It will be said that this is both obvious and to be ignored—­a platitude with a flavour of cant.  Is it?  Do we not hear again and again the appeal to envy and hatred as motives of action, a desire in social life to pull down, if levelling up is not immediately practicable?  Is not jealousy of the success of others, whether individuals or classes or states, again and again what really prompts a policy?  Even in dealing with the countries which are our declared enemies, the desire to injure ought not to be our guide.  If and when they relinquish the aims and cease from such acts as forced us into war with them and make restitution for the wrongs they have committed, the right policy is, as far as possible, having clue regard to the just claims and interest of our friends, to do what will be for their true benefit also in the long run.  No doubt there is a disgraceful and fatal policy, sometimes adopted by English Governments, to be resolutely withstood—­the policy of trying “to conciliate our enemies by giving away our friends.”  We shall hear of it again in dealing both with Ireland and with certain colonies when Germany claims their return.  On the other hand, the first maxim in all negotiation, the first principle of sound diplomacy, is always to give to the other side, and give without grudging, all he wants, provided it does not interfere with what it is important for your side to secure.  Never be afraid of giving the opposing party too much, provided you get what your side really ought to have.  How often has one heard in discussing a settlement the objection raised that the other party is getting too much!  It is an old-time fallacy to think that practical good sense and the highest philanthropy are antagonistic; only be certain that if in any case they seem to be so, the latter is to prevail.

With a good map you may safely have Mr. Worldly Wiseman’s company to the village of Morality, and visit the “judicious gentleman named Legality” and “his charming son Civility”—­yet find a straight road thence to the Celestial City without deviating to the “great town” of Carnal Policy.  An apology perhaps is due in the twentieth century for using the language of an earlier day; but everyone naturally thinks in the language in which he was brought up, and education is now no doubt sufficiently general to make allusion recognisable and translation easy.  There are still some survivals from a past generation who prefer even the “minor prophets” as literature to the most “up-to-date” modern utterances, though they have long ago relinquished the idea that there is the slightest personal merit in doing so.  Even when the older language was half forgotten there were within our memory some who would use it if they could, and perhaps did so when they felt strongly, as a Scotsman in strange lands may, when deeply moved, revert to what convention insists on calling his “native doric.”