mention: Sweden leads all Europe with 2.5 kilometers to each 1,000
inhabitants, (United States has 4.14 kilometers.) The mercantile marine
of Sweden has experienced powerful growth in recent years. In 1912, with
a net tonnage of 805,000, it held the sixth place among the merchant
fleets of Europe, being ahead of, among other countries, Spain, Russia,
and the Netherlands. Especially has the growth in Sweden's merchant
marine been pronounced since 1904, when the first regular ocean lines
with Swedish vessels were established. Today Swedish steamship lines are
maintaining regular traffic with all parts of the world. Thus, among
other things, Sweden has established freight lines, with steamers plying
to both the east and west coasts of North America. Quite recently,
despite the financial crisis brought on by the war, a company has been
formed with the object of establishing passenger traffic with Swedish
steamships of high speed between Gothenburg and either New York or
Boston.
After scrutinizing these figures the reader ought not to be surprised at
the assertion that Sweden is exceptionally well situated from an
economical point of view, and, perhaps, is among the countries which
have been least affected by the economical crisis consequent upon the
war. The national debt of Sweden, which was created very largely with a
view to financing the construction of the Government railroads and for
other productive purposes, is at present only 720,000,000 kroner, (about
$194,500,000.) This is only 126 kroner (a small fraction above $34) for
each inhabitant, while the corresponding figure for France in 1913 was
591 kroner, (nearly $160;) the Netherlands, 282 kroner, ($70.62;) Great
Britain, 280 kroner, ($70.57;) Germany, 276 kroner, ($70.40;) Italy, 270
kroner, ($70.30,) &c. Against the national debt of 720,000,000 kroner
(about $194,500,000) Sweden has Crown assets at this time appraised at
1,761,000,000 kroner net, (nearly $476,000,000.)
Another evidence of the splendid financial condition of Sweden is
afforded in the fact that, since the war broke out and countries which
under normal conditions might be looked to for loans had closed their
markets to foreign nations, the domestic market has been able to supply
fully all, both public and private, demands for funds. Thus, when the
Swedish Government, early last October, sought a loan of 30,000,000
kroner at home, this was fully subscribed in three days. Nor have
municipalities or private banks encountered any difficulty in placing
bonds for amounts of considerable size in the domestic market. The only
loan for which the Swedish Government has contracted abroad during the
crisis was for $5,000,000, and this was placed in New York for the
purpose of facilitating payments for large purchases of American grain.
[Illustration: [map of Scandinavia]]
At least a few words with particular reference to the commercial
intercourse between Sweden and the United States. According to
statistics from the year 1912, the imports of Sweden from the United
States were of the aggregate value of 60,000,000 kroner, (about
$16,200,000,) while the exports aggregated 32,000,000 kroner, (about
$8,600,000.) The principal imports were: Cotton, 17,000,000 kroner,
(about $4,600,000;) oils, 12,000,000 kroner, (about $3,240,000;) copper,
6,200,000 kroner, (about $1,675,000;) machinery, 5,000,000 kroner,
(about $1,350,000;) grain and flour, 2,300,000 kroner, (about $621,000;)
bacon, 1,700,000 kroner, (about $460,000.) The principal articles of
export in the same year were: Pulp, 12,400,000 kroner, (about
$3,350,000;) manufactured iron and steel, 8,100,000 kroner, (about
$2,200,000;) iron ore, 3,600,000 kroner, (about $973,000;) paper,
2,100,000 kroner, (about $568,000;) elastic gum refuse, 1,900,000
kroner, (about $514,000;) matches, 1,300,000 kroner, (about $350,000.)
Since the outbreak of hostilities in August last year there has been a
tremendous increase in trade between Sweden and the United States. The
tonnage employed in this trade has been multiplied many times in order
adequately to care for the traffic. Sweden has sought to secure in the
United States a multiplicity of necessaries which under normal
conditions have been obtained from the belligerent countries. From the
United States, too, there has come an increased demand for many Swedish
products.
It is to be hoped that a large portion of this commerce, which has been
the artificial outgrowth of unusual conditions, will continue, even
after the present world crisis shall happily have become a thing of the
past. Surely, it would be to the mutual advantage of both countries to
develop and strengthen their direct trade relations.
FROM ENGLAND
By MAURICE HEWLETT.
[From King Albert's Book.]
O men of mickle heart and little speech,
Slow, stubborn countrymen of heath and plain,
Now have ye shown these insolent again
That which to Caesar's legions ye could teach,
That slow-provok'd is long-provok'd. May each
Crass Caesar learn this of the Keltic grain,
Until at last they reckon it in vain
To browbeat us who hold the Western reach.
For even as you are, we are, ill to rouse,
Rooted in Custom, Order, Church, and King;
And as you fight for their sake, so shall we,
Doggedly inch by inch, and house by house;
Seeing for us, too, there's a dearer thing
Than land or blood--and that thing Liberty.
War Correspondence
The Beloved Hindenburg
A Pen Portrait of the German Commander in Chief in the East
[By a Staff Correspondent of THE NEW YORK TIMES.]
GERMAN GREAT HEADQUARTERS, EAST, Feb. 10.--But for the "field gray" coat
and the militant mustache, I should have taken him for a self-made
American, a big business man or captain of industry, as he sat at his
work desk, the telephone at his elbow, the electric push-buttons and
reams of neat reports adding to the illusion. Quiet, unassuming, and
democratic, he yet makes the same impression of virility and colossal
energy that Colonel Roosevelt does, but with an iron restraint of
discipline which the American never possessed, and an earnestness of
face and eye that I had only seen matched in his Commander in Chief, the
Kaiser. Here was a man whom the most neutral American could instantly
admire and honor, regardless of the merits of the controversy. It was
Hindenburg, the well beloved, the hope of Germany. He has already been
"done" by journalists and Senator Beveridge, but 70,000,000 are pinning
their faith to him, which makes him worth "doing" again--and again.
For a moment I nearly forgot that I was an American with "nerve," bent
on making him say something, preferably indiscreet; it seemed almost a
shame to bother this man whose brain was big with the fate of empire.
But, although I hadn't been specially invited, but had just "dropped in"
in informal American fashion, the Commander in Chief of all his Kaiser's
forces in the east stopped making history long enough to favor me with a
short but thought-provoking interview.
As to his past performances, the Field Marshal genially referred to the
detailed official summary; as to the future, he protested.
"I am not a prophet. But this I can say. Tell our friends in
America--and also those who do not love us--that I am looking forward
with unshakable confidence to the final victory--and a well-earned
vacation," he added whimsically. "I should like nothing better than to
visit your Panama Exposition and meet your wonderful General Goethals,
the master builder, for I imagine our jobs are spiritually much akin;
that his slogan, too, has been 'durchhalten' ('hold out') until
endurance and organization win out against heavy odds."
Then with sudden, paradoxical, terrific quiet earnest: "Great is the
task that still confronts us, but greater my faith in my brave troops."
One got indelibly the impression that he loved them all, suffered under
their hardships and sorrowed for their losses.
"For you, this war is only a titanic drama; we Germans feel it with our
hearts," he said thoughtfully.
The Field Marshal spoke warmly of the Austro-Hungarian troops, and cited
the results of the close co-operation between his forces and the
Austrian armies as striking proof of the proverb, "In union is
strength." Like all other German Generals whom I had "done," he, too,
had words of unqualified praise for the bravery of his enemies. "The
Russians fight well; but neither mere physical bravery nor numbers, nor
both together, win battles nowadays."
"How about the steam roller?"
"It hasn't improved the roads a bit, either going forward or backward,"
he said with a grim smile.
"Are you worrying over Grand Duke Nicholas's open secret?" I asked,
citing the report via Petrograd and London of a new projected Russian
offensive that was to take the form, not of a steam roller, but of a
"tidal wave of cavalry."
"It will dash against a wall of loyal flesh and blood, barbed with
steel--if it comes," he said simply.
My impression, growing increasingly stronger the more I have seen, that
German military success had been to no small extent made possible by
American inventive genius and high-speed American methods, received
interesting partial confirmation from the Field Marshal, whose keen,
restless mind, working over quite ordinary material, produced the new
suggestive combination of ideas that, while "America might possibly be
materially assisting Germany's enemies with arms, ammunition, and other
war material, certain it was that America, in the last analysis, had
helped Germany far more."
"But for America, my armies would possibly not be standing in Russia
today--without the American railroading genius that developed and made
possible for me this wonderful weapon, thanks largely to which we have
been able with comparatively small numbers to stop and beat back the
Russian millions again and again--steam engine versus steam roller. Were
it for nothing else, America has proved one of our best friends, if not
an ally.
"We are also awaiting with genuine interest the receipt of our first
American guns," the Field Marshal added. How was Germany expecting to
get guns from America? He was asked to explain the mystery.
"I read somewhere in the papers that a large shipment of heavy cannon
had left America for Russia," he said with dry humor, "in transit for
us--for if they're consigned to the Russians, we'll have them sooner or
later, I hope;" adding, with his habitual tense earnestness, "the
Americans are something more than shrewd, hard-headed business men.
Have they ever vividly pictured to themselves a German soldier smashed
by an American shell, or bored through the heart by an American bullet?
The grim realism of the battlefield--that should make also the business
man thoughtful."
"Shall you go west when you have cleaned up here in the east?" I
suggested.
"I can't betray military secrets which I don't know myself, even to
interest the newspaper readers," he said. He gave me the impression,
however, that, east or west, he would be found fighting for the
Fatherland so long as the Fatherland needed him.
"Now it means work again. You must excuse me," he concluded,
courteously. "You want to go to the front. Where should you like to go?"
"To Warsaw," I suggested, modestly.
"I, too," he laughed, "but today--ausgeschlossen, ('nothing doing,' in
Americanese.) Still--that may be yet."
"May I come along, your Excellency?"
"Certainly, then you can see for yourself what sort of 'barbarians' we
Germans are."
"Dropping in on Hindenburg" yields some unimportant but interesting
by-products. The railroad Napoleon, as all the world knows, lives and
works in a palace, but this palace doesn't overawe one who has beaten
professionally at the closed portals of Fifth Avenue. It would be
considered a modest country residence in Westchester County or on Long
Island. Light in color and four stories high, including garret, it looks
very much like those memorials which soap kings and sundry millionaires
put up to themselves in their lifetime--the American college dormitory,
the modern kind that is built around three sides of a small court. The
palace is as simple as the man.
The main entrance, a big iron gateway, is flanked by two guardhouses
painted with white and black stripes, the Prussian "colors," and two
unbluffable Landsturm men mount guard, who will tell you to go around to
the back door.
The orderly who opens the front door is a Sergeant in field gray
uniform. You mount a flight of marble steps, and saunter down a marble
hall, half a block long. It is the reception hall. It is furnished with
magnificent hand-carved, high-backed chairs without upholstery, lounging
not being apparently encouraged here. They are Gothic structures backed
up against the walls. There is no Brussels or Axminster carpet on the
cold marble floor--not even Turkish rugs. Through this palace hall, up
by the ceiling, runs a thick cable containing the all-important
telephone wires. The offices open off the hall, the doors labeled with
neatly printed signs telling who and what is within. If you should come
walking down the street outside at 3 A.M. you would probably see the
lights in Hindenburg's office still burning, as I did. At 3:30 they went
out, indicating that a Field Marshal's job is not a sinecure.
Feeling of the German People
Complete Confidence in Victory and Resentment Toward England
[By a Staff Correspondent of THE NEW YORK TIMES.]
BERLIN, Feb. 12.--To the neutral American, intent only on finding out
the truth, the most thought-provoking feature here (overlooked by
foreign correspondents because of its very featureless obviousness) is
the fact that Germany today is more confident of winning than at any
time in the three months I have been here. This confidence must not be
confused with cocksureness; it is rather the "looking forward with quiet
confidence to ultimate victory," as General von Heeringen phrased it.
Even more important is the corollary that, while the Germans have
apparently never had any doubt that they would win out in the end, this
"ultimate victory" does not seem so far off to them today as it did
three months ago.
To one who has had an opportunity of personally sounding the
undercurrents of German public opinion, this quiet optimism that has
become noticeable only in the past few weeks (totally different in
character from the enthusiasm that followed the declaration of war) has
seemed particularly significant. Three months ago I was incessantly
asked by Germans "how the situation looked to an American," and "how
long I thought the war would last." When left to answer their own
question, they almost invariably remarked: "It may last a long while
yet." Today neutral opinion is no longer anxiously or even eagerly
sought. The temporary need for this sort of moral support seems to have
passed, and there are many indications that the well-informed layman
expects 1915 to see the wind-up of the war, while I have talked with not
a few professional men who have expressed the opinion that the war will
be over by Summer--except against England.
This unanimous exception is significant because it indicates that to the
German mind the war with Russia and France is, in prize-ring parlance, a
twenty-round affair, which can and will be won on points, whereas with
England it is a championship fight to a finish, to be settled only by a
knockout. The idea is that Russia will be eliminated as a serious factor
by late Spring at the latest, and then, Westward Ho! when France will
not prolong the agony unduly, but will seize the first psychological
moment that offers peace with honor, leaving Germany free to fight it
out with the real enemy, England, though as to how, when, and where the
end will come, there is less certainty and agreement. Some think that
the knockout will be delivered in the shadow of the Pyramids; others,
and probably the majority, believe that the winning blow must and will
be delivered on English soil itself.
Time here is no factor, for the war against England is taking on
increasingly an almost religious character; from the German point of
view, it will soon be, not a war, but a crusade. I get one clue to this
in the new phrase of leave-taking that has gained an astounding currency
in the past few weeks. Instead of saying "Good-bye" or "Auf
Wiedersehen," the German now says: "God punish England!" to which the
equally fervent rejoinder is, "May He do so!" This new, polite formula
for leave-taking originated among the officers and men in the field, but
you hear it on all sides now, uttered with a sincerity and earnestness
that is peculiarly impressive. The new style of saying "good-bye" has at
least the merit of being no longer a perfunctory piece of rhetoric.
This optimism is no nation-wide attack of insanity, for the German,
thorough even in forming his opinions, is the last person in the world
to harbor delusions, and there is a perfect realization of the titanic
task that still confronts Germany. Nor is this confidence in ultimate
victory due to lack of information or to being kept in the dark by the
"iron censorship," for the "iron censorship" is itself a myth. It is
liberal, even judged by democratic standards, and surprisingly free from
red tape. There is no embargo on the importation of foreign newspapers;
even the anti-German journals of neutral countries have free entry and
circulation, while at a number of well-known cosmopolitan cafés you can
always read The London Times and The Daily Chronicle, only three days
old, and for a small cash consideration the waiter will generally be
able to produce from his pocket a Figaro, not much older. Not only
English and French, but, even more, the Italian, Dutch, and Scandinavian
papers are widely read and digested by Germans, while the German papers
not only print prominently the French official communiqués, the Russian
communiqués when available, and interesting chunks from the British
"eyewitness" official reports, but most of their feature stories--the
vivid, detailed war news--come from allied sources via correspondents in
neutral countries. The German censor's task is here a relatively simple
one, for German war correspondents never allow professional enthusiasm
to run away with practical patriotism, and you note the--to an
American--amusing and yet suggestive spectacle of war correspondents
specializing in descriptions of sunsets and scenery.
The German was never much of a newspaper reader before the war, but now
he can challenge the American commuter as an absorbent of the printed
word. And not only has the German been suddenly educated into an avid
newspaper reader, but he has developed a tendency to think for himself,
to read between the lines, and interpret sentences. Thus, no German has
any illusions about the military prowess of Austria; but her failure has
caused no hard feelings. "The spirit is willing, but the leadership is
weak," is the kindly verdict, with the hopeful assumption that the
addition of a little German yeast will raise the standard of Austrian
efficiency and improve the quality of leadership.
The Germans, being neither mad nor misinformed, why they face a world of
foes with this new confidence becomes a question of importance to any
one who wants to understand the real situation here. The answer is
Hindenburg--not only the man himself, but all that he stands for, the
personification of the German war spirit, the greatest moral asset of
the empire today. He is idolized not only by the soldiers, but by the
populace as well; not only by the Prussians, but by the Bavarians and
even the Austrians. You cannot realize what a tremendous factor he has
become until you discover personally the Carlylean hero worship of which
he is the object.
Hindenburg woke up one morning to find himself famous; but his
subsequent speedy apotheosis was probably not entirely spontaneous. In
fact, there is reason to believe that he was carefully groomed for the
rôle of a national hero at a critical time, the process being like the
launching by American politicians of a Presidential or Gubernatorial
boom at a time when a name to conjure with is badly needed. He is a
striking answer to the Shakespearean question. His name alone is worth
many army corps for its psychological effect on the people; it has a
peculiarly heroic ring to the German ear, and part of the explanation of
its magic lies probably in the fact that the last syllable, "burg,"
means fortress or castle. He inspires the most unbounded confidence in
the German people; the Field Marshal looms larger than his Kaiser.
The cigarmakers were the first to recognize his claims to immortality
and to confer it on him; but now almost every conceivable sort of
merchandise except corsets is being trade marked Hindenburg. Babies,
fishing boats, race horses, cafés, avenues and squares, a city of
60,000, a whole county, are being named after him, and minor poets are
taking his name in vain daily, "Hindenburg Marches" are being composed
in endless procession, a younger brother is about to publish his
biography, and legends are already thickly clustering about his name. He
laid the Russian bugaboo before it had a chance to make its début; there
is not today the slightest nervousness about the possible coming of the
Cossacks, and there will not be, so long as the Commander in Chief of
all the armies in the east continues to find time to give sittings to
portrait painters, pose for the moving-picture artists, autograph
photographs, appear on balconies while school children sing patriotic
airs, answer the Kaiser's telegrams of congratulation, acknowledge
decorations, receive interminable delegations, personages, and
journalists, and perform all the other time-consuming duties incident to
having greatness thrust upon you; for things obviously cannot be in a
very bad way when the master strategist can thus take "time out" from
strategizing. But the influence of "our Hindenburg," as he is often
affectionately called, is wider than the east; the magic of his name
stiffens the deadline in the west, and the man in the street, whose
faith is great, feels sure that when he has fought his last great battle
in the east the turn of the French and English will come.
While the German in the street, thanks largely to Hindenburg, regards
the military situation with optimism, he sees no grounds for pessimism
in the present political situation. Italy and Bulgaria are regarded as
"safe."
How the Germans regard the economic, industrial, and financial situation
is rather hard to estimate, because their practical patriotism keeps
them from making any public parade of their business troubles and
worries, if they have any. The oft-repeated platitude that you would
never suspect here that a war was going on if you didn't read the papers
is quite just. Conditions--on the surface--are so normal that there is
even a lively operatic fight on in Munich, where the personal friction
between Musical Director Walters and the star conductor, Otto Hess, has
caused a crisis in the affairs of the Royal Munich Opera, rivaling in
interest the fighting at the front.
There are certainly fewer "calamity howlers" here than on Broadway
during boom times, and you see no outward evidence of hard times, no
acute poverty, no misery, no derelicts, for the war-time social
organization seems as perfect as the military. In the last three months
only one beggar has stopped me on the streets and tried to touch my
heart and pocketbook--a record that seems remarkable to an American who
has run the nocturnal gauntlet of peace-time panhandlers on the Strand
or the Embankment.
Business is most certainly not going on as usual. You note many shops
and stores with few or no customers in them. About the only people who
are making any money are army contractors and the shopkeepers who sell
things available for "Liebesgaben" ("love gifts") for the troops in the
field. Those businesses hardest hit by the war are in a state of
suspended animation, embalmed by the credit of the State.
But, again, the influence of Hindenburg is wider than the east--and the
west; it permeates the business world and stiffens the economic backbone
of the nation. It is no exaggeration to say that the whole German
people, barring the inevitable though small percentage of weaklings, is
trying with terrific earnestness to live up to the homely Hindenburgian
motto, "Durchhalten!" ("Hold out,") or, in more idiomatic American, "See
the thing through."
Bombardment of the Dardanelles
First Allied Attack Described by an Onlooker