an life well, but he has slackness in his blood and no vital
enthusiasm in his heart. His career has been a descent. He has taken
things--ethically and industrially--easily, too easily.

It is a pity that Nature forgot to bestow upon him those domestic
motions of the heart which humanize the mind and beautify character, for
in many ways he was fitted to play a great part in affairs of State and
with real emotion in his nature would have made an ideal leader of the
nation during the struggle with Germany. He is a conspicuous example of
the value of sensibility, for lacking this one quality he has entirely
failed to reach the greatness to which his many gifts entitled him.

Few men can be so charming: no man can be more impressive. His handsome
appearance, his genial manner, his distinguished voice, his eagerness
and playfulness in conversation, all contribute to an impression of
personality hardly equalled at the present time. He might easily pass
for the perfect ideal of the gentleman. In a certain set of society he
remains to this day a veritable prince of men. And his tastes are pure,
and his life is wholesome.

A lady of my acquaintance was once praising to its mother a robust and
handsome infant who could boast a near relationship with Mr. Arthur
Balfour. "Yes," said the mother, with criticism in her eyes and voice,
"I think he is a nice child, but we rather fear he lacks the Balfourian
manner." Even in childhood!

This Balfourian manner, as I understand it, has its roots in an attitude
of mind--an attitude of convinced superiority which insists in the first
place on complete detachment from the enthusiasms of the human race, and
in the second place on keeping the vulgar world at arm's length.

It is an attitude of mind which a critic or a cynic might be justified
in assuming, for it is the attitude of one who desires rather to observe
the world than to shoulder any of its burdens; but it is a posture of
exceeding danger to anyone who lacks tenderness or sympathy, whatever
his purpose or office may be, for it tends to breed the most dangerous
of all intellectual vices, that spirit of self-satisfaction which
Dostoievsky declares to be the infallible mark of an inferior mind.

To Mr. Arthur Balfour this studied attitude of aloofness has been fatal,
both to his character and to his career. He has said nothing, written
nothing, done nothing, which lives in the heart of his countrymen. To
look back upon his record i