he never goes beneath the surface. He takes appearances for realities.
He has often lost that instinct of race which should enable him to
understand his own humanity. To a Giolitti, adept in the trading game
of political management, it must seem insane for Italy to plunge into
the war against powerful allies, who at just this time were triumphing
in West and East alike--all the more when the sentimental and trading
instincts of the populace might be partly satisfied with the concessions
so grudgingly wrung from Austria. It was not only rash: it was bad
politics!

But what Giolitti and men of his stripe the world over cannot
understand is that the people are never as crafty and wise and mean as
their politicians. The people are still capable of honest emotions, of
heroic desires, of immense sacrifices. They love and hate and loathe
with simple hearts. The politician like the popular novelist makes the
fatal mistake of underrating his audience. And his audience will leave
him in the lurch at the crisis, as Italy left Giolitti. Italy was never
enthusiastic, as its enemies have charged, for a war of mere aggression,
for realizing the "aspirations" because Austria was in a tight place,
even for redeeming a million and a half more or less of expatriated
Italians in Austrian territory. Politicians and statesmen talked of
these matters, perforce; the people repeated them. For they were tangible
"causes." But what Italians hated was Austrian and German leadership--were
the "_barbari_" themselves, their ancient foe; and when told that they
had better continue to make their bed with the "_barbari_," they revolted.

There are many men in every nation,--some of the politician type, some
of the aristocratic type, some of the business type,--who by interest
and temperament are timid and fundamentally cynical. They are pacifists
for profit. About them gather the uncourageous "intellectuals," who