Art. 13.-THE RECENT POLITICAL CRISIS.

THE extent to which the present war has deflected party government from its normal course cannot be measured accurately at the present time. We may, however, note four periods. In the first (the critical fortnight which ended on Aug. 4, 1914) the Prime Minister received formal assurances from the Opposition leaders that they would support him if the Liberal Cabinet decided on war. In the second (August 1914 to May 1915) the Unionist Party made good this undertaking, not merely by their public utterances and action, but also by placing their services at the disposal of the Government for administrative purposes. They did not ask, nor were they invited, to accept the responsibility of office. With the third period (May 1915 to December 1916) came the Coalition, hurriedly called into existence in order to prop up the crumbling fabric of its predecessor. In this Ministry Unionists took their full share of place and power. The fourth period, upon which we have just entered, began with the formation of a Cabinet under a Liberal Prime Minister, in which various new elements were introduced, while the old party distinctions were to a large extent obliterated. The new order is hailed by its friends as a National Government; and the prayer of the whole country is that it may realise the hopes which it has inspired.

The Liberal-Radical Administration, which was in power throughout the first and second periods of the war, came into existence in the winter of 1905-6. The skill of Mr Asquith in the management of Parliament and in the arts of party government, and the condition of his opponents, who during the whole of this period showed themselves lacking in ideas, policy, cohesion and leadership, were two of the main causes which contributed to so long a tenure of office. But, without the salt of some active principle, even a Government so well led and so feebly opposed must have been liable to decay. The preservative element was provided by the courage, energy and imagination of Mr Lloyd George—a man, at that period, more hated by the opposite party and less trusted by his own than any politician of modern times.

The Coalition held office during the third period. It

was no very startling innovation upon its predecessor either in spirit or methods, but only in composition. A number of Unionists, who already for ten months had been sharing the burden of administration without official responsibility, were in May 1915 taken into full partnership. There was a very slight infusion of Labour; but the Irish Nationalists held aloof. Up to this time there had been no parliamentary opposition; now, however, there began to be a certain amount of irregular criticism, which tended to increase in volume, without, however, combining for common action. The real oppositionHis Majesty's Official Opposition-seemed to have been transferred from an attenuated House of Commons to an overgrown Cabinet. At first sight this arrangement might appear to promise the advantage of secrecy; but, if this hope was ever seriously entertained, it was disappointed by the enterprise of the press and the incontinence of Ministers.* The majority in the Cabinet was willing to endure the reproach of dilatoriness sooner than take any decision without the fullest deliberation. On the other hand, the Cabinet Opposition, of which the leader appeared to be Mr Lloyd George, maintained that there are occasions when it is necessary either to hurry or to be too late-as in the case of a forest fire, a washout in a cañon, or a European war.

When the Coalition fell in December 1916, the Liberal Leaders withdrew in a body, with their whole apparatus of Whips, funds and organisation. Their attitude appears to be one of dudgeon, tempered by a 'benevolent neutrality'; while that of the Irish Nationalists may perhaps be described as a 'vigilant neutrality.' The National Government is an odd and unprecedented mixture. Assuredly there is plenty of leaven in the loaf-the Prime Minister himself, Lord Milner, Sir Edward Carson, and some dozen gentlemen whose qualifications are not party services, but work done and reputations made outside politics. Labour also is more adequately represented than it has ever been hitherto

The classic instance occurred during the autumn of 1915, when some Minister opposed to Compulsion' and anxious to defeat it supplied a newspaper with what purported to be an account of a Cabinet discussion on this subject, the aim of this breach of confidence being to prejudice and intimidate ministerial deliberations by fomenting an agitation out of doors.

in any British Ministry; possibly it might with advantage have been given an even larger share. The Liberal contingent, with the single exception of the Premier, consists of persons who previously have held only junior offices or none at all. The stable or conventional element -an ingredient as necessary in making a Government as dough in baking bread--is provided by official Unionism. Mr Bonar Law has successfully avoided emulation of Mr Lloyd George's originality of choice. Indeed the Vatican itself could hardly have excluded Modernism with more scrupulous zeal than the Unionist board of selection appears to have shunned the taint of new ideas. If there be anything nowadays which corresponds to the 'Young England' party of the 'forties or to the 'Tory democracy' of the 'eighties, it has not found a place in the National Government.

National unity has been maintained ever since the outbreak of war, but not always at the same level. In some important respects it has changed its character. It has been tempered by knowledge and adversity, and, like good metal, it is a finer thing at the end of the process than it was at the beginning.

In July 1914 the United Kingdom was more bitterly divided than it had ever been during the lifetime of any man or woman then alive. The German Government reckoned upon this, and we can hardly blame their miscalculation. They observed correctly, but, as foreigners are very apt to do, they drew the wrong inference. War put an end at once to internal dissension. There was agreement, all but universal, as to the justice and necessity of British intervention. It is true that the nation did not realise until much later what sacrifices and changes would be required in order to carry out so tremendous an undertaking. It was not occupied at first in considering the means to the end so much as the end itself, and the monstrous nature of the evil with which it found itself confronted. Opinion throughout the United Kingdom and the British Empire was not less unanimous for going to war than it was up to the very last in praying for peace. Never in history did any people take up arms with greater reluctance, nor with a firmer conviction that duty left no other course open to them. A

challenge seemed to have been thrown down to freedom, justice and civilisation. It was accepted without hesitation, with perfect confidence in the final result, but with feelings of the deepest horror. We read of acclamations and rejoicings in Germany; there were none in England, Scotland or Ireland, or in any part of the British dominions.

All the facts which were known at the time supported the national resolve, while others which occurred or came to light later only served to confirm it. The manner in which war was forced upon Serbia, and afterwards upon Belgium; the brutalities of the successful invaders; the frank disclosure by official Germany of its aims of conquest and annexation, of its hatred, hitherto dissembled and disavowed, against ourselves, and of its determination to bring about our destructionall these seemed to prove conclusively the truth of the popular idea that the Spirit of Evil had broken loose, choosing its own time, armed to the teeth, and with all its preparations perfected for a sudden and overwhelming onset. Moreover, the aggressor announced frankly that 'Might was Right,' and made it evident that he was determined to put his foot once and for all upon the liberties of Europe. This is a simple and true statement of the issues as they appeared to our people at the beginning; and after nearly two years and a half of war nothing has happened in any way to change our beliefs.

In July 1914 Germany had many friends in this country, whose patriotism is as unimpeachable as their judgment was at fault. They had endeavoured-with considerable success so far as our own nation was concerned-to promote amicable feelings between the two countries. Such people were now no less determined upon war than those who for years past had been engaged in proclaiming to deaf ears their distrust of German policy. Indeed the friends of Germany were perhaps more strongly moved by indignation than any other section of British opinion. The consciousness of betrayal sharpened their anger. Germany had suddenly destroyed their beautiful vision. They had come to

believe that law, justice and arbitration were the accepted means of settling differences between great civilised Powers; but here was one of them-whose claims to

be in the forefront of civilisation they had warmly championed-now asserting bluntly that 'Might was Right.' It seemed as if the world on a sudden had plunged back into the abyss; and they saw that the only hope of realising any part of their ideal of universal peace lay in the overthrow of the powers of evil which had vowed its destruction.

One thing which made for unity at the beginning was the fact that there was no War Party. So long as the issue remained in doubt, no one uttered a provocative phrase, no one clamoured for war. There were few who did not pray earnestly that Sir Edward Grey's efforts to bring about a peaceful settlement might succeed. This crisis was unlike every other in our modern history; there were no cheering mobs, no ringing of joybells when war was declared. The triumphing' of a War Party has been one of the commonest causes of national disunion, by setting up a reaction and calling a Peace Party into existence. The country was spared this evil in August 1914. Whatever criticisms in other regards may be urged against Viscount Grey's conduct of affairs, he deserves the highest credit for having contributed, probably more than any man, to this result.

The state of mind in which war surprised us contained possibilities of danger. We are as warmly attached to our country and as susceptible to noble impulses as any nation, but we suffered under one signal disadvantage; we were unprepared for war, quite as much in our mental attitude as in our material provisions. During three generations or more, public opinion had been gradually taught to regard a death-struggle between ourselves and any of the great military nations as unthinkable. The doctrines of Cobden and his Manchester School, in so far as they applied to the relations of capital and labour, had long ago fallen into discredit. In recent times they had also been challenged in regard to fiscal matters. But they still maintained their hold upon the popular imagination in the sphere of foreign policy. We were still assured that the less we let our thoughts dwell upon the prospect of war the less likely was that evil to occur. Consequently, when war came, the nation, which had been taught to banish the idea of