he solidarity of
Christendom; and the state, as Machiavelli's gospel proclaimed it,
consisted in absolute and irresponsible control exercised by one
man who should embody its unity, strength, and authority.

Montaigne felt rather than understood the cruelty and brutality of the
state traditions of his time; and these traditions were seriously
combatted when the United States made brave efforts both at Versailles
and Washington. Doctor Hill sums up the essential principles which
guided the world from the Renascence to the year 1918:

(1) The essence of a State is "sovereignty," defined as "supreme
power." (2) A sovereign State has the right to declare war upon any
other sovereign State for any reason that seems to it sufficient.
(3) An act of conquest by the exercise of superior military force
entitles the conqueror to the possession of the conquered
territory. (4) The population goes with the land and becomes
subject to the will of the conqueror.

What member of the memorable conference, which began at Washington on
November 12, 1921, would have dared to assert these unmoral principles,
accepted alike by the Congress of Vienna and the Congress of Berlin, in
principle? King John of England looked on their negation as an unholy
novelty, though that negation was the leaven of the best of the life of
the Middle Ages.

There can be no doubt that the germ of the idea of freedom was kept
alive, in the miasma which poisoned "The Prince" and Machiavelli's
world, by men like Sir Thomas Browne and Montaigne. A better
understanding of the principles of these men would have made Milton less
autocratic--Lucifer, though a rebel, was not a democrat--and Voltaire
less destructive. And yet Voltaire, for whom the French Republic lately
named a war vessel, was the friend of Frederick the Great and of
Catherine II. Doctor Hill, to whom some of the passages in Sir Thomas
Browne and Montaigne sent me, says:

Down to the invasion of Belgium in 1914 the most odious crime ever
committed against a civilized people was, no doubt, the first
partition of Poland; yet at the time not a voice was raised against
it. Louis XV. was "infinitely displeased," but he did not even
reply to the King of Poland's appeal for help. George III. coolly
answered that "justice ought to be the invariable rule of
sovereigns"; but concluded, "I fear, however, misfortunes have
r