The accelerated, incalculable improvement and increase, the technical development that has grown to colossal dimensions, which leads to such fabulous results when directed to the increase of property and happiness, to what equally gigantic results of misery must these not lead, when applied to the principle of the _destruction_ of property, happiness, and life: millions of combatants rush upon one another, and the fighting begins at ever greater distances. Instead of the spear, that only flew a short distance, instead of the later bullet that hit the enemy at a few hundred paces, the death-bringing bombs now whistle through space at a distance of miles; long before the two combatants can see each other the vanguard covers the field. But when and how will the decision take place? “Until one or the other side is so weakened that it gives up the fight.” That was in former times the answer to this question. Now both sides rage with equal force. The weakening keeps equal pace. Hundreds of thousands are fallen, but new hundreds of thousands advance, and the decision is not a step nearer. A vanquished, flying army? That exists no more, for no longer are mere armies sent forth, but whole nations. They fight with each other for the sake of a strip of land; but meanwhile the entire land is devastated, depopulated and ravaged on either side. All crops are trodden under foot, all labor suspended, all hearths desolated; one cry of pain from frontier to frontier, and still no decision. Every village a heap of ashes, every field a burial ground, and yet the fight still rages; under the waves of the sea shoot the torpedo boats, to sink mighty steamships; in the clouds rise armed and manned air-balloons against another aëronautic force, and from the height of a thousand feet mutilated warriors shower down in bleeding fragments; mines are sprung and bridges are hurled into the waves with their loads of men, horses and carriages; powder magazines fly into the air; long lines of trains run off the rails; hospitals blaze; and still it is not decided. Army, reserve, militia—the aged, children, women—one after the other is slaughtered; what still lives becomes the prey of famine, of the infallible pestilence, and the war is over. But it is not decided. The tremendous magnitude of the impending war—a magnitude which may be determined with mathematical certainty by reason of the present ever-increasing number of combatants and technique of weapons, might instil a certain admiration and satisfaction, if the love of and rage for fighting had increased in proportion to its means; if the value of human life had sunk in the esteem of the individual in the same degree as in the calculations of material by the administrators of armies; if finally the _gain_ of war had increased as much as the inevitable losses. But the reverse of all this is the case. Hatred and love of fighting give place to civilization, growing gentler and constantly spreading; the value of