ing on the left hand, and at the next moment
fighting just as convincingly on the right, creates distrust in both
armies?

A newspaper which says at one time, "France must be rolled in mud and
blood, her colonies must be taken from her and given to Germany, she has
no sense of honour"; and at another time describes every German as a
Hun and hails France as the glory of civilization, does not encourage
the judicious reader to look for guidance in its editorial
pronouncements. But the newspaper which felt itself obliged to offer
France a respectful admonition on one occasion and even to oppose French
policy with firmness and to express sympathy with the Germans might
afterwards acclaim the great virtues of France and oppose itself to the
German nation without any loss of our respect. In the one case the
inconsistency arises from hysterical and immoral passion, in the other
from a moral principle.

There is only one region in which consistency has the great sanction of
an indubitable virtue: it is the region of moral character. A good man,
a man who makes us feel that righteousness is the breath of his
nostrils, may change his intellectual opinions many times without losing
our confidence, deeply as we may deplore his change. Goodness has an
effect on men's minds which can hardly be exaggerated. Conduct is the
one sphere in which consistency has an absolute merit. A man whose whole
life is governed by moral principle has a constituency in the judgment
of all honest people and may be said to represent mankind rather than a
party. Even a cynical opportunist like Lord Beaconsfield had to confess,
"So much more than the world imagines is done by personal influence."

Mr. Churchill has not convinced the world of this possession. He carries
great guns, but his navigation is uncertain, and the flag he flies is
not a symbol which stirs the blood. His effect on men is one of
interest and curiosity, not of admiration and loyalty. His power is the
power of gifts, not character. Men watch him, but do not follow him. He
beguiles the reason, but never warms the emotions. You may see in him
the wonderful and lightning movements of the brain, but never the
beating of a steadfast heart. He has almost every gift of statesmanship,
and yet, lacking the central force of the mind which gives strength and
power to character, these gifts are for ever at the sport of
circumstance. His inconsistencies assume the appearance of shifts and
dodges.