QUEEN.  Can’t you stop it?

LORD B. Stop?—­stop what, Madam?  Niagara, the Flood?  That which has no beginning, no limit, has also no end:  till, by the operation of nature, it runs dry.

QUEEN.  But, surely, he should be stopped when he speaks on matters which may, any day, bring us into war!

LORD B. Then he would be stopped.  When the British nation goes to war, Madam, it ceases to listen to reason.  Then it is only the beating of its own great heart that it hears:  to that goes the marching of its armies, with victory as the one goal.  Then, Madam, above reason rises instinct.  Against that he will be powerless.

QUEEN.  You think so?

LORD B. I am sure, Madam.  If we are drawn into war, his opposition becomes futile.  If we are not:  well, if we are not, it will not be his doing that we escape that—­dire necessity.

QUEEN, But you do think it necessary, don’t you?

(To the Sovereign’s impetuous eagerness, so creditable to her heart, he replies with the oracular solemnity by which caution can be sublimated)

LORD B. I hope it may not be, Madam.  We must all say that—­up till the last moment.  It is the only thing we can say, to testify the pacifity of our intention when challenged by other Powers.

QUEEN (touching the newspaper).  This morning’s news isn’t good, I’m afraid.  The Russians are getting nearer to Constantinople.

LORD B. They will never enter it, Madam.

QUEEN.  No, they mustn’t!  We will not allow it.

LORD B. That, precisely, is the policy of your Majesty’s Government.  Russia knows that we shall not allow it; she knows that it will never be.  Nevertheless, we may have to make a demonstration.

QUEEN.  Do you propose to summon Parliament?

LORD B. Not Parliament; no, Madam.  Your Majesty’s Fleet will be sufficient.

(This lights a spark; and the royal mind darts into strategy)

QUEEN.  If I had my way, Lord Beaconsfield, my Fleet would be in the Baltic to-morrow; and before another week was over, Petersburg would be under bombardment.

LORD B. (considerately providing this castle in the air with its necessary foundations).  And Cronstadt would have fallen.

QUEEN (puzzled for a moment at this naming of a place which had not entered her calculations).  Cronstadt?  Why Cronstadt?

LORD B. Merely preliminary, Madam.  When that fortified suburb has crumbled—­the rest will be easy.

QUEEN.  Yes!  And what a good lesson it will teach them!  The Crimea wasn’t enough for them, I suppose.

LORD B. The Crimea!  Ah, what memories-of heroism—­that word evokes!  “Magnificent, but not war!”

QUEEN.  Oh!  There is one thing, Lord Beaconsfield, on which I want your advice.

LORD B. Always at your Majesty’s disposal.

QUEEN.  I wish to confer upon the Sultan of Turkey my Order of the Garter.