without sacrifice; all worthless actions must lead to the very opposite
of what is desirable."

A second point of view which must not be neglected is precisely that
which Zelter rightly emphasizes. A great end cannot be attained except
by staking large intellectual and material resources, and no certainty
of success can ever be anticipated. Every undertaking implies a greater
or less venture. The daily intercourse of civic life teaches us this
lesson; and it cannot be otherwise in politics where account must be
taken of most powerful antagonists whose strength can only be vaguely
estimated. In questions of comparatively trifling importance much may be
done by agreements and compromises, and mutual concessions may produce a
satisfactory status. The solution of such problems is the sphere of
diplomatic activity. The state of things is quite different when vital
questions are at issue, or when the opponent demands concession, but
will guarantee none, and is clearly bent on humiliating the other party.
Then is the time for diplomatists to be silent and for great statesmen
to act. Men must be resolved to stake everything, and cannot shun the
solemn decision of war. In such questions any reluctance to face the
opponent, every abandonment of important interests, and every attempt at
a temporizing settlement, means not only a momentary loss of political
prestige, and frequently of real power, which may possibly be made good
in another place, but a permanent injury to the interests of the State,
the full gravity of which is only felt by future generations.

Not that a rupture of pacific relations must always result in such a
case. The mere threat of war and the clearly proclaimed intention to
wage it, if necessary, will often cause the opponent to give way. This
intention must, however, be made perfectly plain, for "negotiations
without arms are like music-books without instruments," as Frederick the