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BY HENRY VAN DYKE

There are many kinds of hate, as many kinds of fire;
And some are fierce and fatal with murderous desire;
And some are mean and craven, revengeful, selfish, slow,
They hurt the man that holds them more than they hurt his foe.

And yet there is a hatred that purifies the heart,

The anger of the better against the baser part,
Against the false and wicked, against the tyrant's sword,
Against the enemies of love, and all that hate the Lord.

O cleansing indignation, O flame of righteous wrath,
Give me a soul to see thee and follow in thy path!
Save me from selfish virtue, arm me for fearless fight,
And give me strength to carry on, a soldier of the Right!

THE TELEFERICA

THE WAR'S AERIAL TRAMWAY

BY LEWIS R. FREEMAN

This article, as the reader will find, was written before the recent retreat of General Cadorna. Up to the end of 1917, however, the Italian armies were still holding the enemy back in the foothills of the Alps in the Asiago war-section, between the upper waters of the Piave and Brenta Rivers.-THE EDITORS.

were asked to choose a symbol for the simple directness with which the Italians have driven straight for the heart of connection with their Alpine warfare, I should unhesitatingly name the teleferica, or aerial tramway, which has been the sine qua non of that warfare. The avalanche may block the road, the spate of the torrent carry away the bridge, the tempest force the airplane to shelter, but the little wire cage of the teleferica purrs along on its way unheedful of the disturbances in the heavens above, the earth beneath, or the waters under the earth. Just so have the resourceful Italians contrived to find a way straight through the difficulties which have beset them as a consequence of electing to carry on a war under conditions which have relegated to the waste-basket the theorizings of the strate gists of all time on mountain warfare.

Iwith which the Italians have driven straight for the heart of

Up to the time of the outbreak of the present war both the Italian and Austrian plans of Alpine warfare were based on the assumption that, since there appeared to be no practicable way in which lofty peaks could be permanently occupied, offensive and defensive must necessarily be limited to the taking or holding of passes and the comparatively low heights immediately commanding them. If the Italians had been willing to fight the Austrians on "conventional" lines, there is little doubt that the latter who have for the most part essayed a strictly defensive rôle from the first-would not have deliberately increased their commitments by deviating materially from the lines of established practice. But once the impetuous Latin began the scramble for the peaks, his enemy had to follow the lead or back up. On the human side the most important factor in the Italian success has been the brave and resourceful Alpino, whose only rival in all the world as a mountain soldier is the Ghurka of Nepal, with whom he has many traits in common. On the material side the great element has been the excellence-I might almost say perfection-of the Italian transport service. The foundation of this transport rests upon a service of motor lorries which in many respects is not equaled by that of any other belligerent. But motor transport must have roads, and above the perpetual snow-line in the Alps there are not-indeed, cannot be any roads. Moreover, even the broadest, best-metaled, and easiestgraded of such roads as do exist are in the winter months often blocked for weeks at a time by avalanches or drifted snow. It was principally to take up transport where the motor could no longer continue it that the modern teleferica or cableway was perfected.

The cableway, or aerial tram, has been in use in various parts

of the world for many years, usually for carrying ore from mines to mills or smelters. It also figured occasionally in, the early stages of bridge construction. The only place I ever heard of its being used for regular passenger traffic was in Switzerland, where, near Grindelwald, I once saw one employed to take tourists across a deep gorge to the foot of a glacier. There 'was usually a strict rule against traveling on the mining cableway except in emergency, and one of the most memorable stunts of my youth was a ride I once contrived to take across a deep canyon above the roofs of the town of Wardner, Idaho, in a half-filled" bucket" of lead ore.

When the Italians decided to "carry the war skyward," and began casting about for some means of transport which could be depended upon in all weathers to keep communications open between the men in the snow trenches twelve or thirteen thousand feet in the air and the bases in the more or less protected Alpine valleys, the teleferica at once suggested itself as the best solution of the problem.

"The rather crude contrivance which the cableway was up to our entry into the war was by no means sufficient for the purposes we had in mind for it," an Italian military engineer told me in the Trentino last winter. "We had to have something simpler, lighter, and more dependable than anything of the kind that had yet been built; in fact, from camions to compressed-air drills, our whole effort in perfecting Alpine transport has been directed toward simplicity, lightness, and dependability. Portability, strength, and general fool-proofness' are even more vital necessities in Alpine warfare than in any other. We simply borrowed the idea of the aerial tramway, and, with these desiderata always in mind, developed the teleferica of to-day. I cannot tell you how many hundred miles of cableways there are on our front, nor how many thousands of men and hundreds of thousands of tons of food and munitions have been carried over them; but I can assure you that the teleferica (which looks the most dangerous) is really the safest means of transport we have, to say nothing of the fact that (in the higher mountains, of course) it is also the most economical.

"Did you ever hear of a man being killed in a teleferica accident? You have not. Well, I shall be greatly surprised if you ever do. They are so simple in design-just the cableway, a petrol engine, and a couple of cages that it is possible to guard almost absolutely against structural defects, so that the only trouble that can happen to them must come from without rather than from within. The wind, if it is strong enough, can make it difficult or impossible to run the cars on an exposed span, but *!

since we began grooving the wheels so deeply that they simply cannot be blown off the cable, is about all it can do. An avalanche might carry a section of one away, if it could get at it; but, since the probable swath of a valanga is pretty clearly determinable, it can almost invariably be crossed with an unsupported span and the menace thus avoided. Either for safety or convenience, you will never make a mistake, when getting about on any part of our front, to take the teleferica in preference to any other form of transportation-from your own legs to an automobile-that offers."

I was fortunate in having had this advice at the outset, for I must confess that there did arise occasions-especially on windy days-when I might otherwise have been strongly disinclined to crawl into a two-by-six basket and allow my shivering anat omy to be hauled off on a tenuous wire that was lost a thousand feet or so above in a driving snow-storm which was raging about the lofty Alpine pinnacle to a sheltered cavern on the lee side of which the cable was said to run. The assurance was well borne out. The jump from sunshine to storm, and from storm back to sunshine, became a common experience on both my summer and winter tours of the Alpine front. Those were astonishing places that the teleferica took me to-lofty sky-line snow trenches, from the parapet of which unfolded a fantastic panorama the foreground of which was the enemy's barbed-wire tangle, well within hand-grenade range, and its background a serrated range of white peaks fifty miles beyond the border of Switzerland; a splintered pinnacle, through the elbow of the artillery-smashed statue of a saint on the summit of which one peered into an Austrian gun cavern in the side of a similar pinnacle three hundred yards away across a mile-deep gorge; a mountain battery ensconced in the eternal blue-green ice of a mighty glacier; and a score of vantages scarcely less beautiful, wonderful, and unforgetable. All this laid me under a debt which a lifetime of gratitude will be insufficient to repay. As for safety, in the course of the several dozen teleferica journeys I made, several of them at the height of actual blizzards, the most disagreeable thing which befell me was the falling into one of my eyes of a drop of lubricating oil from the grooved wheel revolving above my head. Even that would have been avoided if I had been content to watch the scenery unfold instead of getting onto my knees and peering upwards in an ill-advised endeavor to discover" how she ticked.'

My first sight of a teleferica in operation furnished a striking example of the unique service that remarkable contrivance is rendering in facilitating the handling of the wounded at points where other ways of transporting them were either too dangerous or too slow. It was on a sector of the upper Isonzo, where at that time the Austrians had not yet been pushed across the river. A rather wide local attack was on at the moment, and to care the more expeditiously for the wounded a very remarkable little mobile ambulance the whole equipment of which could be taken down in the morning, packed upon seven motor lorries, moved from fifty to a hundred miles, and be set up and ready for work the same evening-had been pushed up many miles inside the zone of fire to such protection as the "lee of a high ridge afforded.

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"We have found," said the chief surgeon, 66 that many wounds hitherto regarded as fatal are only so as a consequence of delay in operating upon them. This little hospital unit, which is so complete in equipment that it can do a limited amount of every kind of work that any base hospital can perform, was designed for the express purpose of giving earlier attention to wounds of this kind, principally those of the abdomen. From the first we saved a great number of men who would otherwise never have survived to reach the base hospitals; but even so we found we were still losing many as a consequence of the delay that would often arise in transporting them over some badly exposed bit of road on which it was not deemed safe to risk ambulances or stretcher-bearers. Then we devised a special basket for wounded, to be run on the teleferica (as you see here), with the result that we are now saving prac tically every man that it is humanly possibly to save."

While he was speaking, the teleferica, which ended beside the tent of the operating theater, began to click, and presently an oblong box, almost identical in size and shape with a coffin, appeared against the sky-line of the ridge and began gently

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gliding toward us along the sagging cable. "In that box," continued the surgeon," there will be a man whose life depends upon whether or not his wound can be operated upon within an hour or so of the time he received it. He was probably started on his way to us within ten minutes of the time he arrived at the advanced dressing station, and if he was not left lying out too long the chances are we will pull him through. All up the other slope of the ridge he came across ground that is being heavily shelled (as you can see from the smoke and dust that are rising), but that basket is so small a mark that the Austrians might fire all day at it without hitting it. One of them occasionally runs into the pattern' of a shrapnel burst (with disastrous results, of course), but the only danger worth bothering about is of having the teleferica laid up from a shell on the engine-house or one of the supporting towers. Although the man is probably unconscious, he is coming alone, you see. No other life, and not even an ambulance, is risked in bringing him here. Except for the teleferica, he could not have been sent over until after dark, and the delay would have been fatal. We estimate that from one to three per cent of the men wounded on a battlefield which, like this one, lies so exposed that they cannot be sent back at once by stretchers or ambulance, owe their lives directly to the teleferica."

When the cover of the basket was lifted off in the station, the body of a man swathed in a blanket was revealed. He was unable to speak, but a note pinned to the blanket stated that he had been struck in the stomach with a shell fragment just outside the engine-house, and that nothing had been done save to wrap enough gauze around his middle to hold the riven abdomen together and bundle him into the waiting teleferica basket. "He must have been wounded not over fifteen minutes ago, and within less than a mile in an air-line from here," commented the chief surgeon. "We might have heard the detonation of the shell that did it. Five minutes one way or the other in operating may mean the difference between life and death in a case of this kind, and the chances are that the teleferica has given us the necessary margin."

Before I left the hospital, an hour later, the operation was over and the man was resting comfortably, with every hope of recovery.

On several occasions, going up by a teleferica, I have passed a little Red Cross basket going down with a ferito, or wounded man (indeed, the occupant of one of these to whom I endeavored to shout a few words of good cheer in Italian reported below that he had been accosted by an unmistakable Tedesco); but by far the queerest passenger it was my lot to "balance" against was one I encountered during an attempt I made to get up the Pasubio on a stormy day last January. It was snowing at the rate of four or five inches an hour, and the air was thick with the driving flakes, when, as a consequence (as I learned later) of a drift being piled right up against the cable where the latter crossed a jutting ledge, the steady" tug-tug" of the pulling wire ceased and my basket came to a quivering standstill. I knew that I had been approaching the half-way point, but the first evidence I had that the "down basket had stopped near by was a sudden pulsing blast which cut athwart the bosom of the storm and assailed my ears like the crack o' doom. Except that it was ten times louder than any human being could make, it was just such a wail of agony as would be wrung from the throat of a man who was being stretched on the rack.

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Again the throbbing blast came hurtling through the storm, and this time I noticed that, starting with a raucous bass note, it kept on rising in a sirenic crescendo until it was suddenly broken short, as though the air which drove it was cut off rather than exhausted. Turning down the high collar of my storm coat, I squirmed around and peered back over my shoulder in the direction of the "Thing of Terror," but only an amorphous gray shape in the line of the opposite cable indicated the position of the other basket. It didn't seem possible that a two-feetwide-by-six-feet-long wire basket could possibly hold anything large enough to make a sound like that, and yet the fact that the cable at this point was five hundred feet or more in the air made it certain that the sound could come from nowhere else.

A brisk shiver was running up and down my spine as 1 slithered down again in the bottom of the basket, but I told

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myself that it was from the cold and set my wits to work to find a "rational" explanation of the weird phenomenon. A great bird-perhaps an eagle-roosting on the cable? Impossible. Nothing on wings since the time of the "peridactyl," or whatever it was called, could have the lung-power for a wail like that. A fog-horn? Not a hundred miles from the sea. A-ah, I had it now! I told myself-gas-alarm signal out of order; Alpino taking it down to have that broken-off note put rightplaying it for his own amusement. "What a fool I had been not to think of it before!" I said to myself as I settled back with a sigh of relief and an easy heart to wait for the "train to start." When, after a half-hour wait, punctuated at pretty regular intervals by the wail of the "gas alert," the gentle "tug-tug began again, and the basket started on its way, I pulled myself up on my elbow to give the indefatigable serenader a hail in passing. Presently the "down" basket, filled with some sprawling shape, took form in the hard-driven snow, but it was not until it was almost upon me that I saw that the nose of a donkey, stretched a foot over the side, threatened to foul the side of my swaying car in passing. The vigorous punch of my mittened fist with which I fended it clear set another of those air-shivering blasts going, and I had just time to see, before the curtain of the snow dimmed down and swallowed up the fantastic sight, that the sudden cut-off I noticed at the end was caused by the swelling windpipe being brought into sharp contact with the side of the basket as the beast's neck was stretched out to establish the proper air columns to form the sirenic higher notes.

The donkey, they told me in the engine-house at the top, had colic from eating fresh snow on top of the contents of a box of dried figs he had broached, and they had tied his legs and sent him down on his way to the "Blue Cross" hospital to be put right. He was a plains donkey, and didn't have good "Alpine sense," else they would have driven him down by the path on his own legs. If they had known that a guest was coming up, however, they said, they wouldn't have sent down an ass in the teleferica. It wasn't quite safe for either passenger on account of the way the animal sprawled. The last donkey they had sent down got his hind legs tangled in a load of firewood that was coming up, and they had lost a good deal of the precious fuel at a time when they were at the bottom of their pile, with a storm coming on. The "up" car always got the worst of a collision, but if they were only warned that any one of importance was coming, they took great care that there shouldn't be any collision. No one ever got much hurt on a teleferica, any

how.

It seems to be a literal fact that no man has yet lost his life on the Italian front as a consequence of riding in a teleferica. Many have been killed in constructing them, and even more in patrolling the lines and keeping them in repair. Men have fallen or have jumped out of the baskets, often from considerable heights, and men have been brought in stiff with cold after two or three hours of exposure to a blizzard in a stalled car. Stations and engines have been carried away and buried, with all serving them, a hundred feet beneath an avalanche; but in these, as well as in all other mishaps connected with telefericas, inquiries which I pursued during the whole time I spent on the Italian front failed to reveal a single instance in which an actual passenger had lost his life. Hairbreadth escapes and rescues I heard of by the score. The story of one of the most remarkable of the latter was related by no less a personage than the brave and distinguished Colonel "Peppino" Garibaldi, grandson of the Liberator, and hero of the famous capture of the peak of the Col di Lano.

While I was staying with Colonel Garibaldi in the Dolomites last winter the station of a teleferica which I had been expecting to use on the morrow in going up to the lines on the glacier of the Marmolada was carried away by an avalanche, which also killed one of the engineers. It was the receipt of the news of this disaster which led my host to remark that one of the most spectacularly brave feats he had ever heard of had been performed by an Alpino the previous winter in connection with putting right a stalled car on this very span of cableway which had just been destroyed.

"At this stage of the game," said Colonel Garibaldi, who is fluent in American idiom as a consequence of his many revolu

tionary campaigns in both North and South America, "they were not grooving the wheels of the teleferica basket deeply enough, with the result that they were occasionally blown off the cables by strong winds. So far as we could, the carrying of passengers was suspended during blizzards, but of course every now and then an occasion would arise when the chance had to be taken. That was how it happened that a staff officer from the Comando Supremo, who had never been on a teleferica before, was in a basket which was blown from the cable of the first Marmolada span at the height of a heavy storm last March. The basket was within a couple of hundred meters of the end of its journey when the derailment of its two forward wheels occurred-in fact, it was a good deal nearer 'land' in that direction than downwards, where there was a clear drop of three or four hundred meters onto frozen snow.

"If the air is quiet, a basket (going up, of course; the 'down' one runs by gravity) with only one pair of wheels off can usually be 'nursed' along the cable by gentle tugs from the engine, and that was what the engineers tried to do in this instance. The side pressure of the wind was too strong, however, and within a meter or two the cable wedged in beside the wheels and jammed hard. If there had not been a man in the basket, they would simply have sped up the engine and gone on pulling until either the basket came up or something broke. If the former, all was well; if the latter, they picked up the pieces as soon as the weather permitted, rushed their repairs, and started up again. With a passenger and especially a staff officerto reckon with, it was a different proposition.

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Luckily the chap kept his nerve, and between snow flurries they could see him working hard trying to get the wheels on again. An expert teleferica lineman can, with luck, occasionally put a pair of wheels back on the track alone; but unless one understands exactly how to take his weight off the basket by hanging over the cable the job is as hopeless as trying to lift yourself by your boot-straps. This chap was anything but an expert, and, after fumbling with numbing fingers for ten or fifteen minutes, he waved his hand with a gesture of despair and sank back into the bottom of the heeled-over basket.

"The Alpino has lived among blizzards all his life, and is able to figure pretty closely how much resistance is left in a man exposed to wind and cold under any given conditions. They knew that a man tucked in comfortably in a basket on an even keel waiting for engine repairs is good for several times as long as one hanging on for dear life to the sides of an apparently hopelessly stalled and half-upset basket. Most of the men watching from the station gave the poor chap from fifteen to twenty minutes; it was only the most optimistic who said half an hour. In any case, there was only one thing to do-to send a man down to the disabled basket; and a lineman who had shortly before performed a similar feat successfully when a load of badly needed shells was stalled on the cable volunteered to do it.

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Suspending the intrepid fellow from the cable in a hastily rigged harness hung from a spare pair of wheels, they tied a long line round his waist and let him coast down by gravity to the basket. The line, paid out slowly, kept him from gaining too much momentum. The journey-an easy feat for a man with a good head-was made without mishap. The officer's mind was still clear and his nerve unbroken, but, numb with cold and on the verge of physical collapse, he was unable to lift a finger to save himself. The most he could do was to maintain his hold, and even that he could not be expected to do for long.

"For some time the Alpino, still suspended in his harness, put forth all his strength in an endeavor to lift the basket suffi ciently to allow the displaced wheels to slip back onto the cable, but there was no way to bring enough force to bear to be of any use, and, after nearly spilling out the man he was trying to save, he gave it up. Next he tried to lighten the basket of the weight of the officer by passing a couple of hitches of the bight of the line around him and tricing him up to the cable immediately overhead. He succeeded in his immediate end, but in doing so defeated his ultimate one. The body of the officer swung clear of the bottom of the basket, but hung in such a way that the Alpino could not himself get in the proper position to lift from.

"By now it was evident to the would-be rescuer that nothi

could be accomplished unless the helpless officer were got clear of the car entirely, and this could be effected only by changing places with him. How the resolute fellow did it Heaven and the special providence which always sees the Alpino through only know. They paid him out a couple of meters more of line when they felt him tugging for it, and then they had a snow-blurred vision of him scrambling about the tilted car for three or four busy minutes. Finally they got the short, sharp, double tug which was the signal he had arranged to give in the event that he failed in his attempt and wanted to be drawn back.

"Not a little cast down over this development, they began hauling in from the station, only to feel the more apprehension when they saw it was a limp and apparently lifeless body that was coming up to them out of the storm. A reassuring yodel

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MANIA TEUTONICA

A PSYCHOLOGICAL STUDY OF THE WAR

BY JOSEPH JASTROW

PROFESSOR OF PSYCHOLOGY IN THE UNIVERSITY OF WISCONSIN

Professor Jastrow is one of the distinguished psychologists of this country. Born in Europe, the son of a clergyman, he came to this country in very early childhood, and is a graduate of the University of Pennsylvania and of Johns Hopkins University. He is the author of several well-known books in his field, such as "Character and Temperament,' ""The Qualities of Men," and "The Sub-Conscious," and will at an early date publish another volume, suggested by the war, entitled "The Psychology of Conviction," which, among other subjects, will discuss the mental and moral bases of pacifism and militarism. He was one of the earliest experimenters in the use of laboratory tests for the study of physiological psychology. In employing this method the psychologist, with the aid of a series of ingenious apparatuses, tests his subjects as to the rapidity and accuracy with which they receive mental impressions from external physiological sensations. The accuracy and quickness with which these mental impressions react upon the judgment and muscular action are also measured in the same way. The United States has for the first time in any military organization recognized the value of such psychological tests. The abnormality of German psychology in the war has been one of the greatest puzzles of the conflict. No one can speak with more authority on this phase of the war problem than Professor Jastrow.-THE EDITORS.

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own reaction to the, war is inevitably personal; yet his professional interest claims expression. It is possible and after three years it is desirable to attain an objective view of the sweeping reconstruction of life that has come upon us, turning all thoughts, occupations, and values from their accustomed channels. The readjustments demanded by the world war appear psychologically as contributions to the genesis of conviction. So to regard them implies no detachment either from the impressive national uprisings, the heroic sacrifices, or from the unspeakable horrors of warfare, the tragedy of civilization annulled, the havoc and waste, the supreme loss of men and humanity. It implies the attempt to look below and beyond these to the underlying causes and motives for action and attitude, and to see these reflected in the convictions of men under the coercion of so violent a reconstruction of the adjusted outlook of peaceful

venture.

The personal conviction must first be declared. I speak as a convinced pacifist, but use that term in its authentic meaning, undisturbed by the present embattled situation. I speak as one convinced in 1914 as in 1917 that it was the duty of the United States to declare its position when Belgium was invaded. The failure to do so remains, in my opinion, the supreme mistake that has cost us and the world dear. As a pacifist I decline to consider such a step as equivalent to a declaration of war, as I continue to decline to think of international adjustments in terms of militaristic solutions. I speak as one convinced in 1914 as in 1917 that Germany's position must be opposed to the last ditch, with the entire resources of our great Republic; to that Germania delenda est I hold. The world must make it unsafe for any militaristic-minded nation to assert itself; for that is the Germania, and that alone, which is to be destroyed. I believe it was incumbent upon the leaders of men-leaders of opinion as of official policy-to foresee in 1914 the situation of 1917, and from the single fate of Belgium to learn all. The lack of foresight of prophetic vision, if you will-may be pardonable, but it is not creditable. Obviously I believe that America's entry into the war was long ago, as it is so clearly in 1917, supremely justifiable. As a pacifist I look upon the Allied cause as a war to end war, as a gigantic international determination

to establish pacifism; for to make the world safe for democracy

is to make it safe for pacifam. In this enterprise the most avow

edly pacifist nation must take a leading part. These convictions remain in 1917 the convictions of 1914, tragically reinforced.

In an important respect my views have changed; this change I desire to emphasize. Along with others, I looked upon the situation as a war, as a regrettable contest of interests, a fateful rivalry of international jealousies. I looked upon Germany's conduct of the war as a shocking demonstration of the uncertainty of civilization, a terrible lesson in the menace of militarism. I have now ceased to look upon Germany's position and actions under the aspect of war, for they have ceased to be intelligible to me in that light. I have come to consider the state of the German mind as a state of madness assuming a military form; the madness is far more significant than the military expression.

All intense enthusiasms-worthy and unworthy alike are liable to disaster; insanity is the ultimate issue. In a case of religious mania the insanity is the essential fact; that it takes the form of religious fanaticism is an important but not the chief consideration in diagnosis or treatment. When a Sultan proclaims a jehad, or holy war, we, in our Occidental remoteness, are sufficiently detached to recognize that the massacres that follow are expressions of crazed fanaticism rather than military operations. Psychologically considered, war madness is primarily madness and not warfare. Germany has run amuck among the nations. The tragedy of the case is that the patient must be overpowered to be cured.

Under this view of the case of Germany, the perspective of German claims and deeds is markedly altered. The actions and desires of a patient are considered not as policies, but as symptoms. When the patient is a nation collectively, incidents that may be of slight political consequence may be altogether the most enlightening clinically. Mania Teutonica is a singular malady; may it long remain so! It may, however, be classified. It belongs to the rather long list of contagious mental epidemics to which humanity is subject. This is not the first time that large sections of European populations have gone mad-mad in spots and under the provocation of intense passions; nor is it the first time that those affected have cultivated and exulted in their aberrations. Even so limited a survey as Hecker's The

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Mental Epidemics of the Middle Ages" is pertinent reading to-day, especially in Germany, where the book was written. The helpful lesson which the story of these sporadic waves of collective and stimulated aberration teaches is this: that while people lose sanity rapidly and collectively with the acceleration of a spreading contagion, the loss is temporary; and that while they recover individually and slowly through the stability of immune groups, they do recover. The evidence that such groups exist in Germany, though effectively discouraged in expression, is strong enough to make it worth our while to support their difficult efforts in the cause of sanity. As a psychological-political policy the treatment of the case of Germany suggests the encour agement of all internal movements that tend to resist the devastating sweep of the collective obsession. For the overpowering from without-which must be unremittingly pursued because the case has gone beyond remedial treatment-cannot replace recovery from within by the heroic efforts of a saving remnant. It is unpsychological to believe that the epidemic is universal or incurable. The problem of the Allies is not merely to defeat Germany, which is a police measure, but to cure Germany or help a deluded Germany to recover her sanity-which is a psychological enterprise, as formidable, it may be, as any military campaign.

I have no intention to exaggerate the analogy of the German position to a pathological issue, nor to ignore the fact that Germany's original aggression was taken as a deliberate political step. But, once under way, the course of thought and feeling, of word and deed, presents the typical features of delusional mania. Even at the outset the complete incapacity of official and intellectual Germany to anticipate the reception on the part of the enlightened nations of their violation of the international code argues for a blindness of a delusional order. It is characteristic of collective mania that the intellectual soil must be prepared for rapid absorption when the seed comes to be sown. The resistances which sanity sets up must be overcome. The German military policy was artificially fostered until it sprouted as the military delusion. Der Tag became an obsession. In its symptoms mania Teutonica is closely analogous to well-recognized clinical cases in which the mind loses the restraints of a sane control of impulse, and thought and action are at the mercy of a disordered brain. The delusion of grandeur, the megalomania of an exalted superiority, the boastful vaunt of self and confident disdain of others, the effervescent sense of power and empire-all these may be observed in the wards of the insane. A dose of hasheesh is a possible but uncertain mode of entering the realm of illusion, and in so far of understanding the intoxication of Germany.

That the Germany of 1914 to 1917 presents a case of mania under military form, and not war intensely pursued, is convincingly shown by contrast with the Allied nations, who are equally at war but not maddened by it. Their loyalty and devotion are at least as firm, their purpose as steadfast, their sacrifice as great, their enthusiasm for the military game, if that is what must be, as pronounced; but the entire attitude from general to private, from Cabinet member to the obscure civilian, is totally different. The prevailing attitude of the Allies is the common and casual note in British letters from the front-There's a nasty job to be done, but we must see it through. In contrast. "The Hymn of Hate," the pompous pronouncements, the suspicion of persecution, the ascription of evil designs to others, the blindness to one's own crimes-all these are far more intelligible as delusional symptoms than as a military policy; and as a group they are fully as characteristic (suspicion and hate being also well-recognized expressions in abnormal complexes) as the mania of exaltation with which they combine. Both present accredited forms of loss of mental balance. A third group of symptoms cruelty and terrorism-may be similarly interpreted. The excesses of warfare doubtless occur in all camps; in so far they represent the common liability of human passion when restraint is removed. But a policy of Schrecklichkeit and its execution cannot be so disposed of; it fits in too well with the general diagnosis. It is more charitable to the German to assume that his mind must be disordered to demand the violent satisfactions of arson, pillage, and deviltry unmentionable.

Distinctions must be drawn in the interpretation of symptoms-a different range of distinctions from those applicable

to policy. It is a recognized principle that a kindred order of mental invasion produces different types of symptoms according to the quality and experience of the mind invaded. There is, for example, a coarse and a refined hysteria, a grossly physical and a subtly intellectual response to its common disturbing urgency. Mania Teutonica comes forward in the wild excesses and reckless cruelty, the sacrilege and terrorism, of Louvain, where the execution is by the common ranks of the population. In another setting it produces not only "The Hymn of Hate," but its eager echo among all classes; the celebration, in holiday spirit, of the dastardly outrage of the Lusitania; the striking of medals to commemorate it; and the attacks by airships on unprotected seaside towns. In yet another order of mind it produces the rabid, though deliberate, defense of violations of morality and humanity upon the part of pulpit and press. Naturally the mania proceeds upon a congenial and a cultivated soil. Under ordinary twentieth-century circumstances, a mental epidemic cannot be produced at will, for it meets with too many and too strong resistances. Its spread with such amazing rapidity in Germany is due to the carefully fostered habit of obedience and to a long-standing deference to state authority and a cultivated military insolence, yet also to some inherent weakness in the German character that makes it ready to accept the sop of an inflated pride in exchange for the birthright of individual liberty. And yet one cannot suppose that there were no resistances favoring honorable action and a decent regard for others' rights, that had to be broken down before the inoculation could be so generally successful; that these resistances were not so strong as one supposed is the unwelcome conclusion.

Mania Teutonica in saturnalian abandon in Belgium under the sudden goad of passion and physical excess is disgraceful yet intelligible; but those who gave the orders and trumped up vain excuses have no such vindication, damning as it is. The double dealing in diplomatic relations is yet more damning, because its source is higher up. Yet quite as significant psychologically, though with slight bearing upon military or political policy, are the reactions of the intellectuals of Germany; these form the convincing if more refined confirmation of the diagnosis that, unlike Germany's profession as to the war, is really forced upon us. For, if anywhere one may expect to find the saving remnants, the citadels of resistance to a sweeping madness, it would be among the most disciplined minds, trained to the objective verdicts of science and history. Let there be no indiscriminate condemnation. There doubtless were and are in Germany many members of the intellectual class regretfully ashamed of their country's actions, who have remained discreet in utterance or condemned to silence by social forces from with out and a patriotic conscience from within. They must recognize that Germany has dragged her reputation of before 1914 to an abyss of shame from which only her own reconstruction, however aided by the condemnation on the part of other nations, can rescue her. The responsibility remains with the responsible minds. A mania of this order is the product of a deliberate encouragement. A modern nation protects itself against mental contagion as against plague. Deliberately to poison minds is even worse than poisoning wells; both use the weapons of science in an unholy cause. Viewed morally, the action of Germany stands as a treacherous betrayal of the world's trust in her integrity; with that verdict is coupled the question as to where responsibility of policy is concentrated, and where the irresponsibility of mania begins.

However, such considerations are pertinent mainly for the light they shed upon the state of conviction of the German mind and in proof of the conviction in our minds that the possibility of undoing the work of civilization is still a liability; for if Mania Teutonica prevails, modern civilization is doomed. Contrast the Germany of before 1914 as we knew it or consid ered it with the Germany of 1914 to 1917 as we know it to our consternation, and we face the most staggering contribution to the psychology of conviction that the modern mind has had to encounter. It is incomprehensible as warfare; it is at least more comprehensible as insanity.

It is, then, my opinion that a psychological view of this world war cannot proceed upon the formal assumption that there is a conflict with a parallel psychology of the two contestants. So

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