In those first months of the war there was, we were told, in England and France a revival of “religion,” and indeed many of the books then written gave evidence of having been composed in exalted, mystic moods.  I remember one in particular, called “En Campagne,” by a young French officer.  And then, somehow, the note of mystic exaltation died away, to be succeeded by a period of realism.  Read “Le Feu,” which is most typical, which has sold in numberless editions.  Here is a picture of that other aspect—­the grimness, the monotony, and the frequent bestiality of trench life, the horror of slaughtering millions of men by highly specialized machinery.  And yet, as an American, I strike inevitably the note of optimism once more.  Even now the truer spiritual goal is glimpsed through the battle clouds, and has been hailed in world-reverberating phrases by our American President.  Day by day the real issue is clearer, while the “religion” it implies embraces not one nation, wills not one patriotism, but humanity itself.  I heard a Frenchwoman who had been deeply “religious” in the old sense exclaim:  “I no longer have any faith in God; he is on the side of the Germans.”  When the war began there were many evidences of a survival of that faith that God fights for nations, interferes in behalf of the “righteous” cause.  When General Joffre was in America he was asked by one of our countrywomen how the battle of the Marne was won.  “Madame,” he is reported to have said, “it was won by me, by my generals and soldiers.”  The tendency to regard this victory, which we hope saved France and the Western humanitarian civilization we cherish, as a special interposition of Providence, as a miracle, has given place to the realization that the battle was won by the resourcefulness, science, and coolness of the French commander-in-chief.  Science preserves armies, since killing, if it has to be done, is now wholly within that realm; science heals the wounded, transports them rapidly to the hospitals, gives the shattered something still to live for; and, if we are able to abandon the sentimental view and look facts in the face—­as many anointed chaplains in Europe are doing—­science not only eliminates typhoid but is able to prevent those terrible diseases that devastate armies and nations.  And science is no longer confined to the physical but has invaded the social kingdom, is able to weave a juster fabric into the government of peoples.  On all sides we are beginning to embrace the religion of self-reliance, a faith that God is on the side of intelligence—­intelligence with a broader meaning than the Germans have given it, for it includes charity.

II