great crime, it is not to be expected that a great crime can be atoned for without a painful remedy. To reestablish even a portion of the ancient kingdom of Poland-say from the Netze to the Niemen, including the seaport of Polenga-would, no doubt, disturb vested interests to a considerable extent; but if the civilization of the world would be advanced by such a step, a great and generous nation like England should not shrink from doing its utmost to bring about the desired end.

In conclusion, a few words as to the population at present existing, within the limits of the Poland of 1772. To get at the exact truth, where it is in the interest of both parties to falsify the figures, is of course hopeless, but the grand total may be put approximately at twentytwo millions, portioned out as under:

CHAPTER II.

PREPARATIONS FOR A START.

ACCORDING to popular belief in England, there exist but two kinds of Poles-the Pole who is ready to die for his country, and the Pole who will bolt with your umbrella, if he is left alone in the hall-the Pole of the Thaddeus of Warsaw stamp, and the Pole of the police reports. Most of us have read of the one, and a few of us have come across the other in real life. Admitting generally the existence of these two separate classes, Englishmen are somewhat apt to run the distinguishing characteristics of the two together, in the particular instances which come under their notice. It is from shuffling these two characters together, with the admixture of the smallest quantity of logic, that result the phenomena which take place in England on occasion of the outbreak of an insurrection in Poland. We are loud in our expressions of sympathy with the Poles in general, whenever they please to throw down the gauntlet to one or other of their oppressors, but we beg leave to retain a lurking distrust of individual Poles. As not one Englishman in ten ever saw a Pole, and not one in a hundred ever spoke to one, it is obvious that, whatever may be the opinions on the

subject of Polish character current amongst us, they must, at all events, be of the smallest possible value. Yet if it were generally known how eagerly the Polish nation watches the attitude of England, and hangs on the utterances of British statesmen, we might be tempted, every now and then, to bestow a thought on a people who take so deep an interest in our sayings and doings. Members of parliament, who too often forget that they are addressing any but an English audience, would be astonished to find their every word reproduced in Polish newspapers.

The fact is, that the British public, as such, really cares little or nothing for foreign politics of any description. I consider this to be proved by the fact that in forming their opinions of Continental questions, Englishmen, in general, allow themselves to be swayed by the merest accident, never taking the trouble to inform themselves decently on the subject in hand. They are ready to sympathize with Poland, Hungary, Italy, or Denmark, but are not ready to give an account of what they are sympathizing with. The British public regards foreign politics as a legitimate field for having an outing. Every one considers himself entitled to an opinion gratis, that is, without the requisite amount of study. We are, as a nation, so taken up with business and home politics, that we grudge every moment spared to gaining information on foreign questions. So long as ministers are subservient to the public in home politics, they may do what they like with foreign affairs. The British merchant, when he has well dined, will consent to be tickled by exciting news from abroad, and does not object to subscribing a pound or two that Poles and

C

Hungarians may go on throwing themselves into the lion's jaws; but the instant there appears a chance of England being, as the phrase is, dragged into a war, and some real good thereby accruing to these oppressed nationalities, he buttons up his breeches pocket at once, and reads the peace-at-any-price articles of the Times with great satisfaction.

Now, I must plead guilty to having shared, to the most extreme extent, in English ignorance and carelessness about the Polish question. Less than eighteen months ago, my acquaintance with Poles was confined to the accidental meeting with one in a boarding-house at Heidelberg, and to the recollection of having once listened to a Polish lady singing her national songs in a country house in a remote part of Devonshire. I can hardly, then, be accused of having been prejudiced in favour of Poland at starting, inasmuch as, to the best of my belief, in common with most Englishmen, I had never wasted so much as a thought on Poland.

Some two years since, I saw a Pole in the flesh for the first time. It was on this wise. For the benefit of German conversation, my sister and I had made up our minds to put up for a few weeks with the chance society one meets in a German boarding-house. On our arrival we were somewhat alarmed at learning that a Pole was among the guests. At that time I shared the distrust of individual Poles commonly entertained in England, and began to think of beating a retreat. We had been prepared to put up with stray Germans, but we had not bargained for Poles. However, bracing ourselves for the occasion, we determined to give the place a trial. Next day at dinner, when we were introduced for the

me,

first time to the rest of the company, it so happened that two places had been left for us next to the Pole, who had caused us so much alarm. Getting carefully between the enemy and my sister, I began to make my observations. To my astonishment, his manners and dress were those of a perfect gentleman, and it began to dawn upon that there were other Poles in the world besides those seedy-coated individuals, who brush up against you in the neighbourhood of Leicester Square, and against whose impostures the Professor of Logic at Oxford used to warn his pupils-the Professor, who was never taken in but once in his life, and then by a Pole. On repairing to our private rooms, we mutually expressed our surprise at finding the groundlessness of our fears respecting our Pole. At the end of a week, we decided that he was not only the most gentlemanly, but decidedly the most conversable man at the table.

While my personal acquaintance with Poles was thus limited, I should be ashamed to confess the depths of my ignorance of Polish history and geography, were I not aware that no one is expected to be even decently informed on these subjects. Germans and Russians having officially given out over and over again that Poland has ceased to exist, we in England have preferred to believe the statement, rather than go to Poland to see how the matter really stands. Thus, if the subject of Polish history and manners ever came up in conversation, it was treated as a species of antiquarian lore, more or less interesting to the ethnologist-of a piece with discussions on other extinct races, but of little or no real importance to the politician.

I can hardly believe that, a few months ago, my