More than thirty years ago I published a little book on George Canning (John Murray, 1903) in which I did less than justice to Castlereagh. The error was not peculier to me, and might perhaps be regarded as venial in a budding politician and inexperienced historian, who had spent some of the happiest evenings of his Oxford life in the famous club dedicated to Mr. Canning's memory. Yet all these years it has lain heavy on a conscience too tender perhaps for an active participant in politics. That participation combined with other circumstances to delay the expiation even now inadequately made. But, however inadequate, it cannot safely be deferred much longer.
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