many or Italy aim at that process of consolidation through which France had gone at an earlier time? The strength which the united nation gained from its unity was looked on as so much taken away from the strength of France. France, as claiming a right to domineer over all her neighbours, openly made it her business to keep them weak and disunited. With France in the ascendant, with the power of France wielded by the unscrupulous will of Louis Napoleon Buonaparte, no nation could be safe for a moment. The panics might take a somewhat absurd shape, but our moments of panic were moments of greater wisdom than the fits which alternated with the panics, the fits in which we fell down and worshipped the common enemy. In such a state of things our moments of panic were in truth our lucid intervals. They were moments far more honourable to us than the fit of madness in which we allowed ourselves to be dragged by our dear and faithful ally into an attack on a sovereign and a people who had never wronged us, on behalf of the foulest tyranny on earth.

But those days are past. The tyrant has fallen-fallen amid such utter scorn and ignominy as few tyrants in the world's history have fallen. The boasted strength of the nation which claimed to give law to Europe has shown itself to be utter weakness. The old disturbing power lies crushed beneath the mightiest stroke of righteous vengeance that the world has seen for ages. One might have deemed that one universal cry of joy and thankfulness would have gone up from liberated Europe. One might have deemed that no language could have been found so fitting to be the common song of mankind as the strains in which the Hebrew poet of old rejoiced over the fall of a kindred tyranny, the strains in which he sang how Lucifer had fallen from heaven, how the oppressor had ceased and the golden city ceased. Instead of this, at the very moment of deliverance we are seized with another panic, and the panic is this time directed against the

deliverer. It is directed, not against the power which has so long threatened the peace and freedom of Europe, but against the power which has given Europe at least a moment of peace in which it may breathe freely.

It is my lot always to be on the unfashionable side. Seventeen years ago I saw no reason to dread Russia, and every reason to dread France. Last year, to my amazement, I found myself going along with a popular cry. I was at once surprised and delighted to find that the glorious struggle in which the German nation was engaged-a struggle to free itself from the French aggression of the moment, to make French aggression impossible for the future-awakened general sympathy in England. then the tide of public opinion has turned the other way, and I find myself left in a state to which I am far better used. The odd logic which turns against a cause allowed to be righteous, simply because that cause is victorious, is altogether beyond me. It is not often that right and might go together. But I cannot believe that right is turned into wrong, simply because, for once in a way, might has become its companion.

Since

The two cries which we have had going about lately are both somewhat startling, and to a plain understanding they seem also a little inconsistent with one another. All of a sudden we were told that we had no army, that we could not put together a hundred thousand men. We could not put together forty thousand men. We had no powder, or we had the wrong kind of powder. We had no rifles, or we had the wrong kind of rifles. Our soldiers were not like the educated soldiers of Prussia. Our officers were not like the scientific officers of Prussia. The volunteers themselves, the glory of the land, would, it was suddenly found out, be of no kind of good in a real battle. All this sounded very frightful, and very likely some of it might be true, but one had a kind of notion that one had heard it all before more than once. Then, to make the thing more frightful, we were told that our turn was sure to come next. As soon

as Bismarck had eaten up France, he was sure to come and eat up England. The thing was quite certain. Somebody who had the good luck to understand German had heard two Germans on an English railway talking very ugly things in their own tongue. Nay, it was quite certain that Prussian officers had been seen with a map of England, planning out campaigns in divers parts of our island, and this, there could be no doubt, meant mischief. It was whispered back again that this was only part of the scientific military education of Prussian officers, that they did exactly the same with maps of Russia and Turkey and Spain and California and the Cannibal Islands, and that it could hardly be believed that they were going to invade all the world at once. That was all very well; the maps of the other countries might very likely be meant for scientific study or scientific amusement, but a map of England could be meant only for real work. The Prussians were certainly coming; they might not indeed come straight from the gates of Paris to the no-gates of London; they might swallow up Luxemburg and Belgium and Holland on the road, by way of a whet; but if so, it would be much the same; we were bound by treaty to fight for all these states, and we had no men, no rifles, no powder, with which we could fight for them. All this was unpleasant enough, but while we were rubbing our eyes in wonder and scratching our heads in puzzledom, and trying to find out how we could get out of such a sad state of things, there came another cry, if anything, more appalling than the other. The same people who told us that we were effaced, wiped out, clean gone, that we had no men, no rifles, no powder, told us all of a sudden that we were bound to go to war with Russia the next morning. Our honour demanded it; our "prestige," whatever that is, demanded it; effaced as we were, we were bound to go forth, at the bidding of honour and "prestige," to fight with Russia, though we had neither men, rifles, nor powder to fight her with. How this was to be

the

done was not very plain to ordinary minds. One might have thought that the votaries of honour and "prestige " expected miracles to be wrought on their behalf, that the walls of Russian fortresses were to fall down at sound of the British trumpet, and that the hosts of the Czar were to be put to flight before such easy weapons as lamps and pitchers. But one could hardly believe that miracles were looked for, when the very men who were urging us to fight were endlessly sneering at the King of Prussia for being old-fashioned enough to believe that there is a God that judgeth the earth. Still, men or no men, rifles or no rifles, powder or no powder, we were to go forth and fight Russia. The cause was a cause in which we could not hold back; it was the cause of the faith of treaties. To be sure we, and every other nation in Europe, had freely trampled treaties under foot, whenever it was convenient to do so. In defiance of treaties, Belgium had been separated from Holland; in defiance of treaties, Poland had vanished from the map of Europe; in defiance of treaties, the commonwealth of Cracow had been swallowed up by Austria; in defiance of treaties, a Buonaparte sat on the throne of France; in defiance of treaties, he had seized the neutral land of Savoy. All these things might be passed by; it was only free states that they concerned. Russia herself might be forgiven when it was only a free country which she swallowed up; such matters did not touch our honour and our "prestige;" but when a barbarian despotism was threatened, then honour and "prestige " were touched to the quick. We did not strike a blow for the neutrality of Savoy it is a chance if we should have stricken a blow for the neutrality of Switzerland itself; but for the neutrality of the Black Sea all risks must be run. All other powers might repudiate treaties at will, but to Russia no such freedom might be allowed, at least when she was dealing with her kindred despots. Poland and Cracow, Savoy and Switzerland, were matters of no account. But the inde

pendence and integrity of the Ottoman Empire-that is, the continued bondage of Eastern Christendom-was a thing so holy that for its sake we were bound to wage a war, even though we had no men, no rifles, no powder, to wage it with.

Another thing is wonderful. Fifteen years ago Russia was overcome, and, being overcome, she was treated as those who are overcome commonly are treated. She was made to surrender part of her territory, so as to keep her away from a river her presence on

on

which those who overcame her held to be dangerous. She had also to submit to certain humiliating conditions, restraining her in some of the common rights of an independent nation. Just now France is overcome, far more completely overcome than Russia was. France, like Russia, has to surrender part of her territory, so as to keep her away from a river her presence which those who have overcome her hold to be dangerous. She has also to pay a great sum of money; but she is not subjected to any humiliating conditions; she is not restrained in any of the common rights of an independent nation. Yet, by some means which I cannot understand, the treaty to which Russia had to submit is held to be far more binding than the treaty to which France has had to submit. To give formal notice that a treaty will no longer be regarded may not be diplomatically correct; but it is surely more honest and straightforward than either to shuffle out of a treaty or to pick some quarrel in order to get rid of it. Yet no words could be found too strong to denounce the conduct of Russia in saying that she would no longer be bound by a most humiliating treaty. Meanwhile those who spoke most fiercely against Russia for so doing have been speaking of the far less humiliating treaty to which France has submitted as a mere truce, a mere breathing-space, till she can begin her old career again. They are in fact encouraging France to do, in a shape in every way more mischievous, the very thing which they

have been so fiercely denouncing Russia for doing.

Such are the various cries,-cries, I must think, a little inconsistent with one another, to which we have been listening for some months past. But of course the great cry of all is the cry of no men, no rifles, no powder. If this really be so, it is a grievous fault, and ought doubtless to be put straight as soon as may be. But, looking more broadly at the matter, I cannot conceive a time when the cry of danger, invasion, and such like, at least from any European power, was more utterly out of place. The power from which there was real danger to us and to the rest of the world lies crushed, and can at all events do no mischief for some time to come. Think, if France had been victorious. Will any man persuade me that the great nation would have been content with simple victory, content even with the Rhine frontier? The nation and its Buonaparte would have been at least sorely tempted to go on and repeat the whole career of the other Buonaparte. Belgium, so often. threatened, would of course have been swallowed up; and Belgium is the one continental state which all English parties agree that we are bound to defend. And we may be sure that a still more direct attack on England would have followed before long. It might not have come this year, but it would have come very soon. An attack on England, after a successful attack on Prussia, would have been the natural wind-up of the policy of Louis Napoleon Buonaparte. The policy of the tyrant has, after all, been very simple. At the head of the great nation, with ideas to express, defeats to avenge, and so forth, his one object was to get a name for himself and to flatter the French passion for glory by attacking the chief European powers in turn. No one attacked him ; no usurper was ever let so completely alone. Reigning, as he did, in defiance of treaties, no one thought of putting those treaties in force against him. Everybody fell down and worshipped him; kings called him "brother;" he

was made a Knight of the Garter, he dined with the Lord Mayor and kissed the Queen.' The reward of all this forbearance, and somewhat more than forbearance, was a series of systematic aggressions on the chief powers of Europe. The object was to teach them that France, under her Buonaparte, was stronger than any of them. But it was a great point to do the thing easily and with a show of decency. The way was to pick a quarrel with each state in turn, beginning with his fellow-despots, and, if possible, to make the thing look respectable by bamboozling some free state to join her in his enterprise. He began with picking a quarrel with Russia, a power guilty enough in other quarters, but innocent towards him. In the depths of the "Eastern Question" it was easy to dig up grounds of quarrel, silver stars, keys, and what not. So the quarrel was picked, and England was bamboozled into the great national crime of the Russian war. He then went on to pick a quarrel with Austria, also a power guilty in other quarters, but innocent towards him. To that end he bamboozled Italy with hopes of deliverance; he would free Italy from the Alps to the Hadriatic, a promise which, as we all know, he took care not to fulfil. Cavour probably was more wary than Buonaparte, and foresaw better than he what was coming. But how little any zeal for Italy had to do with the attack on Austria is plain from the fact that, from the moment when it appeared that the movement was likely to issue in Italian freedom and Italian unity, Buonaparte ever after showed himself the bitterest enemy of Italian freedom and Italian unity. He went back from his Italian campaign without having done the work which he promised to do, but not without exacting his stipu lated wages in the shape of the two

1 See the Spectator, August 25, 1855, especially the leading article headed "The Kiss."

[When I wrote this a month back I did not foresee that the same man, with the blood of fresh thousands on his hands, would be again received at the English Court and, what is of more importance, be cheered by an English crowd.]

Italian provinces which he took to himself. After the turn of Austria naturally came the turn of Prussia; the third great military power of the Continent was to be humbled as the other two had been. Prussia was accordingly attacked on the most ridiculous pretext of all, but undoubtedly with the fixed purpose of robbing Germany of her western provinces. As England had served his purpose in the attack on Russia, as Italy had served his purpose in the attack on Austria, it is clear that the Tyrant was deluded enough to think that Southern Germany would, in the like sort, serve his purpose in the attack on Prussia. England had been thoroughly deluded; we have not fully awakened from our delusion even now. Italy was only half deluded, and in the end she outwitted her enemy. But Southern Germany refused to be deluded for a single moment; the gamester threw his last cast; the dice proved against him, and the whole fabric of evil fell to the ground. But had it been otherwise, had France conquered, had France been extended to the Rhine instead of Germany being extended to the Mosel, had French troops entered Berlin instead of German troops entering Paris, had the great nation stood triumphant and dominant over every continental power, will any man persuade me that the turn of the Island Empire would not have come next? It would have been the onething wanting to complete the great cycle of successful aggressions. It must never be forgotten that an essential part of the programme of Louis Napoleon Buonaparte, as set forth by him years ago, was to avenge the defeat of Waterloo. If his star had led him so far in triumph as to avenge the share of Prussia in that defeat, can we doubt what would have come next would have been to finish the work by avenging the share of England?

From this danger, our real danger within the bounds of Europe, the German victories have saved us. And now we turn round and lavish our sympathies upon our fallen enemies and have little but revilings for our victorious brethren. The mighty triumph of right, the

grandest display which the world ever saw of human force and human skill working for a great and noble cause, is met with coldness and more than coldness, with ostentatious insult and suspicion, by those who, next to the victors themselves, have most need to rejoice in the victory. Truly our continental brethren may reproach us that we love our enemies and hate our friends; by this time doubtless they perceive that if France had triumphed and all they had died, then it had pleased us well.

I believe that there never was in this world a panic more unreasonable than the fear of danger to England from the side of Germany. If there is any <langer, it is a danger of our own making. Germany is our natural ally against the common enemy: she has been so always, from the day of Bouvines to the day of Waterloo. Germany has no interest in doing us harm; she has no sentimental provocation to dous harm; for a long time to come she cannot even have the means to do us harm. If the name of England is beginning to be hateful in German ears, it is wholly the fault of England. It is because a kindred people, engaged, for once in the world's history, in purely righteous warfare, looked to their brethren, if not for material help, at least for cheering sympathy, and all that they have got is scorn for themselves and brutal sneers at their sovereign. I believe that the wisest heads in Germany and those who wield the affairs of Germany are still thoroughly friendly to us. But if German popular feeling has turned against us, such a change is neither wonderful nor undeserved. If ever we feel the effects of having turned our natural friends into our enemies, it will be wholly our own doing.

Germany, in truth, has nothing to gain by attacking England. I see no reason to doubt that the policy of the new Empire will be peaceful. But, supposing it to be otherwise, the obvious fields for its warlike energies lie elsewhere. It is obvious that Germany is imperfect as long as Austria and the adjoining states, Tyrol, Kärnthen, and the rest, are separated from Ger

many and attached to Hungary. It is very strange geography which makes Wien, Salzburg, and Innsbruck something other than German. Then again, there are Liefland and Esthland, lands in which the German element has to struggle hard against the evil influence of Russia. If united Germany goes forth either conquering or peaceably annexing, it strikes me that these are the quarters in which those processes are the most likely to take place. If it should unhappily be otherwise, if Switzerland or Belgium or Holland should be attacked, then, I grant, be the aggressor France or Germany or whoever it might be, it would be the duty of all Europe to step in in the name of European freedom.

Still, though I fail to see the special reason for any special alarm at this particular moment, there is no doubt that in this wicked world it is always better to stand ready for anything that may happen, however unlikely. I am a peace man, but I am not a peace-atany-price man. I hold, as fully as any fire-eater, that it would never do to let the world think that England will never fight, come what will. I protest against shedding one drop of English blood or spending one farthing of English money to bolster up a loathsome despotism at the other end of Europe. But if free Belgium or free Switzerland were to be threatened, that would be quite another matter. panics are, it can seriously to set our

So, silly as mere never be wrong house in order.

At the same time, it might be better, if it can be done, to set our house in order without that wonderful turning of ourselves inside out with which on these occasions we commonly amuse the world. The cry is for army reform, and so far the cry is not an unreasonable one. But two different notions of army reform split off from one another at the first moment. One notion of army reform is to spend more money on such an army as we have now. Another notion is to get a better kind of army for the money which we now spend upon it, or possibly for less.