THE PERSONAL RUMOURS.
THE air this week has been full of personal rumours, most of them untrue, but some of them probable, and all showing a fact of considerable interest to the country,— the great strength of the Liberals in men 'of Cabinet rank, as compared with the weakness of the Conservatives. That strength, though not the main cause, is one main cause of the ease with which the Government has hitherto survived seces- sions. Three Ministers of repute—the Duke of Argyll, Mr. Forster, and Mr. Bright—have quitted the Cabinet in succes- sion, on different grounds, a series of departures which, under many circumstances, would have shaken even a strong Ministry ; but the waters have closed over their heads almost without a ripple. The Ministry is stronger than it ever was, public affairs go as smoothly, and there is as little sign of any defec- tion among the Constituencies. Of course, the first cause of this phenomenon is the personal ascendancy in the country of Mr. Gladstone, who, though nearly seventy-three years old, has during this Autumn Session borne upon his own shoulders the whole weight of debate, as well as of government, until the country half forgets that other Ministers exist ; but another cause is the wealth of men fit for Cabinet office within the Liberal remits. Whoever goes out, except Mr. Gladstone, his equal is ready to take his place, the ranks fill up, and the Liberal Army steps forward so steadily, that Conservatives compare it every morning and evening to an automatic machine. Machines while an motion do a great deal of work, and this machine, which is said to be sterile, has revolutionised tenure in Ireland, and women's position as to property in England, besides doubling
or trebling its own powers by the introduction of the Closure. For the same reason, rumours of " reconstructions " of the Cabinet which at another time would excite the whole country, are now discussed rather as matters of gossip, than as affairs of high public moment. Whatever the shuffiings of the pack, Mr. Gladstone will remain player. Whoever enters the Cabinet, Mr. Gladstone will guide it and him. The men, too, are so good, that no fears are excited. Even after Mr. Glad- stone, the country will accept Mr. Childers as Chancellor of the Exchequer, without any sense of alarm ; Lord Hartington will control the War Office as well as Mr. Childers; and Sir Charles Mike will criticise or shove the administration of India, just as well as he has done the intervention in Egypt. We give those changes, not as arranged, or even thought of, for nothing is settled, except, perhaps, that when Mr. Gladstone resigns the Exchequer, the heavy velvet robe will fall to Mr. Childers, but as a little more probable than most of the conjectures hitherto circulated. For the rest, to fill up vacancies, at least ten competent men stand ready ; and if we suggest that Mr. Trovelyan will probably precede Mr. Courtney in entering the Cabinet, and that Lord Rosebery may obtain: a seat there without much more waiting, it is chiefly because we think that a Minister whom Irishmen do not hate, yet who is safe, is invaluable to any Government, and that the Government needs more than one light debater in the Lords. It has plenty of intellectual strength there, though the row of Conservative eminencies looks so formidable, and though the Government has so many acquaintances of the Brabourne type, men who love their friends, but may be relied on to hiss the best scenes in their friends' plays, but a debater who can argue at once humorously and irresistibly is always an aid in an assembly which prefers its sustenance well cooked. So many changes, most of which, or others like them, are inevit- able before next Session, may seem large, but none of them will weaken a Cabinet which the public appioves, but does not criticise in detail much more than it criticised the Cabinets of Lord Beaconsfield. He liked dummies, and nobody eared; Mr. Gladstone prefers first-rates, and nobody is much interested.
The rumours about the Conservative Front Bench have a keener interest. Is Sir Stafford Northcote really ill ? It is evidence of the general instinct as to the character of that innocent fox, that everybody at first asked this question in a spirit akin to Talleyrand's, though everybody was sorry to hear it answered in the affirmative ? Though not an old man, as English leaders go, Sir Stafford works very hard, he is most assiduous in a House in which men who cannot sleep at will get sick with weariness and waiting, and he has lately had to endure a perpetual blister, or rather seton—for it is inside the flesh—in the shape of Lord Randolph Churchill. It is all for his good and the party's good, no doubt, but even a fine-tempered man like Sir Stafford Northeote, if a little ill, and a trifle over-worked, and more than a trifle over-weighted, must find a restless " worrit " like Lord Randolph Churchill almost too much for his en- durance. The old Rabbis were clever torturers, when they invented that story of the Lord sending a fly to drive Og, the giant, out of the path of Israel. Og's foot was thirty cubits high, but with a rock round his neck to keep his hands from rising, as Egypt is just now keeping Sir Stafford's hands, the fly was too much for the Moabitish Titan. At all events, the Tory leader is ordered away, and men are asking what would happen, if he ever resigned. There is literally no one to take his place. Mr. Stanley is a fair administrator, but little more. Sir R. Cross is a lieutenant, not a chief, with small general knowledge of politics, and the record against him of the Water Bill, which he will not find for- gotten ; and Mr. Gibson is a statesman only on Irish affairs. There is no one else even hopeful in the front ranks of Conservatives, and we do not suppose that, enthusi- astic as they are as to his powers of oratory, the party will bend the knee to Mr. Cowen, and ask him to come over and command them. They were just as enthusiastic over Mr. Lowe during the Reform debates of 1867, but nothing came of their conviction that he alone was right. There never was such an opportunity for an able man, either without scruples or with old Conservative convictions ; but no one seems to be ready, and Sir Stafford Northcote, as he sails on the Mediter- ranean, may enjoy the consoling assurance that he is entirely safe. Gtatitude is strong, and so is friendship ; but no one is so secure in his post as the man whom you cannot, without risking your fortune, even make an effort to replace.
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