representative and mediate. Democracy needs checks for its own security, just as monarchy has needed and submitted to checks against its own abuse. The power of a democracy when once it is set in motion along any line may be irresistible, but it stands in need of guarantees of stability and endurance.
In Britain, even more than in the American Commonwealth,[1] adequate provisions exist for an ultimate and true national control over the determination of foreign policy. They are found in the nation's capacities being represented, and in their being raised, in the process of representation, to a higher level of efficiency. They are found formally and practically, to the knowledge of every citizen, in the command of the purse held by the House of Commons, and in the daily and continuous responsibility of ministers to that House—the House of the nation's chosen representatives. No foreign policy can be maintained, and none, in prudence, can even be embarked upon, that does not look to the interests of the nation—interests of commerce and material well-being, and not less for Britain the interests of honour and prestige; and any foreign policy once embarked upon must reckon with the necessity of making the general and substantial title to such support clear and convincing.[2] That condition may prove to be a defect in the execution of policy—an opinion which has already been sufficiently implied and enforced. But acceptance of the condition is required for the ultimate sustenance of policy and for the assurance of its strength. Among political virtues prudence stands the first and the last. Much will depend—more in the near future than in the recent past—upon the prudence of party leaders and party men and
