lend themselves to men
Digitized by VjO CHC
with jaws shot away and dying a ghastly, inarticulate death; or paintings to hu- man beings who have been torn and shredded and whose slaughtered frag- ments are flung to quiver in the mud. In art men must die gracefully, heroically — and neatly.
But in the actualities of war it is the massed facts of the great and incredible ghastliness of wounds that appal one; there is not a horror contrived by the imagination that the realities do not out- strip it. And these blind factors of blind cruelty that express themselves in jag- ged steel fragments and quivering human tissue are driven by powers of which we can only vaguely conceive.
Your locomotive is operating under a pressure of steam of two hundred and fifty pounds to the square inch. A steel shell is hurled from a cannon with an energy over one hundred and forty times greater; for each square inch of the interior of the cannon! And that con- centrated energy is imparted and held in the projectile till it strikes or burets.
The one new weapon that this war has brought out is the aero gun, a cannon shooting shrapnel shells that >can be handled and sighted by the gunner with an ease and a flexibility of aim almost like a trap shooter at a Saturday after- noon gunclub shoot. One type will fire a shrapnel shell weighing over eight pounds very nearly nineteen thousand feet in the air; a little heavier gun will carry a twelve pound Bhrapnel over twenty-seven thousand feet high, and a third a shrapnel of over thirty-six pounds more than thirty-four thousand feet above the earth — higher than the highest known balloon ascension!
The Germans have combined the or- dinary bursting shell with shrapnel and with a high explosive charge. With this not only is the air filled with the hun- dreds of bullets but the shell itself burets with a terrific explosion. And yet an- other type of shell, ordinary high-ex- plosive 12-inch bursting shell, tested in this country has broken into over seven thousand jagged fragments!
Contrary to a rather popular belief not a single one of these shells becomes deadly or, in fact, can be exploded until after they have been fired from a can- non, and nothing except a shock equal to the violence of that discharge can break or release the mechanism of the fuse. Not only that but the violent shock — and cannon in firing sustain an explosive shock of over thirty-five thou- sand pounds to the square inch — must come from the rear of the projectile be- fore it can be released and dangerous. The shrapnel fuse is one of the most per- fect of mechanical devices. They are quite as safe to handle before firing as so many iron bottles.
There is one weapon that has been re- vived from several centuries and that is the grenade; a grenade being a small high explosive shell thrown by hand. And the grenade has, moreover, risen to a high plane of effectiveness; often in fact it has become the only possible weapon in this European trench warfare. The justly celebrated British grenadier dates back to the time when they were a spec- ial corps used for this purpose alone. They marched into battle with lighted “slow-matches” smoking and glowing while netted pouches slung over their shoulders contained grenades about the
size of small oranges. These grenades they lighted and threw over the enemy’s breastworks.
Today, in the battle trenches, the op- posing soldiers are doing this very thing. In one place — but let Herbert Corey tell it as he told it a few evenings ago at a dinner after his return from the fields of battle:
“In one place the trenches of the Ger- mans and the Allies are not twenty feet apart — not, in fact, as far apart as the two walls of a decent sized New York brownstone front! All day long the soldiers in these trenches light grenades and hurl them into the other fellows' trench or pick up those hurled at them and throw them back before they can explode. They can hear each other talk. Presently, after some days or even hours, it dies down, for it is very monotonous this dull grind of throwing grenades. Some man calls out ‘Hello Dutchy;’ or the equivalent in French, and from the other trench comes back a sociable voice ‘Hello Frenchy!’ This lasts for a little while, these concealed voices talking to each other. There will be an informal truce until the officers come up and drive them again back to the task of lighting of grenades and throwing them over at the sociable voices of a few min- utes before. When such a condition is reached, that is to say the men realizing their common humanity and the un- utterable dreariness of lighting and throwing grenades at each other it is time to change the troops.”
That is the warfare of the grenade.
And last, deadliest, and inconceivably cruel come the poisonous gases. Exactly what these gases are has not yet been definitely determined; though it is gen- erally admitted and believed that they are chlorine gas as to their base. It was a German who is closely affiliated with pro-German work in New York who told me that it is liquid air that is used in order to obtain the pressure and density for the gases are in most cases taken into the trenches in steel bottles under high pressures. In addition to this it has been reported that the Germans have laid elaborate pipe systems along the crest of the German trenches from which, at the time when the wind blows to- ward the Allies, deadly gas can be re- leased and controlled from central res- ervoirs.
T^HERE has also been reported at times a fiery liquid but these reports are so far rather indefinite. Yet this may in- dicate a comparatively new chemical, also a coal-tar derivative and disci n^u-d by German chemists shortly before the war broke out.
This is diazomethane.
So far it has only been mndo -rif,a the utmost precmrions in labor ries and for laboratory b it. ns tl-.r chemist who has stu-><i It *. tH-- ^ mtry said:
“The Gem..,?;# anr the greatest chemists in 1 Id m d it is not im- probable tlr r iv have developed
this gas t' ;rt where it is prac- tical in * ] fhe gas is a light gas
and wiii!* tld not be useful for
flowing ou:. country, yet in a bomb it would be .. most deadly affair, as the slightest trace in the air would have frightful effects upon the tissues of those exposed to it.”
This is warfare! il from
PENN STATE
Red
Blood
By
GEORGE
CREEL
Caricature by HERB ROTH
thing else bringing national renown. . . By war alone can we acquire those virile qualities necessary to win in the stern strife of actual life.”
s.
AFTER quiet months spent with ear pressed tight against the ground, Mr. Roosevelt has decided that Preparedness for War and Ignoble Peace are phrases well suited to the public temper and admirably calculated to re- store his former influence.
Having berated the peace-seeking wo- men of the United States as “base,” he warms to his campaign in ancient fash- ion by branding President Wilson’s pol- icy of neutrality as “wicked” and “craven.”
Proceeding rapidly and enthusiastical- ly, he disposes of all peace advocates with the declaration that they have been “preaching poltroonery,” and pays his respects to their doctrine in this quite inclusive paragraph:
“The professional pacifists, the pro- fessional peace-at-any-price men, who during the last five years have been so active, who have pushed the mischievous all-arbitration treaties at Washington, who have condoned our '’riminal inac-
tivity as regards Mexico, and above all, as regards the questions raised by the great world war now raging, and who have applauded our abject failure to live up to the obligations imposed upon us as a signatory power of the Hague Convention, are at best an unlovely body of men, and taken as a whole, are prob- ably the most undesirable citizens that
this country conta_i
Digitized by i
:ontains.”
v GoogU
Nothing is more plain than that Mr. Roosevelt has deliberately chosen Red Blood as a campaign cry. Undoubtedly convinced that President Wilson will be able to hold America back from the abyss that has engulfed Europe, he feels it safe to trade upon the irritations that are inevitably engendered by any policy of non-activity.
Were President Wilson bellicose and militaristic, or had Mr. Bryan not taken such monopolistic control of the Dove of Peace, there is small doubt that Mr. Roosevelt would have decided upon Pacifism as an issue.
However, the necessities of the oc- casion fit nicely into his temper. While he would have foamed just as furiously in support of a peace propaganda, a Bos- conian, eat-’em-alive policy is one that will enlist his deepest and most sacred passions, for Red Blood has always been his favorite issue.
Writing as a young man in Ranch Life, he found that the Wyoming cowboy’s most admirable trait was that he had no “over-wrought fear of shedding blood. He possesses, in fact, few of the emas- culated, milk and water moralities ad- mired by the pseudo-philanthropists.”
In his speech at Stationer’s Hall, Lon- don, June 6, 1910, he said: “We must perform a great part in the world, and especially . . . perform those deeds of blood, of valor, which above every-
In his Strenuous Life, he declares that “In this w'orld the nation that is trained to a career of unwarlike and isolated ease is bound to go down in the end before other nations which have not lost the manly and adventurous quali- ties.”
It seems the height of improbability, of course, that such crude braggadocio should have other result than the dam- nation of its propagandist. Even were its essential facts not disputed at every point by history, there is the causeless t ragedy of Europe to make every Ameri- can thank God for his anti-militaristic civilization and ideals. But it is never safe to prophesy where Mr. Roosevelt is concerned.
More than any other man in public life, he has the gift of making people thrill rather than think. He is to states- manship what the “movies” are to the drama. He gives a picture but never a thought. Like a kaleidoscope, his inces- sant play of color forces forgetfulness of form.
Commercialism has crushed the color out of life and conventions have hobbled imagination, yet that a spark of the old daring still lingers is proved by the popularity of novels and plays in which there are incredible heroes and heroines. It is this spark that Mr. Roosevelt has never failed to fan into flame.
He blazes across the mediocrity of
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PENN STATE
10
HARPER'S WEEKLY for July 3, 1915
everyday existence like a meteor, and dull slaves of routine, chained to the treadmill, find a certain vicarious pleas- ure, a definite satisfaction of romance, in watching his sweep. The strength of Theodore Roosevelt is that he makes his rivals seem colorless and shabby.
It takes time and patience to make people think. The boom of a gun, the roar of fustian, a piece of claptrap sentiment, will make them feel.
As police commissioner, as governor, as rough rider, as president, as assistant secretary of the navy, he never failed to do the startling thing — never failed to minister to the popular love of color.
Nor when he retired from the highest office in the land was he guilty of . any such conventionality as the acceptance of a lectureship. He disappeared dra- matically into the African jungle — he came out by way of Europe, shaking hands with kings and lecturing nations — a second time he vanished from sight with a resounding splash, and returned from South America with Tales in which color more than made up for the lack of data.
Such a man is always dangerous, and doubly so when he appeals to primitive instincts and ancient, wanton lusts. Nor is the time itself less than critical. Since the induction of Woodrow Wilson into office, the people have been thinking, but two years is not long enough to have formed the habit firmly.
It is not meant to charge Mr. Roose- velt with premeditated insincerity. It is simply the case that he lacks deep-seated convictions and runs his race without regard to other than purely personal goals. He lives by impressions and works through impressions, and by vir- tue of a hugely developed egoism he is able to transmute his daily vagary into an eternal verity.
XT IS mastery of the spectacular, as well as the American public’s response to it, is not clearly understood until one commences to make a survey of his flib- berty-gibbet career. No man in political history has turned so many somersaults, and yet such is the force of his amazing personality that he has been able to make people believe that he was stand- ing flatfooted even while high in the air.
During his seven years in the presi- dency, he exhausted epithet in denounc- ing Socialists and Socialism, yet in 1912, when the Progressive party stole an en- tire platform from State Socialism, Mr. Roosevelt leaped upon it with a glad shout.
As president he loathed and hated equal suffrage, speaking against it on every occasion, yet when he was the Progressive candidate in 1912, with wo- men voting in ten states, he outdid the most enthusiastic equal suffragist in shouting “votes for women.”
As president, possessed of authority and all influence, he refused to entertain criticisms of the judiciary, and appoint- ed to the federal bench many of the judges who have been most responsible for the bitter outcry against judicial tyranny and corruption. As a third term candidate he was vociferous in ad- vocating the recall of judges and even the recall of decisions.
This latter reform originated in Col-
orado, where.-it^is now a law.
A friend at
D i pplor^o _s\jgystfc night
Oyster Bay. Mr. Roosevelt announced it next morning as the ripe fruit of years of patient study of existing' abuses.
By swearing that he was a resident of Washington he escaped the payment of taxes in New York. A few weeks later he was a candidate for governor of New York, insisting that he was a resident.
The Dingley tariff bill cursed both of his administrations, and no one can find that he ever said a word against or sug- gested a single lightening of the burdens that it placed upon the people. As a third-term candidate, he assailed the Payne-Aldrich bill with force and vigor.
Today Mr. Roosevelt feels that “by war alone can we acquire those virile qual- ities necessary to win in the stern strife of actual life.” A year ago, in his Pitts- burg speech, he denounced competition as “one of the greatest curses of modern civilization.”
Since 1912, Mr. Roosevelt has felt that the Trust is a menace, and he pants for a chance to do something with them or to them. When Mr. Roosevelt walked into the presidency in 1901, there were only 149 combinations and trusts in the United States, including railways. Their entire stock and bond issue was about $3,784,000,000.
When Mr. Roosevelt left the White House in 1908, there were exactly 10,020 of these price-fixing, competition-crush- ing monopolies, with an aggregate cap- italization of $31,672,000,000 of which 70 per cent was “water.”
The criminal provisions of the Sher- man anti-trust law placed in President Roosevelt’s hands a perfect weapon for destroying these evil growths. He did not use it. When cases were brought against the Harvester Trust, the South- ern Pacific and other malignant combina- tions, he stopped the prosecution.
In this connection, his examination by Mr. Ivins during the progress of the Barnes libel suit is very illuminating. The following brief extract will serve as illustrative of the entire cross-examina- tion:
Ivins: Did you ever cause the Attorney General of the United States to take any action whatsoever against the Steel Cor- poration?
Roosevelt: 1 did not.
Ivins: Mr. Frick was a contributor to your campaign fund in 1904?
Roosevelt: He was.
Ivins: Mr. Gary was a contributor?
Roosevelt : He was.
Ivins: Mr. Perkins was a contributor?
Roosevelt : He was.
Ivins : These gentlemen were connected with the Steel Corporation?
Roosevelt : They were.
Ivins: Did you ever instruct the Attor- ney General to proceed in any manner whatsoever against the Harvester Com- pany?
Roosevelt: I did not.
Ivins: Was Mr. Perkins a contributor to your campaign in 1904?
Roosevelt: He was.
Ivins: Did you ever instruct the At- torney General to take any action what- soever against the American Powder Com- pany?
Roosevelt: I did not.
Ivins: Mr. T. Coleman du Pont was a contributor, was he not?
Roosevelt : He was.
He screams today about “unprepared- ness.” For some time he was an assist- ant secretary of the navy, and for seven years he was president. One looks in vain through his records for those years for one single intelligent or constructive
suggestion leading to a better national defense. If we are unprepared today, most certainly we were even more grossly unprepared between 1901 and 1908.
The war in Mexico is due to the fact that in a country populated by 15,000,000 people, over 75 per cent of the land was owned by less than 15,000 landlords. Schools were denied, and there was no such thing as justice. In case of any industrial disturbance, the Diaz rule was to line so many strikers up against a wall and shoot them.
When 15,000,000 rebelled against pov- erty and horror and wretchedness, Mr. Roosevelt could see nothing in their re- bellion but an outrageous agitation that needed to be put down by a strong hand. That President Wilson did not send the youth of America into Mexico to crush a dream of liberty, and also to guarantee the profits of such foreign investments as were the result of corrupt pacts with Diaz, appeals to Mr. Roosevelt as “criminal inactivity.”
His treatment of Colombia may be taken as a fair example of his idea of the “strong hand.” While the Colom- bian senate was discussing the terms of the Hay-Herran treaty, which had al- ready been ratified by the United States senate, there was a “revolution” in one of the six districts of Panama. Although the other five districts were quiet, al- though the rebellious district was with- out army, navy, courts, congress, or even any formulated list of grievances, Mr. Roosevelt ordered American troops to prevent the movement of Colombian troops, and in less than two days recognized the independence of Panama.
A nation with which we were at peace was dismembered and robbed, and sub- sequent developments proved conclusive- ly that the “revolution” was engineered by the Roosevelt administration, work- ing through as disreputable a clique of adventurers as ever cursed a commun- ity.
TT IS a list that could be continued in- definitely. Never at any time an in- stance of independent thinking or origi- nal thinking, or even clear thinking along hackneyed lines! Never at any time an evidence of a passionate con- viction or the pursuit of a goal! Al- ways the shouting opportunist, eager for applause, who, having exhausted the emotional possibilities of a thing, drops it in its uncompletion and hurries on to the next “front page story.”
The Roosevelt way is thick with over- looked jobs, unfulfilled promises and 1 - finished tasks. And now, when flu r heritor of his omissions and mi’ : is
trying patiently and patriotic lb 4 the nation out of the morn« it ir. Roosevelt who is most c’ ;r r."ic .n his criticism, objurgation nn<i < i t'~« -t .
And, as ever, hi- i frrbal out- put is barren of inf ;; suggestion. He urges int<- -vm? on in behalf of the Allies in the san nth that he screams of “unprepambi' And he parrots the words without explaining how men are to be se/nred for a trebled navy and army \vh. n even the present establish- ment cannot secure sufficient men.
Of a certainty, it will be interesting to watch the progress of the Red Blood issue. Does the Roosevelt color retain its ancient sorcery, or have the people decided to think?
PENN STATE
Pen and Inklings
By OLIVER HERFORD
With Apology to Bougucreau.
The Passing of St. Anthony
Anthony Comstock retires from private life. — News Item.
T^ARGET of many a wanton shaft 1 Of ridicule, and satire smarting,
We who one time the loudest laughed,
Hold out our hand to speed your parting.
A handy thing to talk about That always has been — always will A thing to eulogize, and flout And blame for every human ill.
We’re sorry you have got the “chuck;”
No hero of Hellenic fable Did more than you, who cleaned the muck From Uncle Sam’s Augean stable.
So when we cast you for the gay Old satyr in the famed tableau A two-fold compliment we pay,
To you— and Monsieur Bouguereau.
To us youVe ever seemed a sort Of myth creation, altogether Impersonal — you are in short
An
Digitized by
^fl^t^ion-^ljc^l
he weather!
For ’tis no more than fair to say:
Each one of you has played his part —
Each done his best in his own way —
To popularize the Nude in Art. Qrigiral fron'i
PENN STATE
Original from
PENN STATE
EUROPE
CLOSED DURING- ALTERCATION!
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Fool’s Gold
III— The Shadow
This is the third of the series of anonymous sketches telling in intimate vein of one man’s emotional experiences — experiences which the writer thinks directed more than all else the current of his life.
MY FATHER died in October, just a week before my seventeenth birthday. It was very sudden; one day he was alive and well — the next, gone outright from our world.
I remember still, most vividly, the night my father died. I had played football that day with devotion and went to bed bruised and tired out. I woke — it seemed but a moment after- ward— shaking, a scream ringing in my ears. I was thoroughly frightened, but started to get out of bed, when my mother burst into the room.
“Run/’ she cried breathlessly, “run for Doctor Whipple! Your father is dying!”
Even then it was too late, had she known it. The gruff old Doctor, .a fa- miliar figure to me since boyhood, came with me readily, carrying his worn little leather bag, his calomel pills, his few shiny instruments wrapped in gauze. They were of no use now, alas! He laid his ear to my father’s breast, felt his pulse a moment, then straightened up, wearily it seemed. He looked older, somehow, than when he had entered the room; and his eyes, as he gazed across at my mother, were full of pain.
“His heart!” he said, “Its given out at last. But he passed peacefully — it is the Lord’s will!”
He bent his head as if praying; then quietly, as he had come in, he left the room.
My mother did not speak. Her face grew white and her eyes frightened me. She sat by the bed and would not move. I tried awkwardly at consolation, but she seemed not to hear my voice. I thought suddenly of Alison Gray, the minister’s young wife and my best friend, and decided to go for her. If anybody, I thought, could help my mother it was Alison.
She was, as I knew she would be, all tenderness and sympathy. When she saw my mother she went forward softly, and kneeling, laid her head in my mother’s lap and took her hand. I left them alone there, for that seemed best, and as I closed the door I heard them weeping. My heart felt lighter then, for I had heard that tears bring kindest aid to suffering.
When I was alone the meaning of this, the first real tragedy of my life, came upon me overpoweringly. I scarcely slept that night at all. I felt small and helpless, unfit for such a test. The utter decisiveness of the event was in itself appalling.
Indeed, I have wondered since if this abrupt facing of death, the physical fact, was not more truly responsible for my emotion than the pure pain of bereave- ment. For I had never been conscious of any real love, or of affection even, for mv father. Thatjsqunds Ijm not |^,h(5n 14 ^
think, does not just happen, a certain gift of nature like sunset or the sweet air of dawn; it must grow slowly from the roots, and be well tended, like any other love. My father while he lived had never won my heart. Perhaps if he had lived longer. . . But he did not, and the truth is as I have written it.
I stood in awe of my father and be- lieved in him, but I never understood him. Never, that is, till years later, when my mother talked to me of him, and told me of his life.
He was a simple man, my father. His passions ran in few but deep channels. In the days before the civil war — we al- ways called it The War — he had loved only my mother. When the South sprang to arms he embraced that new love, her cause, with a faith that burned up all other emotions. He marched with Lee in the first army. When he left, his last words to my mother, she told me, were these:
“I could not love thee, dear, so much Loved I not honor more.”
'THE defeat of the Confederacy brought A about my father’s financial ruin; worse, it shattered his very scheme of existence. He too, was defeated for a time, utterly; but in the end he accepted the fact of the South’s lost cause as the will of God, and found peace. And having laid on God’s altar what was perhaps the greatest passion of his life, he em- phasized his sacrifice by an unvarying devotion thereafter to Religion and to the Church.
He was religious in what we now call an old-fashioned way. To him the Bible was literally the Word of God. Our little frame church was the House of God. And Parson Gray, our minister, was to him clothed with Sanctity and armed with the sword of Divine Author- ity. He never questioned these things. To do so would be to lack faith, a sinful and a dishonorable thing.
I think the word “honor,” a word often upon my father’s lips, brings him back to me more clearly than anything else. It was the keystone of his character. It gave meaning to the tall, straight figure which moved with a slight limp — a trib- ute to some unknown Yankee sharp- shooter. It filled the thin, aquiline features with a proud, if sombre, dignity. It lent sincerity to the deep-set eyes. His honor was the holy vessel which my father guarded night and day through- out his life. And no man could say he did not guard it well.
■pVEN in the coffin, set in our dark- ened front room where his body lay until the funeral, the pale mask which had been his face kept the look we so well knew, a calm, firm look that lacked little of being jioble.
Visitors came, our village neighbors,
condolent and curious. They wore dark clothes and spoke in half-whispers. There was much sighing and shaking of heads, casting of sidelong glances at my mother and bolder ones, full of pity, at me. I was at first indignant, then depressed. The whole thing seemed indecent, as if we, and my poor father’s helpless body, were on show.
I don t suppose I would have minded so much if there had been real com- fort in their looks and words, or any wholesome cheer. It would not have harmed my father, and it would have helped my mother and me, God knows. But besides Alison, who let her heart speak always, there was none but brought added gloom into our gloomy house.
I was beginning at this time to spec- ulate more often than formerly about the general truth of religion as I knew it, to try to square its tenets with my reason, and I had found difficulty in doing so. My experience during these days did not help me.
I had come to believe, as the phrase is, in God. I had come, chiefly through talks with Alison, to look upon Him with veneration, if not with love. He was the Father. Yet in this crisis He seemed somehow remote. His followers, our friends and commiserators, with His name constantly on their lips and a spirit wholly alien to that I had con- ceived of as His in their demeanor, painted Him in colors that seemed false, yet by insistence filled the canvas of my mind. And despite that I had thought of God as a very present help in time of trouble, now trouble was with us I could not but feel that Alison was of vastly more assistance than was He.
'THE funeral was not different, I imag- 1 ine, from any other of the funerals I had witnessed in our village, but it seem- ed to me an ordeal terrible indeed. We left the house at nine on a beautiful Sun- day morning. A dismal procession we made, that should have shamed the glad- some day. The graveyard was half a mile north of town. The grave v. -h dug when we arrived. We stood about u» *- easily, waiting for Parson (fray u- ;- gin.
I shall always remember M-.at scene. I stood on one side of my ' her, with Alison on the otiv ;. The Parson was across the ugly hole be: ore us and the mourners were gr+mped about, a few yards ba on each side. The Parson was clad all in black, except for the low white collar which peeped above his coat. He seemed deeply moved. Though he was a younger man than my father they had been close friends for years. They had fought together through The War — an indissoluble bond.
The Parson read the service slowly and impressively, hia Voice Ml, but hol-
PENN STATE
HARPER’S WEEKLY for July 3, 1915
15
low and unreal in the open, with the faint twitter of bird calls coming to us in the pauses, the sighing of the breeze through the pine trees, and the distant mourn- ful howling of a chained hound borne across the bare fields to
our ears.
The short service was soon over. The Parson began to pray. It was a simple heartfelt tribute to a man whom he had known and honored. He spoke of my father’s piety, of his reverence for the Church and for God.
He spoke of the grief his going caused. He extended to my mother and to me his sympathy and the sympathy of all those present. In closing he said:
“What Thou hast given, 0 Lord, that hast Thou also taken away. But we know that Thou art a just God and that Thou hast taken Thy servant to Thy bosom. Have pity upon us, therefore, poor miserable sinners, that we mourn his loss, and lead us also, when we come to go, to the shelter of Thy footstool. And forgive us — for Christ’s sake.
Amen ! ”
He ceased and stood with bowed head, while the coffin was lowered into the grave and the first few clods of earth clattered in upon it. The sound of sobbing came from all sides.
I felt utterly forlorn and help- less, as if stuck in a nightmare.
And now stronger than at any time before there came over me a wave of impotent exasperation with the whole well-staged cere- monial of lamentation. It seemed so wrong, this raven croaking of ours. If my father was with God, as God’s vicar assured us, should it not be our part to re- joice? Why should we, in any case, in the manner of a spectacle thus make public confession of our grief. Half pagan as I was it seemed a thing worse than pagan that we did; it seemed barbarous.
I had not glanced at my mother here- tofore; I was too busy with my own poignant thoughts. She was very quiet, not crying even, that one could hear. But in this bitter moment I felt her warm hand take mine. I looked quickly up into her face and my heart thrilled with sudden wonder.
She was smiling!
Tears streaked her cheeks, brimmed over from her eyes, yet she looked at me and smiled down through her tears.
“/ felt small and helpless, unfit for such a test."
“Sonny,” she murmured, softly, “death parson’s voice, the dreariness and the is not the end. He is with God, where he would be. That is what we must think of — not of ourselves! ’
I scarcely heard or heeded her words, so intent was I upon the miracle of her face. She raised her eyes, as if disdain- ful of the earth and its sad burden, to the far heavens, while on her face grew a look of ecstaey, as if a vision were hers.
And she was smiling!
/^ONE for me on the instant was the bitter grave, the lifeless clay that had never been my father, but his body only; gone was the dolorous sound the mourn- ers made, the sombre cadence of the
The birds sang nearer now, the little breeze was singing too, and the sonorous questing of the ancient hound seemed musical. For I saw reflected in my mother’s eyes the shining face of God. Not the dour God of Parson Gray, nor the wan God of his whimpering flock, nor even the kindly Father-God of my dreams, but the tender face of a very God of love.
I saw and dimly knew, or felt un- knowing, that my mother believed in a God who desired what her heart great- ly desired, and that he was therefore good.
How the writer left home will be told in next week’s story : Out Into The World.
Peppers
By MARK HARMON
Those slow and lost and lazy hours I left in Santa Fe;
Marked off by many a mellow bell — (One came to know that music well!) — Each with a' dusty tale to tell Of some dear dusty day When maids with lips like poppy flowers ^Sang dowrna dusty way:
Digitized by
et— jsqpt b< Is
when said and done — »ers in the sun.
Festoons of peppers in the sun!
No dull adobe wall Too poor to flaunt a fleck of flame W'here lack of it were starkest shame.
You laugh, Senor — but, by the Name — Though it should so befall That memories fade, of light loves won And kissed — I must recall —
Por si — por no — while swift ^eairs rub— ^ The glow of peppers in theppfj^i 5TATE
As They See Daniels
These statements by three former secretaries of the Navy are of peculiar interest at this time, when the efficiency of the Navy Department is a topic of active discussion
John D. Long
1897-1902
To Secretary Daniels
1AM very much struck with the great development of the Navy since my day. I think that you are right on the one hand, maintaining the pres- ent reasonable program of naval con- struction, adapted to our ordinary pres- ervation of the peace, but not, on the other hand, getting panic-stricken over the present European condition as if we were in danger of attack by the great nations which will come out of that con- flict bankrupt and exhausted and recog- nizing the vital need of a long peace for their recuperation.
I am glad to see that your steps for promoting the efficiency and morale of the Navy — officers and men by the ex- pulsion of intoxicating liquors from the service is vindicated by the test of ex- perience.
H. A. Herbert
1893-1897
To Secretary Daniels The old maxim festina lente never was more applicable than it is to our naval program now. But the horror of the war in Europe has swept many well-meaning people off of their feet, and there are even those who see political advantage in an attack on the Navy Department, because you have not asked for larger appropriations; but in my opinion you can afford to stand pat where you are. First, because sound public sentiment in this country demands that politics be kept out of naval as well as of foreign affairs; and, secondly, because now is precisely the time when we should keep cool and study carefully the lessons that are being taught by the war in Europe.
Beyond all doubt the orderdly progress of the Navy has been quite as rapid un- der you as it was under any of your predecessors. Under none of them was the Navy any better prepared for im- mediate war with a great power than now. All this the public will fully un- derstand.
We have already before us several les- sons from this war about the efficiency of submarines, of contact mines, of fast fighting ships, of swift commerce de- stroyers, or long range guns; and We have learned also something about aero- planes and Zeppelins, but we do not know yet the relative values of all these or what are to be the decisive factors in the great naval war that is now on, and that, before it is ended, will try out to the utmost every implement of destruc- tion that human ingenuity has been able to devise.
Twelve months hence we shall know better how much we should expend for naval construction and what to spend it for.
I have no doubt of the wisdom of your construction program.
Digitized by G0O3k
Wnu E. Chandler
1882-1885
To Senator Perkins
I venture to advise you to refrain (1) from bringing politics into Naval legis- lation or administration (2) from mak- ing haste in naval construction or ex- penditure (3) from weakening civilian control in the Navy Department, and (4) I urgo you not to forget the duty that is due from Congress to the Tax Payers of the United States.
I
Politics in Dealing with the Navy: Abstention from any political motives or differences in connection with naval affairs, is as appropriate as when deal- ing with foreign affairs. Besides, nothing from political complaints will result in Republican advantage.
The Republicans had a reasonably suf- ficient navy for the civil war. But from 1865 down to 1833 they did practically nothing for the navy. In that last year the available appropriations were $15,402,120, and the expenditures were $13,936,294, and at least two millions of the amount were wasted on a discredit- able navy yard establishment.
With this record of naval non-con- struction continued for 18 years you vnll see that we cannot make political capital out of any democratic delay of naval construction.
II
Reasons for making haste slowly: There is a potent reason for not hurrying present naval construction. Until the present war in Europe is over we can- not be at all certain in what direction large expenditures ought to be made. It is not to be expected that whatever may be revealed big battleships will be no longer built. But such is the terrifically destructive power of Zeppelins and aero- planes and of submarines that no more large war ships should be built until every possible device is developed for the protection of the ships. One, two or three more protective decks may be required, one, two or three more ships bottoms may be advisable. Who can now tell? It is the height of folly not to study questions like these, before making vast additional expenditures.
Ill
We should strengthen instead of weak- ening Civilian Control of the Navy De- partment: There are in the Navy 3388 commissioned officers, and there are, be- sides the ordinary clerical force, only two civilians — a Secretary and an as- sistant Secretary of the Navy. But they represent the civilian President of the United States who is in addition made by the Constitution “Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy of the United States, and of the Militia of the several states when called into the actual service of the United States.”
The Navy of our free republic, to be
governed by the laws of Congress and thus commanded by a President, aided by his Secretary and Assistant Secre- tary, should not be decorated by many special boards of Naval Officers, and by no such boards except such as are cre- ated by the President, and disbanded whenever this is deemed wise by the Commander in Chief. There are estab- lished by the law eight bureaus of the Navy Department, and such Bureaus have existed since the beginning of the Government. The chiefs of these Bu- reaus must be naval officers nominated by the President and conformed by the Senate and their terms end in four years. As a general proposition they are suffi- cient professional advisers and assist- ants for the Secretary and President and are all that are needed to keep those two civilians from making mistakes in the exercise of their rightly bestowed power to command the Navy of the republic.
But this is not all. The President and Secretary are under the constant sur- veillance of the two houses of Congress whose natural course of watching and legislating is aided by regular commit- tees and may be strengthened by the assistance of other members of special capacity and energy not possessed by the regular committees — if there are such superior members, as some mem- bers think they are. In view of all these provisions for securing perfect direction of the naval arm of our Government it would be a mistake to embarrass and weaken the present civilian control of the Navy Department.
IV
Be sure and constantly keep in mind the duty that Congress owes to the Tax Payers of the nation: You have heard Senator Hoar say that every laboring man in Europe carries on his back a soldier armed and equipped as the law directs. The French Revolution was caused by the unequal and crushing tax- ation of the poor peasants and laborers and the evasion of taxation by the rich nobles.
In 1883 we were expending on the navy fifteen millions of dollars annually and when destroying the old worthlr ; ships and guns and beginning a new vn v we at first increased the annun! .v ; priations to only twenty ir : '
1913 our total ordinnrv .'.res
were 682 millions of . millions
were military, 133 . ;;i ’ ‘ ere naval
and 175 millions wrr.' r> 'ary pensions, making 4^ mil!..- or nearly 70 per cent of ti - :• ons) used to pay the
erp‘ - < o i * wars and in preparing for no ware; as Representative Tawnrv repeatedly reminded Congress.
The European War is no excuse for haste in naval appropriations but rather a reason for going slowly until we are quite sure in what way and to what ex- tent our naval construction and prepar- ation are to be modified by the course of existing events.
uigil :l fr:l: P"i
PENN STATE
Making Your Money Work
By HOWARD HALE
I— Pitfalls
YOU have $1000 saved up. So had I. But I had it in that financial orphanage called savings-bank drawing 3% per cent interest just as youre is doing now. I did not fancy the idea of my own precious savings turning sarcastic and calling me “that big stiff'’ or any other names. I had a little spark of ambition too — like you, doubtless — to turn into a magician and translate my surplus funds into the too-much fabled hen that lays many a golden egg.
There was this difference between you and me, though:
You are impatient — as impatient as your idle money. And you know and I know how impatient idle money can be. You are saying to yourself: “I can not afford to let all that money go a -summer-resorting all these weary win- ters of my discontent.” And you are quite as busy in your own business as you are impatient.
I, on the contrary, was neither im- patient nor was I busy with my own affairs. I was only curious, very. The plain fact of the matter was I was bom a coward and like so many cowards, I was cursed with patience — of the com- pulsory sort. I who bought my groceries in small paper bagfuls, dealt, when it came to that rare and precious virtue called patience, in car-load lots. I didn’t have the nerve to plunge; all I had was curiosity and ample leisure. Therefore I made up my mind to do one thing:
To find out just what $1000 can do for a man — yes, all about it. I went to a stock broker first of all; not because I wished to buy stocks— or sell them short — but because the stock market was the blackest of all my nightmares; because it was the one thing I was more afraid of than anything else, because I wished to get rid of a ghost from the start. Stocks? Why, I would have handed my roll over to a highwayman and paid him for the trouble rather than deal in stocks. Turning your money over to a robber is simple; it does not take an offensively brilliant intellect to do that. Then, too, there is the end of your worry. After robbing you of your wad, the gentlemen of the highway are usually considerate enough not to rob you of y jar sleep also. Stock market is said to do that and more.
Well, I went into an office looking down on Broad street.
It was padded like a stage for an Arabian love intrigue. The business had been good that day. It was after the market hours. I carried an introduction from a close friend of the broker. And evidently I did not look like a solicitor from the Associated Charities.
“Happy to make your acquaintance; won't you sit down?” said the broker. His voice surprised me; it sounded rather human. I told him how I felt about 8tocksy*about investing in them, Digitized by CjOOQIC
I mean. His answer surprised me even more than his rather unexpectedly hu- man voice. I expected him to turn upon me with: “Why, in the name of sense, did you come to me, then?” There I was ready for him with an answer. What he did say was:
“You are quite right in that. It’s certainly a dangerous business.” A shrewd broker talking like that against his own business! Why, it sounded to me like the braying of a business ass. His office, all dollied-up with prosperity, did not accuse its master of an aggra- vated case of idiocy or of lunacy either. I felt uncomfortable; there was some- thing uncanny about it all.
J TOLD him that I was going to take
plenty of time before taking a header into any field of investment because all of them were to me almost equally as unmapped as Uganda. He thought it eminently wise.
“Nothing is sure nowadays,” said he, in all sincerity. “I am surprised that death and taxes are, honestly! — every time I happen to think of them. And we see so much of that sort of thing right here you know — nothing but post mortems miles and miles around; it’s terrible. A few days ago I saw a friend of mine — a professional man, like your- self. He’s a very well known writer; very successful — made a lot of money at times, anyway. He is now on one of the big dailies, here . . .”
And the broker went on to tell me this story:
We shall call the writer Sam, for short. One day his old-time friend, Joe, called on him;
“Look here, Sam,” said Joe, “Didn't you tell me that you have a few thou- sand hard salted away somewhere?”
Joe was in the real estate business and was doing very well at it.
Sam looked Joe over very sternly for a minute and said:
“So, you’ve fallen so dog gone low- down, Joe, that you are sneaking around robbing the friends of your childhood, are you? Why don’t you turn into a chorus man and be done with the whole miserable business. What have you got in your nut anyhow?”
“Oh, it’s a peach, a pippin, honest, it is,” answered Joe with the gush of his crude oil enthusiasm of a professional real estate salesman. “The chance of your wasted life, Sam. Just listen here . . .”
The writing man might not have listened. But there was one trouble. His money was in a savings bank — loaf- ing— like yours and mine. What's 3% per cent? The very thought of it was positively degrading to the self respect of any fund and of Sam himself. Sam was a philosopher, but he had nerves. And then there are some things in this life
which are a little too much even for a Buddha.
Meanwhile, Joe, pulled out a beauti- fully tinted map of a section of a certain county and another one which was got- ten up in a much more sumptuous style showing the new development “just out- side of the city limit convenient to all transportation lines etc.” and which was no other than the long lost Eldorado right there on the job to accommodate the crying demands of poor New York- ers. Joe showed how and where the new line was going through that very section. There was tremendous convic- tion in his blue pencil marks.
Three per cent in a savings bank! Why, here right under the very nose of Sam was the chance of making it earn fifty or a hundred per cent! Something more potent than a cheap, young wine mounted the head of Sam. But at the mention of fifty per cent his New Eng- land conscience took fright. He put up a sickly little protest. He knew and realized how weak-kneed and pitiful it was before he put it up*
“I simply can’t afford to risk it, Joe,” said he. “It has taken me ten long weary years to save up that five thou- sand, you know.”
“Risk it!” Hearing Joe one would have supposed that Sam had called him all sorts of names. “Risk it! you poor boob. You know as well as I, an unim- proved piece of real estate in a coming section is the safest form of investment. It can’t run away from you, can it? It can’t burn; nobody can steal it from you — you can’t worry about it if you want to.”
CAM bought a plot. That year Sam wrote a successful play and forgot all about his real estate venture; he was too busy trying to resign himself to the boresome prospect of exuding money at every pore. A couple of years later, Joe came to Sam and told him that his plot was not quite regular in shape; which the writing man had known at the time he bought it. It was an irregular triangle in shape. Joe thought that it would be a good idea to buy in the rear plot to square the thin^ff. The owner of the said rear plot mk hard up and needed money; it was the finest chance to do business. Sam happened to have the money; he paid $3000 for the rear property. All this took place about 11 years ago. Since then Sam has paid the taxes and assessments for street im- provements, sewer, etc. Being a mere writing man he always had the super- stition that it is too hard a job to figure up interest on his investment.
A few months ago, Sam went the way of his artistic ante-Adamic ancestor, the fiddling grasshopper. Financially speak- ing, he found that it was no trick at all
for a man to go up like, a rocket and
u n^i i ri -j i i
PENN STATE 17
18
HARPER'S WEEKLY for July 3, 1915
come down like a stick. He needed money, badly. At the time, Joe was on an automobile tour in Europe. So Sam went to the original owner of the prop- erty— the original developer of the suburban section, from whom he had bought the plot. He was willing to take the property back; how much did Sam want for it? With all the magnanimity and contempt for financial details, Sam said:
I'm not fussy. Give me back the money I put into it. I’ll keep quiet about interest on my investment and taxes and that sort of thing; they give me a headache anyhow every time I think of them.”
“Let's see,” said the original owner. “You paid $4500 for the two plots you got, didn’t you?”
“I paid what ! ” Sam’s eyes were as big and about as red as a pair of full moons but they were not quite as pleasant to look at.
“At least that’s the figure at which I sold them to the man acting for you — what’s-his-name, Joe you call him, don’t you? Wait a minute . . .”
And the original owner went to the file and dug up the sale contract and the title and offered to exhibit Joe’s pencil mark on the map showing the way he wished the owner to cut up the original plot and make two titles for it.
Sam felt sea-sick for a minute. So his childhood friend sold him the two plots for $8000. For the sake of the auld lang syne, Joe pocketed $3500 of his school chum’s money beside, of course, taking, regular commission from the original owner.
* * * * #
''CO YOU see,” the broker concluded,
^ “it's an awful ticklish business at its safest — investment is. Oh, of course that was nothing but a common, low- down shell game that the writer’s friend played on him, but it shows you that you can never be too careful. No, sir, the stock market is not the only gambling den on earth. There are a lot of places when a man can sprinkle a rainbow’s tail with ttye first thousand he has salted away.”
A few days after that I happened to be at my dentist’s office. All the mag- azines on the table of his waiting room were not four months old. The Persian rugs on the hardwood — on the parquet floor, I beg pardon — and the age-mellow, velvety tints of some rare old Japanese prints on the wall tuning up the atmos-
phere of the office, all seemed to tell a pleasant tale of a yellow harvest piling up in the doctor’s savings bank. I was curious concerning what he did with his surplus funds. By way of an intro- duction, I told him the story of the writer. My dentist surprised me by saying:
“Oh, that’s nothing. He isn’t the only victim — no sir! There are others, plenty of them.” His tone was bitter; the bit- terness seemed to have something per- sonal about it.
“No,” I said, “but I think that’s about the limit. Here was the dirty skunk who prostituted the fine art of flim- flamming onto the low crude level of robbing the baby, the blind and the maimed. Mind you, doctor, that news- paper fellow trusted his old friend so utterly that he did not take the trouble of looking at the title. I think that’s the dirtiest I ever heard.”
ET me tell you something,” said the dentist. “I’ve had a little experience of my own in the real estate line. I used to know an old deacon; my people are Methodists, you know. I can tell you his name but that would not help this story any or my temper either. The old man was a good friend of my father’s and I had known him ever since my Sunday School days. Well one day he came to me — that was some years ago; as well as I remember, it was about two years after I had got out of school. I was just getting on my feet. I had some little money saved up; my practice was beginning to grow like a green bay tree; it seemed to me I could see it grow every day. I was feeling like a colt carrying silks to the post every trip. Well, the old deacon came to me one day and said, “Jim, you are getting along splen- did; you must be making a lot of money.” I told him that my whaling temperature wasn’t much above .300, but I expected to improve. Then he told me that he had had my interest at heart for some time past, that I was young and the world was all rose to me now but the day would come when I'd feel that I had been a bit younger, etc. Then he opened on me and told me of a proposition, strictly and absolutely confidential one, of course; all inside stuff, you know. It was an option on a piece of property — I don’t remember now how many hundred acres it was, but it was pretty big — all on Long Island. It was the time when the Long Island potato-patches were being dressed up in all the asphalt trimmings of a city lot. The air was full of the talk of a
tunnel under the East River, you re- member the time, don’t you? I caught fire right away quick. It sounded like poetry to me. To call that a bargain, the old deacon assured me, was like mistaking a king’s ransom for a hobo’s cast-off. The old man was terribly em- phatic about it. It was simply rubbing the lamp; and the late Mr. Aladdin wasn’t in it at all.
“There was a lot of technical details to the thing, which I did not under- stand. I did not care a rap about them anyway. The main idea was that the old gentleman and his friends were or- ganizing a sort of holding company to buy the option for I don’t know how long a time and try to sell the blame thing to a development company at an Arabian price. I remember I ended up by becoming even more emphatic than the old deacon. I had over fifteen hun- dred dollars in the bank — my first thou- sand included in the lot, of course. I told the old man that of course he cou,M count me in on it for a thousand and that I was willing to let him have the five hundred if he needed the money on his own account. He took it. We went out to see the property. It was a peach of a day in early June; everything about the place looked like rainbows shooting every which direction out of a perfum- ery bottle. It was beautiful for miles around. I spent hours and hours at a time worrying myself as to how I’d spend the money which was bound to snow me under.
??yt/ELL, how in thunderation, could I tell that when it rained more than a couple of days at a time, that property had to be sold by the gallon? The joke of it all was that I did not find that out for the longest time. I think I paid about three assessments before I woke up. The deacon got me to put up more money under the plea that they had to extend the option because they were holding on to it for a higher price. I almost had a scrap over the property with one of my patients who joshed me about the frog pond I owned out in Long Island — that was the way he put it. And it was a mild way of putting a harsh fact, too, as I came to find out later on. Well, do you know that old friend of my father’s didn’t loose a pen- ny in the deal? Quite the contrary; he got away with a fat commission. Now, how is that for an old Methodist deacon ? Not so bad, is it? No, sirree! no more watered real estate for mine!”
“Well, where do you invest your sur- plus, then?” I asked.
Thejfurther adventures of The Man with a Thousand will be told by Mr. Hale in an early
Birth Control
The eighth article in the MARY ALDEN HOPKINS series will appear in the next issue. The UNKNOWN BIRTHRATE is the title
Digitized b'
Original from
PENN STATE
fBEW G THE WOF^LD
‘,,#l"( uniiniiiiii
*mSBa
We Wish That We Too Could mower to the party from whom he bor- »t7 • rowed it and will not ask for it again
until his wife has time to use it. Mace One of the most superb affairs that says he has won forty-three games of the citizens of Lexington have witnessed checkers already this week, for quite a long while, was brought to — Altoona (Kans.) Tribune.
bear by the uniting in holy wedlock of Miss Mary Elizabeth Stewart and Mr.
Louis Monroe Ford. At the beginning, the day was one of gloom, but late in the George Holden, an inmate of the morning the clouds became scattered, home, died Monday as the result of ex- and at the noon hour the sun peeped citement, due to a game of checkers, out and streamed through the windows — Lane (W. Va.) Recorder.
of the old historic church, adding cheer and enthusiasm to the superb occasion.
Each individual in the bridal part per- formed his or her part as perfectly as if guided by a guardian angel, and the en- tire performance was one of rare beauty, portray- ing all of the accuracy of a piece of well-oiled ma- chinery.
— Lexington (Ky.) News.
The Freedom of the Press
We print what we please and the way we please and the people who think it is worth it, pay $1 a year, and those who don’t are welcome to their opinions and their dollars.
— The Hume (Mo.) Telephone.
Excitement Proves Fatal
Neighbors’ Hens Helpful
The future success of the Pioneer Sun is assured. We never heard of, or saw better prospects for any paper than this one has.
We’ve read many reports where the good people have brought the poor struggling editor sassafras roots for his pale complexion, Spring turnips for his digestion, and occasionally o 1 d clothes to cover his weary bones.
Her Affliction
The bride has been employed for some time as a bookkeeper at the W. E. Frye
JUST ONE THING AFTER ANOTHER
But none of that for this “chile,” for we have the best. Our neigh- bors’ chickens come in the back door or this office and make their nests in the rigglet box and in the corner where we keep our exchanges. “Oh! when the rooster crows, as everybody knows, there’ll be eggs for our breakfast in the morning.”
— Drewsy (Ore.)
Pioneer Sun.
Kitchen Easily Found
All the doors leading from the house came from the kitchen, so there was no way of entering the main part of the building save through the window.
— Cheboygan (Wis.)
Democrat.
House Saves Its il hi
Contents 'll
At noon yesterday the I
house of Mrs. Lydia l' I II
Woodhull in the south- west part of the village ta
caught fire, possibly from L__ a stovepipe through the roof and burned, saving about all the contents except a nice lot of canned goods in the cellar.
— Cedar Springs (Mich.) Clipper.
I These Things Make
the Editor
You about
clothes, and he will do nothing wrorse than smile, and we take chances on him without a quiver. But let us come out and say that Mrs. So-and-So was down town wearing her 1912 hat retrim- med (and she was) and there wouldn’t be enough of our force left to run the mailing galley next week.
— Smith Co. (Kans.) Pioneer.
a man
plumbing shop. She has been an active worker in the Christian church and is afflicted with several social organiza- tions.
— Mt. Victory (0.) Observer.
Ben’s Intentions
Ben Davis, who devoted many years of his life to inventing an apple, has recently manifested a violent symptoms of a terrible intention to invent a family to eat it. He now wears a bouquet in his buttonhole, parts his hair in the middle and threatens to shave. Ben evidently means business.
— Fourche Valley (Ark.) Herald.
Getting the War Habit
Mr. Forman has been married twice and was also in the Civil War.
— Mercy ville (la.) Banner.
Profitable Speculation
Doc Evans, whose dope appears, more or less garbled, on this page, tells a wo- man who says that her legs are “notice- ably bowed” that she can do nothing for it and that if she gets fat it will not show. This makes us wonder if we would be bow-legged if we were thin.
— Harrisburg (Pa.) Patriot.
Bennett is still paying cash for poul- try, eggs and cream.
— Arnold (Neb.) Sentinel.
Considerate
Mace Liverwurst borrowed a lawn mower last Monday and took it home, but Mrs. Liverwurst was busy trying to get out several washings she had prom- ised for that day, so Mace returned the
We Couldn’t Do This
The Call of the Wild
The most of our people have quit work and gone to fishing.
— Marinna (Fla.) Times.
Original from 19
PENN STATE
C. E. Rigley fell from his bicycle last night and ran over his hand inflicting painful injuries.
— Owosso (Mich.) Argus.
Digitized by
High Lights in College Baseball
YALE owes her triumph over Prince- ton on the diamond very largely to high-class defensive baseball by Harry Legore and “Long John” Reilly. While the fans who follow the profes- sional baseball teams are apostles of free hitting, the college element is readily aroused by the handling of the leather in the field. It was the left side of Yale's infield that was the real attrac- tion in the final game of the series at the Polo Grounds. Reilly and Legore formed a combination as good as any I have seen in recent years. They were bold as any professional, chose their plays well and threw with deadly speed and ac- curacy. A little thing like cutting off men at the plate is a commonplace to Legore, and Reilly’s only fault was that he too often sought to play the entire infield. One ball that he stole from Legore made trouble for his team, but he more than squared the account later in the game. So well do these two first- class ball players throw that they can play fairly deep with a man on third and none out, and still have better than an even chance to get their man at the plate on any kind of an infield drive. The Yale first line of defense was weak in the combination between Hunter be- hind the bat and Milburn at second, but the left side of the infield was a team in itself. The Reilly family was not un- known to fame even before the advent at New Haven of “Long John” who looks the ball player all over even before he gets into action. Barney Reilly was a star at Andover, and although he was not active in the game at Yale he was considered good enough by the profes- sionals to be asked to join the Chicago White Sox. The other brother, “Jim,” was one of the best defensive halfbacks ever turned out at Yale, or anywhere else, for that matter.
Yale Players Well Taught
College baseball has had a bad reputa- tion with many of the experts who are interested largely in the professional game, but there were bits of play here and there that would have redounded credit to a professional in the final bat- tle between the Eli and the Tiger. Yale’s record for the season is marred by a goodly share of defeats, due partly, I think, to holding some of the Blue’s op- ponents too cheaply, but high-class base- ball is being taught by Frank Quinby at New Haven, and the men show it. There is plenty of “inside stuff” in evi- dence in the field if not at the bat. The Elis have overcome to a large extent that inordinate desire to get rid of the bail that marks most college teams. Le- gore, indeed, holds it so long that he seldom nips his man by more than inches, but that is good baseball when a man can throw like a rifle shot. It eliminates the necessity for throwing hurriedly from a bad position. The best example is, or used to be — I have not
Digit??:: 3 by Google
By HERBERT REED
seen him recently — Hans Wagner of Pittsburg. When Wagner was at his best he took all the time he needed in which to make his throw. Reilly throws much more quickly than Legore, but of course he has to make his heave clear across the diamond, sometimes from behind third base, and for a big man handling bunts he straightens up and gets the ball away in better fashion than any college third baseman I have seen in many years. The professionals are after Reilly, and should he take up the big league game, high-class work may be expected of him. With Legore at short, Reilly at third, and Watt of Columbia at second, a very snappy infield could be made up, if a first baseman of the same calibre could be found on any of the teams.
Tiger Catcher’s Headwork
It was hardly the fault of Bill Clark that Princeton failed to win. His play- ers showed that they had been well taught. One of the best examples of good coaching was Kelleher behind the bat. This young man covered more ground than any Tiger catcher I have seen since Kafer, and upon one occasion he was clear out behind first base back- ing up an infield hit. He was something of a surprise party, for everybody had been intent on the play, and no one saw him get to the rescue station. It was a very real rescue, for he nipped a bad throw that was headed for the stands, and held the runner on first. That kind of baseball is good enough for anyone, amateur or professional.
Detroit Gets Regan
One of the chief acquisitions to the professional ranks this year will be Regan, of Cornell, who will wear a De- troit uniform. Regan is one of the best pitchers the college game has seen, and it was a pity that he could not fill out the season for the Ithacans. It is not surprising to find him headed for De- troit, for Hughey Jennings is a graduate of the Cornell Law School, and has al- ways kept in touch with Cornell base- ball.
Hardwick to Coach Navy
Another of the college baseball stars will keep up his connection with sport after he leaves college. This is Hunt- ington R. Hardwick, of Harvard, who is going to help Jonas Ingram turn out a football team at Annapolis. Hardwick has been one of Percy Haughton’s pet pupils, and he should be a distinct ad- dition to the Navy's coaching staff. Next fall’s Army-Navy game, therefore, will be something of a battle between two strategists of the same school, Hard- wick and Lieut. Charles D. Daly. The Army system, however, is not a copy of Harvard's. The two have much in com-
mon, but in the course of the years a great deal of valuable football “dope” has been amassed at West Point. It will be interesting to see just how radi- cal will be the changes in the Navy system.
Farewell to " Thataboy 99
Yale, Harvard and Princeton are to be congratulated on their agreement to play a series of three baseball games hereafter, regardless of the outcome of the first two games. New York gets lit- tle enough high-class amateur baseball as it is. College baseball with the “yap- ping” left out seems to work fairly well. Old timers like Dutch Carter and Jack Highlands will miss the “thataboy” and “you’re workin’ nice” of the old days. The game is in consequence much more quiet that it used to be, but on the whole I think it is an improvement. Defeat is no longer so hard to stomach, even for the festive undergraduate. Indeed, I think the Yale, Harvard and Princeton graduates who have been out for some years are the hardest losers.
More Record Golf
Golfing wonders never cease. Hardly had the talk over Walter Hagen’s re- markable golf both on the Pacific Coast and in the East died down a little, than James Barnes performed if not the im- possible at least the improbable at Bal- tusrol. The Western champion plays a tremendous long game, and this helped him mightily when in an early round of the Open Championship he turned in a card of 71, that, but for two missed putts, would have been a almost un- believable 69. The homeward journey he made in 33, with three 3s and six 4s, which is terrific going for such a course as Baltusrol. The distance home is 3083 yards, with a par of 37. Par for the course is 74, and it takes good, sound, consistent golf to equal that figure.
Princeton’s Tennis Triumph
Good coaching was largely responsible for Princeton’s final tennis triumph ov-. r Cornell, the Tigers winning the Inter- collegiate team honors at Forest Hill? u doubles and singles, by making a fJHn sweep of the Ithacans. Chureh. riie Princeton captain, a player of wide ex- perience, had succeeded in n iting the other members of his tiaiu to all but duplicate his own superb work at the net. His coaching was plainly in evi- dence throughout the team. The men took the set at every opportunity, and although the Cornellians did some hard driving, they never had the chance to assume the aggressive. Both teams had come through the college season without defeat, but that the Tigers were so much the superior in the final test can be at- tributed only to the leadership and coaching of Church.
Original from
PENN STATE
A By-Product of Justice
By DONAL HAMILTON HAINES
THE air of the close-packed court- room was stifling. At the crier’s desk one of the sheriff’s officers fanned himself incessantly with a folded newspaper, occasionally varying the mo- tion of his hand to slap at the flies which buzzed about his bald head. He had ceased, hours before, to snap out “Silence!" at the least motion or whisper among the crowded spectators.
Every seat in the long room was filled, and the swinging doors, locked against invasion, bulged ominously from the pressure of tight-wedged humanity. At intervals rose the voice of another har- assed officer outside the door, past anger, and reduced to a quer- elous insistence.
“No, ye can’t get in. There ain’t a seat left. What d’ye want to get in for? The jury’s out and won’t be* in for hours. Quit pUshin’ against that door. D’ye want to break the lock?"
Even though the jury was out — had in- deed been out for over an hour — and the judge’s high seat was vacant, not a specta- tor had moved to leave the room. Many of them had been sit- ting on the uncom- fortable chairs since nine o’clock in the morning; all of them had been there for at least three hours, yet each held stubbornly to the seat he had worked so hard to se- cure.
There was indeed much to be seen in the court-room, familiar as every detail had grown to the spectators through the long days and hours of the trial.
Only two details were missing. The brown, thin face and trim white moustache of the judge had van- ished, and the twelve revolving chairs which had held the jury were now empty, and twisted about at all angles
The room seemed easier, the very air less tightly-strung with those twelve chairs empty. The jurymen had been so many wriggling and uncom- fortable pictures of nervousness. The spec-
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tators had watched the slow change in them. At first they had been rather pleased with themselves, conscious of the crooked dignity of their position. Then, at the beginning of proceedings, they had been very intent, scrupulously absorbed in the questions and answers of the first witnesses. Gradually, they had commenced to show signs of lassi- tude ; they had become thoroughly bored.
And after this the strain had com- menced. When the superficial emotions had worn themselves off, the twelve men had for the first time come fact to face with the thing they had been put there
to do, and the consciousness had never left them. It had grown stronger with every passing minute, and they had ceased to look at the prisoner, or at each other.
When they finally filed from their places, with the words of lawyers and judge still ringing in their ears, each of them had looked more like a man under the shadow of death than did the prisoner in the dock.
But, with judge and jury gone, there was still much upon which the hungry eyes from the spectators’ seats might feed. There was the knot of lawyers
The Price of Progress
THE Panama Canal stands as one of the most marvelous achievements of the age. Into its construction went not only the high- est engineering skill, but the best business brains of the nation, backed by hundreds of millions of dollars.
Suppose conditions not to be fore- seen made it necessary to replace the present canal with a new and larger waterway of the sea-level type, to be built in the next ten years.
Also suppose that this new canal would be the means of a great sav- ing in time and money to the canal- using public, because of the rapid progress in canal engineering.
This sounds improbable ; yet it illustrates exactly what has hap- pened in the development of the telephone, and what will certainly happen again.
Increasing demands upon the telephone system, calling for more
extended and better service, forced removal of every part of the plant not equal to these demands. Switch- boards, cables, wires and the tele- phone instrument itself were changed time and again, as fast as the ad- vancing art of the telephone could improve them.
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HARPER’S WEEKLY ADVERTISING SECTION
21
Original fror
PENN STATE
22
HARPER’S WEEKLY for July 3, 1915
about the prosecutor’s table. The pros- ecutor, Ridgway, short, fat, almost oily, yet with a harsh voice, a keen eye, and a bullying manner* that contrasted strangely with his good-natured appear- ance. Kent, his first assistant, a lean, hairless man forever putting on and tak- ing off his spectacles. Dickson, the younger of the two assistants, fair- haired, ruddy cheeked, who had been throughout the course of the trial a ver- itable bundle of activity, scribbling in- cessant notes, whispering in Ridgway’s ear a dozen times an hour. According to the papers, young Dickson had made a name for himself during the trial, for it had been his suggestion that had put Ridgway upon that line of questioning which had gone so far toward crumbling the ramparts of the defense.
At the other table Felton, the pris- oner’s lawyer, was laughingly fencing with two or three of the younger and less, experienced reporters who were try- ing to make him talk. A big man, Fel- ton, big and loose-limbed, yet with clothes which flapped and wrinkled about him for all the bigness of his frame. Above the clustered shoulders of the badgering pressmen rose his long, wrinkled face and the touselled mop of short, curly hair.
He was grinning at the reporters. He was usually grinning at something, with tight-locked lips, and a million wrinkles at the corners of his sparkling eyes. Yet he could twist that smooth-shaven ac- tor’s face into any one of a thousand different expressions, easy to read as the sketch of a clever caricaturist.
In the press-box were half a dozen re- porters, bent over flying pencils, handing bundles of copy to boys who darted in and out of the swinging doors.
And there w*as the prisoner. The spectators never tired of looking at him. John Fleming had sat rigid and almost motionless during all of the trial. The prison pallor had whitened his face, but it had not made him look unhealthy, or greatly changed his appearance. He had always been John Fleming.
Few among the spectators had known him, or had known anything of his life until the details were ruthlessly pried out of him by the unflagging efforts of Ridgway and his assistants. Already the spectators had forgotten most of the details of the past to which Fleming had confessed. They remembered only those things which were connected with his crime.
In their eyes, John Fleming stood only for the thing he had done. There was little question of his guilt in any mind. There had been little question since the revolting details of the murder had first appeared in the papers. As the days had passed, these details had been din- ned steadily into the public’s ears, and fresh ones had been added. Diagrams of the crime, photographs of the mur- derer and his victim, and of the im- portant witnesses had appeared every day.
Fleming had come into court with no other word than a curt denial of his guilt. To this he had clung, while Fel- ton, grinning always, had twisted and wTithed before the ruthless attacks of the prosecution like an animal in a trap. The net of circumstances had closed in- exorably, but the man in the prisoner’s
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dock had not flinched or weakened. He had hung to his story, and Ridgway could not move him.
And now the jury was out, and the judge had left the bench. Through the open door of the judge’s inner office, the crowd in the court-room could see him plainly enough. He was leaning back in a swivel chair, his coat off, the sleeves of his shirt pulled well up on his arms. His feet were on the edge of his desk, and a cigar jutted from the corner of his mouth. The odor of it pervaded the big room bey&nd the open door. He was talking steadily to some- one on the other side of his desk, hidden from view by the angle of the wall.
From time to time the eyes of the spectators turned from contemplation of the reporters, the lawyers and the empty chairs of the jury-box to a big oaken door at the rear of the big room. It was a door of double thickness. So much the spectators knew, because it had stood open all through the trial until it had been closed and locked be- hind the slow-footed jurors.
On the outside of the door was a black sign bearing on it the word “Jury” in gilt letters. Directly beneath the sign was a brass bell which was rung from within. There was no transom over the door. No sound could come through its double thickness. In front of the door stood another of the sheriff’s officers, a huge bulk of a man with great shoulders and legs that seemed capable of stand- ing for hours in the same position. He had not moved since he took up his post in front of the closed door.
The windows of the room were open, and the sleepy noises of the streets out- side sounded loudly. It was after four o’clock in the afternoon, and the rays of the sun, shooting across the roof of the jail and through the branches of the oaks outside the windows, flooded the room with light and heat. The sheriff’s officers made no move to close the wood- en shutters. Air was too precious in the stifling room. Blistering sunlight would have to be endured.
The brass bell on the closed door clanged sharply. Every spectator jumped as though the bell had been connected with electric wires running to every seat, jumped, became perfectly still, then broke into an excited mutter of speech. The officer at the crier’s desk threw down his newspaper-fan, got to his feet and rapped sharply on the marble top of his desk with his wooden gavel.
“Silence in the court!” he bawled.
Through the open doorway Judge Whitney was seen to drop his feet to the floor, throw away his cigar and hustle into his coat. He was on the bench al- most before the crier had ceased bawling his order for silence.
The group of reporters surrounding Felton whisked back to their places in the press-box and began writing furious- ly. Ridgway and his assistants sat back in their chairs and attempted to look unconcerned. The fat clerk was heard clattering up the wooden stairway which led from the court-room to his office on the floor below. Felton stretched, yawned, and grinned amiably at the frescoed ceiling.
Aside from Felton, the sheriff’s officer before the locked door was the only per- son in the room who did not jump at the
clang of the brass bell. He had heard it too many times. Very slowly, he* put one hand in his pocket and drew out a bunch of keys. With every eye fixed upon him, he selected one from the bunch, and fitted it into the lock of the door. He disappeared into the jury room and closed the door behind him.
An instant later he appeared at the door and nodded to the judge. The judge nodded back, and the big deputy stalked fonvard, the twrelve jurymen filing along behind him.
The room was very silent as they walked back to the three rows of empty chairs. The twelve men looked very solemn, very sober, but the faces were not as strained and drawn as they had been when they left the room. The thing that had been given them to do had .been done. The weight of it might remain with them always, but at least the burden of uncertainty had passed.
Judge Whitney had no taste for dramatic effects. He did not allow the tense pause which might have occurred. Hardly had the jury settled into their seats when he fixed the foreman with his eye.
“Have you arrived at a decision?” he asked sharply.
The foreman got rather stiffly to his feet.
“Yes, your honor.”
“And that decision is — ?”
“Guilty — of murder in the first de- gree, your honor!”
The gavel of the crier banged loudly, and all three of the sheriff’s officers were demanding silence at the same time. Ridgway and his assistants tried to maintain their air of unconcern, but
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HARPER’S WEEKLY ADVERTISING SECTION
Original from
PENN STATE
HARPER’S WEEKLY for July 3, 1915
23
they could not forbear looking at each other and smiling. Felton had his hands locked behind his head and was grinning at a corner of the ceiling immediately above John Fleming’s chair. The pris- oner himself did not move, did not be- tray any emotion. He maintained the same position — his arms resting on the arms of the chair, one leg crossed over the other, his head bent slightly forward. At their desks the reporters were scribbling madly.
After a moment the confusion in the court-room ceased, and men and women dropped from their tense positions. A few even started to leave, and there was a small rush toward the locked door lead- ing into the corridor.
Judge Whitney got to his feet with unexpected violence.
“The officers will preserve order!” he snapped. “Let no one leave the room!”
While the spectators were being herded back into their seats, Judge Whitney turned toward tho
any motion for a new trial upon any grounds whatsoever.
“I am conscious that what I am about to say forms no part of the duties of my position. I am perfectly willing to take upon myself all blame for the ir- regularity of my conduct.
“The trial which has just come to a close has provided us with the spectacle of justice achieving its ends without any hitch or impediment. A man commit- ted a crime. He was apprehended, com- mitted, brought to trial, and convicted by the verdict of twelve of his fellow men. He has been given every oppor- tunity to establish his innocence, and has conclusively failed to do so. The
• trial has moved smoothly and without
• delay. All the demands of justice have
• been amply satisfied. From the purely
■ legal point of view, the progress of pro- ceedings has been quite flawless.
“From another point of view, I con- sider that the whole affair has been one
of the most disgraceful manifestations of human activity that I have ever been forced to watch. I have come to my seat here every morning with a feeling of intense disgust. I have left it at the con- clusion of every session with a sense of infinite relief.
“My disgust has not been caused by contemplation of the man in the dock, or by having borne in upon my attention by constant discussion the horrid de- tails of his revolting crime. I have not consciously looked at the prisoner save on those occasions when the performance of my duty has necessitated it. I am not even sure that I should recognize him in a crowded street.
“As for his crime, I shall say only that I consider it the work of a diseased mind, even though the prisoner might convince a commission of experts of his complete sanity. I refuse to look upon this mur- der as the act of a normal human being. While my own opinion regarding the
press-box.
“If any of you gen- tlemen wish to send out copy,” he said, “please do so at once. I do not want inter- ruption caused by your office boys.”
The newspaper men looked up in surprise. This was a deliberate breaking down of one of their inalienable rights. Nevertheless, after one look at the man on the bench, they obeyed his com- mand.
Whitney sat down and waited until the room was perfectly silent. He began to speak as he rose to his feet.
“There is no real need for me to make any comment upon the verdict of the jury,” he said, “and I intend to do so only inci- dentally. Their ver- dict has been in strict keeping with the pre- ponderance of evidence « introduced during the course of the trial, and with my charge to them. I can not im- agine that, as normal men, they could have brought their delib- erations to any other conclusion.
“In view of their decision, there is but one course left open to me. I shall be obliged to inflict upon the prisoner that punish- ment made and pro- vided in such cases by the laws of the state. It is not now the time for me to do so, but I shall be guilty of the rregularity of stating 'hat my action will e, and of adding Jhat ,r, shall not entertain-*
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PENN STATE
HARPER’S WEEKLY ADVERTISING SECTION
24
HARPER’S WEEKLY for July 3, 1915
mental state of the prisoner will have no bearing whatsoever upon my de- cision, it does enable me to comprehend the actual commission of the crime. I can understand in a fashion how a mind so diseased as I consider this man’s mind to be might impell a human being to an act before which all normal human be- ings should turn in horror.
“What I can not understand is that this court-room should have been packed during every hour of this trial with men and women who have hung upon every question of the attorneys, every answer of the prisoner and of the various wit- nesses with the same sort of greediness that a Roman audience might have man- ifested as they hung over the issue of a gladiatorial combat.
“I say that I have not looked at the prisoner. I have not. I have looked instead at the rows of faces which have confronted me during the days of this trial.
“I have exercised my authority in un- usual fashion and kept you here behind locked doors that I might attempt to bring you to some sense of the thing you have done. I could hope that every one of you is either a student of psy- chology or a criminologist, and that your impressions and recollections of the grim proceedings you have witnessed would either be locked forever in your own
minds or given to the world in a purely academic fashion.
“Unhappily, I know that this is not true. Many of you, I fear, are an idle lot. You could well afford the time you have spent between these four walls. The rest of you have snatched the time from your actual duties. And to what end? To satisfy a curiosity so morbid that it is hideous! It is the fact that the man was on trial for his life, that the proof of his guilt would involve his death that has drawn you. It is my firm belief that every one of you would willingly enter the death chamber of the penitentiary and watch the last writh- ings of this miserable wretch were you allowed to do so.
“You have come here and turned the solemn spectacle of the workings of jus- tice into a shocking spectacle. A trial which should have made you pass the very building with averted eyes has sent you struggling for admission at these doors like so many animals. You have come here to gloat over the spectacle of a human being in the last extremity, in the most horrible position in which a man can find himself.
“You think, having witnessed the end of the sinister drama, that you may go into the open air and shake off the cling- ing sensations which must have cut deep into the most callous of you. I assure
driven you to visit the scene of the crime, and to speculate upon its details.
“Like so many blaring trumpets, they have hounded you with their facts and , fancies day after day. They have crowded other and saner news into the obscure corners of their papers, and have piled column upon column of this nauseous stuff into your minds.
“I am not making a personal attack upon the men who sit there beneath me. They have been earning their bread at their chosen business. That it is a dis- gusting business in certain phases is not their fault. That their articles have been more villainous and harmful than the worst fiction that was ever penned is merely proof that they have .learned their trade to perfection.
“God knows where the blame for this sorry business is to be placed. I will not plunge uselessly into the endless circle of cause and effect. I can no more put my finger on the ulcer than can any of you. But I can see that it exists, and so warn you of its presence, and of the ^ sinister danger of its spread — and God pity all of us!”
He stopped abruptly, and stood for an instant, his head bent, his hands gripping the edge of his desk. Then he raised his eyes and nodded to the crier.
“Open the doors,” he said. “Let them go home!”
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you that such is not the case. You have 1 = coated yourselves with a sort of moral waf “ slime which years are not certain to wash the
5; off. I consider every one of you less ber
manly or less womanly for having en- tur tered these doors, and, finding what lay F within, having remained in your seats, to Having come once, you will infallibly aft*
!| come again. Were it within my power, got
£ I should have every one of those seats bui
ripped out, and these doors double- thi
^ locked against your coming. I can only bei
feebly tell you what your presence has anc
caused me to think of you. loo
“But I am aware that something more wai
7 than innate morbid curiosity has brought 1
n you here. It is perfectly possible that Fel
not one of you would be here had your anc
b! knowledge of this crime been no greater on
\l than what you might have heard by
r. word of mouth. Had the prisoner been =
- incarcerated, and silence fallen upon him
*• until the moment he was led into court, ^7
*5 he might have been tried before empty — .
* seats. ' Fi
>t “These men — ” with a sharp gesture tim! £ toward the press-box — “have not allowed
“• your better instincts the chance to assert
m themselves. From the instant the crime
£ was committed, they have bent all their W*
J* skill and energy toward fanning your Ot
curiosity into an insatiable flame. They / £ have iterated and reiterated every ghast- A ly detail of the murder ; they have drag- _ ged before your eyes the most revolting |
f pictures and descriptions. And they
have not paused in their efforts. One £
= broadside of horror was not sufficient; nJ
they have not given your natures time Z to be shocked. Ere you could recoil in ^
t. natural horror from their first gory pic- r
_ tures, they have hurled others at you. r
They have fairly deadened your sensi- y
£ tiveness, given your humane instincts J
JJ no opportunity to assert themselves. Be- j(
ic fore your minds have been able to pic-
= ture the murderer as a fear-inspiring W
monster, the newspapers have made you ’n familiar with his features, and bred in
8l you a desire to see him. They have
HARPER’S WEEKLY ADVERTISING SECTION
The room emptied in silence. There was not even any natural crowding about the narrow exits. Men and women with bent heads and flushed faces waited their turns at the doors.
Fredericks of the Star was the last man to leave the press-box. He had sat still after the others had sneaked out. He got slowly to his feet, picked up the bundle of copy that lay on his desk, thumbed over the hastily written, num- bered sheets, then tore them into bits and threw them onto the floor. He looked up to meet Felton's eyes. Felton was not grinning.
“Know where I can get a decent job, Felton?” he asked, “Fve just resigned,” and he pointed to the litter of tom paper on the floor about his feet.
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Please ask for> my literatu.
PENN STATE
Edited by NORMAN HAPGOOD
Entered at the New York Post Office as second-class matter. Copyright by the McClure Publications, Fourth Ave. and 20th Street, New York. All rights reserved. Entered at Stationers’ Hall, London.
Week ending Saturday , July 10, 1915
$8 a year snta a Copy
What America Stands For
TF, AS now seems impossible, the United States is
at any time dragged into the war it will be on this detail or that. Our correspondence with Ger- many has been carried on with such insight into principle and such skill in presentation that our case has not been allowed to rest on technicalities. We have been patient and tolerant. We have refrained from interference where there could be any impression that it was none of our business, and where our in- terference might lead us to an impossible role. When, on the other hand, our rights have been interfered with, but only technically, we have protested, but only as a matter of record, for adjustment by nego- tiation and as a basis for future international agree- ment. We took no final and menacing attitude until we were confronted with a situation where all three elements were flagrantly combined: the injury to us was direct, established principles were overthrown, and the deepest moral instincts of the world were out- raged. It is fair to say that when the ultimate step was taken, and we declared that submarine war on merchantmen must stop, the country was practically solid. Party stops, or should stop, at the water’s edge. When the American colonies revolted they took up arms against a tax, but a tax that, little in itself, was the embodiment of an idea. Through her governing class, with increasing dissent, Germany takes the position that her superiority to other peoples gives her the right to trample on established moral codes and on the world’s conception of humanity. In her detailed excuses she puts no real heart. It is in her destiny, her right to impose, her superman immu- nities, that her leading spirits ultimately believe. Apparently we shall keep out of the war, but it is against that idea we shall be fighting, if unhappily we have to fight at last.
Courage
TN A music hall in London the joke that was recently
most popular showed an American, held up by a thug with a revolver, exclaiming, “I am too proud to fight.”
Another joke, second in popularity in the sam§ show, used the exclamation “let loose the Americans” as who should say, “let loose the lions.”
In Paris the most-talked-of cartoon of months, by Forain, showed the symbolic figure of a woman, bowed over a field of slain, saying, “this good Mr. Wilson will come to revenge us.”
The foreign offices of the entente powers, however, have been as superior to the rasher newspapers and
the less thoughtful citizens as men in office ought to be superior to others. Their understanding has been full, their expression considerate. In no group any- where does Mr. Wilson stand Higher than among the leading statesmen of the world.
What Neutrals May Yet Do'
AT FIRST glimpse it seems strange that Spain should even consider, however doubtfully, enter- ing the fray. What has she to gain?
She has this to gain. She can do her bit toward ending a struggle that has brought her to an in- dustrial crisis.
Switzerland has suffered almost as if she were at war, but she is proud of her neutrality, and with a population speaking German, French, and Italian it would be unsound, in any circumstances except invasion, for her to enter.
Holland, if not too much impressed by Belgium’s fate, might conceivably enter for the same reasons that have caused Spain to reflect.
So might Denmark. The complicated situation in the Balkans may to a less extent be influenced by that consideration also.
The neutrals, in course of time, can be conceived as becoming tired of the cost. They may possibly in the end say, “we have paid enough. The world has paid enough. We will take a hand in the job of ending the mess, and we will do it by suppressing the belligerent that began the war and that represents the ancient doctrine of domination by force. When we have given that belligerent a thorough lesson we will then make arrangements by which no country can, with any hope of success, begin a war again.”
States of mind just now in Europe are fluid. Such a move is not probable, but it can be conceived. A very great diplomat in any of the entente powers, or among the neutrals most concerned, might be able to chrystalize and effectively use that line of argument.
Guess
AT VARIOUS places in Germany, including uni- versities, a favorite thought, finding constant ex- pression, is that after this war there will be three great powers — great in actuality or in prospect. Needless to say Germany will be one. The other two will be the United States and Japan. Then will come another vast war, after which the powers of the first importance will be reduced to two. Naturally Ger- many will be one. Then still another world war will come, and only one empire will emerge in the first rank. Which will it be? Don’t all speak at once.
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26
HARPERS WEEKLY for July 10, 1915
The Gist of It
Tj^OUR years ago Bemhardi wrote: “France must be so completely crushed that she can never again come across our path." Bemhardi merely echoed bigger men. If there is one great power in Europe that knows exactly why she fights and has an entirely clear case, that country is France.
An Unfinished Editorial
TT WAS a much bigger man than Bemhardi, Prince
von Biilow, who made popular by quoting it the saying of Althoff that the Germans are “political asses/' The conclusion that Biilow drew was that their votes must not be allowed to count. If there were more social-democratic votes there must not therefore be more social-democratic members of the Reichstag.
A teutonic statesman of distinction said to the writer of this editorial: “Is it not absurd that an ignorant workman should have as much voting as you or I?”
Another German statesman, very famous, and holding a position of much delicacy, maintained, to the present writer also, that what made it impossible for Americans to understand Prussian ethics was the egregious American vanity.
Still another well-known statesman delivered sol- emnly to the same writer the orthodox argument of the imperialists, that war is a biological necessity.
What are you going to do with such reasoning?
Is it necessary that such extreme technical effic- iency as Germahy has shown shall destroy sanity of thinking? Sparta was better organized for war than Athens, but Athens could not have been the great source of sweetness and light had she existed for nothing save obedient discipline for purposes of ap- plying force.
Germans and Learning
TN LIMITATION of what is said in the preceding editorial, it must be confessed that the Germans are learning a little about how to spend their money in America. The New York Evening Mail is far more astutely edited than the Fatherland or the papers printed in German. The money that has gone into the bill-board campaign, ostensibly by women, against our selling munitions has a certain effect on sentimental and not very active minds. Of course anybody who thinks knows that to change the rules of the past, and make it unethical to sell munitions would simply hand the victory to the nation that prepares for war and chooses its own time. The last great war loan of Germany went into ammunition. If we wish to encourage aggressive militarism the way to do it is to be shocked at the sale of munitions and thus leave the peace countries at a still greater disadvantage.
Shaky Reasons
TN “The European War of 1914," John William Burgess has marshalled hie information and has unconsciously reflected: “now let us arrange this in proper form and deduce the necessary theories there- from to show the righteousness of the German cause and the duplicity of the Allies;” In an especially
feeble chapter entitled “American Interests," Profes- sor Burgess refers in exaggerated terms to the well recognized and appreciated aid given to America in the Revolutionary War by such valiant soldiers of fortune as von Steuben and de Kalb. We note, with- out surprise, that he does not mention the Hessians. But further Professor Burgees affirms that in the critical days at the commencement of the Civil War, the St. Louis Arsenal and the whole State of Missouri was saved from falling to the Confederacy by the “Germans" of St. Louis and that “the German and German-American contingents," in the northern armies, amounting to some five hundred thousand men, turned the scales in favor of the Union. These men risked and gave their lives that the American Union might be preserved. Their names are in- scribed in history as Americans and as Americans only. But Professor Burgess’ logic cannot run up so steep a hill. Those men did not put us in the debt of German Militarism. How many of them had left Germany to avoid such militarism?
A Suspicious Character
A GENTLEMAN with the name of Ferdinand Hansen writes us a letter. He imports caviar, and there is a picture of himself on the letter, stand- ing on a Russian fish, which we admit prima facia evidence of identity. All passports now have photo- graphs. However, read the letter:
I view with astonishment your radical revision of sentiment as regards the German element. The odium you now evidence in no wise affected your scruples when as Chairman of the Citizens Munic- ipal Committee you permitted contributions to be solicited without protest from descendants of the race that now meets with your rigorous con- demnation. Nor was the money returned as un- desirable after the hearty. and unstinted financial response of those in whose veins German blood flows. Of the total contributions ($134,388.32) to the campaign fund of 1913 over 30 per cent emanated from those whose ancestral land is being so unjustly reviled by your columns.
The German-American gave freely to what he be- lieved would establish the “truth” in politics, and is repaid by your dedicating your publication to the defense of the “lie,” directed at the cause which is nearest his heart.
Respectfully,
Ferdinand Hansen.
The logic is powerful, but the point is this: Can a man who imports Russian caviar during the present war be deemed an honest German?
The Situation in Belgium
A GERMAN-AMERICAN publication, the Volks - zeitung, of New York, Socialist, is amazed to the extent of about a column because one of Mr. Hapgood’s messages from Europe said that Belgium would suffer if the United States went to war. The Volkszeitung thinks Belgium is fortunate to be at present under such a socialistic management. As Harper* 8 Weekly’s sources of information about Bel- gium are exceptionally good, we can perhaps tell the Volkszeitung a few things.
In the first place, the situation has been improved ia one important respect. After the article referred to was in print, Mr. Hapgood cabled that definite arrangements have been made between the Commis-
Original from
STA'
HARPERS WEEKLY for July 10, 1915
27
sion for the Relief of Belgium and the German and Dutch authorities, by which an entirely organized Dutch force will take over the elaborate work in- stantly, if relations are ever severed between the United States and Germany. Whether the Dutch can keep the German military authorities from in- creasing the oppression of Belgium as successfully as the Americans have done is another story. Also whether Mr. Hoover can be the financial and execu- tive head of the enterprise under such changed con- ditions. If not, the chance of finding anybody to come anywhere near equalling him is slight. And even with him in charge, Belgium has often been within a month of starvation. It is doubtful, of course, whether Americans will continue to contribute as freely if they are called on for war expenses of their own, although on the other hand it is possible they may imitate in those circumstances the truly magnificent record of the British colonies, which in spite of the war strain on them have given to Bel- gium far more liberally than have the United States.
Does the Volkszeitung know how far the Belgians are from appreciating being taken care of, instead of running themselves in the old “capitalistic” way? They have been frequently so near to serious rioting that the German authorities have requested Mr. Brand Whitlock to show himself conspicuously in the streets of Brussels to quiet the apprehension that he had left. The Germans have no use for Belgian riots. Such riots would increase the number of sol- diers who would have to be detached to guard lines of communication. This Commission had to work for months to obtain assurances that the Ger- mans would not seize the approaching harvests away from the Belgians.
Nor is starvation the only Belgian fear. States- men of all parties except the Socialist have declared that Germany must be free to annex territory, after the war is victoriously ended, if “the real economic, political, and military interests of the Empire pre- vail.” That conception of Germany’s future gives the Belgians a topic of contemplation; also Luxem- bourg; and also Holland.
For the Volkszeitung to draw a socialistic con- clusion from the success of the Hoover commission is natural enough. To emphasize that point, how- ever, in all the confused circumstances, would sur- prise most Belgians. We think a much stronger argument for the Socialists could be found in the recent general record of the German empire. Nearer home an argument could be found in the Panama Canal. After the war, when discussion again takes the place of high explosives, the world will be busy considering how to avoid the evils of over-concen- tration, as exhibited by Prussia, and the ends of unideal individualism, as discernible in Great Britain and the United States.
Drama and Strain
TY OTH in Paris and in Berlin the number of farces, musical comedies, and comic-operas has been diminished, and the number of classics and other plays of serious value increased. The tired business man, or society woman, or school girl, or rounder may need froth in the theatre to ease the awful strain of business or dinner-parties, but countries in a death- struggle find refreshment in material that contains thought or feeling.
A Difference
TT IS becoming the fashion to sing the praises of Elihu Root. Those who hark back like to hark back to him. If he were younger the Republicans would consider him for the Presidency. Before Mr. Lansing was selected to hold his position permanently thousands automatically said, “Would it not be a grand thing if the President would appoint Mr. Root?” Mr. Root was a notable Secretary, but of a kind contradictory to the man who has been in direct charge of our foreign policy since March 4, 1913, namely Woodrow Wilson. The difference is subtle and not over-easy to express. In the notes to Ger- many there is a something that would not have been there had Mr. Root conceived and executed them. There is something in them far beyond the mere lucid and able presentment of our case. There is a note of moral right that had its echo in Germany and started a change of opinion there. Putting Germany in a hole never could have done that. The President, managing foreign affairs himself, has put skilfully the American case and at the same time expressed a spiritual faith that makes ahead because it is con- tagious. The faith is contagious because it is sincere. The President, in the upset world, has two jobs to combine. He has to run the nation, as he finds the world developed in this year 1915 of so-called grace, and he has at the same time to press along up the slopes that have already slowly led us from savagery to what civilization we have. He has had to be prac- tical in act, and creative in spirit. He has been both.
Is This Funny ?
ONCE in a while in this sad war something occurs so preposterous that wrong overshadows horror. For example, a German paper, organ of a Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals, publishes a correspondence in which the President of the Society complains bitterly of Belgian treatment of animals. That is no doubt a funnier episode than the Germans against Italy for breach of treaty faith.
Honor Where Due
TTONORARY degrees are often jokes; it is pleas- ant, therefore, to see Trinity College selecting Orville Wright for one, and thereby honoring itself far more than him, who needs none of the labels that institutions give. For Wright is one of the few living great. Possibly there are as many as two living Americans whose names will be as highly con- sidered by posterity — possibly. In mechanics and science over the whole world has he any equal, save Marconi and Madame Curie?
If Wright has been robbed, if a fake inventor has worried him for years, that is only the course of his- tory. The inventive mind, the creator, is often forerunner for the material prosperity of some par- asitic imitator. Wilbur Wright may well have owed his death to the harrassing litigation which occupied most of his time for nearly three years. The Wright patent has been upheld in France, Germany, and America, and acknowledged by the British govern- ment. Nevertheless it is hard for Orville Wright to obtain practical justice in this world. No doubt after his death he will be superlatively extolled. No doubt, also, he would appreciate a little business fairness now.
Dig!
PENN STATE
28
HARPER’S WEEKLY for July 10, 1915
Atrocities
By NORMAN HAPGOOD
A GERMAN general made to a friend the following confession: “We did a lot that was very terrible in Belgium. We had a special reason for it. We were very much afraid Holland would attack us on the flank. We wanted her to know what might happen to her if she did.”
Thus the main contention of the Bryce report was justified.
An expert calculated that if Germany had been humane it would have taken a million men to keep the civil population of Belgium and northern France quiet and make railroads, telegraphs, and telephones as safe as they are now.
Nobody, therefore, can be surer than I am that severe punishment is due to the German leaders after the war. Nevertheless it is only fair that the public should un- derstand what a large proportion of the stories against the Germans are false. Therefore I recount some of my own personal investigations in France, especially among soldiers at the front.
Some of the most interesting days I have spent abroad were at the front. Among other contributions to my understanding they helped me toward sympathetic vision of the tendency of the human race to lie. All men lie, not so often because they will as either be- cause they cannot observe and remember or because they are artists, and unconsciously assist the facts to- ward composing the picture desired. I. myself, being critical and unimaginative, probably lie somewhat less than the average.
The line between mendacity and art, where actual events are the material, is extraordinarily difficult. Many
Digitized by t^QOQLC
of the best executed and most vivid volumes of eye-wit- nesses on the war are compact of untruth. The pop- ularity of these highly-touched accounts discourages more exact and conscientious narrators. Several of the best observers told me during my trip that the fakers had ruined the charm of the business by their illicit competition. And yet one of the soundest smilingly read over his account of a dramatic incident we had come across together — all fact except one touch added, and a thoroughly artistic one. I do not envy the future historian of this war. He will, to be sure, have the benefit of many secret documents (I have seen a few of them) which will give him an immeasurably better in- sight than any writer can have today; but on many a disputed question of detail he will find staggering con- tradictions of te timony.
A word about my own temptations to make a thrilling article out of experiences at the front. It would be so easy. The truth needs to be helped so little. I was on a hill that was shelled 15 days out of 18, sometimes badly. One shell passed over while I was there. Two others fell near the base. In a number of places we had to walk carefully or motor carefully, to avoid fire. At times the hostile trenches were within half a mile. Fly- ing machines abounded. Some of them were being fired at. I 6aw the Church at Metz through a telescope. Cavalry were picturesque and thick along the roads. Big holes torn by shells were everywhere. Bullet marks were in the trees. Cannon boomed. It would take ex- tremely little talent to put all these things so as to sug- gest excitement and danger. It would require only or- dinary narrative ability and a willingness „t<^ substitute
PENN STATE
29
HARPER’S WEEKLY for July 10, 1915
imagination for the actual unfortunate fact of bad luck as far as striking any trouble was concerned. The strength of the impulse to make wanderings more in- teresting, however, made me realize how a man feels, not only when he tells of an exciting adventure, but what is more to the present purpose, when he tells of I ~ an atrocity. I J.
In one little village, & 'g- _ y ] ' which had been mildly H i
shelled a few moments before, the hospital vras m -
pointed out to me. It had
been knocked all to pieces ^
some time back. Nearly |
all the ruin was confined yF'JGU* h
to the hospital and its im-
mediate vicinity. I was f ^
assured that the Germans make a specialty of pick- to bom-
bard. Perhaps they do.
I can only tell what hap-
pened to me. A little later t ^ H
1 was strolling along fr
through the village when ■&
I came across the French officer in command of the place.
“Do you think the Ger- mans shot at the hospital
quired.
One who has been over the country better under- stands the high mortality among churches. It is one thing to read the ex- planation. It is another
thing to travel and see in ^ ‘ o-::’
how many cases the spire _
the people, gave in min- ute detail the story of all that had passed under his eyes. As he described the 1 j \
words and actions of the inhabitants after the (
French came back, he quoted them as saying, jR
“Is it all right to say the Germans treated us wrell?”
He quoted those words -3F5|Jj ® * t Ji i
not to prove anything; 3*^# ir ~L * merely because he was » . V LlJ* /« quoting everything. Per- haps he scarcely under- stood the implication, the instinctive recognition by these villagers that audi- ences expect atrocities.
One story that gained headway told of three lit- tle girls hanged on hooks in a butcher shop. An investiga- tor spent considerable time looking for someone who
knew the girls. Finally he found an old woman who through England early in knew them .personally. Not only that, but she had everybody saw!
D igitizsed by CfOOQ lC
actually seen them hanging. He was horrified, of course, but at last convinced. Before passing on he saw the French commander in the recaptured village, and told him the story. “Do you not know,” asked the commander, “that that old woman has been crazy for
several years?”
a.
A gate in a cemetery was shown to me by an educated Frenchman. It was full of holes. They were, he said, from a ma- chine gun shot from inside the graveyard, while the Germans possessed the town. He added that Germans take a peculiar pleasure in shooting up cemetaries. Actually the holes were made from the opposite direction, and by shrapnel.
^ 1 tfiC the Germans driving civil-
d ians ahead of them as a
haps they do. I know
Germany has a terrible amount to answer for, in
£ H gard of treaty obliga-
tions, in calculated sever- /J ^ mu*:. " ity, but it is another
matter to believe a brave and proud people has used * women, children, and un-
** * street in a French village
man detachment is enter-
donkies, and people in one panic-stricken mass. How easy does this be- come a using of the people as a screen!
One of the most accu- rate correspondents in the I ^ . world wrote a story about
\r JrwV[5. 1 a certain sex atrocity, or-
|ri ri“ } *j dered by a German com-
Cl- ^ ‘ V ' v mander. It was told to ^ him by a woman who was
on the spot, who has an PHfl ' i established reputation,
and with whom he was personally acquainted. Nevertheless, as others
Ruins illustrating types of atrocities alleged against the Germans and denied or explained by them.
Original from
PENN STATE
30
HARPER’S WEEKLY for July 10, 1915
And has not every reader of this article been told circumstantially the story of the message of starvation written under the German stamp, with the name of the person who received the letter? What though the story goes back at l:$st as far as the Civil War?
In this war a favorite story tells of children with their hands cut off. In Paris 3 large reward was offered for a photograph of one such case, but none came for- ward to get the money.
A few photographs of the kind familiar in Paris, featuring nude women, were found in possession of a German soldier. At once there was in full travel the story that during the march toward Paris such pictures were distributed by the officers to make the soldiers more eager to reach the town.
Of course a modern conscript army includes criminals and degenerates. It includes everybody, from professors to perverts. There have no doubt been horrid individ- ual crimes. There has no doubt been conduct by Ger- man officers that will not be justified by the more demo- cratic nations ; that will perhaps even horrify the social- democrats, after the war, in Germany itself. As I have in a preceeding article already related, some of the allied statesmen believe that in case of a complete vic- tory one of the most instructive and progressive steps will be the punishment of these officers. The Bryce and Bedier reports are extremely damaging documents. It remains true, however, that many of the apparently well-authenticated cases are lies, and many of the others can be explained away.
The rape cases of course arouse particular interest. They will always be especially* difficult to prove or dis- prove and many of them exist in frightful form. But this point is certain: there are a great many more cases of moral than of legal rape. I mean that when three or four soldiers are quartered in a house, with father and sons away fighting, the girls in that house do not feel very free to choose just how they will receive the ad- vances of the soldiers. But even after making deduc- tions there is no doubt that war makes even decent men less punctilious. Facing death every day they are in- clined to be lenient with their consciences about the pleasures of the moment.
^BOUT sniping, the Germans have probably made some errors. They have probably told some lies to cover crimes. We know how capable they are of lying in high circles, from the stories they invented in advance in the attempt to excuse their long planned invasion of Belgium, aL J the excuses they have prepared ahead for other brutal steps. But in many cases, it is the inhabitants who lie. An officer is leading his men through a village. There are shots from a window and a couple of soldiers fall. The men are furious at their comrades’ death, from what to the military mind is grossest treachery. The officer knows he could not control his men. He looks away while they exact punishment. The villagers almost in- evitably allege that there was no sniping or that the officer gave the word to fire. That the punishment for sniping or other disobedience is extremely severe is of course true. I gave the reason at the beginning of this article. It is the explanation, from another angle, of the Zabern incident, which so enraged France, and was so resented and ridiculed in England and America. In Alsace a soldier could strike even a crippled civilian with his sword, for mere lack of deference. But the Germans knew what they were doing when they failed to put down such arrogance. They were preparing for
today. Such military efficiency as theirs would be im- possible if the army were not treated as above all things. Lasting power is another story. It is wholly possible that a change of popular spirit may come more abruptly in Germany than in France or Britain. But for the pur- pose of moulding a nation into a. military machine the absolute control, in peace and war, of the militarist idea was deemed a necessity. I saw on a captured German cannon the words “ultima ratio regis “the final argument of a monarch,” and I thought it explained a large portion of the war. I did not see one soldier in France whose manners to me, an unknown civilian, were not courteous in the extreme; with a courtesy, indeed, that made me wish I had the gentility to respond with equal grace. So we come back always to the question of autocracy, which is the question of this war. If William the Second had been as modest and as consti- tutional as his grandfather, Germany would have ex- panded with less opposition and would not have sought to execute a task impossible in our modern world. Being a despot he fell into the hands of the military, without sufficient civil check. The individual ceased to exist in Germany. The militarist regime forgot even the doctrine of their great text-book, for Clauswitz himself says that the use of absolute force in war must be tempered by expediency.
IT IS just to say, that the fairest witnesses after the
war will be the higher officers. From the French officers I have imbibed many of my views of German atrocities. The officer is so occupied with limitless horrors of war itself that he sees the side-issues more coolly. More- over he knows the facts. The fiercest spirit of credulity is in the talk factories. Nothing is so credulous or so blood-thirsty as an afternoon tea.
Let us be firm, by all means. Let us all hope to end militarism by defeating the great militarist nation. But let us not be more than needlessly cruel in our thoughts, and let us not be unfair. Why do our school text books exult in the destruction by Sherman and Sheridan of the southern food supplies? Did the United States, or did it not, bombard open towns in the Spanish war? How many lies were told about the water-cure?
A lawyer was endeavoring to prove atrocities before an investigating committee “And now,” he said at last, “I am going to bring to you the very best of all evidence. I am going to let you hear the story from the lips of the boy’s own mother.”
What appeal could be more effective, and never- theless what evidence could be more untrustworthy?
The trouble with excess of atrocity talk is that it merely makes us hate the Germans, which is unfortu- nate, and does not help us to know what the world is really fighting for, which it is essential to known.
Where atrocities are really proved they are fully pro- vided for by international agreement.
In the last Hague convention, in the section regarding breaches of international agreements as to what acts are legitimate in war, it was agreed:
“A belligerent party which violates the provisions of the said Regulations shall, if the case demands, be liable to pay compensation. It shall be responsible for all acts committed by persons forming part of its armed forces”
Germany signed that. Also Bismarck is the father of the severest doctrine of indemnities. Wherever any- thing can be truly proved, therefore, the foundation for punishment is most completely laid.
Next week* s issue will contain an article by Mr. Hapgood on what he found out Swiss army system that is being so much discussed in the United States at present.
by him about picturesque personal experiences at the front.
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PENN STATE
True Americanism
By LOUIS D. BRANDEIS
Epluribus unum—
out of many one — was the motto adopted by the founders of the Republic when they formed a union of the thirteen states. To these we have added, from time to time thirty-five more. The founders were convinced, as
we are, that a strong na-
tion could be built through federation. They were also convinced, as we are, that in America, under a free government, many peoples would make one nation. Throughout all these years we have admitted to our country and to citizenship immigrants from the diverse lands of Europe. We had faith that thereby we could best serve ourselves and mankind. This faith has been justi- fied. The United States has grown great. The immigrants and their imme- diate descendants have proved them- selves as loyal as any citizens of the country. Liberty has knit us closely to- gether as Americans. Note the com- mon devotion to our country’s emblem expressed at the recent Flag Day cele- bration in New York by boys and girls representing more than twenty different nationalities warring abroad.
On the Nation’s birthday it is cus- tomary for us to gather together for the purpose of considering how we may better serve our country. This year we are asked to address ourselves to the newcomers and to make this Fourth of July what has been termed Americaniza- tion Day.
Americanization
What is Americanization? It mani- fests itself, in a superficial way, when the immigrant adopts the clothes, the man- ners and the customs generally prevail- ing here. Far more important is the manifestation presented when he sub- stituted for his mother tongue, the Eng- lish language as the common medium of speech. But the adoption of our lan- guage, manner and customs is only a small part of the process. To become Americanized, the change wrought must be fundamental. However great his out- ward conformity, the immigrant is not Americanized unless his interests and affections have become deeply rooted here. And we properly demand of the immigrant even more than this. He must be brought into complete harmony with our ideals and aspirations and co- operate with us for their attainment. Only when this has been done, will he possess the national consciousness of an American.
I say "he must be brought into com- plete harmony.” But let us not forget that many a poor immigrant comes to us from distant lands, ignorant of our language, strange in tattered clothes and with jarring manners, who is already truly American in this most important sense; who has long shared our ideals
TN THE following article Mr. Brandeis tells not only L what he thinks the American idea of liberty is , as it regards the individual, but also what the right idea is of liberty as regards nationalities. This question we must all face in the settlement which follows the great European war.
and who, oppressed and persecuted abroad, has yearned for our land of liberty and for the opportunity of aiding in the lealization of her aims.
American Ideals
What are the American ideals? They are the development of the individual for his own and the common good — the development of the individual through liberty and the attainment of the com- mon good through democracy and social justice.
Our form of government, as well as humanity, compels us to strive for the development of the individual man. Under universal suffrage (soon to be extended to women) every voter is a part-ruler of the State. Unless the rulers have, in the main, education and character and are free men, our great experiment in democracy must fail. It devolving upon the State, therefore, to fit its rulers for their task. It must pro- vide not only facilities for development, but the opportunity of using them. It must not only provide opportunity; it must stimulate the desire to avail of it. Thus we are compelled to insist upon observance of what we somewhat vaguely term the American standard of living; we become necessarily our brothers’ keepers.
The American Standard of Living
What does this standard imply? In substance, the exercise of those rights which our Constitution guarantees; the right to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness? Life, in this connection, means living not existing; liberty, free- dom in things industrial as well as polit- ical; happiness includes, among other things, that satisfaction which can come only through the full development and utilization of one's faculties. In order that men may live and not merely exist — in order that men may develop their faculties, they must have a reasonable income; they must have health and leisure. High wages will not meet the worker’s need unless employment be regular. The best of wages will not com- pensate for excessively long working hours which undermine health. And working conditions may be so bad as to nullify the good effects of high wages and short hours. The essentials of American citizenship are not satisfied by
supplying merely the material . needs or even the wants of the worker.
Every citizen must have education — broad and contin- uous. This essential of citi- . zenship is not met by an edu- cation which ends at the age of 14 — or even at 18 or 22. _____ Education . must continue throughout life. A country can- not be governed well by rulers whose edu- cation and mental development is limited to their attendance at the common school. Whether the education of the citizen in later years is to be given in classes or from the public platform, or is to be sup- plied through discussion in the lodges and the trade unions, or is to be gained from the reading of papers, periodicals, and books — in any case freshness of mind is indispensable to its attainment. And to the preservation of freshness of mind a short workday is as essential as ade- quate food and proper conditions of working and of living. The worker must, in other words, have leisure. But leisure does not imply idleness. It means ability to work not less but more — abil- ity to work at some thing besides bread- winning — ability to work harder while working at breadwinning, and ability to work more years at breadwinning. Leisure, so defined, is an essential of successful democracy.
Furthermore the citizen in a success- ful democracy must not only have edu- cation; he must be free. Men are not free if dependent industrially upon the arbitrary will of another. Industrial lib- erty on the part of the worker cannot, therefore, exist if there be overweening industrial power. Some curb must be placed upon capitalistic combination. Nor will even this curb be effective un- less the workers cooperate, as in trade unions. Control and cooperation are both essentials of industrial liberty.
And if the American is to be fitted for his task as ruler, he must have besides education and industrial liberty, also some degree of financial independence. Our existing industrial system is con- verting an ever increasing percentage of the population into wage earners; and experience teaches us that a large part of these become at some time financial dependents, by reason of sickness, acci- dent, invalidity, superannuation, unem- ployment, or premature death of the breadwinner of the family. Contingen- cies like these which are generally re- ferred to in the individual case as mis- fortunes, are now recognized as ordinary incidents in the life of the wage earner. The need of providing indemnity against financial losses from such ordinary' con- tingencies in the workingman’s life, has become apparent, and is already being supplied in other countries. The stand- ard worthy to be called American implies some system of social insurance.
And since the child is the father of the man, we must bear constantly in
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PENN STATE
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mind that the American standard of liv- ing cannot be attained or preserved un- less the child is not only well fed, but well born; unless he lives under condi- tions wholesome morally as well as phys- ically; unless he is given education ade- quate both in quantity and in character to fit him for life’s work.
The Distinctly American
Such are our ideals and the standard of living we have erected for ourselves. But what is there in these ideals which is peculiarly American? Many nations seek to develop the individual man for himself and for the common good. Some are as liberty-loving as we. Some pride themselves upon institutions more dem- ocratic than our own. Still others, less conspicuous for liberty or democracy, claim to be more successful in attaining social justice. And we are not the only nation, which combines love of liberty, with the practice of democracy and a longing for social justice. But there is one feature in our ideals and practices which is peculiarly American. It is in- clusive brotherhood.
Other countries, while developing the individual man, have assumed that their common good would be attained only, if the privileges of citizenship in them should be limited practically to natives or to persons of a particular nationality. America, on the other hand, has always declared herself for equality of nation- alities, as well as for equality of individ- uals. She recognized racial equality as an essential of full human liberty and true brotherhood, and that it is the com- plement of democracy. She has, there- fore, given like welcome to all the peo- ples of Europe.
Democracy rests upon two pillars: One, the principle that all men are equal- ly entitled to life, liberty, and the pur- suit of happiness; and the other, the conviction that such equal opportunity will most advance civilization. Aristoc- racy on the other hand denies both these postulates. It rests upon the principle of the superman. It willingly subordi- nates the many to the few, and seeks to
justify sacrificing the individual by in- sisting that civilization will be advanced by such sacrifices.
The struggles of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries both in peace and in war were devoted largely to overcom- ing the aristocratic position as applied to individuals. In establishing the equal right of every person to development, it became clear that equal opportunity for all involves this necessary limitation: Each man may develop himself so far, but only so far, as his doing so will not interfere with the exercise of a like right by all others. Thus liberty came to mean the right to enjoy life, to acquire property, to pursue happiness in such manner and to such extent only as the exercise of the right in each is consistent with the exercise of a like right by every other of our fellow citi- zens. Liberty thus defined underlies twentieth century democracy. Liberty thus defined exists in a large part of the western world. And even where this equal right of each individual has not yet been accepted as a political right, its ethical claim is gaining recognition.
America, dedicated to liberty and the brotherhood of man rejected the aris- tocratic principle of the superman as applied to peoples as she rejected it as applied to individuals. America has be- lieved that each race has something of peculiar value which it can contribute to the attainment of those high ideals for which it is striving. America has believed that we must not only give to the immigrant the best that we have, but must preserve for America the good that is in the immigrant and develop in him the best of which he is capable. Ameri- ca has believed that in differentiation, not in uniformity, lies the path of prog- ress. It acted on this belief; it has ad- vanced human happiness, and it has prospered.
War and Peace
On the other hand the artistocratic theory as applied to peoples survived generally throughout Europe. It was there assumed by the stronger countries
that the full development of one people necessarily involved its domination over another, and that only by such domina- tion would civilization advance. Strong nationalities assuming their own supe- riority came to believe that they possessed the divine right to subject other peoples to their sway; and the belief in the ex- istence of such a right ripened into a conviction that there was also a duty to exercise it. The Russianizing of Finland, the Prussianizing of Poland and Alsace, the Magyarizing of Croatia, the perse- cution of the Jews in Russia and Ru- mania are the fruits of this arrogant claim of superiority ; and that claim is al- so the underlying cause of the present war.
The movement of the last century have proved that whole peoples have in- dividuality no less marked than that of the single person; that the individuality of a people is irrepressible, and that the misnamed internationalism which seeks the obliteration of nationalities or peo- ples is unattainable. The new national- ism adopted by America proclaims that each race of people, like each individual, has the right and duty to develop, and that only through such differentiated de- velopment will high civilization be at- tained. Not until these principles of na- tionalism, like those of democracy are generally accepted, will liberty be fully attained, and minorities be secure in their rights. Not until then can the foundation be laid for a lasting peace amopg the nations.
The world longs for an end of this war, and even more for a peace that will endure. It turns anxiously to the United States, the one great neutral country, and bids us point the way. And may we not answer: Go the way of liberty and justice — led by democracy and the new nationalism. Without theie — inter- national congresses and supreme courts will prove vain and disarmament “The Great Illusion.”
But let us remember the Poor Parson of whom Chaucer says:
“But Criste’s loore, and his Apostles twelve,
He taughte, but first he followed it hym- selve.”
Average Humanity
By ARTHUR H. GLEASON
TWO men were looking at a pretty telephone operator. One of them could not see anything in her but one more little girl in a very large city. To the other man she summed the mod- ern city, the brief flare-up of color and joy, and then the sure finish of illness and age and failure.
“Why bother with the ones that are snuffed out?” the first man asked. “Why
not select those fortunate few that have the staying stuff in them — the ones that can dance like Genee, and sing like Tetrazzini, and carry on like Marie Dressier?”
“If you can't get your eye trained on the average,” retorted the other, “you go through life finding it full of empty spaces. Now, my way fills in the rhinks. It is a pity to wander along
forlorn and bored, just because average humanity isn’t up to the Bernhardt level of fiery competence. Every person you meet is carrying a full-length drama, some of it already acted, a little of it uncoiling in front of you, and the rest ripe to come.
“Successful lives are dull compared with the smothered lives all around you.”
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PENN STATE
The Passing of a Golfing Myth
By HERBERT REED
Jerome Travers, Open Champion of the United States. A sensa- tional stroke on the fourteenth hole.
TO Jerome Dunstan Travers, Open Champion of the United States, the entire golfing world is deeply in- debted for his disposal of the ancient myth that because a man was a strong match player he could not, therefore, hope to shine as a medalist. No other than Travers could have accomplished this result by winning the open title from one of the greatest fields ever assemb’ed in this country, for Travers was the myth, and the myth was Travers. Travers beat a great field. That was an incident. But Travers beat himself. That was an event. So, Medalist, when you enter- tain the “fear thought” that you cannot be a match player, cheer up — and think of Travers. And, Match Player, when you despair in your battle against Bogie or Par as the case may be, take heart — and think of Travers.
America has never produced a better match player than Jerry Travers, the reversals at Sandwich and at Ekwanok to the contrary notwithstanding. So good was he, indeed, that he personified match play. Small wonder then, that that side of his temperament should have been developed at the expense of the other. Success begets success in golf, and failure is father to failure. Nothing ex- traordinary in Travers’ believing that he would never be a medal player of mo- ment, and little difficulty in agreeing with him. It was all very nicely settled. Everybody regretted it, none more than the Montclair man himself.
Then something happened. Came the disaster at Sandwich, followed by the defeat at Ekwanok. The former four- time amateur champion was down with the golfing blues if ever a man was. Right here is to be registered the birth
of an ambition. “I should like some day to finish second in the Open Champion- ship” said Travers. Why second? Well, was not that a pretty large ambition for a man who had hitherto agreed with everybody that he would never shine at medal play? When did this ambition give way to that greater one, the desire to actually win the Open? I think the change came about subconsciously at about the conclusion of the new cham- pion’s second round, when he found he was well up with the leaders by virtue of nothing more than workmanlike, sound golf. The psychological moments — uniquely there were two of them — came in the very last round, at the tenth and fourteenth holes on the difficult Baltusrol course; but whether he realized it or not I believe that Travers was defi- nitely out for that championship at the conclusion of his second round. He had done little that was brilliant, while Wal- ter Hagen, Gil Nicholls, Ben Sayers, Tom McNamara and others had per- formed prodigies at certain holes. There was in Travers’ play none of the deadly putting with which he has stormed many a golf gallery in the past. There were no really tremendous drives, no partic- ularly thrilling recoveries. But he had begun to beat himself, and he had begun to command medal play. The crowd heard about it, the other golfers got wind of it, and pretty soon, when the time came for one of the most popular players who ever trod the links to com- plete his conquest of himself, he was followed by thousands, a crowd about equally divided between the faithful and the faithless.
And now the tenth hole, the first psychological moment. He sliced his tee shot out of bounds. Just for a moment he was shaken, for he pulled his second shot from the tee into the rough through
fear of slicing again. The next