General von Bernhardi, chief of the German staff, wrote in 1912: "We must endeavor to acquire new territories by all means in our power, because we must preserve to Germany the millions of Germans who will be born in the future and we must provide for them food and employment. They ought to be enabled to live under a German sky and lead a German life." Although the German folk are as honest as any, the jingoes familiarized them with the projects of seizing land from weaker neighbors. Klaus Wagner, in 1906, argued: "The great nation needs new territory. Therefore it must spread out over a foreign soil, and must displace strangers with the power of the sword." In 1911 Frymann voiced the idea: "But if we consider seriously the peculiar position of the German people squeezed into the middle of Europe and running the risk of being suffocated for want of air, it must be agreed that we might be compelled to demand from a vanquished enemy, either in the East or in the West, that he should hand over unpopulated territory." Only three years before the World War, in his book, "Germany and the Next War," von Bernhardi contended: "Strong, healthy, and flourishing nations increase in numbers. From a given moment they require a continual expansion of their frontiers. They require new territory for the accommodation of their surplus population. Since almost every part of the globe is inhabited, new territory must, as a rule, be obtained at the cost of its possessors-that is to say, by conquest, which thus becomes a law of necessity." Germans who gagged at these brigand proposals were called "sickly," "oldwomanish," "sentimentalists." Respect for the rights of weaker neighbors was denounced as "cosmopolitanism." Moderation was rated "a miserable Philistinism." Scruples against removing the neighbor's landmark were sneered at as "middle-class morality." The trick of capitalizing population pressure for war-breeding policies succeeded brilliantly. In 1912 the Social Democrat Haase admitted in the Reichstag: "A considerable number even of our artisans, our small tradesmen, our officials of our middle class, in shorthave been infected with this imperialistic mania." In his book, "Der deutsche Chauvinismus," Nippold said in 1913: "The evidence submitted in this book amounts to an irrefutable proof that a systematic stimulation of the war spirit is going on, based on the one hand on the Pan-German League, and on the other on the agitation of the Defense Association." At the boisterous banquets in 1913 in centennial commemoration of the War of Liberation this military note more and more drowned the notes of peace. "An intoxication appeared to have seized the whole of Germany.. This drunkenness was artificially produced by the fiery beverages which an unscrupulous and patriotic press had for many an hour and day poured out to the German nation.". ITALY'S NEW TONE REFLECTS POPULA TION PRESSURE Italy of the moment is a striking illustration of how population pressure provides the atmosphere in which jingoism and truculence thrive. The Italian masses breed blindly and there are 20,000 families with more than ten children each. In the five years before the war Italian emigration averaged 679,000 a year. Since then the war outlets have been so blocked that scarcely half as many emigrate. Every year now there are about half a million more trying to wrest a living from an Italy unprovided by nature with coal, iron, and other basic raw materials. Inevitably population pressure rises and therewith spreads a bellicose spirit despite the fact that the miseries of war are still alive in the memory of all. Mark the new menacing note in the utterances of Signor Mussolini in recent months. At Tripoli he said: "We shall eventually break the circle arrayed against us." To the crowd in Genoa: "We have given weapons to the nation in these four years. Above all, we have given the nation a military spirit, a warrior mind. . . ." "The struggle between nations becomes sharper every day despite certain hypocritical and weak pacifists. Every nation erects its barrier of selfish pur poses, and leaves no longer any scope to the lies of international brotherhood. We must, therefore, O Genoese! O Italians! set our teeth for this fight which is to-day only economic and moral. We must unite all our will, link up all our effort. We must fight day by day." Before the Italian Senate he said, referring to the accusation of imperialism: "Every living being who wants to preserve his existence has imperialistic tendencies and therefore the nations that want to live must develop a certain 'Willto-Power'; otherwise they vegetate and barely exist, and fall a prey to a stronger people who themselves have given a stronger development to their own will-topower. "It will be necessary that even this young Italy of ours make itself a little room in the world. I think it would be a proof of intelligence to give it to us when it is time and with good grace, because that is truly the way to preserve peace to have a just and lasting peace. ests. That peace, just and lasting, must be accompanied by the satisfaction of our most legitimate and most holy interYou cannot condemn a people to vegetate, especially when it is a people like the Italian people, which has a venerable history and a most noble civilization, which has rights that it vindicates highly." Here we recognize the same group of sinister inflammatory ideas which the German jingoes employed-"encirclement," worship of force, "will-to-power," need of room, "holy interests," etc. JAPAN'S RESTLESSNESS REFLECTS POPULATION PRESSURE After Italy, Japan is the country which now most alarms the friends of peace; and in Japan the causal connection between rising population pressure and jingoism is plain. Japan is small in area and less than a sixth of it is fit for cultivation. Last February the population passed the sixty million mark and the yearly excess of births above deaths is near threequarters of a million. Her cramped, landless people are conscious that they need more room. Armies and navies are the best way for her to get it or to make it impossible for others to keep her from getting it. In the prolificacy of the people and the closing of the doors to Japan's overflow by neighboring countries you have the secret of the popularity of the Japanese jingoists. POPULATION PRESSURE A CHERISHED ASSET OF THE WAR-MAKERS Militarists not only make capital of population pressure, but they cherish it as an asset. At Tripoli Signor Mussolini said: "Italy has always been a prolific nation and she intends to remain such." Before the war the French militarists said to the French: "Multiply or the Germans will get us." The German militarists cried to their people: "Multiply or the Russians will get us." French women and German women were incited to vie in producing as rapidly as possible sons whose final destination was to destroy one another upon the battle-field. There was, in fact, an international competition in populations as well as in armaments. When, on January 27, 1926, an official statement was given out that the Italian census showed a gain in population of three millions in four years, Mussolini's paper does not draw the conclusion that an attempt should be made to slow down the pace of this increase; it suggests that sooner or later a territorial resettlement is inevitable. The Tevere urges penal measures against the advocates of family limitation. The Tribuna stigmatizes family limitation as "merely hedonistic," and remarks: "The copious blossoming of Italian hearths is the most potent instrument of Italy's inevitable world-wide expansion." The Impero chuckles: "Just think what prodigious and invincible armies these children will form in ten years!" So population pressure is a trump-card for the war-makers. Hypocritically they deplore the population growth which obliges their nation to show its teeth, but the moment this growth slackens they stimulate cradle competition with the appeal: "We must breed more soldiers in order to be ready for the next war." If this be the last word in human wisdom, humanity is in for an endless succession of wars whose function it will be to blot out the human surpluses that the peoples insist on launching into the world. VOX CLAMANTIS IN DESERTO In June, 1919, the Malthusian League at its annual general meeting in London resolved: into the League of Nations shall pledge itself so to restrict its birth-rate that its people shall be able to live in comfort in their own dominions without need for territorial expansion, and that it shall recognize that increase of population shall not justify a demand either for increase of territory or for the compulsion of other nations to admit its emigrants; so that, when all nations in the League have shown their ability to live on their own resources without international rivalry, they will be in a position to fuse into an international federation, and territorial boundaries will then have little significance." " "The Malthusian League desires to point out that the proposed scheme for the League of Nations has neglected to take account of the important questions of the pressure of population, which causes the great international economic competition and rivalry, and of the increase of population, which is put forward as a justification for claiming increase of territory. It, therefore, wishes to put on record its belief that the League of Nations will only be able to fulfil its aim when it adds a clause to the following effect: ""That each nation desiring to enter der of ideas. Of course, the Peace Conference ignored proposals so eccentric to the reigning or A Modern Mountebank BY JOHN MULHOLLAND OST people think of a "mountebank" as a mediæval performer, clad in doublet and hose, roaming from fair to fair over the swarming European roads of the Middle Ages. They would be surprised to learn that there are as many mountebanks today as ever. Doublet and hose has been superseded by a stiff shirt and dinner-coat or by an evening gown-but the race of mountebanks is still flourishing. And the conditions under which the modern ones perform are essentially similar to those with which their medieval predecessors were familiar. A mountebank was an entertainer who performed by mounting a "bank," or bench; that is, he performed on a small impromptu stage, and was usually surrounded on all sides by his audience. His original haunt was the medieval village square, or the inn-yard, or a busy corner in the city. Often he was a quack doctor, a tooth-puller, or a seller of some miracu lous cure-all, and his entertainment was for the purpose of gathering the curious and the gullible. If he was a good entertainer he sometimes found it more profitable to pass the hat, and neglect the operation for which his entertainment was originally intended to be the prologue. Thus he became merely an entertainer, a sort of actor. And the term, mountebank, became applied to an entertainer who carried his act on his person, and who did not need any of the paraphernalia of the theatre. He may have been a singer of ballads, for which he accompanied himself on the lute or harp; he may have been a juggler, or a tumbler; or his act may have consisted of "grotesque dances and the swallowing of divers liquors of fire without hurt"which performance has a most modern sound, although it is described in a rare and curious old book of 1654 called "Hocus-Pocus Junior." Whatever his act, he had to be prepared to perform under all sorts of circumstances and in all sorts of places, and he had to learn to depend upon himself alone. And it is in this re spect that the modern mountebank most closely resembles his ancestor. The lord's castle has become the home of the money baron. The wayside inn has become a hotel of two thousand rooms. The village fair has become the social of the Epworth League. But the mountebank is still in constant demand. And now, as in the past, the magician is one of the most prominent members of the clan. For many years I have been a modern mountebank in the guise of an itinerant magician. I have performed on a stage and off a stage, indoors and out, in clubrooms, banquet-halls, and parlors, at dinners and at dances. If there is a profession extant that furnishes more entertainment for the entertainer, I cannot imagine what it can be. Queer experiences abound in my profession. And I think I have had my share of them. I cannot even remember all the unusual places at which I have given a "show." But there are some that I shall never forget. tricks. It was difficult to do tricks while talking with my hands, for every time anything was said my hands had actually to be empty. The audience was amused at my unwittingly making the same sign for both d and f. It was diddicult to believe I was not trying to use baby talk. A Chinese club offered an engagement on the condition that the performance be in Cantonese. I cut my talk down to the minimum and then wrote in English the few necessary sentences. I had an interpreter translate and write these sentences in phonetics. There was little difficulty in memorizing the one-syllable words for the tricks, but learning the words for the introduction proved impossible. Therefore the interpreter was asked to write a new introduction and to make it as brief as he could. The new one was easy, it was so short. The audience met the introduction with laughter and applause, and with all confidence I finished the performance. Later the president of the club, a graduate of an English university, congratulated me on my work and particularly on my typical American manner. When asked to explain, he gave the introduction as an example. It seems that I "had not said in the correct Chinese way how honored I was to appear before so august a body of gentlemen to offer my unworthy efforts. Neither did I mention the honor to my ancestors, nor how my descendants would always hold this day as the most momentous in the history of the family. No, instead, in my typical American way, I said: "Gentlemen, watch me. I am darned good." I had failed to inquire what the interpreter's short introduction meant. Once I was sent by a charitably inclined person to give an entertainment at a home for women ex-convicts. The warden's words of advice were a real help, and were greatly appreciated. "Be sure, he said, "to use nothing of value in your performance. Do no tricks with money or jewellery. These women are all adepts at that work themselves!" In an insane asylum I was told to give the performance as if the audience were normal. The inmates were a most appreciative audience and I gave no further thought to their being other than rational. At the conclusion the head attendant came and congratulated me on the bravery I had shown during the performance. This was my first thought of alarm, and in a panicky voice I asked: "What do you mean-bravery? I was told to act as if before a normal group." "Yes, yes, I know," replied the doctor, "but we didn't know then that you would do the trick where those heavy steel hoops were passed around for examination. We didn't realize you were going to hand them something they could brain you with." Many of my engagements have been as a speaker at dinners given by various organizations and societies. I do a little conjuring as an interlude between the "after-dinner speeches. Frequently at these dinners no mention is made of my being a magician, and some apparently serious and appropriate subject is assigned me. Talking on a subject of which one has no knowledge is about the same as talking in a language one does not understand. My tricks are to be brought casually into the talk. Of course to bankers a pseudo-serious speech can be easily made on international exchange, with coin tricks For a performance at an institute for the deaf it was necessary to learn their sign-language in order to explain the as illustrations. A talk can be given to an association of aniline-dye chemists while showing tricks with colored handkerchiefs. Even card tricks might be used to explain to a group of college psychologists some new theory about the workings of the mind. But what feasible excuse can be made to bring tricks into a talk before a lumber merchant's organization or before manufacturers of sanitary ice-boxes? To eliminate the chances of being caught in a situation where I could think of nothing to say, I worked out a stock speech which I was sure would fit every case. It was about quantity production which may be readily proved by magic. However, it had to be discarded at the very next dinner when I spoke before an association of directors of mothers' clubs. Frequently I have performed in private homes, and I have sometimes had a rare insight into the character and home life of the socially prominent. Millions have little to do with the manners of boys! During my entertainment at a children's party in the mansion of one of the several richest men in the world, a young guest's behavior reached the point of being annoying to every one. One of the little hosts quietly spoke to him. "Bill, you just have to behave or you won't get any ice-cream and cake." At another wealthy home I asked the son of an overnight millionaire to assist in the performance by holding a pack of cards. He put his hands behind him and indignantly asked: "Whatcha tink I yam, a servant?" Both types are met among the grown-ups, too. One hostess announced before her guests that I had been noticed coming in the front door, though all of her regular staff were made to use the servants' entrance. In private she asked if she need pay for overtime in case her guests asked for an encore. Of quite the contrary sort was the host who insisted that no man with so high-sounding a title as prestidigitator could be permitted to leave before he had joined the other guests at supper. We get to know these people as only the servants and the family doctor ever know them. Frequently I am requested to join a group and during or after dinner, or perhaps a dance, to entertain them. Often I am considered one of the guests, and have to keep secret the fact that I came as a paid entertainer. On one such occasion a guest asked the host my profession. The host gave either the first thing that came into his mind or else the work his guests would presumably know least about. He said I was government volcanologist at Hilo in Hawaii. It has since occurred to me that other jobs, satisfying the condition of being little known and yet easier to bluff, might have been chosen. There was no chance for reflection then, as I was too busy inventing details of my supposed work. However, bluffing is no novelty to us, for it is strange how far some hosts go in their attempt to keep secret that they have hired an entertainer. Often they do this in an endeavor to make everything informal. With others it is a pose of fellowship with people of widely varying interests. One host had me escort his daughter to the dance, for who would dream of her going with a showman! Another man introduced me as a college mate, though he was at least twenty years my senior. Recalling incidents in the daughter's childhood and remembering the ways in which the history class cut up in Professor Wight's room made my preparations for my acts very hurried. As in mediæval times, we must be constantly alert to seize the chance occurrences during our performances, and unfortunately chance is not always reliable. We have odd accidents. In one trick a large number of silk handkerchiefs were tightly rolled together and pushed down inside my waistcoat so as to be easily accessible for a later mysterious production. The handkerchiefs, having been produced, were being allowed to untwist when in amongst the colored silk I noticed a white linen handkerchief. Not needing this linen one, I started to pull it away from the rest, but not all of it was clear of my waistcoat. Nor could I pull it away, for it was part of my dressshirt-the part only Chinese wear outside. My most uncomfortable accident happened during a performance given in the community house of a suburban town. I was asked to do the trick of making myself vanish and reappear at the back of the auditorium. The correct method could not be used, as I had none of the |