diverted the attention of Europe from the Southern Slav peoples in the Monarchy, and the general assumption about them was that they were a horde of uncivilized semi-barbarians, fed by Austria at great sacrifice and treated by her with the utmost forbearance. The spectacles through which Europe viewed these nations were made in Vienna and Budapest, and no one took the trouble to bring an independent, unbiassed mind to bear upon the problem. Many Southern Slav patriots made desperate though vain efforts to bring even a grain of truth before the European public; a Jesuit Vienna and a Judaized Budapest were too strong for them. The world thought more of the colourless anational Austrian culture, and the borrowed pseudo-culture of the Magyars than of the culture of the Slavs, which for a thousand years has been the spontaneous expression of their national individuality, with a literature worthy of the lyre of Homer. Not only Austro-Hungarian politics, but the age itself was unpropitious to the Southern Slavs. They possessed no importance for the European balance of power; and it is one of the bitterest ironies of history, that for a very long time the Southern Slavs fought less for their own advantage than for the interests of Europe. For, even as the Southern Slavs were for centuries the bulwark against the tide of Ottoman invasion _from_ the East, they subsequently became an equally strong bulwark against the rising tide of Germanism _towards_ the East. With every fibre of their being they kept the gate of the East fast closed against either foe—not only for themselves, but in the interests of European civilization. Strossmayer was the first who succeeded in re-awakening the interest of Europe in this struggle, and, even if his efforts were not crowned with immediate practical success, he at least contrived to cast a doubt on the complacent assurances of Vienna and Budapest. Strossmayer was a man with a tremendous personality, and his word was invariably accepted. He was also past-master in the art of _not saying too much_—thus avoiding the appearance of exaggeration. Even in his world-famous speech in the Council of the Vatican (1871, under Pius IX.), when he spoke in Latin for sixteen consecutive hours against the doctrine of Papal infallibility, he left some things unsaid, for he was interrupted in “the midst of his speech” by the Archbishop of Paris, who embraced and kissed him, and assured him that what he had already said was amply convincing.