had spent there at first, left to her own sound in the house except the sound of resources, many a perplexed and perplex- the hall-door closing upon her father when ing fancy had crowded her mind. The he went out. Ah! upon her father as he new life, however, which had set in later, went out! He who was old, whose life the companionship, the gentle gaieties, the was over (for fifty is old age to seventeen), new sentiment, altogether strange and won-he could not tolerate the interruption of derful, which had arisen in her young his habits, of his talk with his friend; but bosom, had quietly pushed forth all painful she in the first flush of her beginning thoughts. But now, with the pang of part- was to be shut out from everything, baning already in her heart, and the sense, so ished from her friends without a word! easily taken up at her years and so tragi- And then there crept on Cara's mind a cally felt, that life never could again be recollection of those evening scenes over what it had been, — a certain pang of oppo- the fire: Aunt Cherry bending her brows sition to her father had come into Cara's over her needlework, and Edward reading mind. Going away!-to break her heart in the light of the lamp. How innocent and alter her life because he would not it was; how sweet; and it was all over, bear the associations of his home! was a and for what? Poor little Cara's mind man thus, after having all that was good seemed to turn round. That sense of in existence himself, to deprive others of falsehood and insincerity even in the solid their happiness for the sake of his recol- earth under one's feet, which is the most lections? but when this further revelation bewildering and sickening of all moral fell upon his conduct, Cara's whole heart sensations, overcame her. It was for her turned and shrank from her father. She mother's sake, because of the love he could not bear the suggestion, and yet bore her, that he could not be at ease in it returned to her in spite of herself. this room, which had been so specially The shame of it, the wrong of it, the her mother's; all those years while he had confused and dark ideas of suspicion and been wandering, it was because the loss doubt which had been moving vaguely in of his wife was fresh upon his mind, and her mind, all came together in a painful the blow so bitter that he could not resume jumble. She put away her flowers, fling- his old life; but now what was this new ing away half of them in the tumult of her breaking up of his life? Not for her thoughts. It was too peaceful an occupa- mother's sake, but for Mrs. Meredith's! tion and left her mind too free for discus- Cara paused with her head swimming and sion with herself. The girl's whole being looked round her to see if anything was was roused, she scarcely knew why? steady in the sudden whirl. What was Love! she had never thought of it, she steady? Oswald, whom everybody (she did not know what it meant, and Oswald, could see) supposed to be "in love," whatwhom her aunt supposed to entertain that ever that was, with herself, was, as she wonderful occult sentiment for her, cer- knew, "in love," as he called it, with tainly did not do so, but found in her only somebody else. Cara did not associate a pleasant confidente, a friendly sympa- her own sentiments for any one with that thizer. Something prevented Cara from feeling which Oswald expressed for Aginquiring further, from asking herself any nes, but she felt that her own position was questions. She did not venture even to false, as his position was false, and Mrs. think in the recesses of her delicate Meredith's and her father's. Was there bosom, that Edward Meredith was anything nothing in the world that was true? more to her, or she to him, than was Miss Cherry. What was the use of asking why or wherefore? She had begun to be happy, happier certainly than she had been before; and here it was to end. The new world, so full of strange, undefined lights and reflections, was to break up like a dissolving view, and the old world to settle down again with all its old shadows. The thought brought a few hot, hasty tears to her eyes whenever it surprised her as it did now. Poor inconsistent child! She forgot how dull the square had been when she came, how bitterly she had regretted her other home in those long dreary evenings when there was no

The next day or two was filled with somewhat dolorous arrangements for breaking up again the scarcely established household. Miss Cherry occupied herself with many sighs in packing away the silver, shutting up the linen, all the household treasures, and covering the furniture with pinafores. Cara's clothes were in process of packing, Cara's room was being dismantled.

Mr. Beresford's wellworn portmanteaux had been brought out, and John and cook half pleased at the renewed leisure which began to smile upon them, half vexed at the cessation of their importance as purveyors for and managers of their master's "establish

ment," were looking forward to the great mer.

Her aunt's little ways fretted her

final "cleaning up," which was to them as they had never done before. Now and the chief event of the whole. All was then a sense of the intolerable seized upon commotion in the house. The intercourse the girl. She would not put up with the with the house next door had partially little daily contradictions to which everyceased; Oswald still came in the morning, body is liable. She would burst out into and Edward in the evening; but there words of impatience altogether foreign to had been no communication between the her usual character. She was fretted beladies of the two houses since the evening yond her powers of endurance. But at when Mr. Beresford took final leave of this moment she calmed down again. Mrs. Meredith. To say that there were She acquiesced in Miss Cherry's little not hard thoughts of her in the minds of speech and herself drew the chairs into the Beresfords would be untrue, and yet their usual places, and got the book which it was impossible that any one could have Edward had been reading to them. The been more innocent than she was. All ladies were very quiet, expecting their that she had done was to be kind, which visitor; the fire sent forth little puffs of was her habit and nature. "But too flame and crackles of sound, the clock kind," Miss Cherry said privately to her- ticked softly, everything else was silent. self, "too kind! Men must not be too Cara fell into a muse of many fancies, much encouraged. They should be kept more tranquil than usual, for the idea that in their place," and then the good soul he would not come had not entered her cried at the thought of being hard upon mind. At least they would be happy toher neighbor. As for Cara she never put night. This thought lulled her into a kind her thoughts on the subject into words, of feverish tranquillity, and even kept her being too much wounded by the mere from rousing, as Miss Cherry did, to the suggestion. But in her mind, too, there sense that he had not come at his usual was a sense that Mrs. Meredith must be hour and might not be coming. "Edward wrong. It could not be but that she must is very late," Miss Cherry said at last. be wrong; and they avoided each other" Was there any arrangement made, Cara, by instinct. After poor James was gone, that he was not to come? Miss Cherry promised herself she would call formally and bid good-by to that elderly enchantress who had made poor James once more an exile. Nothing could exceed now her pity for "poor James." She forgot the darts with which she herself had slain him, and all that had been said to his discredit. He was the sufferer now, which was always enough to turn the balance of Miss Cherry's thoughts.

"Arrangement? that he was not to come!"

“My dear,” said good Miss Cherry, who had been very dull for the last hour, “you have grown so strange in your ways. I don't want to blame you, Cara; but how am I to know? Oswald comes in the morning and Edward in the evening; but how am I to know? If one has said more to you than the other, if you think more of one than the other, you never tell me. Cara, is it quite right, dear? I thought you would have told me that day that Oswald came and wanted to see you alone; of course, we know what that meant; but you evaded all my questions; you never would tell me."

"Aunt Cherry, it was because there was nothing to tell. I told you there would be nothing."

When things had arrived at this pitch, a sudden and extraordinary change occurred all at once in Mr. Beresford's plans. For a day no communications whatever took place between No. 7 and No. 8 in the square. Oswald did not come in the morning which was a thing that might be accounted for; but Edward did not appear in the evening - which was more extraordinary. Miss Cherry had brought out her art-needlework, notwithstanding the forlorn air of semi-dismantling which the drawing-room had already assumed, and Cara had her hemming ready. "It will only be for a night or two more," said Miss Cherry, "and we may just as well be comfortable;" but she sighed; and as for Cara, the expression of her young countenance had changed altogether to "Aunt Cherry," said the girl, her face one of nervous and impatient trouble. crimson, her eyes full of tears, "why do She was pale, her eyes had a fitful glim-you upbraid me now-is this the mo

"Then there ought to have been something, Cara. One sees what Edward feels, poor boy, and I am very sorry for him. And it is hard upon him-hard upon us all to be so treated. Young people ought to be honest in these matters. Yes, dear, it is quite true. I am not pleased. I have not been pleased ever since

ment? As if I were not unhappy enough. | tative liberalism and constitutionalism; What does Edward feel? Does he too expect me to tell him of something that does not exist?"

"Poor Edward! All I can say is, that if we are unhappy, he is unhappy too, and unhappier than either you or me, for he is- Poor boy! but he is young and he will get over it," said Miss Cherry with a deep sigh.

66

Oh, hush, hush! but tell me of him hush!" said Cara eagerly; "I hear him coming up the stairs."

and lastly, from 1866 to the present hour, the period of nationality and empire. The object of the present paper is shortly to sketch the character and significance of these five epochs in the great drama of European politics.

I.

AMONG the many external consequences of the military preponderance of France which arose out of the French Revolution, not the least notable was the sudden breakdown of Prussia by the battle of Jena in 1806. Of the accidental causes that may have contributed to this unexpected result, it were of no use to

There was some one certainly coming up-stairs, but it was not Edward's youthful footstep, light and springy. It was a heavier and slower tread. They listened, somewhat breathless, being thus stopped discourse. in an interesting discussion, and wondered at the slow approach of these steps. At last the door opened slowly, and Mr. Beresford, with some letters in his hand, came into the room. He came quite up to them before he said anything. The envelope which he held in his hand seemed to have contained both the open letters which he carried along with it, and one of them had a black edge. He was still running his eyes over this as he entered the room. I think," he said, standing with his hand upon Cara's table, at the place where Edward usually sat, "that you had better stop your packing for the moment. An unfortunate event has happened, and I do not think now that I can go away - not so soon at least; it would be heartless, it

would be unkind!"

The essential causes which

it is instructive to note were: (1) The military genius of Napoleon, coupled with the unity of action, energy, and complete organization, which arose out of his political position and the authority with which he was invested. (2.) The democratic inspiration of the French people, and the high spirit and military temper of the French army thence resulting. No doubt that democratic impulse, though strong, was far from pure, and became ever more impure the farther it proceeded from its well head. But it was unquestionably there; and enabled the most absolute despot that modern history has seen to put himself forward on the great stage of European politics as the armed apostle of a democratic movement" which there was nothing in old Europe strong enough to resist. (3.) The political division of Germany, which prevented common action among its members; and specially the hereditary hostility betwixt Prussia and Austria, which had enabled the thundering Corsican to strike first one and then the other with a force that, in his hands, was irresistible. The eventful campaign of 1806-7, presenting, in some respects, an exact opposite to the recent campaign, which ended even more suddenly in the humiliation of France, was not a trial of strength between France and Germany; but the real antagonistic powers were France in alliance with one-third of Germany, and inspired by the genius of Napoleon, against one-third of Germany, without a great military head; while the other third- viz., Austria-remained neuter. (4.) The fourth cause that contributed largely to the sudden downfall of Prussia was the entire want of popular institutions and a popular spirit among the Prussian people. When the army did not happen to be commanded by a military genius like Frederick the

So much for the first epoch of the fall.

II.

Great, and once got a sound beating, there | arming, which was the main cause of the was nothing behind to break its fall: no grand political regeneration of Prussia in people; only pipeclay and facings; red 1813-14, as all the world knows, enabled tape, long pedigrees, and petty privileges; that power, in the recent Franco-German in a word, nobility without noblemen, and struggle, to bring into the field an embattled soldiership without citizenship. array of patriotic citizens, against which even the soldiers of the early French Revolution, under the guidance of the famous captain of those days, might have contended in vain; and I, for one, am decidedly of opinion that a compulsory military drill of the whole people has not only been the salvation of Prussia on two great occasions during the present century, but is the best guarantee for the independence of all nations at all times and at all places, and not less certainly in commercial Britain than in military Prussia. I can have no doubt that the general adoption of the Prussian system in this country would not only afford a stronger bulwark of national liberty than we at present possess, but would work along with our national schools and our national Churches, I do not mean the Established Churches alone, but all Christian Churches in the land, in potentiating the patriotism, in improving the physical fibre, and in giving firmness to the reins of a healthy social discipline. But whatever people may think of the application of the system of compulsory soldiership to this native-seat of rank individualism and inorganic liberty, there can be no doubt that it is owing mainly, if not altogether, to this admirable system of national soldiership that Prussia centuries ago a petty electorate on the extreme march of the least lovely part of Germany-is now that great power to whose decision all other powers naturally look, as controlling with firm hand the fortunes of the present, and shaping by its bold and manly policy the destinies of no distant future.

THE rise and regeneration of Prussia took place very soon after its fall, chiefly by the happy occasion of the Russian expedition of Napoleon in 1812, and the terrible precipitation which had followed at last as the necessary consequence of his own portentous pride and unblushiug insolence; but the real cause that enabled Prussia so triumphantly to shake off the hated yoke of Gaul is to be sought for in the great political and military reforms which were introduced mainly by the Baron von Stein. Stein was one of those strong and courageous, direct, decided, and altogether manly characters that cannot be present in any age, when there is a call for noble action, without putting their stamp on it. The great need does not always bring with it the great man; but if the great man is there he can scarcely fail to show himself. The great idea which inspired Stein's statesmanship was to create what had hitherto not existed in Prussia, a free people; and this he did by two bold measures, the one of which gave emancipation to the peasant by turning him into a proprietor, and the other created citizenship by restoring the free municipal constitutions which in the Middle Ages had given wealth and enterprise to

the towns.

Along with these two great regenerative measures went the new organization of the army under the masterly direction of Scharnhorst, one of those thoroughtrained soldiers whose manly forms in the great public places of Berlin so significantly proclaim to the stranger the history of the country. Under his direction, instead of professional drill and pipeclay dressing for a body of mere technical soldiers, the whole people were taught to wield arms in defence of a country in which they now rejoiced to exercise the rights of full citizenship; and there seems certainly to be no more important truth in political economics than this, that if a nation is to be saved from a weighty yoke of foreign oppression, it can only be as Greece and Rome were saved on the great occasions of their world-renowned heroism, by the effective soldiership of the whole people. This system of national

not two

I now pass to the third epoch, which I have called the period of reaction and redtape.

III.

THE battles of Leipzig and Waterloo, which restored Prussia to her old position as a European power of high consideration, had been gained not only by gunpowder, and an accumulation of material forces, but mainly, as just indicated, by the creation of a popular spirit, and the raising of a national and truly German enthusiasm among the people. After the peace it was natural, and indeed necessary, that the fervid enthusiasm which had overthrown the French despotism should occupy itself further with the reconstruction of popular