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pleading the cause of his country before a court of equity composed of the intelligent men and women of a friendly and fairminded but far-away nation? What will his appeal avail ? A world that saw Armenia bleed and stood by in silent horror fearing the complications intercession might engender; that hears the wails of the homeless hosts of Roumanian Jews driven from place to place like hordes of cattle, and has no word of censure for their persecutors; that placidly wends its way while the air is rent by the manly protest of outraged Finland, and the groans of starving Russian peasants being shot down like dogs for demanding a share in the soil they tilled and the grain they grew will the moral sense of this enlightened world, when once aroused from its lethargy, prevail to stem the tide of iniquity surging out over the lands from the seats of power and engulfing in its muddy maelstrom so much that were worth preserving? What use one might reason of arguing before a jury where, no matter what the evidence, a verdict is rarely reached, and, reached, never enforced? Public opinion is an unreliable watchman whom it takes a constant supply of stimulants to keep awake; who cries "Fire!" at a shooting star, but tranquilly drowses at his post while the block is ablaze, dreaming it is only that neighboring wall the ruin of which—the Roman poet to the contrary notwithstanding-he considers no concern of yours.

But it is your concern.

The problem of the small state—if a problem it is bound to become will be solved according to the law of the survival of the fittest. The small state itself worthy to survive is willing that it should. Put on trial for its right to independent existence, it will not ask for allowances on the score of its size; nor is it apt to preface its plea with an apology to those of bigger Since this was written, Secretary Hay's note to the powers, protesting against the treatment by Roumania of her Jewish population, has stirred up the European hornets' nest. If this plucky act should be devoid of practical results, nobody is likely to be disappointed. International jealousies are yet too rampant to lend to such a step by a disinterested government, however powerful, any other than a moral significance in setting a precedent and pointing the way. It is, however, to be hoped that Mr. Hay will not confine his efforts to third-class powers, but next time will go for bigger game.

bulk. "Fitness" and "bigness are not synonymous terms, and the decision of the battlefield is not always the judgment of history. If in individual existences notable achievements are conditioned to a degree upon physical vigor, an analogy cannot without modification be applied to the life of nations. True, the nation numerically weak and of limited material resources will seldom be found in the van of conquerors-oftener in the wake of colonists; its military prowess will cause little trepidation around the camp-fires of an armed world; in the field of industrial and commercial rivalry it is not likely to take the lead, and the enterprises of its citizens may appear modest indeed measured with the gauge of a Morgan or a Rockefeller. But in the appraisal of life's values there are other standards than those expressed in terms of square miles and billion-dollar trusts. There is no inherent reason why a small people might not excel in the pursuits of peace, and within its narrow boundaries not only enjoy a healthy national life and economic prosperity, but also attain to the topmost rung on the ladder of culture. Territorial restrictions present no barrier to the thoughts of the thinker or the songs of the singer; numerical limitations do not restrain the hand that wields the chisel or the operating knife. Its line of defense will follow the furrow of plow and keel; and over against cannon and conquests and colonies over the sea-every citizen a soldier and every sword the king's it will set the silent battles of library and laboratory, the peaceful victories of pen and brush-every man in his workshop and every tool his own.

My neighbor's wall afire is my affair. A wrong perpetrated against any member of the sisterhood of nations, the weakest not excepted, is the concern of all, the strongest included. No validity can be attached to the argument that this is but a special plea for the adjustment of troubles of a purely local nature, of little interest and less import to the outside world. To the extent that any nation has contributed to the sum-total of human progress in the realms of mind and matter, to that extent it has made all mankind its debtor, and any transgression against its integrity or its particular national culture becomes a crime against

civilization in general, and as such the business of the whole civilized world, which it cannot afford to ignore.

With the dawning of the twentieth century, and with the revival of the national principle everywhere, is it not time that steps be taken toward the cultivation of a conscious sense of solidarity among the best in every land, with the practical object in view of insisting upon the application to dealings of nations one with another of the common rules of fairness and justice governing the relations of man with man? International courts of arbitration may serve a useful purpose; undoubtedly they are a step in the right direction. But back of them, and above them, as the court of last resort from whose final decision there is no appeal, and whose dicta no ruler in the world dares to defy, must be this mighty fellow-feeling-the calm, watchful, unbribable sense of righteousness of the common people, led by those to whom they are wont to look for guidance.

1.

I. CONDITIONS IN SLESWIC.

PRUSSIAN METHODS OF ASSIMILATION.

The causes leading up to the war of 1864, in which Denmark lost one-third of her territory, are ancient history and need not be rehearsed here. Allegedly a question of succession, when Prussia and her ally, Austria-Hungary, deemed it expedient to repudiate the London protocol of 1852, by the terms of which the present king of Denmark was made lawful heir to the whole Danish monarchy, the little kingdom found itself involved in a cruel struggle against two great powers and, abandoned by the other signatory governments, foredoomed to crushing defeat. After a six-months' campaign peace was concluded at Vienna. The three duchies of Sleswic, Holstein, and Lauenburg were the price exacted. Two years later, in 1866, the victors fell to quarreling over the booty, and by the peace of Prague Austria was forced to deed over her share to Prussia.

Of the conquered provinces, Holstein and Lauenburg were wholly German. No one in Denmark at the present day regrets their loss. In Sleswic the case was different. Out of a total population of 400,000, approximately three-fifths, inhabiting the

southern portion, were German in speech and sentiment, while the remaining two-fifths, or about 160,000, occupying the northern half, were of Danish language and nationality. It is these latter whose stubborn refusal to become Germans has given rise to what is known as "the North Sleswic, or Dano-German, question."

If the existence of such a question has hitherto escaped the notice of a great majority of the American people, the reasons are not far to seek. In the first place, there is an obvious lack of direct connection between the interests uppermost in the average American mind, and conditions and events in far-off, politically insignificant Denmark. Whatever surplus capital the United States have had to invest in international philanthropies has thus far found ready takers nearer home. Secondly, at the time when Denmark succumbed to the joint attack of Prussia and Austria, things of momentous significance were happening in this country, eclipsing in their colossal proportions any contemporaneous event in other parts of the world. The stronger for her trial, America forgave and forgot; Denmark, mutilated and forgotten, was left by the wayside bleeding. And, thirdly, a controversy the origin of which lies back of the memory of most living men must possess elements of an exceptional quality to keep its existence fresh in the consciousness of a later generation. A mere handful of Dutch farmers holding out for years against the concentrated forces of a world-empire, in addition to the other odds, have had to battle against a waning interest among those at the outset having their cause at heart. The soldier who made a world resound with his battlecry must take heed to fall in the first round, lest he outlive his own renown. Daily bulletins from the field of war announcing a stereotyped half-dozen killed and a score put hors de combat are liable to prove dull reading in the long run, unless occasionally relieved by performances on a more generous scale. How, then, can a struggle of forty long years' standing; a ceaseless, monotonous strife, where nothing happens from day to day to stir the enthusiasm of the onlooker; a combat between silent armies, with no victors to cheer, no vanquished to bemoan, no renegades to jeer; a bloodless battle royal of rival sentiments- - how

can such a struggle hope to hold the attention of a busy world?

And yet, is there not in this very nature of the fight something to appeal to all thinking people? Is not this little army of Danes heroically struggling to maintain their nationality against the combined governmental and cultural forces of powerful Germany entitled to the remembrance and sympathy of liberal America?

During the first few years after 1864 the conquerors treated the alien population of the subjugated province with a fair degree of leniency. Through the instrumentality of Napoleon III., who since his Italian campaign was looked to in Europe as the foremost champion of the national principle, a clause had been inserted into the Treaty of Prague making the people of North Sleswic arbiters of their own fate. Prince Bismarck, in a speech before the Prussian lower house in December, 1866-repeated later in the North German Reichstag—with direct reference to Sleswic voiced his unqualified assent to this principle in the following terms:

I have ever been of the opinion that a population which in indubitable manner and constantly evinces a determination not to be Prussian or German, but desires nationally to belong to an immediately adjacent state, does not add to the strength of the power from which it strives to separate itself. And again in 1873, at a reception given by the prince- then chancellor to members of the Reichstag, he addressed these words to the sole representative from North Sleswic, who had reminded him of the treaty rights of his constituents and the desirability of an early settlement: "Yes, you are right; I am entirely of your opinion. Persevere in your fight!"

How much sincerity may be attributed to these utterances by the astute politician is perhaps open to doubt. In this "man of blood and iron" there was not lacking a vein of bloody irony, strangely contrasting with the almost brutal frankness so domi

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"His majesty the emperor of Austria transfers to his majesty the king of Prussia all his . . . . claims to the duchies of Holstein and Sleswic, with the stipulation that the populations of the northern districts of Sleswic are to be ceded to Denmark, if they by a free vote manifest a desire to be united with Denmark" (Treaty of Prague, Art. V).