On the morning of 19 August 1772 Gustavus III seized supreme power in Sweden, overthrew the authority of the Estates, and amid the applause of almost all Swedes outside the circle of professional politicians brought the Age of Liberty to an end. On the morrow of the revolution he explicitly abjured sovereignty for himself; he promised his.subjects the constitution of Gustav Adolf; and he did in fact confer on them a liberal and tempered despotism, which may be described as being by Mercier de la Rivière out of The Patriot King. It was a revolution bloodless, popular, and uniquely clement; but it was profoundly disturbing to international relations. Twice in the next nine months it produced crises from which, for a moment, there seemed no issue save a general European war involving all the great powers. It might have been supposed, indeed, that England could stand aside from such a struggle: the countrymen of Wilkes and Junius cared little for Swedish liberty, and had but a dim and confused notion of a parliamentary system in some respects more advanced than their own. But by an odd combination of circumstances, the Constitution of 1720—which Gustavus had overthrown on 19 August—had for some years acquired the status of a major British interest; its maintenance had become one of the linch pins of British foreign policy; and its overthrow was a challenge to a whole system of ideas which had prevailed and grown stronger in the years since the Peace of Paris.

In 1929 the historian of European financial control in the Ottoman Empire—that most significant factor in the affairs of the Near East at the turn of the nineteenth century—found ‘the seed of the idea’ of European control in the second Turkish foreign loan, raised in 1855. Nevertheless, he added virtually nothing to the brief and rather inaccurate account of this transaction given in 1903 by that able retired official of the Ottoman Bank, A. du Velay. It may therefore be worth while to discuss, from the profusion of evidence now available, the circumstances in which this loan and its predecessor of the year before were raised, and the extent and significance of the foreign control which these transactions introduced into Turkey.

Two thousand people bought tickets for the civic ceremony to welcome Joseph Chamberlain and his young American bride, held in Birmingham Town Hall on 8 January 1889. The Times newspaper was at pains to point out how unstintingly the more warm-hearted of the local Gladstonian Liberals had given of their goodwill, even though the occasion was mainly due to initiatives from the leaders of Radical Unionism. It seemed to bode well for the health of the Unionist alliance that among the worthies listed as present was no less a person than Sir James Sawyer, President of the Conservative Association.

In the negotiations relating to eastern and north-eastern Africa which Lord Salisbury conducted with Germany and Italy in 1890 and 1891, the desire to safeguard the waters of the Upper and Middle Nile usually played the predominant part. But this problem could not be solved in isolation from the more general considerations of Britain's position towards the powers of the Triple Alliance and, less directly, towards France. It was important that disputes relating to the upper basin of the Nile should not be permitted to disrupt the friendly relations with Germany and Italy which were themselves the diplomatic guarantee of Britain's continued presence in Egypt and indeed, since the Mediterranean Agreements of 1887, the main foundation of Salisbury's foreign policy. But it was equally important that the friendly settlement of these disputes should not result in alignments with Rome and Berlin so close as to destroy the generally tolerable relations with France which enabled Salisbury to avoid complete commitment to the Triple Alliance and an excessive dependence upon German goodwill. The history of the Anglo-Italian controversy and the immediate consequences of its settlement, which took place over a period of nearly two years, reveals more explicitly than the much briefer negotiation with Germany the perturbing influence of international rivalry in Africa upon Salisbury's delicate adjustments in Europe. For Salisbury the problem was complicated, rather than simplified, by the fact that Britain's rivals in Africa were friends nearer home.

Milner's entry into the War Cabinet in December 1916 is generally treated as one of the most surprising events of the whole strange crisis. Lord Beaverbrook found it ‘most startling’, and believed Milner to be ‘as much surprised as anyone…’. Beaverbrook's account of the events which brought about the downfall of Asquith has never been seriously challenged, but, as Lloyd George pointed out, it is a story told from his own and Bonar Law's point of view; it is an intimate view of the crisis, but a narrow one. And when it came time to make the appointments to the new government Beaverbook found himself ‘translated to the extreme circumference’. Naturally, then, Milner's promotion would appear ‘most startling’. But Milner was neither surprised nor startled: ‘My own disposition is strongly against being in the Government at all’, Milner wrote to Lady Edward Cecil on the evening of Friday, 8 December, ‘most strongly against being in it unless I am part of the Supreme Direction.’ A few hours later he was part of the ‘Supreme Direction’.