him in his calling. But much argument is not required to guide the
public, still less a formal exposition of that argument. What is
mostly needed is the manly utterance of clear conclusions; if a
statesman gives these in a felicitous way (and if with a few light
and humorous illustrations, so much the better), he has done his
part. He will have given the text, the scribes in the newspapers
will write the sermon. A statesman ought to show his own nature, and
talk in a palpable way what is to him important truth. And so he
will both guide and benefit the nation. But if, especially at a time
when great ignorance has an unusual power in public affairs, he
chooses to accept and reiterate the decisions of that ignorance, he
is only the hireling of the nation, and does little save hurt it.

I shall be told that this is very obvious, and that everybody knows
that 2 and 2 make 4, and that there is no use in inculcating it. But
I answer that the lesson is not observed in fact; people do not so
do their political sums. Of all our political dangers, the greatest
I conceive is that they will neglect the lesson. In plain English,
what I fear is that both our political parties will bid for the
support of the working man; that both of them will promise to do as
he likes if he will only tell them what it is; that, as he now holds
the casting vote in our affairs, both parties will beg and pray him
to give that vote to them. I can conceive of nothing more corrupting
or worse for a set of poor ignorant people than that two
combinations of well-taught and rich men should constantly offer to
defer to their decision, and compete for the office of executing it.
Vox populi will be Vox diaboli if it is worked in that manner.

And, on the other hand, my imagination conjures up a contrary
danger. I can conceive that questions BEING raised which, if