Someone once asked him which he would choose, a Black tyranny, or a Red?
He replied "On the whole, I think a Black." The friend corrected him.

"You are wrong.

Men would soon emerge from the ruins of a Red tyranny, but Rome never lets go her power till it is torn from her." His contempt for the idea of reunion with Rome in her present condition is unmeasured.

"The notion almost reminds us of the cruel jest of Mezentius, who bound the living bodies of his enemies to corpses." It is the contempt both of a great scholar and a great Englishman for ignorance and a somewhat ludicrous pretension.

"The _caput orbis_ has become provincial, and her authority is spurned even within her own borders." England could not kneel at this Italian footstool without ceasing to be England[6].
[Footnote 6: "There are, after all, few emotions of which one has less reason to be ashamed than the little lump in the throat which the Englishman feels when he first catches sight of the white cliffs of Dover."-- _Outspoken essays_, p.