to receive no definite reply. The Government was embarrassed. The proposition was contrary to French ideas. It is all very well to have a Maison de Balzac and a Victor Hugo Museum in Paris. But these were posthumous creations. It is repugnant to the French that a living artist, no matter how distinguished, should definitely place himself in a permanent position in history-that is, in the position of one authorized by the Government as a great master because the Government had accepted such a proposition as that outlined above.

But now the Government has accepted. The Rodin deed of gift means, first of all, just as critics contended, an unprecedented personal success. As emphasizing the man's character, some of M. Rodin's friends have suggested that these words of his should be engraved in stone over the entrance of the

new museum:

The artist should be a man of science and patience. He should leave nothing to hazard. Everything that he does should be the product

of his will.

One must know how to endure ignorance, bad faith, envy.

Until the age of fifty I suffered all the tortures of poverty; I have always lived as a laborer, but the mere pleasure of work has made me endure everything. It would be odious for me not to labor. Repose is monotonous.

When one seeks to please that monster with a million heads which is called the Public, one loses his personality and his independence. In limiting one's needs one can work, however, as one wishes, and one remains in the full liberty of his own thoughts.

In the second place, Paris will now have a museum possessing the advantage of showing a sculptor's masterpieces as placed by their creator, with a particular setting and lighting to produce the desired effect. Of course such a museum is something to be desired, no matter whose works are shown. In this case they are; first of all, achievements finally ready for the gaze of the public, others only half done, others just begun. In addition, there are sketches, drawings, and aquarelles. But this is not all. M. Rodin is not only an artist, he is also a collector, and his collection of ancient Egyptian and Greek statuary is remarkable. He has also some interesting tapestries, engravings, and modern paintings.

In the third place, the atmosphere of Old Paris is perpetuated in the face of the ever

new.

For the Hôtel Biron was formerly the

residence of the Duc de Biron, who died there in 1778, leaving it to his nephew. Afterwards it became the home of the Papal Nunciature, then of the Russian Embassy, and then of the famous Dames de Sacré Cœur. In 1906, when Church and State were separated in France, the Dames abandoned the place.

PROTECTING THE TOURIST IN

THE NATIONAL PARKS

A correspondent, Mr. Moses Lyman, of Rochester, New York, has asked us to publish a letter from him protesting against "the regulations which now forbid tourists in our National parks, particularly the Yellowstone, from carrying firearms for self-protection." Space forbids the publication in full of Mr. Lyman's interesting letter, but we have been at pains to look into the regulations to which he refers.

Mr. Lyman says: "Last summer and before, robbers in Yellowstone Park held up the stages and, with perfect safety to themselves, relieved the passengers of all money and valuables. It is an outrage

that the United States Government neither provides a cavalry escort to guard each group of stages while making the trip through the park nor permits the passengers to arm themselves with revolvers for self-protection."

We have received an informative statement from the Secretary of the Interior in regard to our correspondent's charges. There are fourteen National parks under the Department of the Interior, and "no hold-ups have occurred in any of these parks since their creation, except the Yellowstone," says the Secretary. "There have been several hold-ups in Yellowstone Park, the last of which occurred in July, 1915." Then, as usual, the caravan of coaches was accompanied by a guard detailed for the purpose. "But in this case," says the Secretary, "the train of vehicles was very long and the attempt at robbery was made in between the points where the guards were stationed." The Secretary adds that robberies are much more frequent in other parts of the United States protected by police, such as railway trains and cities, than in the National parks.

It is true that, for the protection of game, the carrying of firearms in the parks is prohibited; but the regulations "provide that firearms will be permitted in a park upon the written permission of the supervisor in charge thereof."

We agree with the Secretary of the Interior

that the indiscriminate carrying of firearms by tourists would hardly "prevent such robberies or act as a deterrent." The proper resort for tourists is to protest to the park supervisor and ask for a larger guard if they believe that they are insufficiently protected in their sightseeing journeys. And the Government, without being asked, should see that the tourists are efficiently guarded.

MEXICO-A PROGRAMME

When this issue of The Outlook reaches its readers, there may be a war between the United States and Mexico. There is no good reason why there should be war.

Americans have no wish for Mexican territory, no ambition to govern the Mexican people, no zeal to impose American civilization upon them, no wish to solve their problems. We have no quarrel with the Mexican Government, for there is not, and for three years has not been, any Mexican Government with which to quarrel. We have no quarrel with the Mexican people, the great body of whom are peaceable, law-abiding, and measurably industrious. Our one wish is to be their friends.

For three years Mexico has been governed by mobs. They have robbed and killed more Mexicans than Americans. Americans have saved their lives by flight; Mexicans cannot save their lives by flight. The perils and the wrongs to Mexicans have been greater than to Americans.

To call the biggest of these mobs a de facto Government is preposterous. Mr. Lansing in his note rightly says: "The first duty of any government is the protection of life and property. This is the paramount obligation for which governments are instituted; and governments neglecting or failing to perform it are not worthy of the name. At no time has the Carranza so-called Government performed this duty; at no time has it been a de facto government. It has only been the larger, more powerful, and better organized of the mobs which have devastated the country. That this is the case Mr. Lansing's note makes very clear; it is outlined on another page and from it we quote as follows:

For three years the Mexican Republic has been torn with civil strife; the lives of Americans and other aliens have been sacrificed; vast properties developed by American capital and enterprise have been destroyed or rendered

non-productive; bandits have been permitted to roam at will through the territory contiguous to the United States, and to seize, without punishment or without effective attempt at punishment, the property of Americans, while the lives of citizens of the United States who ventured to remain in Mexican territory or to return there to protect their interests have been taken, in some cases barbarously taken, and the murderers have neither been apprehended nor brought to justice.

To declare in the same paper that a politico'military organization which fails to protect life and property is not worthy to be called a government, and that the politico-military organization which has been either unwilling or unable to furnish protection to life and property is a de facto government, as Mr. Lansing's note does, constitutes a curious contradiction in terms.

This curious confusion of mind has vitiated all our dealings with Mexico. We have dignified anarchy by entitling it revolution. The population of Mexico is estimated at fifteen millions; the armed banditti who have becn plundering those people are roughly estimated at two hundred thousand. We have affirmed their right to ravage their peaceful fellow-citizens by comparing their acts with those of an ordered revolution aimed to secure the liberty and happiness of the people. We have sent our fleet to Vera Cruz to compel a salute to the flag, and when the salute was refused we have sailed away again. We have alternately put an embargo on the munitions of war and lifted it, and now have announced that we have put it on once more. Affirming that the first duty of a government is the protection of life and property, we have refused to protect the life and property of Americans pursuing lawful and peaceful vocations in Mexico. If a raiding party from Canada had shot up a New England town, we should not have sent a punitive expedition into Canada in pursuit of them; we should have called on the Canadian Government to

pursue them. If a raiding party from a wild

'Indian tribe on one of our reservations had shot up a Western town, we should not have called upon the chief of the tribe to arrest the marauders; we should have pursued and arrested them ourselves. In Mexico we have at the same moment pursued the Mexican marauders and called on Carranza to pursue them. We have treated Mexico as a civilized country and as a barbaric tribe, Carranza as the ruler of a nation and as the chieftain of a tribe. No wonder that the Mexicans did

not understand us; we have not understood ourselves.

Our first duty is to understand ourselves, to know the facts, and to fulfill without faltering and without passion the duty laid upon us by those facts. Mr. Lansing's note would be admirable if it were addressed to a re

sponsible government. Addressed to an irresponsible mob, its only use is to put before the American people officially and authoritatively facts which the press for the last three years has been, with only moderate success, endeavoring to put before the American people, and which our Government, without any success at all, has been endeavoring to hide from them. We are not dealing with a Mexican government; we are dealing with Mexican mobs. Our first duty is to recognize that fact and adopt our policy accordingly. That policy should be to protect from these mobs, first, American citizens; and, secondly, Mexican citizens.

Our punitive expedition has accomplishedall that it can accomplish. It has hunted one of the bandits to his lair. Whether he is in his grave or whether he is in hiding in the mountain fastnesses is not known and is not material. The long, thin line of American troops reaching far into the interior of Mexico can do nothing except exasperate peaceable Mexicans. Why should they not believe, what they are told, that this is a body of American banditti added to the Mexican bands which have already plundered, robbed, and murdered? The first step in a peaceful policy would be to withdraw this line, and gather our soldiers along the border, so placed as to protect it from future raids. Where these troops should be placed, how far on the Mexican side, how far on the American side of the border, is a purely military question, to be determined by the military authorities on the ground.

Military authorities say that it will take from two weeks to two months to gather a force adequate to the fulfillment of our next duty.

Unless the unexpected should happen and Carranza should do what he has never succeeded yet in doing-establish a competent government and maintain order-that next duty would be to occupy gradually strategic centers in Mexico and make them centers of protection, healing, and life-giving. A Mexican constabulary can be and should be organized in connection with any such To this constabulary, acting under American direction and paid by American

center.

gold, should be intrusted the preservation of order in the surrounding district. From these centers should be sent out such expeditions as may be necessary to arrest and punish armed bands of marauders. These military posts should also be Red Cross centers. The impoverished Mexicans are dying like flies-men, women, and children-of disease and of starvation. From these centers should be sent out food and medicines. They should become educational centers. It will take a little time to convince the Mexican people that we are their friends, and the enemies only of their enemiesthe mob. This can be done only by deeds of friendship. Notes and proclamations are useless in dealing with a people eighty per cent of whom cannot read. As these centers are occupied by friendly troops, as the well-paid and well-organized and welldirected Mexican constabulary acquire police efficiency and extend their police jurisdiction, as the starving are fed, the sick are cared for, justice is administered, industry is protected, crops are sown and gathered, prejudices will disappear, friendship will ripen. The process will be slow, yet more rapid, perhaps, than we think. In less than a week after our occupation of Vera Cruz sniping ceased, and presently anti-American prejudice had begun to disappear and American protection and American purses to be welcomed by the population.

Guer

Such a campaign of friendship would have. been attended with little danger and no great difficulty three years ago. It will be attended with greater difficulties and greater danger now. A battle with one or more organized forces may be a necessary incident. rilla warfare will continue for a time. AntiAmerican prejudice will yield only gradually. The more ignorant and unreasonable a prejudice, the more difficult it is to overcome. But it can be overcome by a campaign of healing to the sick, food to the starving, protection to the plundered, and prosperity to the devastated.

Americans desire no conquest of Mexico. But Mexico surely needs a protectorate from America. She needs done for her what, by different methods but in substantially the same spirit, we are doing for Cuba, Porto Rico, and the Philippines. Rico, and the Philippines. She needs the maintenance of a stable and just government while her people are acquiring the ability for self-government. She needs no conqueror; but she needs a Big Brother,

who will help her to substitute the government of law for the rule of the mob.

This is the campaign we undertaken three years ago. late to mend.

ought to have It is never too

DEMOCRACY IN DREAMLAND

In its four years' journey from Baltimore in 1912 to St. Louis in 1916 the Democratic party has been transformed. The Convention at Baltimore was a subtle game played by men acquainted with the sordid side of politics. The Convention at St. Louis was a revival meeting, swayed by genuine human feeling. At Baltimore the atmosphere was of the earth, earthy. At St. Louis the atmosphere was the rarefied air of the mountaintop.

Idealism dominated the St. Louis platform. The record of the Democratic Administration was idealized, and as the delegates surveyed the list of promised measures of social justice they regarded it not merely as a pledge of future performance, but as an ideal for present enjoyment.

As great as the revolution has been in the Republican party, it is matched by the revolution in the Democratic party. Though such party managers as Mr. Taggart, of Indiana, Mr. Sullivan, of Illinois, and Mr. Murphy, of New York, are more powerful in their own bailiwicks than ever, more secure than before in their hold upon the loyalty of their organizations, they have adapted themselves to the new order. They, too, have, in a measure, yielded to the spirit of progress that has affected their followers.

These delegates, however, were too, hardheaded to allow their idealism to lift them off the earth as long as they discussed domestic affairs with which they were acquainted; but when they approached foreign affairs, which were outside their world of experience, they were swept into a veritable land of dreams. And it was here that their enthusiasm was raised to the highest pitch. They saw visions of a beautiful, isolated America, unstained by the grime of international conflicts. And there was nothing to mar the enjoyment of this vision. There was no contest within the Convention to engage their thought. Like the assembling of a clan on the eve of battle, the Convention therefore turned itself into a ceremonial meeting to prepare itself for the Presidential contest yet to come. The tribal

chiefs roused each other and their warriors to high spirits by rehearsing the action of the coming contest and by picturing graphically the issue of the campaign. They painted in words, on a banner of oratory, their vision of America aloof, labeled it "neutrality," and held it up as their party's standard.

In the background of that vision was a world mad with bloodshed; in the foreground a land sane, peaceful, and plenteous. Europe had sent her sons into an unreasoning, murderous contest, while America had kept her sons free for productive labor and for the enjoyment of hearth and home. Mexico was torn and bleeding, while America was whole and serene. Even history was evoked to testify that the impulses which stir the hearts of men to struggle elsewhere in the world have no place in the hearts of the people of America. War as pictured here was only the sport of blood-bespattered monarchs. With men in a life-and-death struggle the America of this dream had nothing to do. From the point of view of those who dwelt in this dreamland at St. Louis the European war was as unmoral as a dog fight; the only way to restore peace was to wait till the contestants were exhausted, and then somehow to separate them and bid them come to their senses; the only service America could perform was to give to a mad world an example of the rewards of neutrality.

So orator after orator added his touch to this verbal picture: On the east an inferno, to the south an inferno, and separated from both infernos by a gulf of Democratic neutrality a landscape of quiet pastures and pleasant hillsides and fertile valleys dotted with school-houses from which troop happy children, factories welcoming prosperous workingmen, and the many homes of a contented people.

In that dreamland of the Democratic Convention there was no place for the bodies of American women and children drowned by the deliberate act of a German submarine; no place for those American women outraged by bandits in Mexico and left defenseless by their country; no place for the American homes on the border which have been menaced by armed raiders; no place for National duty to defend the rights of American citizens. on land and sea; no place for the obligation of a great Nation to resist with all its strength those who would destroy the fabric of the public law of nations on which civilization rests; no place for those who are ready to

die that liberty and democracy may survive; no place for the liberty-loving French, who are not afraid to enter the inferno in order to beat back the flaming tide of military autocracy; no place for the brave Belgians fighting hopelessly for their homes against overwhelming odds; no place even for memories of liberty-loving Americans in the past who, for the sake of defending their freedom, had braved the perils of war and by their bodies had withstood the force of tyranny and oppression.

In that dreamland at St. Louis there was no evil but war, no good but peace. It was a dreamland in which men rejoiced that men had been saved even from the threat of hostilities, without regard to the fact that the price had been paid in the blood of women. and children. It was a dreamland devoid of the conscious knowledge of right and wrong.

It is impossible to believe that the American people are living in this land of dreams, this world of unreality. It is impossible to believe that the American people will accept this vision of-mere comfort, plenty, and tranquil self-content as the supreme National good. It is impossible to believe that the American people will hold that the only alternative to war is the evasion of National duty, the avoidance of those burdens which only strong peoples can bear.

In the dreamland of the Democratic Convention there was no way to escape war except by ignoring the moral issues in the present world crisis, by ignoring the wrongs suffered by Americans in Mexico and on the high seas, by ignoring the claims of other neutral nations upon the strength of the richest and strongest neutral Nation, by ignoring alike the perils of the future, the demands of the present, and the most highly prized traditions of the past. In the world of reality, to ignore these things is the surest invitation to ultimate war and possible dis

aster.

America wants peace, but she wants justice more. America does not want war-least of all, war upon a half-starved, bandit-ridden people like the Mexicans. But the issue now is not between peace and war. It is an issue between ease and self-respect.

The Democratic party offers to the country the vision of a self-satisfied, selfish Nation in a world of dreams. What the country wants is a vision of the Nation strong and sternly determined to bear its burdens and do its duty in a world of reality.

A TRUE AMBASSADOR

While Europe is setting before the world a group of fighting men, the figure of a great maker of peace comes to us from Japan. Bishop Harris has not been talking peace among the Orientals for forty-five years, he has been breathing and living it; he is a contemporary illustration of the power of love. Many people understand love as a sentiment; few people have ever worked it out as a principle with more striking results than this Methodist missionary bishop who has now retired after a lifetime of unselfish service. When he went to Japan forty-five years ago, the Island Empire was just emerging from the isolation of its long feudal period. Shortly after his arrival a young Samurai, after ceremonial purification and meditation, killed a foreigner as a sacrificial offering in defense of his country. The other day when Bishop Harris left Japan a large company of the most distinguished Japanese of to-day united in a testimonial dinner to him!

When he went to Japan, a friend of the young missionary sent him a revolver in view of the disquietude then prevailing in the section where he was staying, but the preacher threw it into the sea; he had no need of that kind of protection. He went to the American Consul, reported that he had taken up his residence, and said that he and Mrs. Harris had come to devote themselves to the teaching of Christianity. After some conversation the Consul said, half humorously and half seriously: "I suppose, Mr. Harris, you will soon be calling for a gunboat!" to which the young missionary replied that he should under no circumstances ask for that kind of protection; that he had come to serve the Japanese, and that he and his wife would accept whatever that service involved.

To the Japanese on the Pacific coast of America, in Hawaii, in Korea, in all parts of the Japanese Empire, his name is a synonym for peace and good will. The traveler in the East who goes with a desire to understand the people whom he visits, and not simply to confirm the impressions he has already formed of them, speedily finds that from no class of men and women can he get such trustworthy information of the character of the different races as from the missionaries, and if he keeps his mind open he eventually makes the great discovery that they alone understand a people who work with and for them.

The