think of the posture of your affairs at home? What is it all coming to? It seems as if you were more and more getting among the breakers, drifting towards the shoals and the rocks. Can it really be so? and is the great and noble ship going to break to pieces?

I

No, I answered; it is not going to break to pieces. There are sources, I trust, of deliverance and safety which you do not perceive. I agree with you, however, that our foreign policy has been that of people who fumble because they cannot make up their mind, and who cannot make up their mind because they do not know what to be after. I have said so, and I have said why it is and must be so: because this policy reflects the dispositions of middle-class Liberalism, with its likes and dislikes, its effusion and confusion, its hot and cold fits, its want of dignity and of the steadfastness which comes from dignity, its want of ideas and of the steadfastness which comes from ideas. agree, too, that the House of Commons is a scandal, and Ireland a crying danger. I agree that monster processions and monster meetings in the public streets and parks are the letting out of anarchy, and that our weak dealing with them is deplorable. I myself think all this, and have often, too often, said it. But the mass of our Liberals of the middle and lower classes do not see it at all. Their range of vision and of knowledge is too bounded. They are hardly even conscious that the House of Commons is a scandal or that Ireland is a crying danger. If it suited their favourite minister to tell them that neither the one nor the other allegation is true, they would believe him. As to foreign policy, of course it does suit him to tell them that the allegation that England has lost weight and influence is not true. And when the minister, or when one of his ardent young officials on their promotion, more dauntless than the minister himself, boldly assures them that England has not at all lost weight and influence abroad, and that our foreign policy has been sagacious, consistent, and successful, they joyfully believe him. Or when one of their minister's colleagues assures them that the late disturbances were of no importance, a mere accident which will never happen again, and that monster processions and monster meetings in the public streets and parks are proper and necessary things, which neither can be prohibited nor ought to be prohibited, they joyfully believe him. And with us in England, although not in the great world outside of England, those who thus think or say that all is well are the majority. They may say it, replied the speaker already mentioned, who has a turn for quotation; they may say it. But the answer for them is the answer made by Sainte-Beuve to M. Rouher asserting that all was well with the Second Empire in its closing years: He may say so if he pleases, but he deceives himself, and he thinks contrary to the general opinion.'

Yet surely there must be something to give ground to our prevalent notion of Mr. Gladstone as a great and successful minister. Not only the rank and file, the unthinking multitude, of the Liberal

party, have it and proclaim it, but the leaders, the intelligent and educated men, embrace it just as confidently. Lord Ripon speaks of 'the policy we might expect from the glorious antecedents of Mr. Gladstone.' Professor Thorold Rogers calls him 'that veteran statesman with fifty years of victory behind him.' Mr. Reginald Brett says that any scheme for Ireland which he produces will be 'a scheme based on his unrivalled experience of the art of government.' Mr. John Morley says that in his great abilities and human sympathy will be found the only means capable of solving the great Irish question.' Sir Horace Davey will not hesitate to say that he has confidence in Mr. Gladstone, and that he believes the country also has confidence in Mr. Gladstone. The Liberals of England would not soon withdraw their confidence from that illustrious statesman, who had so often led them to victory.' Surely there must be some fourdation or other for this chorus of eulogy and confidence. Surely there must have been great success of some kind, surely there must have been victory.

Most certainly there has been victory. But has there been success? The two things are often confounded together, and in the popular estimate of Mr. Gladstone we have a signal instance of the confusion. He has been victorious, true; he has conquered, he has carried his measures. But he has not been successful. For what is success for a statesman; is it merely carrying his measures? The vulgar may think so, but a moment's reflection will tell us that the vulgar are wrong; that success for a statesman is succeeding in what his measures are designed to do.

This is the test of a statesman's success, and the great and successful statesmen are those whose work will bear trying by it. Cavour and Prince Bismarck are statesmen of our own time who are really great, because their work did what it was meant to do. Cavour's design was to make a united Italy, Prince Bismarck's to make a strong Germany; and they made it. No minor success, no success of vanity, no success of which the issue is still problematical and which requires other successes for its accomplishment, will suffice to assure this title of successful to a statesman. To some people Prince Bismarck seems great because he can snub all the world, and has even been enabled, by an incredible good fortune, to snub the proudest of countries and the one country against which, above all others, he was powerless-England. These successes of vanity are nothing. Neither is he to be called a successful statesman because he carried the May laws, for it is as yet uncertain whether the end which those laws were designed to attain they will accomplish. But let us see, then, what it is which does indeed make Prince Bismarck a great and successful statesman, a statesman whose antecedents,' to take Lord Ripon's phrase, are indeed 'glorious.' He is successful because, finding his country with certain dangers and certain needs, he has

laboured for forty years, at first as a subordinate, but for the far greater part of the time as principal, to remove the one and to satisfy the other.

Germany had needs, she found impediments or she found perils to her national life, on the side of Denmark, Austria, Russia, France. First her needs on the side of Denmark were satisfied, in spite of the opposition of France and England. Graver difficulties had to be faced next. A strong Germany was impossible without a strong Prussia. But Prussia seemed to be one of the Great Powers only in name; Austria, thwarting and supercilious, checked her movements at every turn, frustrated all efforts to consolidate Germany. Except by Prussia's beating Austria, the consolidation of Germany could not go forward; but a war with Austria-what a difficult war was that for a Prussian minister to make! Prince Bismarck made it, and the victory of Sadowa gave Prussia free action in Germany. But except free action in Germany, Prince Bismarck demanded nothing from Austria; no territory, no indemnity-not a village, not a shilling.

Russia had saved Austria from the Hungarians, why did she not save her from the Prussians? Because the Prussian Government, foreseeing the future, foreseeing the inevitable struggle with Austria, had refused to take part with the Western Powers in the Crimean War-a foolish and prejudicial war for England, but which would have been still more foolish and prejudicial for Prussia. Austria had in a half-hearted. way taken part with the Western Powers; Russia's neutrality in Austria's war with Prussia was Prussia's reward for the past and Austria's punishment.

Meanwhile at Prussia's success France looked on, palpitating with anger and jealousy. A strong Germany was a defiance to all French traditions, and the inevitable collision soon France was

defeated, and the provinces required to give military security to Germany were taken from her. Why had not Austria now sought to wreak her revenge on Prussia by siding with France? She had Russia to still reckon with in attempting to do so. But what was of yet more avail to stay her hand was that Prince Bismarck, as has been already mentioned, had with admirable wisdom entirely forborne to amerce and humiliate her after Sadowa, and had thus made it possible for the feelings of German Austria to tend to his side.

For the last fifteen years he has constantly developed and increased friendly relations with Austria and Russia. As regards France, whose friendship was impossible, he has kept Germany watchful and strong. Those legitimate needs and that security of Germany, which thirty years ago seemed unattainable for her, he has attained. Germany, which thirty years ago was hampered, weak, and in low esteem, is now esteemed, strong, and with her powers all at command. It was a great object, and the great Reichskanzler has attained it. Such are Prince Bismarck's victories.

I observe that Mr. John Morley, like many people in this country, speaks of the work of Prince Bismarck as something extremely precarious, and likely to crumble away and vanish as soon as the Emperor William dies. When the disappearance of Kaiser Wilhelm dissolves the fabric of the Triple Alliance, new light will be thrown on the stability of governments which are anti-democratic.' In my opinion, Mr. Morley deceives himself. Advanced Liberals are always apt to think that a condition of things where the people cannot hold whatever meetings and processions they like, and wherever they like, is an unnatural condition and likely to dissolve. But I see no signs which show that Prince Bismarck and his policy will disappear with the Emperor William. The Crown Prince is too judicious a man to desire it; even if he desired it, I doubt whether he could bring it about. The state of Germany is, unless I am much mistaken, more solid than our own. Prince Bismarck commits errors, the German character has faults, German life has deficiencies; but the situation there is a great deal more solid, and Prince Bismarck far more fixed in the national affections, than our Radicals suppose.

But now let us come to the victories of Mr. Gladstone. Are they not victories only, but successes? that is, have they really satisfied vital needs and removed vital dangers of the nation? Sir Robert Peel's abolition of the Corn Laws may be said to have removed a risk of social revolt. But the general development of Free Trade cannot absolutely, as we are all coming to see, be said to have satisfied vital needs and removed vital dangers of the nation; free trade is not, it is now evident, a machinery making us by its own sole operation prosperous and safe; it requires, in order to do this, many things to supplement it, many conditions to accompany it. The general development of free trade we cannot, therefore, reckon to Mr. Gladstone as a success of the sort which stamps a statesman as gloriously successful. The case was one not admitting of a success of the kind. On foreign affairs I shall not touch; his best friends will not allege his successes there. But at home for a success of the kind wanted, a true and splendid success, Mr. Gladstone has had three great opportunities. He had them in dealing with the Irish Church, with the Irish land question, with obstruction in Parliament. In each case he won a victory. But did he achieve not only a victory, but that which is the only real and true success for a statesman? did he, by his victory, satisfy vital needs and remove vital dangers of his country? Did he in the case of the Irish Church? The object there for a statesman was to conciliate the Catholic sentiment of Ireland; did his measure do this? The Liberal party affirmed that it did, the Liberal newspapers proclaimed it a great and genial policy of conciliation,' and one of Mr. Gladstone's colleagues told us that the Ministry had 'resolved to knit the hearts of the empire into one harmonious concord, and knitted they were accordingly.' True, there were voices

(mine was one of them) which said differently. It is fatal to the English nation,' I wrote in Culture and Anarchy, 'to be told by its flatterers, and to believe, that it is abolishing the Irish Church through reason and justice when it is really abolishing it through the Nonconformists' antipathy to establishments; fatal to expect the fruits of reason and justice from anything but the spirit of reason and justice.' This was unpopular language from an insignificant person, and was not listened to. But who doubts now that the Catholic sentiment of Ireland was not in the very least conciliated by the measure of 1868, and that the reason why it was not and could not be conciliated by it was that the measure was of the nature above described ?

The Irish Land Act, in like manner, was a victory but not a success. It was carried, it was applauded; the Liberal party duly extolled it as 'a scheme based on Mr. Gladstone's unrivalled experience in the art of government.' But did it satisfy vital needs and remove vital dangers? Evidently not; the legislation now proposed for Ireland is impregnable proof of it. Did the victory, again, achieved in the reform of procedure, achieved by Mr. Gladstone wielding a great majority and spending the time of Parliament without any stint, did this victory succeed? Did it satisfy the nation's needs and remove the nation's dangers as regards obstruction in the House of Commons? Why, the Conservatives have had to devise a fresh scheme, and the Liberal Government has had to adopt it from them and is at this moment working in concert with them to mature it!

Well then, 'our veteran statesman with his fifty years of victory behind him,' with his glorious antecedents,' with his unrivalled experience in the art of government,' turns out, in the three crucial instances by which we can test him, not to have succeeded as a statesman at all, but on the contrary to have failed. Let me try again,' he is now saying. And Mr. Morley assures us that in 'Mr. Gladstone's great abilities and human sympathy will be found the only means capable of solving the great Irish problem.' The mass of Liberal voices chime eagerly in with Mr. Morley. I do not deny the great abilities and the human sympathy; I admit them to the fullest extent. I do not even say that Mr. Gladstone is to be blamed for not having succeeded. But succeeded, in the true sense of the word, he has not; his work as a statesman has hitherto failed to satisfy the country's vital needs, to remove the country's vital dangers. When, therefore, he proposes, in a most critical condition of things, to fall to work again on a bigger scale than ever, we may well feel anxious. We may well ask ourselves what are the causes which have kept him back from a statesman's true success hitherto, and whether they will not also keep him back from it in what he purposes to do now.

The reason why Mr. Gladstone has not succeeded hitherto in the