In a material age we are very apt to attach inordinate value to material things. Sometimes it almost seems as rf the purpose of life ends in building our Physical structure greater and greater. Yet the eternal truth remains that it must be built on sand unless it serves us to a greater and fuller life. In war, likewise, material represents the means and not the end. Guns are just so much dead weight and ships are inert masses of steel unless men man them. In tactics, the human factor finds expression in the skillful handling of the ship and in the co-ordination of forces, and thereby greatly outweighs mere material strength. In strategy, one may concentrate against the foe such superiority that the best of guns, ships, and tactics are of no avail. In policy, man can at one stroke gain an accretion of strength which will negative the best material, the greatest skill, and faultless strategy of the foe.
Casting a cursory glance across the pages of history, it is remarkable how many great naval battles and military campaigns have been won by forces inferior in fighting strength. On land Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, Frederick the Great, Napoleon, and Lee waged successful campaigns with inferior forces, although it is true that at the point of contact they were usually equal or superior. In naval history the score is particularly impressive in the number of great victories won by forces actually in contact with an enemy superiority, as St. Vincent, Nile, Trafalgar, Lissa, Yalu, and Tsushima.
According to Clausewitz, “War is an act of violence intended to compel our opponent to fulfill our will.” It is an action of will versus will and the stronger moral force triumphs, first reduces the enemy’s moral power, then reduces his physical power, and finally forces him to abandon his designs and to accede to our will. Moral force is supreme. At the battle of Tannenberg, the Russians in no wise were overpowered physically but their moral power was broken. On the other hand, in the battle between the Bon Homme Richard and the Serapis, the former was beaten physically—indeed she sank, but not until after the latter had surrendered and the victors had transferred to the ship of the vanquished.
We hear much talk of naval ratios and the belief is widespread that the strengths of the navies vary as these ratios. History indicates the absurdity of such a measure since the human factor is of vastly greater importance. Of course, nations assume that the personnel factor—since it cannot be measured—is equal and certainly each one hopes that its soldiers and sailors are equal or superior to those of any other nation. In war the human factor is rarely equal and consequently gives the decision.
In some instances such as at Trafalgar it was obvious even before the battle that the English personnel was far superior to the French and the appreciation of this fact led Nelson to violate fundamental principles of tactics and win. Had this battle been fought on the game board, disregarding the personnel factor, it would have been a French victory. Usually the status of personnel training is not obvious until decided by battle, as for instance in the Austro-Italian War of 1866. When war broke out, the Italian fleet had approximately twice the material strength of the Austrian. On the other hand, in personnel training, the Austrians were strong where their foe was weak; moreover, they had a great leader. While manfully struggling to whip his material into shape, Tegetthof wrote to the Minister for the Navy, “Send me what you have, I will do something with it.” He did, and won the great Battle of Lissa.
In the English-Dutch wars we find the unusual condition of both sides being approximately equal as regards personnel. The dominance of this factor is shown in the degree to which it influenced the naval engagements of these wars. This period shows us—and indeed all history teaches us—that good personnel and good material generally go together.
The naval warfare of 1914-18 offers a most interesting study in the importance of the human factor. Here we have two great navies opposing each other and both manned by efficient officers and men. It is generally conceded that, ship for ship, the training of the Germans was some what superior to the British. In tactic they were about on a par with perhaps 3 slight advantage to the Germans. In strategy the German high command was definitely inferior; and in policy their leaders were simply outclassed. German naval efficiency foundered on the rocks of English leadership.
Good personnel is necessary for great success. A fighting force must have what Clausewitz calls “military virtue,” and we find it in the officers and men of ail commanders who accomplished great things, as in the Romans under Caesar and in the English under Nelson. Without the leaven of military virtue permeating the personnel, even a truly great commander can do little. It was lacking in the French fleet under Suffren and it is a tribute to his genius that in spite of this condition he accomplished so much. What could even a Nelson have done with such a fleet? How different from his own situation! In 1796, Nelson wrote:
They at home do not know what this fleet is capable of performing; anything and everything. The fleets of England are equal to meet the world in arms; and of all the fleets I ever saw, I never beheld one, in point of officers and men, equal to Sir John Jervis’s, who is a commander-in-chief able to lead them to glory.
Here, as we see frequently in history, a great organizer prepared the way, fashioned the sharp instrument, which the man of the hour would then lead to immortal glory. The stage had been carefully prepared; it seems as if it were made to order for the genius of Nelson to attain full bloom in the striking victories of the Nile, Copenhagen, and Trafalgar.
On the field of battle, Napoleon was in command; his mind ruled the whole action. His marshals were not trained for independent leadership; in fact, he could brook little independence of action on the part of his subordinates. In the early part of his career when his armies were relatively small, he was eminently successful, but later on when his armies continued to grow in size this condition became a decided weakness because he could no longer personally supervise the whole. Military critics believe that therein lies the primary cause of the downfall of Napoleon. It is a strange fact that his marshals, Massena, Murat, Ney, fought brilliantly under his command but usually failed when on their own. In speaking of one of them, Napoleon said he failed “because he did not understand my system.”
After Prussia’s deep humiliation at Jena and Auerstadt at the hands of Napoleon, she realized that she had no leader to oppose that past master of the art of war and, correctly appreciating that the job had got beyond the capacity of one man, she evolved the General Staff and further developed independent leaders. The swift descent of the Germans on the French in 1870 aroused the world to the fact that the system of command had undergone a fundamental change. To the intelligent initiative of the German subordinate commanders, the French had nothing to oppose; in grand as well as minor operations they still awaited directions of the High Command. It is said that prior to the outbreak of this war a ranking French officer was asked whether his troops were ready for war; he replied in the affirmative and added “down to the last button.” Possibly—certainly their material was prepared far better than the minds of their leaders.
Due to the nature of naval warfare it is believed that naval men have ever been more inclined to champion the use of initiative on the part of subordinates. Even in early times, we see it displayed in many battles at sea. Nelson used it with daring and eminent success, as at the Battle of St. Vincent; his commander in chief stoutly defended such true initiative. Under modern conditions in the conduct of war, it has become increasingly important. Not until we have developed real leaders in our subordinate commanders shall we be able to meet Moltke’s requirement, “In war the essential thing is to grasp every situation correctly, and to adopt the measures most appropriate to the situation.”
However important are men, officers, and subordinate commanders in the realm of war, their importance is far overshadowed by the commander, be he general or admiral. For as Napoleon said, “It was not the Roman army that conquered Gaul but Caesar; it was not the Carthaginian army that made Rome tremble in her gates but Hannibal.” Even when confronted with a large enemy superiority on the field of battle, the great military commanders, such as Hannibal at Cannae, Frederick at Leuthen and Rossbach, and Napoleon at Dresden, were able to gain victories.
However, even the great commanders refused battle as a rule when largely outnumbered. They have ever sought to have superior force at the point of contact with the enemy and this is the really vital part that the able commander plays in war. In this, the realm of strategy, his mind has full play. By combinations, by surprise, by boldness, by imagination, by the study of human nature, he can bring superiority to bear against the enemy regardless of his total strength.
What, if anything, is there we can do to develop and to select our leaders? Calling history to our aid again, we note that without exception all great commanders whether military or naval have been strong characters. They were men of decision who when committed to a course adhered to it steadfastly and, when their ship seemed to founder, calmly—-as if with divine prescience—held her on her course. How ominous to the foe when one can sail into battle with a serenity such as characterized Nelson at Trafalgar!
Clausewitz says, “War is the province of danger, and therefore courage above all things is the first quality of a warrior.” In history, the commanders frequently not only joined in the fighting but actually led their troops into battle; Alexander invariably did, Gustavus Adolphus fell at Lutzen while doing so, Napoleon’s marshals, particularly Murat and Ney, were invariably in the thickest of the fight. Certainly they must have had a high order of physical courage, but more important, particularly in modern times, is moral courage. Ney, “the bravest of the brave,” failed at Bautzen and Quatre Bras for lack of it. The man must have moral courage for his responsibilities are great.
Another trait always found in a great commander is boldness. This is a quality of character more natural to youth than to age. The young man is on the offensive in life; he is blazing a path for himself. The man of mature years is on the defensive in life; he is conservative and prudent. Thus it is not surprising that in history we find a large majority of the great commanders were relatively young men when they won fame. The natural tendency in modern warfare is not to permit young men to occupy positions of high command. This is logical also, because with the ever increasing complexity of war boldness must be tempered more and more by wisdom, if we are not to give way entirely to rashness. Yet this was carried to such an extent that we find practically all of the leaders in the World War were men of advanced years, many even old men, and we saw the natural concomitant —conservatism, adherence to old forms and methods, lack of originality, lack of boldness. Will any of these leaders go down in history as great commanders? It is doubtful.
Boldness borders on rashness and. at times it requires a fine sense of discrimination to distinguish between the two. Has not even intrepid rashness a place in our fighting hearts? What of the greatest exploits of fighting men, such as Leonidas at the Pass of Thermopylae, Horatius at the Tiber Bridge, Winkelreid in the Swiss Mountains, and Grenville on the deck of the Revenge? Rash, indeed; yet who has read them without being thrilled through and through? What confidence such deeds must have inspired in their own people and what fear they must have struck in the hearts of their enemies!
The great commanders have ever assumed the defensive only when forced to do so by reason of inferior strength and then only as a stepping stone to husband and collect their forces and then to strike swiftly at the enemy where and when the latter least expected it, raining blow on blow on the startled foe. If forced to retreat, their boldness if anything increased Men like Hannibal and Frederick were never greater than when retreating; pursue them was like stalking a wounds lion.
A most important attribute which the modern commander must have is co-operative qualities. This is the only character trait deemed vital which is not universally found in all great commanded of history. It is not found because in their day and time it was not absolutely essential. In the first place, many of them combined in themselves the headship of the state and command of the armed forces. Furthermore, the great commanders generally controlled relatively small forces under their immediate command; wars were frequently fought by professional armies; the operations were usually confined to land warfare; and finally warfare was relatively simple.
Today we find these conditions all changed. Except in the unlikely event of a military dictatorship, our commander must be subordinate to the head of the state. The trend of history has been definitely away from wars of professional soldiers and sailors; wars tend to invol'1 more and more the whole nation. To utilize effectively all the forces within the nation, the commander must be able to co-operate. This requires first of all certain personal qualities.
In the campaign which led to Napoleon’s defeat and overthrow at Leipzig, it was very largely the co-operative qualities and complete subordination of Field Marshal Prince Schwarzenberg to the accomplishment of his mission which could unite the great, but heterogeneous, array of fighting strength and pave the way to victory. On the other hand, such men as Generals Hooker and McClellan seriously Prejudiced their cause by their failure to co-operate with the President. It will be remembered that Hooker had embarrassed Burnside, his ranking officer, and moreover had harshly and unjustly criticized Lincoln, his commander in chief. How such criticism may act as a boomerang against the man voicing it is admirably set forth in a letter from Lincoln to Hooker:
I much fear that the spirit you have aided to infuse into the army, of criticizing their commander and withholding confidence from him, will now turn upon you .... Neither you nor Napoleon, if he were alive again, could get any good out of an army while such a spirit prevails in it.
The mind of the man, it would seem, is of secondary importance because men-of- arms in history have shown that the character of the man may surmount lack of mental equipment in achieving success. Still to be in the class of great commanders the latter is certainly necessary; not that he must be an intellectual giant, on the contrary, it cannot be said that they were all learned men, but they were invariably broad-minded men with common sense. It is true that Napoleon strongly emphasized the need for learning for any one who wishes to command and certainly he himself practiced what he preached, for no one knew war from books better than he. It may be that modern conditions are tending to throw more and more weight toward learning—it would seem so—yet the pre-eminence of character seems secure.
Judgment, or perhaps simply common sense, is a first essential. War requires a fine sense of discrimination. In its higher sphere, the art of war, there are no hard and fast rules because it depends upon variable conditions, the most important of which, the moral factors, are indeterminate. Moreover, “War is the realm of uncertainty; three-fourths of those things upon which action in war depends are shrouded in the fog of more or less uncertainty.” (Clausewitz). Keen judgment will do much to dispel the fog of war.
Imagination is vital to a great commander and will help to shape judgment. In making his plans, Napoleon first sought to place his army in the most advantageous position and then he projected his mind’s eye across his own lines, across the lines of the enemy troops, until he arrived at the opposing general’s headquarters and then and there with his opponent’s eye and mind he studied the situation and thus he decided what the enemy could and would do. To really project oneself into an unreal situation, to see with another’s eye and mind, is the essence of estimating the situation and requires a high order of imagination. As Wellington said, “The great thing is to know from this side of the hill what the enemy is doing on the other.” It was this quality in Napoleon to which Jomini attributes the rapidity and ease of all his arrangements.
Three fundamental things are required of the commander in war—knowledge, planning, and execution. He must know first of all exactly what is to be done; he must know as far as possible the enemy forces that will attempt to frustrate the accomplishment; he must know his own forces, their capabilities and limitations. Then, using this knowledge, he must be able to plan how his task may be accomplished most effectively. Finally he must have the skill and leadership to carry through his plans, gain his end, and make the enemy submit to his will. It is apparent that a great deal is required of the commander and consequently a staff is assigned to assist him. He has technical assistants for the varied knowledge required and most important of all his chief of staff must supplement him in planning and execution. It is rare that a man is found who can do both equally well. This is the underlying factor of the success of the Hindenburg-Ludendorff combination of the World War.
Knowledge of the art of war can be gained in only two ways; experience in war itself or a study of the war experience of others. Napoleon emphasized the importance of the latter and expressed doubt as to whether the capabilities of a commander were really improved by war experience. One of his marshals remarked that experience in the field was not, he thought, the best teacher of war’s science; that he could not call to mind one general, either friend or foe, who had learnt much by experience in the wars of his time; and that in saying this he meant to include Napoleon himself. To illustrate his meaning, he pointed out that Napoleon’s most brilliant campaign was his first, namely, that of 1796 in Italy. In this Napoleon fully concurred, adding that he only knew of one general, Marshal Turenne, who had learned by the wars he conducted, and who consequently improved in his strategical plans and conceptions as he grew older. He asserted that Turenne’s great genius for war was, however, the outcome of deep study.
It may be that war experience in a sense unfits a commander because it is so strongly impressed on him that he will tend to do the same thing in the same old way, regardless of a change in time and conditions. This is particularly true if years of peace have elapsed since his war experience. He must consider it like other history. All that pertains to material and methods is subject to change; all that pertains to principles of war, moral forces, and the human factor lives and applies today as it did yesterday. The important point in the discussion of experience versus study is that any one man can have only a very limited amount of the former; what he actually sees and comprehends must be small indeed, while study makes available the war experience of all ages of recorded history. Frederick the Great, in speaking of officers who relied on their practical experience alone, caustically remarked that there were in the army two commissariat mules which had served through twenty campaigns, “but,” he added significantly, “they are mules still’
Napoleon said,
Read and re-read the campaigns of Alexander, Hannibal, Caesar, Gustavus Adolphus, Turenne, Eugene, and Frederick; take them for yon' model, that is the only way of becoming a great captain, to obtain the secrets of the art of war
Such outstanding commanders as Frederick the Great, Marshal Saxe, Wolfe, and Wellington, followed this directive and were deep students of war. On the other hand Medina Sidonia, the commander of the Spanish Armada, admitted he had never studied the warfare in which he was to engage. Similar thereto was the confession of Benedek who commanded the Austrian army at Königgratz in 1866. He openly declared he knew nothing of military strategy. Had he been opposed by a general similarly lacking in the knowledge of the art of war it might not have been so bad, but unfortunately he was face to face with the studious Moltke.
The most important thing that a commander has to do is to evaluate the human factor. This he does in taking his own measure, in choosing his chief of staff and other assistants, in selecting his subordinate commanders and fitting them in according to their own peculiar ability, and in measuring the moral factor in his personnel and doing his utmost to raise it to the proper standard. Finally, it is important to size up the opponent—his efficiency, his morale, his racial characteristics, and most important of all the character of the opposing commander. Nelson based his whole course of action on such considerations, for he advocated, “Close with a Frenchman, but out-maneuver a Russian.”
Frequently in history we see a wise commander base his decision on the character and inclinations of his adversary and win because of it. It is said that Hannibal conceived this to be his primary task. Napoleon’s strategy in the Waterloo campaign was obviously to defeat the allied forces in detail before they could unite against him. Which one should he strike first—Wellington or Blüicher? The latter he knew to be an impetuous warrior who was willing and anxious to fight, while the former probably would refuse action until concentrated. He rightly decided to engage Blücher first. In the Civil War, the Confederates had a great general who was also a student of human nature, Lee. His military secretary writes of him:
He studied his adversary, knew his peculiarities, and adapted himself to them. His own methods no one could foresee; he varied them with every change in the commanders opposed to him. He had one method with McClellan, another with Pope, another with Hooker, and yet another with Grant. But for a knowledge of his own resources, of the field, and of the adversary, some of his movements might have been considered rash. As it was, they were wisely bold.
Only thus can the commander correctly estimate the situation and avoid falling into the pit pointed out by Clausewitz, “There are always only three cases possible, and when all these have been provided for, the fourth invariably happens.” The commanders who reckoned broadly and largely enough found their firmest ground in their analysis of human nature.
Co-operation not only requires certain personal qualities but also knowledge. The commander must understand the inter-relationship between policy and strategy so that the two do not work at cross-purposes with each other. Frequently we see men like Ludendorff assert that “War is the foreign policy of the State” and this is the traditional attitude of the fighting man. The politicians are likewise inclined to take a one-sided view of things. Repington said of the World War,
When the secret history of these times comes to be written, people will be surprised to learn that far more time and energy was expended by British and French soldiers in fighting their own politicians than in fighting the enemy.
Thus it is a matter which requires mutual co-operation, mutual knowledge, and mutual sympathy. Strategy can never be free from policy because it must first of all support the life of the nation—the essence of policy.
Next in importance must come cooperation of all the armed forces of the state. In planning, all forces must be considered in determining how they may further policy to best advantage. The Germans in 1914 had a plan for their Army and a plan for their Navy. The idea that they were simply two parts of their armed forces which must be applied to the task did not occur to them. They acted absolutely independently—the Army drove for Paris, while the Navy attempted to reduce the British fleet by attrition until they could risk a decisive engagement. Why strike for Paris? Would its capture have ended the war in Germany’s favor? Suppose that, instead, they had operated to co-ordinate their efforts by the German Army striking in the West at the junction of the British-Belgian and the French troops. It is entirely likely that they would have broken through for the French retired on Paris and the British-Belgian forces would have retired to protect the Channel ports. Then they could have rolled up the allied left flank and captured the forces thus cut off and the Channel ports. Meanwhile the German fleet should have struck at the Channel with all forces, interrupted cross-channel transportation, and co-operated with the army in capturing the Channel ports. In this way the German fleet might have established itself at a base in the Channel and thus effectively disputed British control of the seas.
Without design the German Army and Navy exerted pressure on their foes which gave aid or relief to the sister service. For instance, the English were obsessed with a fear of invasion and the German battlecruiser raids inadvertently gave color thereto. We know that for this reason the British held large military forces available which were vitally needed in France. Yet the Germans had done nothing to deliberately promote this fear. Again there is the German submarine war on commerce. It is estimated that the prosecution of this campaign employed some 120,000 Germans, while about 770,000 English were employed in counter-measures, a difference of about 650,000 men who might have been employed against the German troops either directly as soldiers or at home in vital war industries.
Joint operations require the maximum of co-operation. When such an operation is proposed, who is to say whether it is feasible and how it shall be carried out? Modern English war history is a series of joint operations and a number of fleet attacks on fortresses. Had the military and naval officers diligently studied these they would not have been adrift without an anchor at the inception of the Dardanelles campaign nor would they have allowed a politician to dictate strategy to them and reluctantly accept it.
Where the forces of different countries are acting together in a common cause, complete co-operation is extremely difficult to achieve and therefore is the Achilles’ heel of any alliance. It is almost impossible to conceive of complete cooperation among the Allies of the World War; even up to the great German offensive in March, 1918, after almost four years of war, they still lacked unity of command. The imminence of disaster finally forced unity of command upon them.
Where the forces of only one nation are engaged, unity of command should follow perforce. It is surprising to find that this axiom has been violated in modern times. Yet in the Civil War the Northern armies lacked unity of command for three years of devastating warfare and it cost them heavily in blood and treasure. Again in the World War the German naval forces were divided between the North Sea and the Baltic—each an independent command. It militated seriously against striking quick and effective blows and adopting timely counter-measures.
Since war is the realm of uncertainty, it seems perfectly natural that surprise should play a large part in war. Clausewitz, in fact, says, “Surprise lies at the foundation of all undertakings without exception.” Although there are a thousand and one forms of surprise, they fall in three general classes—physical, mental, and moral. The British use of tanks at the battle of Cambrai in 1917, the British battle-cruiser raid on the German patrol lines in August, 1914, and the superior determination which John Paul Jones threw into the balance in his battle with the Serapis are examples in the respective classes.
Deception is much akin, and frequently leads, to surprise. Stonewall Jackson says, “Always mystify, mislead, and surprise the enemy if possible . . . In the World War, the submarine trap, or Q-ship, and the British dummy dreadnoughts were developments in this direction. In these days, where so many facilities for obtaining information and means of rapid communication are existent, mystery and deception become more important than ever before.
Just as the best tactics count for little if not directed by sound strategy, so the best strategy goes for nought if not supported by intelligent policy. When the war broke out in 1914, the world gained foe impression that Germany was the aggressor and the moral factor was to weigh; heavily against her. The crowning failure of the German leaders was their policy which brought the United States in the war against them. They were unable to comprehend in any way what prodigious forces they would unleash against themselves. Some call it fate, but more properly it was the triumph of the human factor in far, that just when Russia dropped out, just when the Germans could mass their forces on one front and undoubtedly crush foe British and French as they came so near doing in the spring of 1918, the Suited States threw its full weight into &e conflict.
In analyzing the German war effort of '914-18, the interesting fact stands out mat they were eminently successful where their human factor was superior, regardless of material or of numbers opposed to them. In all things where their racial characteristics of mass intelligence, thoroughness, industry, discipline, and subordination found full play, they were superior. In military and naval tactics and in the industrial and economic conduct of the war, they were outstanding. As we go higher in the sphere of the art of war, first of all in strategy, particularly in naval strategy, and finally in policy, wherever there is required of the leaders broad knowledge, vision, and a world-wide aspect of things, the Germans rapidly lost their superiority and in naval strategy and policy were definitely inferior. What stupid conception they were capable of is aptly illustrated by the proposals in the Zimmerman note to Mexico in 1917! They lacked the leaders and the World War clearly illustrates the importance of them.
Today our Navy is heavily organized on the material side. How little thought is given to producing men! If we should concentrate on the latter, history indicates that good material would follow as a matter of course. We should expedite and expand the instruction of our enlisted personnel. Every man in the Navy today must be considered as petty officer or officer material and trained, or eliminated, accordingly. Thus we shall develop a personnel not only instantly effective but also one which may be expanded rapidly in time of war with minimum loss of efficiency.
Our officers are the mainspring of all action and our fleet will rise or fall as they are good or bad. Officers cannot be quickly developed; they represent the result of years of study and training. We require some specialists but the general line officer can never be a specialist. He must be first of all a leader and the higher his position the more general must be his knowledge and his vision. We should ever bear in mind the narrowing influences of peace-time service with its artificialities and its attention to detail which, although in each case perhaps of great importance to the efficiency of the ship or the fleet as a whole, are not calculated to widen our intellectual horizon. For if we associate ourselves only with the small, we too will be found small when the test comes. For in war, “No one ever foresees enough of the unforeseen, of risks, of miscalculations; no one ever reckons broadly or largely enough” (Marshal Lyautey). It will not do to wait until officers reach high command and then expect them to adequately prepare themselves. The fortunes of war may find a young officer in independent command, or, by fleeting up due to rapid expansion, in a position of great responsibility. In any case, the junior officers of today are the admirals of tomorrow and the foundations of high command are now being laid.
Co-operation is a subject of vital importance to us. Our system of government and the organization of the Navy Department both call for co-operation for smooth functioning. To co-ordinate strategy with policy it is not sufficient that our officers be willing and able to co-operate, but we must also provide for intelligent co-operation from the political leaders. Thus we should take any possible steps, such as providing university courses in strategy and policy, to stimulate their thought along these lines. Particularly important for our military and naval officers is the study of joint operations, for one can scarcely visualize a major war in which we may be engaged in which they will not be required.
Let us develop men of broad knowledge) vision, and world-wide aspect and above all give us in command positions men of decision, determination, steadfastness of purpose, boldness, and moral courage. With such men at the helm we cannot fail for they will have good officers and trained men under them and these in turn will provide the material means to gain victory.
The essence of loyalty, whatever form it may take, is, as I conceive the matter, this: Since no man can find, a plan of life by merely looking within his own chaotic nature, he has to look without, to the world of social conventions, deeds, and causes. Now, a loyal man is one who has found, and who sees, neither mere individual fellow-men to be loved or hated, nor mere conventions, nor customs, nor laws to be obeyed, but some social cause, or some system of causes, so rich, so well knit, and, to him, so fascinating and withal so kindly in its appeal to his natural self-will, that he says to his cause: “Thy will is mine and mine is thine. In thee I do not lose but find myself, living intensely in proportion as I live for thee." If one could find such a cause, and hold it for his lifetime, before his mind, clearly observing it, passionately loving it, and yet calmly understanding it, and steadily and practically serving it, he would have one plan of life, and this plan of life would be his own plan, his own will set before him, expressing all that his self-will has ever sought. Yet this plan would also be a plan of obedience, because it would mean living for the cause.—Royce.
1. This article was submitted in the Prize Essay Contest, 1935.