Anderson’s rogues’ gallery shelters the most fantastic medley of moral outcasts, the libidinous, the perverse, the sly, the morbid. All of them suffer particularly from soul-fear and floating anxiety, as described by the experimental psychologists. These abnormalities are caused chiefly by an erotic obsession. As their energy is no longer able to express itself in acts, it loses itself in nightmares and incoherent actions. This explains the verbal _psittacism_ upon which Anderson has made some curious remarks. Let us enter this Musée Grevin of the psychologically abnormal. Here is a man whose hands are incessantly shaken by a suspicious automatism. He is fond of caressing children. One day he is accused of having taken advantage of one of them and he is expelled from the village. Here is an hysterical woman who married an old doctor. The doctor has a mania for stuffing his pockets with slips of paper on which he has written maxims which he forces everybody to read. Here comes a professional simulator who has lived a thousand imaginary lives. He wants to make us believe that he is Christ and that he has been made to die upon a cross. This rich landowner lost his mind from brooding over the Bible. One day he went into the woods to kill his grandson, as Abraham did to Isaac. Another Winesburgher, a woman, was seized with an erotic fit which made her run out into the streets all naked on a rainy day. Let us not forget the hypocritical minister who had seen a naked woman through a crack in the window of his church. The wretched man had forgotten prayer and could no longer expel the temptation from his mind. He became half insane and was about to end up badly. But one day he again saw the naked woman praying in her room and he conceived a new and happier idea of life. Never has the human mind been subjected to more crucial dissections and been denounced as such a mad and dangerous machine. There is a moral attached to these tales. Anderson’s philosophy, as well as his mysticism, centers upon what may be called the problem of deliverance. It is based upon a tragic feeling of the complexities of the human self, on the necessity and difficulty of extracting from the subconscious labyrinth our real personality. It slumbers, deep within us, buried under formalism. A city filled with millions of living people can be, in reality, a necropolis for the dead.