soldiers under circumstances which would have given some other great generals occasion for much high-flown sentiment and vainglorious bluster. The order is as follows:

'SOLDIERS OF THE EASTERN ARMY! 'It is my heart's desire to express to you my warmest thanks and my fullest recognition of what you have accomplished before the enemy during the year now closing. What privations you have borne, what forced marches you have made, what you have achieved in protracted and difficult fighting, will ever be accounted as among the greatest deeds in the military annals of all times. The days of Tannenberg, the Masurian Lakes, Opakow, Ivangorod,

Warsaw, Wloclawek, Kutno, Lodz, Lowicz, the Bzura, the Rawka, and the Pilica, can never be forgotten.

'With thanks to God who gave us power to accomplish such things, and with a firm reliance upon his further help, let us begin the new year. In accordance with our oaths as soldiers we will continue to do our duty till our beloved Fatherland is assured of an honorable peace.

'And now let us go forward in 1915, just as in 1914.

'Long live His Majesty, our most gracious commander-in-chief! Hurrah!'

Although Hindenburg has always kept strictly aloof from politics, home and foreign, he has on several occasions expressed himself briefly in regard to the political aspects of the present war. He has asserted his abiding faith in the justice of Germany's cause, believing that she is fighting only because war was forced upon her by Russia; and he holds that Russia was abetted by England to the extent that the war would not have broken out but for England's promise to help Russia. He has also expressed his unshaken faith that Germany and her ally will win. He believes

in particular that Russia will soon be eliminated as an aggressive factor in the general situation.

Simplicity and directness in all that he does, fidelity to duty, devotion to monarch and country, respect for his fellow men, love for profession and family, unflagging industry, great persistence in carrying out his plans such are the leading outlines of his character. He inspires confidence from his subordinates by reason of his moral qualities, as well as his military ability; they know that he is a safe man, that, deeds, he possesses a sane judgment though ever ready to undertake daring of what is possible. He takes big risks there is nothing flighty about the man. and obtains corresponding results, but He is willing to assume responsibilities and has independence of judgment. He consults much with his subordinates, indeed, in order to get possession of the facts upon which to base his decisions; but the decisions themselves are always his own. And he is not likely to be influenced by personal or any other considerations than the objective requirements in the given case. He does not court popularity, and he does not like to be lionized. 'It is a matter of indifference to me,' he has recently said, 'what kind of conception people form of me, if I can but be of some service to my king and country.'

Professor Vogel, the portrait painter, who spent nearly two months at Hindenburg's headquarters making studies for a portrait, has given us a firsthand description of the field marshal in his daily life, with interesting observations on his character. He says he had to rise every morning at 6 or 6.30 o'clock; that Hindenburg tolerates no loafers around him, and is himself incredibly busy. He was found to have a keen knowledge of men; he was cautious in his speech, but at the same time frank and open. He showed no

harsh or coarse sides. 'His whole being beams with calmness, goodness, light. He is worshiped by all his men; and this is due not only to the fact that he is the great Hindenburg who won phenomenal victories, but much rather to the fact that he is a good and amiable man. Although he is loaded down with work and responsibilities, I have never seen him impatient or nervous. He finds time for everything, appears promptly at meals, his private correspondence is quickly disposed of, he sits for his portrait, and he finds time to do an endless number of things.'

Vogel observed that Hindenburg made few calls upon the many servants placed at his disposal at headquarters, that the meals were of almost puritanical simplicity, consisting nearly always of one meat course cooked along with vegetables, and ending with a cheap grade of cheese. There was hardly any variation to this at any time; even when princely personages were guests at headquarters the only usual exception was a glass of champagne. Hindenburg found time to give the painter a daily sitting for seven weeks. Another visitor at headquarters noted that the field marshal's door was marked only by the word 'Chief,' written with chalk.

In personal appearance Hindenburg satisfies the common ideal of what a great general should be. He is six feet tall, has a commanding figure, and carries himself with ease and dignity. He has a deep chest, and broad shoulders, and the neck is rather short and thick. The chin and lower jaws are massive, giving the face a squarish appearance. The mouth, with the corners of the lips drawn sharply down, expresses firmness; and this effect is heightened by the moustache, which is allowed to grow out on the cheek beyond the corners of

the lips. The blue eyes are deep-set, frank, and penetrating, and have a tendency to close when talking or smiling. The forehead is fairly high and somewhat flat. It is still surmounted by a good shock of hair, which is nearly white and is kept close-cropped. Standing erect it completes the expression of energy and strength borne by his coun

tenance.

The field marshal is a man of few words, but he impresses the listener with the conviction that what he says is well worth giving heed to. He seems to be thinking while he talks, and the deliberate flow of his words leaves the impression that his mind moves slowly. The voice is a deep, rich bass. Among his comrades he is regarded as a companionable man, but he seems to have kept more to his family, when off duty, than is commonly the case with officers. He has never even learned to play cards; his sister found it impossible to teach him 'sixty-six,' the simplest of German card games. Avoiding cards, he has also never gambled, thus escaping the temptations that have proved the undoing of many a young German officer. We hear of no diversions except hunting, for which he has a great liking. The walls of his cottage at Hanover are decorated with the antlers of stags slain by his rifle.

When Hindenburg retired to that cottage only four years ago he thought that his career was ended, and he began to write his reminiscences. They were intended only for his children, as he did not think that his life would interest a wider public. The war rudely interrupted his work. Probably he will resume his writing after it is over. Then all the world will be eager to read Hindenburg's own narrative of the part he is now playing in the Great War.

I

THE principle that it is always wrong to employ force against another human being has been held in its extreme form by Quakers and by Tolstoï, but has been rejected by the great majority of mankind as inconsistent with the existence of civilized society. But I think that the occasions where forcible resistance is the best course are much fewer than is generally believed, and that some very great and important advances in civilization might be made if this were more widely recognized. The socalled 'right of self-defense,' in particular, seems to have only a very limited sphere of application, and to be often supported by arguments involving both mistakes as to political questions and a wrong conception of the best type of character.

No one who holds that human conduct ought to be such as to promote certain ends, no matter what ends may be selected, will expect any absolute hard-and-fast rules of conduct to which no possible exception can be found. Not to lie, not to steal, not to murder, are very good precepts for ordinary cases: it may be, in view of the likelihood of biased judgments, that most men will act better if they always follow these precepts unquestioningly than if they consider each case on its merits. Nevertheless, it is obvious that there are cases where lying and stealing are justifiable, and the same must be said of murder by those who hold that some wars are righteous. Tolstoï does

not judge conduct by its consequences: he considers actions inherently right or wrong. This makes it possible for him

to

say that no use of force is ever right. But if we judge conduct, as I think we ought, by its power of promoting what we consider a good life or a good society, we cannot expect such simplicity in our moral precepts, and we must expect all of them to be subject to exceptions. Whatever we may have to say must be regarded as in the nature of practical maxims, to be applied with common sense, not as logically universal rules to be tested by extreme cases.

Broadly speaking, I think the use of force is justifiable when it is ordered in accordance with law by a neutral authority, in the general interest and not primarily in the interest of one of the parties to the quarrel. On this ground, the use of force by the police is justifiable, provided (as is no doubt sometimes the case) that the authorities are employing the police in the general interest, not merely in the interest of the holders of power. In international affairs, if there were a council of the powers strong enough to restrain any aggressive nation without great difficulty, any army or navy employed in obedience to its orders might be regarded as a police force, and justified on the same grounds on which the police are justified. I think there is more hope of ultimately achieving universal peace by this method than by the adoption of non-resistance. But this has no bearing upon the question whether non-resistance would be a good policy, if any

nation could be induced to adopt it. So long as no council of the powers exists, there is no neutral authority to order resistance, and we have to consider the justification of repelling an attack when the nation attacked is the judge in its own cause.

The justification of non-resistance is more easily seen in the case of quarrels between individuals. If I encountered the traditional highwayman, and he demanded my money or my life, I should unhesitatingly give him my money, even if it were in my power to shoot him before he shot me. I should do this, not from cowardice or lack of spirit, but because I would rather part with money than have a man's blood on my conscience. And for the same reason, if I were compelled to engage in a duel, I would rather let my adversary shoot me than shoot him. In this I believe all humane people would agree. At the same time, if he were a worthless fellow, and I had just made an important mathematical discovery which I had not had time to record, it might be right to preserve my life at his expense. Arguments of this sort would justify civilized communities in defending themselves against savages. But conflicts between civilized nations are more like conflicts between rival metaphysicians, each considering his own system admirable and the other man's abominable, while to outsiders it is obvious that both are equally fantastic.

In private life, most situations can be met by the double principle of neither employing force nor obeying it. It is a familiar Platonic thesis that the man who inflicts injustice is more to be pitied than the man who suffers it. But such statements are read with a smile, as charming literary paradoxes, and are not taken as practical wisdom for the guidance of life. Yet the use of force to coerce another man's will, even in those rare cases in which it is

justifiable, produces a brutal and tyrannous state of mind, and is more destructive of inward peace than any misfortune that can be inflicted from without. The greatest good that can be achieved in this life is to have will and desire directed to universal ends, purged of the self-assertion which belongs to instinctive will. If a man has once known this good, he will not consider any private ends important enough to be fought for: he may be willing to enter upon a contest of force, but if so, it will be for some end outside his own life, since what is best in his own life cannot be taken from him by another. But although he will not dictate to others for his own ends, he will also not be turned aside from universal ends by others: he will be no more willing to obey than to command. He will preserve his own liberty as scrupulously as he respects the liberty of others.

Exactly similar considerations apply to the conduct of nations, but they are obscured by traditional phrases about 'honor,' 'patriotism,' 'sacred traditions,' or the 'protection of women and children.' It is assumed that a nation which does not oppose force with force must be actuated by cowardice, and must lose whatever is valuable in its civilization. Both these are illusions. To oppose force by passive non-obedience would require more courage, and would be far more likely to preserve the best elements of the national life. It would also do far more to discourage the use of force. This would be the way of practical wisdom, if men could be brought to believe it. But I fear men are too wedded to the belief that patriotism is a virtue, and too fond of proving their superiority to others in a contest of force. People who object to the doctrine that might is right always contend that it will be disproved by showing that might is on their own side. Yet that would be a dis

proof only if their side were in the wrong, and their argument shows that they really believe the doctrine that they are pretending to combat. Those who genuinely disbelieve the doctrine will not attempt to disprove it by getting might on their side.

II

Let us imagine that England were to disband its army and navy, after a generation of instruction in the principles of passive resistance as a better defense than war. Let us suppose that England at the same time publicly announced that no armed opposition would be offered to an invader, that all might come freely, but that no obedience would be yielded to any commands that a foreign authority might issue. What would happen in this case?

Suppose, to continue the argument, that the German government wished to take advantage of England's defenseless condition. It would be faced, at the outset, by the opposition of whatever was not utterly brutal in Germany, since no possible cloak could be found to hide the nakedness of aggression. All civilized countries, when they engage in war, find some decent excuse: they fight almost always either in self-defense or in defense of the weak. No such excuse could be found in this case. It could no longer be said, as the Germans now say, that England's naval preponderance keeps other nations in bondage, and threatens the very existence of any nation which depends on imported food. It could no longer be said that we were oppressing India, since India would be able to separate from the British Empire whenever it wished to do so. All the usual pretexts by which aggression is justified would be lacking. When America attacked Spain, it was to liberate the Cubans, against whom Spain was carrying on

a war. When England attacked the Transvaal, the then Poet Laureate, the Times, and Messrs. Werner, Beit & Co. and the other imperialist magnates who represented the ancient traditions of the British race, solemnly assured us that our intervention was necessary for the safety of English women in Johannesburg, and for the liberation of the natives from virtual slavery to the Boers. These pleas deceived many people who, though no doubt not unwilling to be deceived, would yet have shrunk from an aggression which could not be in any way disguised. And it was said that the Boers aimed at the conquest of the whole of South Africa: we were told that if ever England found itself entangled in a European war, Cape Colony would be overrun and its English colonists would be subjected to a tyranny. In any civilized country such arguments are always used in justifying even the most aggressive war.

If England had no army and no navy, the Germans would be hard put to it to find a pretext for invasion. All the liberal elements in Germany would oppose any such enterprise; so would all the other nations, unless Germany offered them a share of the plunder. But let us suppose all home opposition overcome, and a force dispatched to England to take possession of the country. Such a force, since it would meet with no military opposition, would not need to be large, and would not be in the state of mingled fear and ferocity which characterizes an invading army among a hostile population. There would be no difficulty in preserving military discipline, and no opportunity for the rape and rapine which have always been displayed by troops after victory in battle. There would be no glory to be won, not even enough to earn one iron cross. The Germans could not congratulate themselves upon their military prowess, or imagine that they