Now for placing it. I had no fears about this; many periodicals had begged me to send them a manuscript, and that great weekly which had printed my earlier works, and which had never refused anything I sent, would doubtless publish this manuscript too. I sent it in without misgivings. My astonishment was not little when the reply came: Gracious Lady: It is with regret that we find ourselves compelled to return to you the ... [some compliments] manuscript. Large classes of our readers would take offense at what it contains. So I tried it on another editor: the same result. And then on others—unanimously rejected. In one of the answers (which were all more or less sugar-coated with courteous phrases) it said: “In spite of all these merits, however, it is quite out of the question to publish the novel in a military country.” So perhaps it was better to forego the thought of serial publication and let _Die Waffen nieder_ make its first appearance in book form; and so I sent the much-traveled package to my publisher Pierson. He hesitated a long time. The book seemed to him dangerous. At that time there had just been decided in Germany a case under the press laws, of which the consequence was to be an increase in the strictness of the censorship and a rigorous suppression of all writings that contained any sort of mutinousness against existing institutions. Pierson advised that I should give the manuscript to some experienced statesman to look over, and ask him to strike out everything that could give offense. I cried out in indignation at such a demand. A work in which I had written off from my soul all the rage and all the pain that the hallowed “existing institution” of war had begotten in me (and assuredly in thousands of others beside me, only that they dared not express it)—to get somebody to lop and trim in diplomatic-opportunist fashion such a work, which, whatever its worth or worthlessness, had at least the one merit of being hotly felt and _unreservedly sincere_,—to remodel it by the rules of that most contemptible of all arts, the art of suiting everybody,—no, sooner into the stove with it. Then I should alter the title at least, was the publisher’s next suggestion. No! The title embraces in three words the whole aim of the book. Of the title, too, not a syllable is to be changed. After this ultimatum Pierson gave way, and _Die Waffen nieder_ made its appearance.