people has proved so ready to bring the fuel of race into the oven of democracy.
The arguments of those who believe in the future peacefulness of democracy, when examined earlier, were found to be insufficient. And now the arguments of those who believe in the tendency of democracy to breed war, have been examined also, and it must be said that they too are not quite convincing. So we are in presence of two sets of opposite arguments, alike weak and therefore alike inconclusive. At first sight, that might be thought to be a valueless outcome. But, on the contrary, it bears with it a positive result for ourselves. For if, as appears, continental democracy is something other than a mere vendetta; if the tug-of-war between the barbarous and the civilised instincts of the West is even arguably level to-day; if the fiercest races in the world are not so unanimously thirsty for blood as they have been ere now; and if, for the first time since Roman days, some peace in Christendom has become, at all events, conceivable; if history and homicide are now possibly distinguishable terms—that is a new fact of much, and even immense, moment.
From it a practical consequence follows. For if, as already shown, our interests are increasingly concerned and involved in Europe; if, further, our pessimism of the nineteenth century in regard to the continent may give way to a hope, however modest, that the tangled skein of continental policy
