that was passing in his mind, and saw little difference between
reticence and dishonesty. Much of the suspicion and even fear with
which he was regarded, especially after 1885, arose from the idea
that it was impossible to predict what he would do next, and how far
his openness of mind would carry him. In so far as they tended to
shake public confidence, these characteristics injured him in his
statesman's work, but the loss was far outweighed by the gain. In a
country where opinion is active and changeful, where the economic
conditions that legislation has to deal with are in a state of
perpetual flux, where the balance of power between the upper and
middle and poorer classes has been swiftly altering during the last
sixty years, no statesman can continue to serve the public if he
adheres obstinately to the views with which he started in life. He
must--unless, of course, he stands aloof in permanent opposition--
either submit to advocate measures he secretly mislikes, or else
must keep himself always ready to learn from events, and to
reconsider his opinions in the light of emergent tendencies and
insistent facts. Mr. Gladstone's pride as well as his conscience
forbade the former alternative; it was fortunate that the
inexhaustible activity of his intellect made the latter natural to
him. He was accustomed to say that the great mistake of his earlier
views had been in not sufficiently recognizing the worth and power
of liberty, and the tendency which things have to work out for good
when left to themselves. The application of this principle gave
room for many developments, and many developments there were. He
may have wanted that prescience which is, after integrity, the
highest gift of a statesman, but which is almost impossible to a man
so pressed by the constant and engrossing occupations of an English
minister that he cannot find time for the patient study and thought
from which alone sound forecasts can issue. But he had the next