sympathise with Wellington against Ney. We do not sympathise, and even
then we did not really sympathise, with Blucher against Napoleon.
Germany has complained that we passed over lightly the presence of
Prussians at the decisive action. And well we might. Even at the time
our sentiment was not solely jealousy, but very largely shame.
Wellington, the grimmest and even the most unamiable of Tories, with no
French sympathies and not enough human ones, has recorded his opinion of
his Prussian allies in terms of curt disgust. Peel, the primmest and
most snobbish Tory that ever praised "our gallant Allies" in a frigid
official speech, could not contain himself about the conduct of
Blucher's men. Our middle classes did well to adorn their parlours with
the picture of the "Meeting of Wellington and Blucher." They should
have hung up a companion piece of Pilate and Herod shaking hands. Then,
after that meeting amid the ashes of Hougomont, where they dreamed they
had trodden out the embers of all democracy, the Prussians rode on
before, doing after their kind. After them went that ironical aristocrat
out of embittered Ireland, with what thoughts we know; and Blucher, with
what thoughts we care not; and his soldiers entered Paris, and stole the
sword of Joan of Arc.



IV--_The Coming of the Janissaries_


The late Lord Salisbury, a sad and humorous man, made many public and
serious remarks that have been proved false and perilous, and many
private and frivolous remarks which were valuable and ought to be
immortal. He struck dead the stiff and false psychology of "social
reform," with its suggestion that the number of public-houses made