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Why Germany Cannot Crush the Balkans
By Gabriele D’Annunzio
The Noted Italian Poet and Philogopher
: 8 we look on the spectacie the earth pre
A sents today we oan wall balieve that
the principle of pationality has lost ail
s virtue and that the present time is an epoch
of all-conquering imperialiams; imperialism of
. monarchies. imperialiam of democracies, in
their turn thirsting for dominion; maritime im
perialisms and continental imperialisms running
over on distani seas and different lands.
. We are beholding the formidable growth at
| & race that suffocates withia ita frontiers and
| who mistakes its peversatisfied desires for ™
rpights to create new outiets for itsell, to cut off
| for itself the best part of the world and the
But the marvellons reaction of Belgium
against atroclous violation is & luminous proof
that national instinet never had more vigor and
_ wirllity than mow. If the nineteenth century
: mmmmnduu-ulluu.numuo
~ present one will see the great war of unification
. and liberation carried on against the menace
_ of the two great hungry monsters monsters of
uncertain shape and unlimited dimensions,
| those great greedy monsters, pan Germanisin
~ and pan Slaviem. No power can hope to quiet
_ this {rresistible ferment It is the sign'of our
E Europe, Still Young,
- Seeks a Higher Future.
* e have not forgbtten the haughty words ot
Okuma: “Europe s decrepit. We shall take
up ber heritage.” But Burope is not decrepit
: fiouvertwnovmmhorhmm
ot youth—it is only the start caused by the
~ apparition of a life higher and nobler.
Burope, what of the night?—
Ask of heaven, and the sea,
And my babes on the bosom of me,
: Nations of mine, but ungrowne
& There is one who shall surely requite
All that endure or that err . . . «
; Who is this one?
~ Italy, facing the problem of the Adriatie, we
~ pave said in a previons article, not only con
- mmmothormwmwu
~ istence, but also the arduous and complex ques
~ tion of natiopal claims that are fermenting in
~ the Balkan peninsula and in Austria-Hungary.
_ Italy alone, in this great hour, holds in her
Awlfluelmnymmownm
~ shining door of the future to the regenerated
~ Slav nations now under foreign rule and let
~ them be reconciled and federated. From the
~ jong, bare, white wall that plunges into the
Dalmatian Sea from the glant helghts of
;Wmfmm‘m;;mudbfin.
~ from the high plains of Moesia, from the glacial
" Rhodope, from the valleys of the Save and of
'Everybody Has as Much Courage as He Thinks e Has--and No More |
¥ -
; By Edgar Beecher Bronson,
_ Explorer, Ranohman, Hunter and Author of
;;; “The Vanguard,” etc.
E OURAGE! The red badge of courage!
E C No man ever wore it, no matter how
k. deservedly, who has not often enough
- experienced the heart grip of fear.
i Such, at any rate, is the general conviction
£ of all the many men I have known who have
. been notably long chance takers on their lives,
,’ even, apparently, greedy of opportunity to stake
~ them, no matter how obviously heavy the odds
| against them. And it was precisely from my
own personal experiences and observations in
* this line that 1 was led to emphasize in my
© latest novel, “The Vanguard,” the insistence of
. Corporal Stocking, the professional bad man
~ killer, that he had never been dangerous to
~ others until he had himselt become badly
~ scared. As he put it:
% “while I hope and believe 1 never funked
" going against any odds encountered in my line
§ of duty, I know I always dodged trouble as long
~ as I could with decency and safety, and never
~ myself became dangerous to another until I
. mpyself had become badly scared.”
=3.' Which is about the last word needful on the
_ subject, when coming, as it does, in simple
Z;? candor from a man who for a half century was
mded by all who knew him as the coolest
htflor of his time with the desperate law
" breakers who contributed many of its reddest
| pages to the history of the winning of the Far
;Wm from savagery and outlawry.
~ Courage is essentially constructive,
© 1t is born of and is cumulative with experi
. The utterly fearless man is a myth of the
‘ be sure, there be those, plenty of them,
experience—training—in the various
types of what the world regards as dangers
~ or perils have become so broad and they have
~ pecome so accustomed to ' danger that they
ne to be regarded as inaccessible to fear.
~ But no single man I have ®ver known who
{‘, t be more or less justly so regarded, would
~ fail yw such types are usually candid
e ff&:““%fifififi ?"r ”? MLk .
e — e ———————————ESSSSSSSSSSRRREREREEEE T
“[taly Alone in This Great Hour Holds in Her Clenched Fist the Iron Key
That Will Open the Shining Door of the Future to the Rvgcnm'alcd Slav
Nations Now Under Foreign Rule. and Let Them Be Reconciled and Federated.”
the Morava, from the Mesta and the Stroumas,
from all their tumultous labyrinthe of peoples.
is not the armed spirit of Hope rising from
them toward Italy In this irrevoeable hour”
Italy's national interests, by & rare combina
tion of happy clrcumstances, do not interfers
with those of the Balkan peoples, and she is
able to further her interest, while at the same
time considering theirs, at the expense of the
common enfm)
In the Adriatic & struggle has been going op
for centuries between three great historical ele
ments: lallanism, Slavism and Germanism
This struggle has its rgactions among three
other peoples in that distriet who do not be
jong to the three great races before mentione |
They are the Albanians, the Magyars and the
Greeks. The decisive hour has suddenly
sounded
Germany's Scheme
for Sea Supremacy.
The designs of the German Empire are
well known, to march not only toward the
east, but toward the south (“Dreng nach dem
Oaten, Drang nach dem Siiden”—Press to the
east, press to the south). The men of prey
are ready to put into execution, as soon as &
tavorable occasion presents itself, the system
called Nonderstellung. Gallcia, Bukovina and
Dalmatia, eccentric provinces, fragments that
can hardly eling to it, will be detached from
Cisleithania. The remalning block—the Czech
provinces, the basin of Vienna, the Alpine
region, the provinces of the Littoral, would be
purely and simply annexed to the Empire
The Greater Germany would be so constituted
in its southern side. Trieste would be a sort
of Southern Hamburg.
The eastern side of the Adriatic, with its
ports of Trieste and Pola, to the southern
point of Dalmatia, would become Reichland
(Government land) under the regime of a
casqued “slatthatter,” and would serve as a
base for the German sea -ru in the
Mediterranean. It is clear against this
tmperial design, which is destined to disappear
like an empty dream, the interests of Italy
colncide with the interests of the jongo-slave
and wish those of all peoples who aspire to
throw off the Austrian yoke and live weogl
ing to the rhythm of their original force.
Italy, by its geographical situation, is called
on to exercise toward the Balkan States a
historical function similar to that of France
and England on the “risorgimento,” the Italian
uprising for independence in the middle of
the last century. We have already noted tha’
the Balkan peninsula is as if divided by air
tight walls and is made for States independent
one from the other, as was ancient Greece.
The august image of the “amphictyomes,”
the religious and political confederation of the
twelve Greek peoples, comes up spontaneously
himself instinctively ghrinding from it, re
luctant to go into it
As Stocking has recently written me, under
date of April 14, from his cottage in the suburbs
of Los Angeles:
“Now seventy-five years old, in looking back
over my fifty years of constant battling, 1 do
not remember of doing one single thing that 1
ghould regard as bhrave. | just did what came
in my duty to do, and a thousand things of that
sort came along and were forced on me that 1
would have been glad enough to get out of if
1 could.
“My salvation was that 1 was good on shoot
ing; 1t came natural, I could not miss. I am
sure 1 could not honestly say [ was brave, for
| knew that 1 turned white as a ghost before
going into a shooting. Still, this did not un
nerve me me, and I could stand steady and be
sure of picking off any in range of my gun that
needed It.
“It is uncertainty that gets your nerve. And,
by the way, the Mexican situation is getting on
my nerves. | wish the Administration would
get its nerve up to deal radically with Mexico.
It has got to do it sooner or later. The toughest
thing I know on a fellow's nerves is to be
threatened to be killed every day and yet see
ne enemy to get busy with.”
The tru_th is, all so-called danger is only rela
tive It is actually appalling only to the inex
perienced. It invariably diminishes where cir
cumstances over which one has no control
make him its familiar, until, while ever sen
sible of the hazards it hangs over him and
sub-consciously on guard for them, he eats and
sleeps with it as consclously unconcerned for
his own physical safety as is a village sexton
spading God’'s Acre.
Thus a physical coward is, justly, more prop
erly a subject of pity and sympathy than of
contempt. For what is he or she but a creature
inexperienced in any of life’s ruder vicissi
tudes?
Hard indeed is the task of accustoming one's
self to the ordinary small hazards of day-to
day life, even in the most humdrum routines of
civilization, for all such as have been coddled
in youth—for such as have been held tight on
the short leash of the maternal apron string.
§evere indeed are the jolts and shocks for all
such.
And yet it is a fact that none of life’s dan
gers are so appalling that, given brief, close
10 our minds when we sesk the politieal
formula necessary for the Balkans
Such & league presided by the magna maler
igreat mother) of Latin civilisation is per
haps the most beauntiful mirscle that we can
hope” for or invoke in these extraordinary
times when all values are transformed and all
aspirations exalied above mediocre realitios
As the solemn council assembled each Spring.
long ago, in the sacred city of Delphis, could
there not be an assemblage at Rome, some
day, guided by the descendants of the Roman
colonists. established In the Carpathians and
in Transylvania by Trojan?
There Is the forecast of a great destiny. It
is fate—it seems to me-—that the yoyng Slav
nations, as if pushed on by the example of the
Roumanians, of origin both Thracian and
Latin, are turning toward the noblest and most
active of cultures. Were not the Crotians
from the most remote times, the advance
guard' of Catholicism and Western cultare.
through their intimate tes with Rome, and
by the union of their kingdom with the king
dom of Hungary in 11027 -
The historical rights of the old Latin culture
on both sides of the seas of ducal Venice must
be recognized and restored. The easiern coast
being closed in, in the centre, by the Italian
predominance on the upper and lower Adri
atic, has always greatly depended on and
tooked up to the western.
History Confirms
Italy’s Privileged Position.
Although geographically it belongs to the
Balkans, its history has ever been Latin. All
past centuries attest the truth of this and con
firm Italy’s privileged position. As early as the
second century before Christ the Romans held
the eastern ca‘u and did not relinguish 1t
antil the end of the sth century. Under
Theodore, the entire Dalmatia was given to
Italy, When the last flame of the imperial
Roman dignity was spent with the Emperor
Julien Nepos in 480, Odoacre ogcupied both
shores, and to govern more easily moved the
seat of government from Rome to Ravenna.
The Byzantines succeeded the Goths in the
6th century; and their dominion of both shores
lasted until the rise of Venice. From the 11th
to the 18th century the Mistress of the Seas,
despite the most severe strife, kept them under
her control. Even the despotic Napoleon was
forced to respect geography and history, and
annexed the eastern coast in the Kingdom of
Italy. Never, in truth, has an effective Balkan
influence asserted itself in this sonorous sea
“fractis fluctibus.” On the other hand, not only
are indestructible witnesses of our clvilization
planted all over this land, but the vestiges of
Rome are still living in the names, the man
ners and customs, in the character of the in-
familiarity with them, one does not bhecome, it
not wholly blind or indifferent to them, at least
ready to Incur them without shrinking or
serious second thought.
Consider for a moment how definitely this is
emphasized in the case of the modern motorist
Surely above eighty per cent of the men and
women one sees darting about In motors
through the dense throngs of metropolitan
streets, or racing madly along narrow and
close-hedged roads, will confront a sea vVOyage,
even in the most superior luxury of an almost
absolutely safe, modern giant of the transat
lantic service, with serious concern or down
righ* terror.
And yet, closely analysing facts, it will be
found demonstrated that the motorist, every
time he or she goes out for a spin, takes far
longer chances against life, faces shocking
mangling or death in certainly quite as ter
rific forms as does any man who, single hand
ed or with mates, seeks big game trophies
among the lions, elephanis, rhinos and buffalo
of the African veldt or jungle.
It is just all a matter of training or ex
perience. Some striking instances illustrating
this rule occur to me.
A few years ago my old friend, Colonel
Francis Hardie, retired from a lifetime’s serv
fce on one or another of our frontiers with his
regiment, first in the West against hostile In
dlans, later in Cuba, later still in the Philip
pines. Throughout his service he was noted for
nis intrepid coolness, and yet one day when
starting to cross Fifth avenue in front of the
Flatiron Building, a rush of motors forced us
to step back with more speed than dignity to
the curbstone, Colonel Hardie grabbed me ner
vously by the arm and said:
“Do you know that never in our youth while
fighting Slouz, Cheyennes or Apaches did we
take such desperate chances on our lives as a
man takes on these infernal New York streets?”
Colonel Hardie was up against what was to
him a new game.
Again, some years ago, an old Texas friend
was visiting me in New York, a man notable
in his State as a gun fighter, o notable that 1
am sure none who knew him could be made to
believe any number of armed men could stam
pede him. Really he is a distinguished past
graduate in the art of defense and offense with
a six-shooter, ever ready on a second’s notice
to stand up and fight for his life. And yet one
day when. at his suggestion that he would like
to have a view from the roof of oné of our
skyscrapers, 1 took him to the roof of the
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GABRIELE D’ANNUNZIO.
habitants, even far off from the coast, in the
heart of the valleys.
By the inexorable law of history Italy must
again shed her light across the Adriatic on the
Balkans. As in the past, these unsettled and
anxious countries will only be restimulaied to
emerge from their darkness by lialy’'s radi
ance. A powerful and pensive people, children
of Rome, the Roumanians are our proofs that
this destiny is about to be fulfilled.
The Roman road is etill the best, and the
ffoman cement still holds the tightest.
American Surety Building, the man =ave an
exhibition of fear that was nothing short of
pitiful. Of course, the roof was walled around
by a breast-high stone balustrade, and yet no
more had he advanced a half dozen paces from
the door opening on the roof than he dropped
to his hands and knees and begged me to as
sist him to immediate descent!
Yet, again, take my friend, Frank J. Dun
leavy, a battler more nearly quite all round
the world than any man 1 know, temperament
ally one of the steadiest and coolest of men.
Bred to the rudest of the Australian bush life
of forty odd years ago, long a cruiser of Aus
tralian rivers and coasts in small craft, and in
small tonnage sloops among the islands of the
South Seas, he was wrecked more than once
on desert shores. Yet he assures me that while
he cannot recall a single instance of experi
encing fear for his own safety or that of the
cockle shells he was accustomed to cruise in,
nevertheless, when he first took passage from
.\usl\ralia to England, on one of the biggest
liners of the day, throughout the voyage he
was never free of anxiety for his life.
Technically he was, of course, a hundred
{imes safer than on any of the tiny craft on
which he had been accustomed to cruise, reck
less of whatever dangers might and did con
front him.
Plainly, the difference lay in, the fact that
in his past experience he had always been in
a position of personal responsibility, as man
or master. He could and must lend his per
sonal energies to the fighting of any peril that
might arise—he could free a sheet, furl a sail,
grip tiller or oar, but on the big liner he was
powerless to lend a hand in any emergency
that might arise, unable to defend himself.
In a small way this has been emphasized in
my own case. While 1 have ngver regarded
myself as a wonderful horseman, I certainly
never feared the wildest bronco team I ever
drew rein over, but never have I driven with
another man behind a fractious team, even
when 1 knew the man to be a much beger
horseman than was I, myself, that 1 have not
been very nervous, frightened if you like, and
possessed by an almost uncontrollable desire
to seize the reins from what I well knew were
better hands than mine.
Indeed, only a few evenings ago the famous
surgeon, Dr. Parker Syms, told me' that in his
early hospital experience he found it impos
sible to look on an operation without amner
vousness that made him downright ill. But
when permitted to actively lend a hand him
The ancient Roman road that began at Sa
lona, near the Adriatic, and crossed Bosnia is
still there intact. It is the only road that
unites the lonely towns and dispersed villages.
Its construction was so solid and so well con
ceived that we shall be obliged to follow it
even to the end ol time.
Parther along, down there, on the other side
of Mount Kavaratch, are the robust ruins of a
Roman city, composed of a higher town and a
lower town, rising out of the forests and flelds,
in view of the blue peaks of Serbia. It seems
self. no matter how small the responsibility
involved, he found himself perfectly cool and
free of nervousness.
Fear! Everybody feels it at one time or an
other—plainly shows it-——no matter how accus
tomed to the game being played. But pallid
cheeks by no means of neocessity spell fear.
Once, with Will Judd ,one of the ablest pro
fessional Runters of East Africa, then of twen
ty-seven years’ experience at the game, I trailed
a big rhino-bull into a thick tangle of swamp.
Indeed, the jungle was so thick we usually
could not see the length of a rifle ahead of us.
And, by the way, in such conditions, stalking
anything, and especially dangerous game, I
find myself obessed with an almost irresist
ible disposition to hold the breath the better
to listen, and, unless I fight it, I presently find
the lungs so short of oxygen and myself so
panting for breath that my hand is as unsteady
as if T had run a hundred yards at top speed.
Hence, 1 have long had the practise in such
conditions to keep repeating to myself, “Breathe
deep and slow! Breath deep and slow!”
Keep the lungs full and the hand will stay
steady. :
And more and broader value still has this
rule: Whosoever will make it a practise to
say to himself “Breathe deep and slow!” in any
of the vexations and vicissitudes of life will be
sure of conserving a steady, dependable tem
per as well as a steady, dependable hand.
Naturally we were stalking slow, creeping
at a pace that would make a passing funeral
look like a Derby finish.
Presently we heard the rhino no more than
thirty feet in front of us, where he stood hid
den beneath the low drooping boughs of a
thorn bush.
During our wait of a few minutes for the
chance of a safe shot, notwithstanding I had
fancied Judd inured to the game past experi
encing any thrills, his bronzed cheeks went
white as chalk.
But it was not fear that whitened Will Judd’s
face, for his jaws were tight set and his eyes
blazing battle. Rather, I fancied, his paleness
was due to the fact that he was holding him
self strung to sych high mental and physical
tension, in readiness to meet whatever emer
gency might arise, that the surfaces were
robbed of blood, the veins made to pour their
ruby blood back into the deeper )rterinl
streams. N
Fear' It does queer things to you, and it has
long seemed to me that one of the queerest is
the extraordinary thirst it can give one.
that the spirit of the place, genus loci, fills
the inscriptions on those stones, and breathes
on the forums, tribunals, altars and hearths.
The Castrum entire has lately been restored to
the light, on the right bank of the torrent
Sase, surrounded by a powerful wall that the
teeth of 156 centuries have not succeeded in
gnawing away.
That is good Roman cement, firmams
cementum. That is what is needed to join,
forever, the fragments of the Balkan forces
into a grand monument of unity.
Back in the early 'Bos 1 had occasion to visis
the Red Cloud Sioux Indian Agency, distant
sixty miles from my ranch. There circum
stances, which lack of space prevents detail
ing, were such that T found myself lined up
along with only eight other white men behind
a low stone wall, receiving the charge of four
hundred-odd mad Brule Sioux, a bunch of
Spotted Tail's unruliest befeathered beauties.
My mates were Dr. V. T. MacGillicudy, the
Indian agent; his clerk, Lord; the trader
Blanchard, Major Bourke and Lieutenants
Goldman and Waite, of the Third Cavalry, the
agent’s teamster and Charlie Conway, one of
my cowboys.
After incidents that, all told, did not occupy
forty minutes, here came the four hundred
down upon us, at full gallop across a level
plain.
MacGillicudy had ordered us to hold our fire
until he gave the word.
Time and again I caught &head on the breast
of the Brule chief that might easily have sent
nim into permanent camp on the head waters
of Ghost Creek. And how any of us managed
to hold our fire 1 have often since -wondered,
but gince my .45-120 Sharps rifle had a set
hair trigger that a breath would almost suf
fice to release, I know that if my nerves had
not been perfectly steady that Brule chief
would then and there have hit the Ghost Creek
trail.
But fire we did not. And doubtless it was our
very silence, the cool holding of our fire, that
got on the nerves of the charging Brules, for
they reined to a halt within a scant sixty
yards of us. :
A brief parley followed, and then the hos
tiles withdrew and the affair was over.
And yet it was something less than an hour
that we had been under any mental straln, and
at no time were under the least physical strain,
and while the weather was that of a delight
fully cool May morning on the plains, never
theless 1 found my mouth parched dry as tin
der by a burning thirst as nearly unbearable
as-I have experienced when in the desert two
days without water.
And a number of times since I have had the
same experience when under threatened or
actual fire—and not a few are the men who
have owned to me that they are so affeoted
under like circumstancee.
But remember, all of you:
When trouble of any sort confronts you,
Breathe deep afuslowl
You'll find it will help a lot.