DENMARK is such a tiny country, as modern nations go(it has only about three and a half million inhabitants of which 750,000 live in the capital)that we might well pass it by, if quantity rather than quality were of any real importance in the affairs of men. But as an example of what can be made out of indifferent material by the application of intelligence combined with a sensible ideal of life(that“moderation in all things”which the Greeks had proclaimed as the highest form of wisdom),Denmark, as well as the other Scandinavian countries, deserves special and most honorable mention.

For that country with its 16,000 square miles and its total lack of natural resources, armies, navies, mines or mountains(at no point does the country rise above 600 feet, which is less than half the height of the Empire State Building)is worth a dozen other countries of infinitely greater size and more pretentions and militaristic ambitions which I could mention if I felt so inclined. The Danish people, entirely through their own efforts, have lowered the illiteracy percentage to zero, they have made themselves the second richest country per capita of all Europe and they have practically abolished both riches and poverty as they are known in the rest of the world, establishing instead a balance of average, moderate well-to-do-ness which is without an equal anywhere else.

Denmark, as one glance at the map will show you, is composed of a peninsula and a number of islands separated from each other by wide open sounds across which the railroad trains are carried on ferries. Its climate is exceedingly unpleasant.All winter long a strong eastern wind is apt to blow across her flat fields, bringing cold showers of rain and forcing the Danes, like the Dutch with whom they have so much in common, to spend a great deal of their time indoors, a circumstance which has contributed greatly to making them a heavy book-reading nation.In consequence thereof they are a singularly well-informed group of people who own more books per capita than any other nation.

But the rain and the wind keep the pastures moist, and the grass grows and makes the cows fat, and as a result of all this Denmark alone is able to provide the world with 30% of its butter. But whereas in most other countries the soil would be owned by rich and absentee landlords, the Danes, who are essentially democratic(in the social and economic rather than the political sense of the word)have never encouraged the development of those vast holdings which we have encountered in most other countries.

There are today 150,000 independent farmers in Denmark who operate small farms, ranging from ten to a hundred acres, and there are only 20,000 farms larger than one hundred acres. The dairy products which are sent abroad are raised and prepared according to the most modern and scientific methods, as taught by the rural agricultural schools which are merely a continuation of the free High School system spread all over the country.The buttermilk that is left over as a by-product of the butter manufacturing is used to feed the hogs which in turn provide the entire British market with its bacon.

As this trade in butter and bacon is much more profitable than the raising of grain, the Danes are obliged to import their grain. They can do this however quite easily and cheaply, as Copenhagen is only two days by steamer from Danzig, and Danzig is the old export-harbor for the vast granaries of Poland and Lithuania.Part of this grain is used for poultry-raising and millions of eggs are sent each year to those same British Isles, which for some mysterious reason have never been able to grow anything more palatable than Brussels sprouts.

In order to maintain what almost amounts to a monopoly in farm products, the Danes submit to a most rigorous state control of everything that leaves their country, thereby establishing for themselves such a reputation of absolute integrity that their trademark has come to be accepted as a guarantee of absolute purity.

Like all races of Teutonic origin, the Danes are incurable gamblers, and during the last few years their ventures in banking and in stock-market speculation have cost them a tidy sum of money. But the children and the cows and the hogs remained when the banks closed their doors and now they are at work once more.The only difficulties they have got to fear have to do with the rapidly increasing state of bankruptcy of most of their neighbors, making such a simple dish as ham and eggs a luxury beyond the reach of the average man.

The towns on the mainland are of no importance. On the west coast of Jutland(the name of the old peninsula from which so many of the original settlers of England came)lies Esbjerg, which is the main export harbor for all these many agricultural products, and on the east coast lies Aarhus(the double A is pronounced OA in Danish)which is one of the oldest centers of Christianity in this part of the world where the people continued to worship their heroic Pagan Gods(their Odins and Thors and Baldurs)until only four centuries before the discovery of America.

The Little Belt(I believe there are plans now to build a bridge across it)separates Jutland from Fyen, the first of the big Baltic islands. In the center of Fyen(cows, hogs and children)lies the city of Odense(the place sacred to Odin)where Hans Christian Andersen was born, the son of a poor and sickly shoe-maker, but one of the greatest benefactors of mankind.

Then we cross the Great Belt and reach the island of Zealand, the heart of the old Danish Empire. Here at a wide bay, protected from the violence of the Baltic by the small island of Amager, the vegetable garden of the capital, lies the charming city of Copenhagen, the“Merchants'Harbor”of the Middle Ages.

During the ninth and tenth centuries, when the Danes ruled an empire which included England and Norway and parts of Sweden, Copenhagen was merely a fishing village, and Roskilde, about fifteen miles inland, was the royal residence from which those distant domains were administered;but today Roskilde is of no importance, while Copenhagen has gone on increasing in size and importance until now it provides entertainment for one-fifth of the entire population of the country.

Copenhagen is a royal residence, and a few guards in very handsome uniforms present arms when the King goes swimming or fishing or strolls forth to buy himself a package of cigarettes. But you will look in vain for any other manifestations of military grandeur.This small country, which has done some of the hardest and bitterest fighting in the days gone by, and which even as recently as the year 1864 was able to hold its own against Prussia for quite a long time, voluntarily abolished its army and navy and has replaced them by a small corps of state police to enforce whatever neutrality will survive the next outbreak of a general European conflict.

That is about all there is to say about Denmark. The country peacefully goes its own way.The royal family keeps off the front page of the more sensational newspapers and while few people have three overcoats, none go without, and while only a small percentage has an automobile, every man, woman and child possesses at least a couple of bicycles, as you will know for yourself if you have ever tried to cross a street in a Danish city just before the luncheon hour.

In a world devoted to the idea of bigness, Denmark hardly plays a role. In a world devoted to the ideal of greatness, it would occupy quite a considerable position.For if the greatest happiness of the greatest number of people is the ultimate goal to which all governments should aspire, Denmark has done more than enough to justify her continued existence as an independent nation.