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N the shadow of the war cloud that suddenly spread darkness over Europe, Swedes and Norwegians met, last August, on the boundary line to unveil a monument commemorating one hundred years of peace between them. The occasion became a solemn lifting up of the hearts of the two peoples in a pledge to live at peace not only with each other and with Denmark, but, so far as possible, with the whole world. The Scandinavians, once the dreaded warriors of the North, are now practically the only nations in Europe to set their faces resolutely toward peace. They ask nothing but to be left alone to work out their own destinies within their own domain, peopled by homogeneous races. Will they be allowed to do it?

In the international relations of Sweden and Norway the fact which flashes out so that he who runs may read is the Russian menace. While Denmark has other interests and other complications, due to her position between Germany and England, Sweden and Norway are strategically a unit, bound together by the fear of aggression from the

east.

Ten years after the Thirty Years' War the entire northern part of the Baltic was a Swedish lake, bordered by the mother country and dependencies. With the beginning of the eighteenth century a young, barbarous giant arose in the east with his face toward the open sea, the goal that has been Russia's ever since. St. Petersburg was built on land taken from the Swedes. The aggressive wars of Charles the Twelfth checked the stride of Russia for a while, but his band of veterans who "thought ten to one an even match" were engulfed in the mere mass of Peter the Great's army, and he left a Sweden impoverished, depopulated, and shorn of her outlying provinces. Livonia, Esthonia, Ingria, Wiborg, and Karelia passed into the hands of the Russians. Less than a century later, in 1809, the whole of Finland, with her wide, luxurious plains and smiling lakes, the province that has given Sweden some of her greatest poets and stanchest warriors, became Russian territory, and the Czar's Government at the time had designs on the liberty of the mother country as well.

The thorough Russification of Finland did not begin until the present century, and it is

profoundly significant that it coincided exactly with the close of the war with Japan. Thwarted in the attempt to reach open sea in the east, Russia turned her attention with renewed vigor to the west. Finland is now a country governed by Cossacks. Finnish judges have been thrown into prison for daring to uphold the constitution guaranteed their country by the Czar. Finnish money has built the broad-gauged railway and heavy iron bridges that can carry troops, if need be, directly from Petrograd to Tornea, on the Swedish border. Small wonder that fear of Russia is in the Swedish blood, and that the "Muscovite" is used as a bogey to frighten children.

In Norway the Bear's paw is casting a shadow over. Finmarken and Nordland, the fairy-land of the nation, the region that gives Norway her title of the Land of the Midnight Sun. It is asserted by responsible men that the sam influences which undermined resistance in Finland a century ago are at work in Finmarken, and that Russian rubles are used, perhaps not in actual bribery, but certainly to create a feeling of solidarity with Russia. Russian traders fasten themselves on the region and are often able to offer better terms than the Norwegian merchants. The large alien population of Lapps and Finns, the distance from the heart of the nation, and the poor means of communication add to the gravity of the situation.

If Russia were to grab any part of this region, there is no reason to believe that she would be content with a single icy harbor dangling at the end of a long railway line. It is more likely that the booty of the Bear might reach even as far south as to Trondhjem, the seat of the cathedral in which the kings of Norway are crowned. In order to hold such a long strip of coast, however, an upland would be desirable, and there is Swedish Norrland, rich in forests and iron ore.

A noted Swede, when visiting the United States, was asked if he thought England and Germany would allow Russia to annex a part of Scandinavia. We will not allow it ourselves," was the proud answer. Nevertheless, the international position of Sweden is a foregone conclusion. It is the Germans who have held at bay the Slavs and Mongols in the south, as the Swedes have done it in

the north, down through the centuries. To Germany the Swedes still look as the main bulwark of the Teutonic races, and they are convinced that, if Germany were to be weakened, their own existence would be threatened.

Nor has Germany been blind to the advantages of breaking the ring of her enemies with a friend in the north and of allying with herself so strong a military nation as the Swedes. The precise nature of any overtures from Germany to Sweden is, of course, wrapped in diplomatic secrecy, but there can be little doubt that offers of alliance were made before the war, and that the temper of Sweden has at least been sounded after the outbreak of hostilities. Such advances from a world power might well tempt a small people whose blood still leaps with memories of Gustavus Adolphus and Charles the Twelfth, but to all expansionist dreams the sober common sense of the nation has spoken an emphatic "No," and Sweden stood at the beginning of the war free from all entanglements. Since then the strictest neutrality has been adhered to.

The integrity of Norway is officially guaranteed by the Integrity Treaty of 1907, which England, Germany, France, and Russia have signed for a period of ten years. Among these signatories, England is the one to which Norwegians look as their especial protector against aggression from any other Power. It is true that they, in common with the Danes and Swedes, feel the warmest sympathy and the most intense admiration for the French people and for French culture, but France is too far away to enter into the political calculations of the North. To put trust in Russia would be like setting the wolf to guard the sheepfold. As for Germany, the German Emperor has indeed endeared himself personally by many acts of kindness, such as the succor of the sufferers from fire at Aalesund and his annual gift of money to the Trondhjem Cathedral, not forgotten even this summer, when his visit was cut short by the war. Recently, however, there has been a tendency to look askance at these friendly visits, for in their wake have come German battle-ships, which have entered Norwegian harbors to take measurements there. They have been an unpleasant reminder that the next great naval battle of the world would very likely be fought in Norwegian waters and threaten the neutrality of seacoast towns like Bergen and Christianssand.

England feels it to be a safeguard of her

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interests that the long western coast of the Scandinavian Peninsula is in the hands of a small and friendly nation like Norway. question is only whether the real cordiality existing will be strong enough to hold in all temptations, or whether the fires that were fierce enough to weld such opposing elements as England and Russia may not also shrivel the paper of an Integrity Treaty.

Dr. Sigurd Ibsen, in a speech last May, quoted the present Prime Minister, Mr. Gunnar Knudsen, to the effect that Norway in any international complication must look to England for aid. Dr. Ibsen, who is the son of Henrik Ibsen, and is himself an authority on international matters, goes on to say that if Mr. Knudsen's words referred to Russia they voiced an optimism which he could not share. England, he declared, would no doubt be very much averse to the intrenchment of Russia on the coast of Norway, but as the attack would probably be made by land, England would have no means of hindering it except diplomatic protestations, possibly seconded by a naval demonstration in the Baltic. "But there is little likelihood that Russia would attack Scandinavia in times of peace. It is very plausible, however, that an assault might be made under cover of the general confusion that would accompany a war between the European Powers. Moreover, in the event that war should break out, we must reckon with the possibility that England and Russia would stand together as allies. That England should raise any protest against Russian occupation of Scandinavian territory would then be out of the question, and if the group of Powers to which they both belong should win, Russia would certainly be allowed to keep her booty. however much England might regret it in her heart."

Denmark, on the other hand, is in no danger from Russia. Encroaching Germans have pushed the Danes back from the lands south of the Baltic which they once held— in the thirteenth century. under Valdemar the Victorious-almost as far east as the site of Petrograd. In modern times they have been confined to the peninsula of Jutland and the adjacent islands, and fifty years ago Germany seized by force of arms Schleswig-Holstein, forming the base of the peninsula. In Schleswig, which the Danes still call South Jutland, the work of Germanizing has been carried on ruthlessly. It is forbidden to sing Danish patriotic songs, to

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display Danish colors, and to hold meetings in the Danish language. Recently difficulties have been placed in the way of Danishspeaking citizens' owning land or engaging servants. Geographical names have been given a German twist. At the outbreak of the war the customary restrictions were sharpened; Danish newspapers were suppressed and the editors put into jail at the very moment when thousands of their kinsmen were fighting loyally in the German army.

The seizure of Schleswig-Holstein has enabled Germany to build the Kiel Canal, affording a quick passage from the Baltic to the North Sea without the necessity of navigating the difficult sound between Denmark and Sweden. The strategic importance of Denmark to Germany is hereby lessened, since the little kingdom no longer holds the only key to the Baltic.

To England, however, the day may come when her squadron must enter the Baltic, and there is no way except through the sounds, which the Danes have blocked by submarine mines. Only a narrow passage in the Öresund is left free, and the Danish Government provides pilots free of charge to all merchant vessels. To provide a battle-ship with a pilot would, of course, be a violation of neutrality, and the action of Denmark is therefore a virtual, though not a formal, pronibition. According to private advices, lacking official confirmation, it was the result of an ultimatum from Germany which gave Denmark the choice between laying mines in her waters or having the Germans lay them. Denmark chose to do it herself.

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As yet there has been no protest from England and no indication that she wishes to make the passage. To comply with a demand for a pilot would be to court attack from Germany. At the beginning of the war Denmark declared her intention to defend her neutrality, if need be. by force. over the world Danes and those who have fallen under the spell of Denmark's peculiarly intimate charm, who have explored her quaint cities and learned to know her fine old culture and her gentle, kindly people, are thankful for every hour that passes without putting her brave resolution to the test of blood and iron. Should the test come, Copenhagen is one of the most strongly fortified seaports in Europe and is guarded by a large force.

The divergent interests of the three countries explain why the ideal of pan-Scandinavianism, though it has become a spiritual

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force, has not borne fruit in political action. Denmark and Norway, as a result of four centuries of union terminating in 1814, are more alike in language and culture than either is to Sweden. Norway looks with repugnance upon the idea of fraternizing with the oppressor of Denmark, while Denmark dislikes Sweden's friendship with Germany. Sweden resented Norway's violent severance of the union in 1905; the Swedes, so proud of their own honorable history, have not been able to understand that the action of Norway was not dictated by enmity, but was the inevitable bursting of the seed of national life planted more than a thousand years ago by Harold the Fair-haired. This wound, however, has healed with marvelous rapidity. The magnanimity of the Swedes has not been able to resist the persistent, almost eager friendliness of the Norwegians. When the Riksdag of Sweden and the Storthing of Norway simultaneously passed a resolution, soon after the outbreak of the war, that under no circumstances would the two countries bear arms against each other, we who were in Scandinavia at the time felt it as almost a physical relief. There was no demonstration, no lyrical outburst, only a deep, almost silent thankfulness.

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In all three countries the conviction has gained ground that neutrality is no easy loophole out of difficulties, but that it may involve heavy sacrifices. The campaign for military preparedness has been most vigorous in Sweden, where the Asiatic explorer Sven Hedin issued his first passionate "Word of Warning" in 1912. Since then he has carried on a ceaseless agitation, trying rouse his countrymen with his flaming oratory to see the danger from the east and prepare for the coming struggle. Others have taken up the call, and last February the movement culminated in that remarkable demonstration known as the "Yeomen's March." Thirty thousand landowners from all parts of Sweden met in Stockholm and marched under their old provincial banners to the royal castle to meet the King face to face and offer him their worldly goods in defense of the fatherland. Seventy thousand additional names were signed to the address that was handed the King. One group of citizens after another-scientists, artists, and business men-hastened to offer their support. More than three thousand university students, their white-capped, singing crowds like the onward rush of spring floods," went