them the townsfolk, the serfs rose and looted the country houses.  In a way quite different from Belgium, quite different from Alsace-Lorraine, East Prussia is essential.  Forces will and must be sent periodically to defend that territory, however urgently they may be needed elsewhere, as the pressure upon Germany increases.  The German commanders, if they forget East Prussia for a moment in the consideration of the other essential points, will, the moment their eyes are turned upon East Prussia again, remember with violent emotion all that the province means to the reigning dynasty and its supporters, and they will do anything rather than let that frontier go.  The memory of the first invasion is too acute, the terror of its repetition too poignant, to permit its abandonment.

4. Silesia. Silesia, for quite other reasons (and remember that these different reasons for defending such various points are the essence of the embarrassment in which German strategy will find itself), must be saved.  It has been insisted over and over again in these pages what Silesia means.  Its meaning is twofold.  If Silesia goes, the safest, the most remote from the sea, the most independent of imports of the German industrial regions, is gone.  Silesia is, again, the country of the great proprietors.  Amuse yourselves by remembering the names of Pless and of Lichnowsky.  There are dozens of others.  But, most important of all, Silesia is what Belgium is not, what Alsace-Lorraine is not, what East Prussia is not—­it is the strategic key.  Who holds Silesia commands the twin divergent roads to Berlin northwards, to Vienna southwards.  Who holds Silesia holds the Moravian Gate.  Who holds Silesia turns the line of the Oder, and passes behind the barrier fortresses which Germany has built upon her Eastern front.  Who holds Silesia strikes his wedge in between the German-speaking north and the German-speaking south, and joins hands with the Slavs of Bohemia.  Not that we should exaggerate the Slav factor, for religion and centuries of varying culture disturb its unity.  But it is something.  The Russian forces are Slav; the resurrection of Poland has been promised; the Czechs are not submissive to the German claim of natural mastery, and whoever holds Silesia throws a bridge between Slav and Slav if his aims are an extension of power in that race.  For a hundred reasons Silesia must be saved.

* * * * *

Now put yourself in the position of the men who must make a decision between these four outliers—­Belgium, Alsace-Lorraine, East Prussia, and Silesia—­and understand the hesitation such divergent aims impose upon them.  Hardly are they prepared to sacrifice one of the four when the defensive problem becomes acute, but its claims will be pressed in every conceivable manner—­by public sentiment, by economic considerations, by mere strategy, by a political tradition, by the influence of men powerful with the Prussian