and sophistries have left men bewildered. The only light they
have is Mr. Chamberlain's declaration at Luton, which asserts that he and the Premier are in agreement. This being so, and longing for unity, as party men always long for it, their impulse is to support Mr. Chamberlain more warmly than ever. Meantime the few genuine Balfourites—i.e., the Balfonrites who strive to believe that Chamberlainism is not merely Balfourism with the chill off, but something essentially different—bleat in corners their feeble and futile professions that in spite of everything they will be loyal to their leader, and that they still believe him to be willing and able to put a spoke in Mr. Chamberlain's wheel. Their attitude towards Mr. Balfour is, in truth, like nothing so much as that of the lover in Landor's poem :—
" You wept and smiled and I believed, By every tear and smile deceived. Another man would hope no more; Nor hope I what I hoped before. Yet even this last wish is vain, Deceive, deceive me once again."
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