much; the failure of that mediation, and its causes, matters of history.

A year later, a still more ignominious failure had be recorded. In an article on 'The Danish Duchies (January 1864), Lord Robert remarks, 'No one who h followed the Schleswig-Holstein controversy carefully and impartially can entertain even a momentary doub that he is reading over again, in a more tedious form, the fable of the Wolf and the Lamb.' After noting various utterances of German statesmen and publicists, pointing towards the fact that, as Dr Löwe put it, since the time of the Great Elector, Prussian policy has always bee rightly directed towards gaining the North Germa peninsula,' he asks, 'What will England do?' Our tru policy is to prevent the Sound from falling into hand that may close it'; but, apart from self-interest, we are pledged to the support of Denmark. It is much to be feared, however, that, whatever may be said, nothing will be done. 'Lord Russell's fierce notes and pacifie measures form an endless theme for the taunts of those who would gladly see the influence of England in the councils of Europe destroyed.' His forebodings came true; the policy which he advocated was laid aside; it only remained for him, in an article on 'The Foreign Policy of England' (April 1864), to raise a bitter lament over a lost opportunity and a national disgrace. From this eloquent paper we take the following passages:

and

'Whatever differences may exist as to the policy which this country ought to have pursued in the various conflicts by which Europe and America have been recently disturbed, few will be found to dispute that she occupies a position in the eyes of foreign Powers which she has never occupied before during the memory of any man now living. . . . Those who remembered the Great War refused to believe that England could not make good her threats or her promises if she thought fit; and, therefore, her representations in many negotiations of deep European moment were listened to with respect.... But this condition of things has lamentably changed. No one can be in the least degree conversant with the political literature of foreign countries, or hear ever so little of the common talk of foreign society, without being painfully aware that an active revolution has taken place in the tone of foreign thought in regard to the position of England. Her

fluence in the councils of Europe has passed away. . . Our iplomatists are at least as active as they were at any former ime. Their vigilance is as keen; their interference is as ncessant; their language is bolder and far more insolent than was in better times. But the impulse is gone which gave tforce. . . .

'The estimate of the English character that is felt in every ircle and class of society abroad, and expressed without reserve by the press, may be summed up in one phrase, as a portentous mixture of bounce and baseness. The defence

of a high reputation is, after all, a cheap one. A nation which is known to be willing as well as able to defend itself will probably escape attack. Where the disposition to fight in Case of need is wanting, or is dependent upon some casual and deeting gust of passion, the political gamblers who speculate war will naturally be inclined to invest in the venture of Aggression. The policy which invites contempt seldom fails earn a more substantial punishment. . . . Indifference to reputation seems the cheapest and easiest policy while it is being pursued; but it only deserves that character until the limit of tameness has been reached. The time must come at last when aggression must be resisted; and then, when it is too late, the expensiveness of a name for cowardice forces itself upon every apprehension. We fervently desire peace, but we desire it in the only way in which it can be had. Peace without honour is not only a disgrace, but, except a temporary respite, it is a chimera.'

The Franco-German War and its consequences called forth several powerful and far-seeing articles from his pen. In the first of these, that headed 'The Terms of Peace' (Oct. 1870), he pleaded hard against the imposion of humiliating terms on France. At a time when public opinion in this country was still, generally speaking, infavour of Germany, as a Power upon which Napoleon III had made unprovoked war, he pointed out the force of the suspicions and fears which Prussia's conduct in 1864 and 1866 had aroused, and the danger which the Hohenzollern candidature really implied. 'It does not,' he writes, 'necessarily follow that, because they [the French] were the challengers, therefore they were the aggressors.' He hints that the unification of Germany was the original object of war; for war is the mother's milk of infant empires. We are now aware that these remarks contained more truth than even Lord Salisbury could have

known at the time. He argues especially against the seizure of Alsace-Lorraine on the ground that it will leave in the national mind of France an undying sore, and imperil the peace of Europe for many a year to com A ceded territory would be a constant memorial d humiliation. No Frenchman could forget it if he would And such sentiments will mean the ever-recurring risk of war. 'Until the population that have been wrested from her return under her flag, France will bide her time, a Italy did, never moving in her own cause, but ever ready to act with any ally, in any cause that shall procure he the restoration of what she has lost.' A peace on suck terms will be no peace at all.

'We have been wont to talk of the burden of an armed peace but the peace with which we are threatened will more resemble the quiet of an ambuscade. Is there no neutra that will make one effort to rescue Europe from such a future of chronic war?'

Three months later he discussed 'The Political Lessons of the War' (Jan. 1871), and followed this up by a paper on 'The Commune and the Internationale' (April 1871)) In the first of these essays the inevitable insecurity of a government founded on revolution, the fatal consequences of a usurpation, form his opening theme; but he is lenient to the fallen usurper. It was a system of government which could not last; but the responsibility of it hardly lies with Napoleon III. He was what the temper and the history of his people made him.' With the Second Empire the contrast of the Prussian monarchy, broadbased on national support, with its bold and independ ent executive, is sufficiently obvious. But the contrast between the strong and able Government of Prussia and the growing weakness and administrative incapacity of British Ministries is little less marked and far more painful to observe. The result of our system is that the Minister in England, like the Emperor in France, is too apt to live from hand to mouth.' As was natural at the moment, it is the effect of this upon our military organisation which the writer is particularly anxious to bring out. Of all the evils which are due to this cause, the inefficiency of our defensive preparations is far the

ravest.' And in words to which recent events have iven renewed force, he utters his warning.

We know now, by experiments worked out upon others, that large, well-trained, well-supplied army is the one condition f national safety. It will be well for us if we suffer no official procrastination, no empty commonplace about British valour, to leave us to face the coming danger undefendedanprepared.'

This was written nearly forty years ago. But prophets have little honour in their own country, and, if they happen to be Cassandras, are no more likely to get a hearing than they did in the days of Troy.

Finally, as noble examples of Lord Salisbury's style, and as showing his admiration for the patriotism and devotion to duty which distinguished the two men whom, in their conduct of that department of affairs with which his own name will ever be associated, he most revered, let us cite the following extracts from his studies of Castlereagh and Pitt (January and April 1862).

This effect of his [Castlereagh's] calm, cold, self-contained temperament has, in the first instance, been damaging to his fame. No school for political thinkers have charged themselves in his case with the duty of sweeping away the detraction that gathers upon great men's tombs. But the time has come when these causes should cease to operate. . . . We are only concerned to recognise with gratitude the great results of his life the triumphs that he won, and the peace-loving policy which those triumphs were made the base. As the events in which he acted recede into the past, the pettier details in bis character, by which some of his leading contemporaries Tere repelled, disappear altogether from our sight. From the Jet where we stand now, nothing is visible but the splendid outlines of the courage, the patience, and the faultless sagacity which contributed so much to liberate Europe and to save England in the crisis of her fate.'

'Though it has hitherto rested on no very distinct anthority, it has always been the popular belief that Pitt died with the exclamation, "Oh, my country!" upon his lips.

It was mournfully in character with a life devoted to his country as few lives have been. Since his first entry into the world he had been absolutely hers. For her he had forgone the enjoyments of youth, the ties of family, the hope of fortune. For three and twenty years his mind had moulded

her institutions and had shaped her destiny. . . . At his bidding the most appalling sacrifices had been made in vain; and now he was leaving her in the darkest hour of a terrible reverse, and in the presence of the most fearful foe whom she had ever been called upon to confront. Such thoughts might well wring from him a cry of mental anguish, even in the convulsions of death. It was not given to him to know how much he had contributed to the final triumph. Long after his feeble frame had been laid near his father's grave his policy continued to animate the councils of English states men, and the memory of his lofty and inflexible spirit en couraged them to endure. After eleven more years o suffering, Europe was rescued from her oppressor by the measures which Pitt had advised; and the long peace was based upon the foundations which he had laid. But no such, consoling vision cheered his death-bed. His fading power could trace no ray of light across the dark and trouble future. The leaders had not yet arisen, who, through un exampled constancy and courage, were to attain at last to the glorious deliverance towards which he had pointed the way, but which his eyes were never permitted even in distant prospect to behold.'

In discussing Lord Salisbury's connexion with the 'Quarterly' we have somewhat anticipated, and must now return. Macpherson resigned the editorship early, in 1867, and was succeeded by William Smith, whose dictionaries and school-books were well known to a whole generation of students, and in some departments still hold the field. He came of East Anglian stock; and his grandfather may be described as a working yeoman holding land near Ely and Newmarket. His father migrated to London and set up in business in the City: Both his parents were Congregationalists; but the sol eventually joined the Established Church. Born i Watling Street in 1813, and educated in London, William Smith could remember, as a boy, hearing the bell of St Paul's tolling for the death of George the Third. He first studied theology, but subsequently took to the law. and was articled to a firm of solicitors. Scholarship. however, presented stronger attractions than the Bar or the Church. His mother, a strong Nonconformist, put a veto on his going to Cambridge-a loss he always regretted-and he studied at University College instead. As assistant in University College School he learnt from