trying to put himself in the place of a Russian, and remembering the events of 1876-78, can feel surprised that Russia is distrustful of our present policy, and is even cynically unmindful of the protestations of absolute disinterestedness with which we accompany our expressions of sympathy with the Armenians? The misfortune is that, whether well or illfounded, so long as this is the temper of the Russian people so long as they believe in their hearts that Great Britain, whatever policy she may appear to be pursuing, is thinking only of herself and is chiefly desirous of procuring her own aggrandisement at the expense of her great rival in the East-there can be no real security for the peace of Europe, and the nightmare of constant anxiety must continue to weigh upon the statesmen of Great Britain.

Is it not time for us to do something to convince Russia that we have changed our views with regard to her position in Europe? That we have changed them is now recognised by everybody in this country. Whether the change is due to Mr. Gladstone's unceasing attempts, whilst he remained in public life, to convince his fellowcountrymen of Russian good faith, or to the logic of facts, or, as is more probably the case, to one of those psychological waves which from time to time affect the opinions of nations as well as of individual men, I do not pretend to say. But the change is real and unmistakable, and proofs of its reality may be gathered not only in Parliament, where the raiser of the Muscovite bogey is now a discredited personage, but in our newspapers and political clubs. The policy of the Crimean War-the war which ought never to have been waged-is dead. The policy of the Berlin Treaty is evidently moribund. It is hardly necessary to say in an English review that this country has never wanted Constantinople for itself. But every year that has passed since 1878 has witnessed an increased indifference in England with regard to the ownership of that great city. The common sentiment for some years past has been summed up in the words anybody must be better than the Turk.' The 'anybody' may not have consciously included Russia; nay, it may even consciously have excluded that particular settlement of the ownership. But the mere fact that the Turk should have been deposed from his old place in our favour as the necessary ally of this country on the Bosphorus, and 'the bulwark '-heaven save the mark!-' against the barbarism of the North,' speaks volumes to those of us who can remember the old days. He is no longer such a gentleman' and 'such a good fellow.' We have ceased to be anxious to furnish him with money, or to slobber over him at banquets and in newspaper articles. Our former idol has, in fact, been cast beneath our feet. This is undoubtedly a great change in public opinion, and it alone would make an arrangement with Russia not quite impossible—if only we could convince the Russians that the change is a fact.

The absolute ownership of Constantinople is a question far too

vast and complicated to be discussed offhand in these pages, but it is something to feel justified in saying that Great Britain would be able to approach the discussion of that question with a comparatively open mind, and that she would certainly not seek to resist any conclusion regarding it which the other Powers of Europe might arrive at. It has, in fact, ceased to be a question of paramount interest to this country, and we are in consequence able to consider it dispassionately, if not absolutely without prejudice. We know that at this moment Russian influence is paramount at Constantinople. Of that fact we have had during the past twelve months conclusive evidence. But where are there any signs of a revival of the old feeling of panic because this is the case? Twenty years ago the country would have been convulsed with anger and filled with apprehension if it had learned that the English ambassador had ceased to be a power at the court of the Sultan, and that the representative of Russia was supreme. This is what has happened now, and yet nobody troubles, nor does anyone raise a cry of alarm. The sole regret of the people of Great Britain appears to be that, having secured this overwhelming influence in the counsels of the Sultan, Russia should be using it to such little purpose so far as the interests of outraged humanity are concerned.

As for the question of the opening of the Dardanelles, opinion in Great Britain, so far as it is possible to gather it, is still more complaisant towards Russia than upon the question of Constantinople. Experts, both political and military, have published opinions with regard to the effect of that measure which are decidedly reassuring. Our chief national interest in the Eastern Mediterranean is the Suez Canal. But apparently the judges on such questions agree in the conclusion that in time of war the Canal can be used by none of the Powers. That would have been a very serious matter for England five-and-twenty years ago; but now, with our triple- and quadrupleexpansion engines, we can in case of need do without the Canal and keep up communications with India as regular and as swift as those we had by way of the Canal only a few years back. No doubt the alliance between France and Russia is a very serious factor, affecting materially the question of the admission of Russia to the Mediterranean by way of the Dardanelles. But it is more serious for Austria and Italy than for England, and it is, at all events, one about which the British public do not seem particularly to concern themselves. Against any arguments founded on the Franco-Russian entente the average Englishman is disposed to set the enormous advantages that would be derived from a friendly understanding between the two greatest empires of the world-an understanding which would not of course be procured without some sacrifice on both sides, but which, if it were to be attained, would compensate both parties to it a hundredfold for all the sacrifices they might have made in arriving at it.

My purpose is not, however, to discuss questions, either of detail or of high policy, that can only be properly treated by those who have access to the most authoritative sources of information. It is rather to state what I conceive to be the present attitude of the people of this country towards Russia, and to show how real and how remarkable is the transformation that has taken place in public opinion since the days of the Berlin Treaty. Russia is at present bitterly hostile to us, though, as I have tried to show, she is not without some excuses for her hostility. So long as this feeling exists on her side, the peace of Europe must be in danger, while the Turkish assassin will continue to enjoy full liberty to carry on his devilish work against the Christians who lie at his mercy. But is it not possible that we may bring about a change in Russian feeling towards Great Britain analogous to that which has unquestionably taken place in British feeling towards Russia? Can we not convince the Czar and his people that there is on our side no desire to keep up the old antagonism at Constantinople? Taught by the bitter lesson of 1878, they suspect our intentions now, and foolishly delude themselves with the idea that our deep sympathy with the Sultan's victims -a sympathy which exists in every household in the land-is an artful piece of hypocrisy covering some scheme of selfish wickedness. If we can remove that delusion from their minds, if we can satisfy, not only the Emperor of Russia, but his ministers and his people, that they have nothing to fear from us so far as any designs antagonistic to Russian interests in Turkey are concerned, we shall have rendered the best possible service to ourselves and to the whole world. That we desire to draw nothing for ourselves out of the seething cauldron of intrigue and passion at Constantinople, that our interest in the Armenian question is absolutely generous and unselfish, and that we would infinitely rather see Russia undertaking the chastisement of the Sultan single-handed than see that task unattempted, are, I believe, sentiments common to the overwhelming majority of the people of this country. But are they sentiments which are shared by Lord Salisbury and his colleagues? That, after all, is the crucial question so far as the establishment of better relations between the two governments is concerned.

At present the Russian people stand upon the unpleasant memory of the Berlin Treaty, and with that memory enshrined in their hearts they listen with sullen indifference to the cries of distress which reach them from Turkey. If we could pluck that memory from their breasts, if we could give them reason to feel confident that if they undertook, either single-handed or along with others, the work of liberation and chastisement in the dominions now given over to the Sultan, they would not find that when the work was done England would snatch the fruits of victory from them, they might assume a different and nobler attitude, and the world might be relieved from

the shame under which it now lies. So far as one can understand it, the opinion of this country would be warmly in favour of such a pledge being given by our statesmen. Are our statesmen themselves of the same way of thinking? One hopes that they are; but in any case it may, I think, be said with some show of confidence that, whatever happens, the British people will never again allow a Prime Minister to use the might of this country for the purpose of defending the Ottoman Empire, and will never sanction any fresh engagement which makes them responsible for keeping a ring' for the Sultan and his fiends while they indulge in such a saturnalia as that of Sassun. Whether they care to believe it or not, the Russians are secure henceforth from such a policy on the part of England as that which twenty years ago they felt so keenly and which they still resent so bitterly.

The late Mr. Froude, in his Life of Lord Beaconsfield, used certain pertinent words which, coming from a man who was certainly not 'a Little Englander' or a friend of latter-day Radicalism, ought to have some weight with those who may regard the opinions of living Radicals with suspicion. Speaking of the Jingo agitation of 1878 he says:

Of the tens of thousands who gathered in Hyde Park to shout for war, how many had considered what a war with Russia might involve? Bismarck could not understand Disraeli's attitude. 6 Why cannot you be friends with Russia and settle your differences peacefully?' he said to him at the beginning of the dispute. 'Why not put an end once for all to this miserable Turkish business, which threatens Europe every year or two with war?' Why not, indeed?... In such a war we stand to lose all and gain nothing, while in itself it would be nothing less than a crime against mankind. We are told that a cordial co-operation with Russia is impossible. It will not be made more possible by a quarrel over Turkey. Yet to a peaceful arrangement we must come at last if the quarrel is not to be pursued till one or other of us is destroyed.

There is happily no war feeling on our side at this moment. It is peace with Russia, not war, that we want. Will our statesmen be wise enough and strong enough to take advantage of this feeling on the part of the nation to put an end to the old jealousies and hatreds, and to establish that cordial understanding with Russia which alone can make impossible a struggle such as that which Froude justly described as 'a crime against mankind'?

WEMYSS REID.

THE CRY FOR FRAUDULENT MONEY

IN AMERICA

WHEN a man with good reputation suddenly goes wrong, it is natural to seek some explanation for his conduct. Sometimes his fall is attributed to heredity, or laid to the art of successful concealment. Again, it may be claimed that misfortune has merely developed traits long dormant, or that, in the latest cant, he is the victim of 'degeneration.' So when a great national political party in the United States, from being conservative, careful, even to cautiousness, of rights and interests, proud of its traditions and its history, and anxious for the respect of its adherents and the country, as well as for votes and power, makes itself deliberately the ally of the worst elements in the eclectic population of a great country; when it places over the doors of its Convention Hall the sign 'Danger: Beware,' shamelessly proclaiming that it is devoted to the policy of repudiation, that plunder and anarchy are among the most innocent of its purposes, and that it welcomes the adventurers it has always opposed, it is certainly time to ask some questions. It is a phenomenon, and, as such, it must be interesting to attempt to trace, even in the most unsatisfactory way, some of the processes which accompany the appearance of signs and wonders. This becomes the more imperative when one has long been attached to such an organisation, has given to it such support as he could, and has found in it congenial associations, both as to doctrine and individuals.

When the Civil War closed in 1865, the Democratic party, torn asunder by division five years before, was able at once to resume its work more or less systematically in every State in the Union, and thus to show that it was a truly national organisation. Its partisans had fought, in perhaps equal numbers, on either side during a great contest, and so were better able than others to understand what civil war meant. During the struggle its leaders were in a hopeless minority in both Houses of Congress, and were only able in the most fitful way to gain control of a few State Legislatures. Among them were many men of character, ability, and patriotism who, firmly attached to the Union at all times, were peculiarly fitted to bind up