the present generation especially almost a crime. Indeed it was in part Mill's own living influence that kept alive the high moral standards of criticism which led to his full recognition. Unregenerate human nature will reassert itself when such guides disappear. Even candour will be assailed from time to time, as it was by Canning: 'Hail, most solemn sage,

Thou drivelling virtue of this moral age.'

But another generation as strenuous as Mill's own will place the moral virtues of his intellect very high and will reinstate his reputation, although his philosophy as a whole is not likely again to be a living force. Other and more personal drawbacks will no doubt also remain. I think that a certain want of virility and lack of imagination will always be felt by his readers. As one dwells on him one cannot conjure up the full picture of the hero or the great man who is born, not made. Much that was born was killed early by his one-sided training. Nearly all had to be made. But he was taught early how to make; and one sees him taking infinite and pathetic pains to recover artificially much that was irretrievably lost. Yet as one can deeply reverence a Christian saint and owe much to his influence though one sees that he is not a boon companion or even a gentleman, so it is with such a unique intellectual and moral character as Mill's. One admires, though the aesthetic pleasure afforded by buoyancy, richness, spontaneousness, creativeness of mind, is absent. The ascetic sacrifices the realisation of the many-sided possibilities of life and human nature in order to accomplish the all-important tasks prescribed by duty. And something akin to the sentiment of admiration which we give to the persistent religious devotee will, I am convinced, be accorded by posterity to Mill, in spite of all he lacked whether by nature or in consequence of his early training. When told that he was dying he said four words, 'My work is done.'

WILFRID WARD.

Art. 12.-THE CONFERENCE AND THE COUNTRY. THE country is at present engaged in trying a novel experiment; novel, that is, in recent political history and never very common in the business of politics. In commerce it is an everyday matter, and half the legal disputes which arise are settled amicably out of court. But, though we are a nation of business men, we have an odd dislike of business methods in our government. Το compromise, to confer, even to hint at the possibility of conference, seems to our party stalwarts a confession of weakness, not, perhaps, without a hint of moral défaillance. The feeling, honourable enough in a sense, arises from our curious confusion of moral and political issues. Compromise in the sphere of ethics is a very different thing from the humdrum adjustments of the business world. To tamper with the stern categories of the moral law may be evidence of a perverted soul, and in any event is an intricate and heart-breaking enterprise. But to try to understand an adversary's point of view, to content ourselves, for the sake of an ultimate good, with less than we think we can lawfully claim, is surely a proof of good sense and good feeling. In these obscurantist days it is pleasant to contemplate a practice which recognises the importance of reason. The essence of compromise is that a man, instead of denouncing his neighbour's point of view, makes an effort to understand it. Knowing that a quiet life is worth a sacrifice, he forgoes for its sake something which, in spite of all the mutual enlightenment which conference gives, he may still think he has a right to. Every one knows that in private life a politician may be appreciative of his adversaries, and very candid in admitting their merits. It is only on the party platform that he draws the world as a device in snow and ink. Political compromise is in effect the resolve in some matter of great national concern to drop the party standpoint for a little, and look squarely at a question like reasonable men. It is a method with many successes in its record. The United States of America and a united South Africa are examples of what can be done in the way of sinking differences if opponents mean business and try to

understand each other. Settlement by conference is possible only for men who are sure of themselves, who are confident in their cause and their good intentions, and are not afraid of the arbitrament of reason. Those who write 'No compromise' on their banners are usually the feckless mercenaries in the wars of humanity.

But conference is impossible unless certain conditions are present. The first of these is that both parties to a conference should hold the same kind of general principles with regard to the matter in dispute. Α Jacobite and a Jacobin would get no further forward in a discussion on the monarchy; their points of view would be circles never intersecting. Jack Sprat and his wife could never compromise upon a common diet. The conferring parties need not have the same creed, but their creeds must be based on the same kind of axiom and similar habits of mind. In the second place both parties must have certain free assets to bargain with, certain views which they value, but which for the sake of agreement they are willing to jettison. A stern Calvinist and a staunch Roman Catholic will never by conferring arrive at a common dogma, for neither has any dialectical small change with which to buy the other's assent. These bargaining assets must be of some intrinsic value, otherwise there is no sacrifice; and they must not be the most valued possessions of the parties, for in that case neither will part with them. Finally, the parties must enter a conference both with the honest intention of striving to reach a settlement, and with full powers to determine its nature. A conference where on one side or the other there is no desire for peace becomes, like the famous Bloemfontein Conference, only a form of political manifesto. Its success lies in its failure. And, again, a conference where the participants are not free is a waste of time. You cannot be expected to go very far in understanding an opponent's point of view if you begin the discussion under oath not to recognise it. As well might a simple clergyman, bound by the Thirty-nine Articles, attempt to settle with some Moslem dignitary a common religion for the world.

Let us briefly examine the antecedents of the present Conference to see if they fulfil the conditions we have sketched. We may take the third for granted, and

assume that the eight gentlemen now in session are honourably anxious for a settlement and free, so far as any formal obligation goes, to make their own terms. With regard to the first, it is reasonable to assume that the two traditional English parties share the same fundamental political creed. Liberal and Conservative differ not so much in principle as in details, in the emphasis which they put upon various problems, in their sense of relative values, and in temperament. All the greater names in our parliamentary history, Chatham and Burke, Canning and Peel, even Disraeli and Gladstone, are the classics of both parties. If we take the constitutional question alone we do not find any great difference in principle. With the exception of a few extremists, Liberals and Conservatives still believe in a Second Chamber with functions of revision and delay, as they admit the practical superiority in power of a Lower House. It is on the details that we are quarrelling-the right interpretation of the consequences of certain changes, the best way of remedying certain admitted defects. Here at any rate is a good basis for discussion.

As to the second condition-the free assets to bargain with-we can only judge after a short review of the actual situation. The Conservative admits that the House of Lords as it stands to-day might be a better revising body than it is. Its almost exclusively hereditary constitution, though he will not admit anything necessarily wrong with the hereditary principle, obviously makes it distrusted by that section of the people who consider popular election a sine qua non in democratic government. Further, ever since the Home Rule split it has been too much the preserve of one particular party. Before that a Liberal Prime Minister often commanded a majority in the Lords; now he can rarely muster more than a fifth of the House. Hence as a revising body it will be apt to be unduly severe on Liberal measures and unduly lax on Conservative ones. He is therefore perfectly willing to see it reformed, provided the reformers remember that our Constitution is the slow growth of time, and are careful to preserve what is of living value while pruning off the dead boughs. But he believes in an Upper House with full powers of revision in every department of adminis

tration. Such revision is not final, since, if the people of Britain show themselves after a full consideration hostile to the revisers, the Lords must give way. They do no more than hold a watching brief for the country in case the Lower House, as it has done in the past, is prepared to override its commission. Such revising powers, the Conservative argues, must extend to every kind of legislation, including the finance of the year; though obviously, since the rejection of a Budget brings the services of the State to a standstill, and must drive a Ministry to resign or dissolve, it is a step to be taken only in the last emergency. To sum up, the Conservative's view is that we must have an Upper Chamber constitutionally co-ordinate with, though in general prac tice subordinate to, the House of Commons. Our present Second Chamber admittedly needs reform, and he is open to discuss ways and means.

It is less easy to summarise the Liberal argument, because the party has been apt to speak with divers tongues. Liberals emphasise the necessity for reform. At present, they say, the dice are loaded against Liberal policy. But reform is a slow and difficult business, and in the meantime Liberal schemes are hung up, and the country grows impatient. Let us begin, they argue, not by amending the constitution of the House of Lords, but by limiting its functions-a much simpler matter. Let us deprive it of all power over the Budget of the year, with due precautions against tacking; and let us limit its power of rejection to measures sent up no oftener than twice from the Commons. The sending up of a Bill a third time must mean its automatic passing into law. Now it should be noted that these provisions of this year's Parliament Bill do not with the majority of Liberals really represent a considered and final theory of a Second Chamber. The weightier members of the Cabinet have made no secret of their desire for a reformed Upper House-an Upper House which should be a revising body for Conservative as well as Liberal Bills. Under the Parliament Bill there is no real remedy for the chief Liberal grievance; for Conservative measures would still pass automatically and Liberal measures be delayed, and in certain cases, of course, rejected. During the last election in many staunch Radical constituencies