“Success depends essentially upon the impressions which the origin of the war creates at home and abroad; it is important that it should be we who are attacked, and that is what we shall achieve by the arrogance and irritability of the French, if we, so far as is possible without the speaking trumpet of Parliament, publish to all Europe that we are ready without fear to meet the open threats of France.” Bismarck’s description of the effect which these words had upon the two generals is striking. All dejection and melancholy had disappeared and given place to such high spirits that he himself was astonished. Their appetite returned—they began to eat and drink merrily. Roon said: “The God of our fathers is still alive and will not allow us to fall into disgrace.” Moltke departed so far from his usual indifferent passivity that, looking up to the ceiling and for once eschewing his usual measured language, he struck himself on the breast and said: “If I may still live to lead our host in such a war, then let the Devil fetch away this old carcase as soon as he pleases.” This is the story of the famous telegram from Ems, as Bismarck himself tells it in his “Gedanken und Erinnerungen,” Vol. II., pp. 104-113. Popular Edition, 1913. But how characteristically German is von Roon’s recognition of the hand of God in the cooking of a telegram! A little reflection upon the temper prevailing both in France and in Russia should, I think, suffice to show that no patching up of the differences between them was possible. The Emperor threatened by anarchy, trembling for his dynasty, a drowning man clutching at a straw—and such a straw! Prussia flushed by the successes of 1864 and 1866, ill prepared to submit to the haughty pin-pricks of the French, and eager to win fresh laurels. Who could hope to mediate between them? That is what makes me think that Bismarck’s speech about Lord Clarendon was no more than the expression of an honest admiration for a statesman whom he held, as is well known, in the highest respect. If a little tactless in manner it was at any rate as noble a tribute as one great statesman ever paid to the memory of another. It would be difficult to find two men in greater contrast to one another than Prince Bismarck and Lord Clarendon—the one rough and uncouth, caring little for outward observances; the other courtly, polished, dignified, the pattern of a high-bred gentleman—yet there was one quality which they had in common; both were absolutely frank and honest in discussion; both scorned those tricks and subterfuges which have given diplomacy a bad name. Clarendon’s love of truth—even where he had to risk giving offence in high quarters—was proverbial; so it was that no English minister was more highly esteemed at home, better respected abroad. Of the various positions which he held, of the exalted offices and dignities which he refused, his biographer has recorded the sum for the benefit of future historians.