The Contributors' Column--September Atlantic

‘ Professor’s Progress ’ is the first novel to be printed in the Atlantic for five years. It differs from all other novels we know of.

The war has had the effect of dividing the ranks of the Socialists in every land as nothing else ever has done. As was inevitable, the stirring of national passions, rivalries, and hatreds has severely tested the internationalism of political Socialism. There is probably no lessening of faith in Socialism; indeed it might be argued that Socialism has a fur firmer hold upon the hearts and minds of men than ever before. It is only the political parties of Socialism that have fallen in the public estimation. The conflict between national interests and international ideals is one which has caused a good deal of earnest discussion among the most thoughtful Socialists of the world.

In the paper on ‘ Socialism and Internationalism’ which we publish this month this conflict is comprehensively discussed. John Spargo, the author of the paper, is recognized as one of the foremost living exponents of Socialism. He has written many important treatises on various aspects of the subject. His resignation from the American Socialist Party in June of this year attracted nation-wide attention. With several other prominent intellectual leaders of the Socialist movement he resigned from the party on account of its adoption of a war policy decidedly hostile to the interest of America and her allies, and therefore in effect, though possibly not in intention, pro-German. Mr. Spargo remains a Socialist and an Internationalist. His paper is perhaps the most comprehensive discussion of the subject of Socialist Internationalism which has yet appeared.

Captain Silas Jones, whose account of the ‘ Awashonks’ massacre as written by his own hand in the ship’s log has been transcribed by his granddaughter for the Atlantic, was born in Falmouth, Mass., and, after a long career of such adventure and hardship as befitted a whaling captain of those times, lived out his days there. He was a reticent man and, although many versions of this remarkable adventure have appeared from time to time, it was not until after his death some twenty years ago that the log covering this eventful voyage was found among his effects and his account of the massacre came to light. It was of course intended to serve as his official report to his owners when his ship finally reached port.

The 1 Awashonks ’ remained in the whaling trade until 1871, when she was lost in the Arctic Ocean, along with 33 other whalers, in the worst disaster which ever befell a whaling fleet.

Listeners old and new await Laura Spencer Portor whenever she can lay aside her duties as an editor of the Woman’s Home Companion to address them. No one has more boldly deserted the worn trail of conventional verse than Robert Frost, author of ‘North of Boston’ and, more recently, of ‘ Mountain Interval.’ Mr. Frost’s chosen home is at Franconia, New Hampshire. Gamaliel Bradford will be remembered by his notable series of ‘ Confederate Portraits,’ published in the Atlantic in 1912 and 1913, and rendered of permanent value through their rare combination of breadth and detail. In his contribution to the present number, Arthur Russell Taylor, a clergyman of York, Pennsylvania, provides a fitting companion piece to his story ‘ Mr. Squem,’ in the June issue.

The light touch of Lucy Elliot Keeler, an Ohio writer, is already well known to readers of the Atlantic. Mr. and Mrs. Follett, whose collaboration has such happy results, live in Providence, Rhode Island. Mr. Follett is a member of the faculty of Brown University; his wife is a lecturer. It is interesting to learn that Mr. Follett recently won the substantial prize offered by Doubleday, Page and Company for the best essay on the author of ‘ Casuals of the Sea.’ At the request of the editor of this magazine, Edward Garnett uses his transatlantic perspective to good purpose in appraising some of our younger American poets. Mr. Garnett is the son of the late Sir Richard Garnett, the distinguished director of the British Museum. The list of Margaret Prescott Montague’s contributions to the Atlantic is a long and delightful one. Though she makes no mention of the fact, we feel it is no indiscretion to say that the ‘ Big Draft ’ is in West Virginia, where Miss Montague makes her home a large part of each year. Mrs. Schuyler Van Rensselaer, poet and historian of New York, has long been contributing to the leading American periodicals. A. Edward Newton is a Philadelphia manufacturer of tools and candy whose single-minded passion is the collection of books, —notably Johnsoniana.

Few modern-day books by foreign authors have been so warmly acclaimed in this country as ' The Simple Life,’by Pastor Charles Wagner. In the present article on Alsace, where he lived from 1852 to 1877, he never loses, in the face of unparalleled provocation, that fair-mindedness and tolerance which have been so conspicuous in his earlier utterances, and which led the Atlantic to invite this appraisal of German influence. A host of readers have been concerned over the fate of James Norman Hall, who, just as the August Atlantic was going to press, was brought down, dangerously wounded, after a Homeric encounter with seven enemy aeroplanes. They will be delighted to know that he is now out of danger at the famous American Ambulance hospital at Neuilly, near Paris, whence he sends the following letter, unintended for publication, but full of promise as regards future contributions.

‘ The glorious Fourth finds me in hospital. . . . My experience as an aviator at the front, brief as it has been, has not been without a certain element of excitement. On my very first sortie over the lines, I met a Boche two-passenger machine. I don’t believe that either the pilote or his machine-gunner saw me. At any rate they did not fire, and I dived down at them, taking such careful aim that I did not take into consideration the relative speed of the two machines. The result was, that just as I was ready to pull the trigger of my machine-gun, I was so close that I had literally to stand my machine on its tail to prevent it from crashing into the other. I lost my speed, went into a spinning nose-dive, and when I came out of it 1500 feet below, the German had disappeared.

‘ Two or three days later a dozen of us went out on a patrol. I got lost from the others and ran into a nest of seven Germans. They were about 5 kilometres back of their own lines, the daredevils! Well, they pounced on me and I got a bullet through the shoulder, which so badly numbed my left side that I lost control of my machine and fell from 13,000 feet to less than 1000 before I brought it out. Then I lost consciousness, and have n’t the faintest remembrance of getting down to earth. I got. down, of course, and by some more than miracle, was not injured in landing beyond a few rather painful bruises. When I regained consciousness I was on a stretcher and being carried along a trench. Never have I so rejoiced at the sight of the blue poilu uniform! I have since learned that I fell just barely within the French first-line trenches and not 300 metres away from the Boche lines. Luck was with me that day, after my encounter. Spent a week in an evacuation hospital and have now been transferred to the American Ambulance hospital at Neuilly.

ll ’m going to finish the articles just as soon as 1 am a little better!’

It is pleasant to add that the Atlantic also has news that both the Croix de Guerre with palm and the Médailie Militaire have been awarded to Hall for bravery in the presence of the enemy.

Herbert Sidebotham is an English military critic of recognized standing, an editor of the Manchester Guardian’s ‘ History of the War.’ Jean Giraudoux, a many-faceted young Frenchman, is a member of the military mission sent by France to induct the Harvard Reserve Officers’ Training Corps into the mysteries of modern warfare. He has a rich experience on which to draw, having passed through the crisis of the Marne and the campaign at Gallipoli, where he was thrice wounded. Before the war he was in the French diplomatic service, and, as an exponent of the school of young modernist writers, he has several volumes of fiction to his credit. His book, ‘ Campaigns and Intervals,’ will be published in English early this fall.

We are sorry that the Atlantic could not find space in an earlier issue for this significant letter from Professor Boas, of Columbia University, anent Mr. Olds’s ‘ The Disloyalty of the German-American Press.’

To THE EDITOR OF THE ATLANTIC MONTHLY DEAR SIR: —

In your July issue you print and endorse an article by Mr. Frank Perry Olds on ‘The Disloyalty of the German-American Press,’ which fails so manifestly in its attempted interpretation, that it should not go without answer on the part of a German-American.

I wish to preface my remarks by the statement that I consider political parties or groups consisting of citizens of the same national extraction as inadmissible. For this reason I have, on the one hand, always rigorously refrained from affiliating with any German-American association that professes political aims. On the other hand, however, I do not acknowledge that there is any problem in our public life in regard to which I have not the same right as any other American citizen to express my views and to make propaganda for them to the best of my ability.

Mr. Olds criticizes the German-American Press because, as he claims, it hides its true point of view under a pretended patriotism. I think it would be fairer to say that its attitude is an expression of the wish that the war may be over before we get seriously into it, — a wish that is shared by many of our citizens, and not by those of German extraction only.

From my own point of view, the GermanAmerican Press, and not by any means that part of our press alone, should be criticized for lack of courage, which is easy enough to understand, but nevertheless not commendable. It is the same lack of sincere conviction that prompted a certain Congressman of unimpeachable American descent, who is opposed to war, to vote for it because so many of his constituents were GermanAmericans, and he did not want it to appear that they were disloyal..

It seems to my mind that the concept of American democracy represented in Mr. Olds’s views, and endorsed by you, has sadly narrowed down from the views that we shared at a former and happier time.

Let us make it clear to ourselves where our duties and where our rights lie. However it may have been brought about, Congress has voted for war. As long as that decision stands, we are obligated to abide by it and to do what the law demands. Tt is orr right, however, to express our views, and to try to convince our fellow-citizens that our views are right. If, therefore, we believe that our entry into the war was politically a mistake and morally indefensible, there is nothing that should prevent our saying so. If our views are wrong, they will not stand criticism. If they are right, the more speedily our present opponents shall be convinced,the better for our country. If such discussion brings comfort to the enemy of the nation, — not my enemy, for I cannot be enemy to any nation, — it is a comfort that we cannot deny him, any more than we can deny him the comfort derived from accidents that may befall us, from the unavoidable suffering that war has brought us, or from the discontent with the restriction of personal freedom that is incident to the war. We certainly cannot afford to regulate the conduct of our internal affairs by the question of what impression our legitimate discussions may make outside of the United states. It was only yesterday that our Press became violently excited over the autocratic procedure of the German Government, that would not allow the free expression of opinion of certain members of the Social Democratic party; and what seemed to us suppression of free discussion there, is no less so when it happens in our midst.

We should never forget that if the majority — or the minority that is clever enough to get a sufficient number of votes on their side — so wills, what is loyalty to-day’ will be treason to-morrow; that if we punish to-day those who refuse to obey conscription, the tables may be turned by a new election, and we may punish, as we used to do, those who try to compel enlistment against the free will of the individual.

It is an assumption altogether too common, that because a law has been enacted, the merits of the arguments for and against the law have been decided. We forget too often that no majority vote can ever determine what is right or wrong, what is truth or error; that it can only order a certain line of action, which, however, may be reversed at any time.

What I should expect of the German-American Press is the same consistency that is evidenced by the Socialist Press in its uncompromising opposition to war. If before the declaration of war they held certain views, the declaration of war does not make those opinions less righteous; and they, together with other papers, like the ‘New York American,’ should be expected to have the courage to express with the same firmness as formerly, their views and the reasons that sustain them.

A weakly yielding to so-called patriotism, and the fear that the position of the German-Americans whom they want to serve may be made more difficult by free utterance, are evidently the motives that determine their line of action.

It is one of the characteristic features of German education that it makes the individual ready to render that willing obedience to law that is the basis of freedom. German-Americans, including the press that serves them, have throughout reflected this attitude. My reproach is, that in the present situation they go so far in this direction as to sacrifice loyalty to their convictions to what they believe to be their duty to the law of the country, and thus make a compromise that I consider unjustifiable under any conditions and considerations. I wish they would courageously follow the line of conduct that John Morley has set forth so admirably in his treatise’ On Compromise.’

FRANZ BOAS.

Bolton Landing on Lake George, N.Y.

July 9th, 1917.

To an American mind this letter seems to answer itself.

Though the reports of military activity on the Salonika front continue dull, Lewis R. Freeman’s reportorial flair still leads him into strange corners of the earth. His latest letter tells of a remarkable adventure:

’I have neglected to mention that I found time and opportunity to make a five-day visit to Mount Athos from Salonika. It turned out one of the most remarkable experiences I have ever had, as, being the first American there since we entered the war, the Parliament of the Monasteries made my visit practically an official one, and I had a triumphal procession all over the peninsula. I had to address the Parliament — through two interpreters — and one monastery received me with an American flag, the red stripes of which were colored with raspberry juice and the stars of which were young starfish.’

The Atlantic’s ‘ peaceful penetration ’ still continues! From a subscriber on the Pacific coast comes the following sprightly anecdote:

T was whiling away an hour in the Los Angeles library, seated across the table from a woman whom I can best describe by saying that she had a windmill embroidered on the front of her hat. Presently we talked — she had just come from the “East" and was dreadfully lonely; she was finding the Californians crude—oh, crude! “Forceful, of course,” she added graciously, remembering her manners. We turned to the war and she told of a story she had just read; it was “Four Days,” and I claimed acquaintance with it. “ You are not a Californian! ” she told me triumphantly. I assured her that I was — very much a Californian. She stared uncomprehendingly. “And you read the Atlanticf ” ’

We hope that this prophetic utterance, sent by a kind friend of the Atlantic, will prove as fresh and striking to most of our readers as it was to us:

The Editor of the Atlantic: The following quotation from Mrs. Browning, written over fifty years ago, is of interest in the light of present-day developments.

’I confess that E dream of a day when an English statesman shall arise with a heart too large for England, having courage in the face of his countrymen, to assert of some suggestive policy,—“This is good for your trade: this is necessary for your domination; but il will vex a people hard by; it will hurt a people farther off; it will profit nothing to the general humanity; therefore, away with it! It is not for you or me.” When a British minister dares to speak so, and when a British public applauds him speaking, then shall the nation be so glorious, that her praise instead of exploding from within, from loud civic mouths, shall come to her from without, as all worthy praise must, from the alliances she has fostered and from the populations she has saved.’

A friend of the Atlantic sends the following vivid letter from M. Mirman, Prefect of the Meurthe-et-Moselle, which gives a clear-cut picture of life in beleaguered Nancy:

Nancy, 7th May, 1917.
Meurthe and Moselle
Office of the Prefect
DEAR MRS.— You tell me that two of your nieces are in Paris. If they ever want to take a trip in Lorraine. . . . There goes the tocsin. Noon. The day is fine. The tocsin announces that enemy aeroplanes are approaching the city. Prudent people enter their houses, and those that live on the top floor come down to the ground-floor. Some, being curious, poke their heads out of window, and they often get hit by éclats from the bombs. Pan! Pan! Our guns bark at the evil birds. That is a concert we are accustomed to; even at night we don’t always wake up. . . . Ah, that’s a bomb: an aeroplane has got past the defenses and . . . there’s another, nearer. I don’t like bombs at this noon hour for it is . . . boom! . . . the time of day when there are a great many people in the streets. It’s getting bad. I’m going to see.

4 p.m. We got off easily this time. The bombs this morning did some damage but killed nobody, that’s the main thing. Night, before last we had five people killed.

These sensations, the proximity of danger, the expectation that Death, like an evil visitor, may walk in on one at any time, have a morbidly weakening effect on some temperaments, but stout hearts become well hardened. Happily my six children are of the latter; big and little, they are still smiling.

We hai! without surprise but with a great joy the decision of the United States. The day had to come when the Germans, with intolerable wickedness, would force your noble nation to draw the sword. Messieurs les Boches jeer today— fortunately they are as silly as they are strong; they have the psychology of big brutes — they flatter themselves that the intervention of the United States will produce only a moral effect; I know that they will soon feel the material weight of it. But let us cherish no illusions: we still have hard tests to undergo and a long effort to make. The stakes in this formidable struggle are greater than all the sacrifices, personal and national, by which it will be won.

With best wishes, believe me,
Very sincerely yours,
(Signed) L. MIRMAN.

We admit that the editor of a column of whimsies in one of our great daily contemporaries has caught some one napping. At any rate, he seems to have the best of the argument in the gastronomic point involved:

'“In the realm of the Khai-Muk in China, according to a native account,” says Bertrand Russell in the July Atlantic, “ it was customary to kill and devour the oldest son alive.”

' And they have to eat fast, as the victim dies soon after being killed,'