Little as the general public may suspect it, the charming, gracious, and cultured Mr. Balfour is the most egotistical of men, and a man who would make almost any sacrifice to remain in office.  It costs him nothing to serve under Mr. Lloyd George; it would have cost him almost his life to be out of office during a period so exciting as that of the Great War.  He loves office more than anything this world can offer; neither in philosophy nor music, literature nor science, has he ever been able to find rest for his soul.  It is profoundly instructive that a man with a real talent for the noblest of those pursuits which make solitude desirable and retirement an opportunity should be so restless and dissatisfied, even in old age, outside the doors of public life.

The most serious effect upon his character of this central selfishness may be seen in his treatment of George Wyndham.  Mr. Balfour has had only one friend in his parliamentary life, Alfred Lyttelton, but George Wyndham came nearer to his affections than any other man in the Unionist Party, and was at one time Mr. Balfour’s devoted admirer.  Nevertheless, in the hour of his tragedy, in the hour which broke his heart and destroyed his career, Mr. Balfour, who should have championed him against the wolves of the Party, and might, I verily believe, have saved both him and Ireland, turned away his face and rendered homage to political opportunism.  Wyndham’s grave and the present condition of Ireland stand as sorrowful reminders of that unworthy act.

Wyndham was by no means a first-rate politician, but he was a sincere man, something too of a genius, and I think there was genuine inspiration in his method of solving the Irish question.

This incident reveals in Mr. Balfour a capacity for meanness which rather darkens his good qualities.  It prevents one from believing that his conduct has always been guided by noble and disinterested motives.  The historian might have said that although he mistook astuteness and adroitness in parliamentary debate for statesmanship, and although he accomplished nothing for the good of his country, he yet lent a certain dignity and nobleness to public life at a time when it was besieged by new forces in democracy having no reverence for tradition and little respect for good manners; but when the full truth of the Wyndham incident is related it will be difficult for the historian to avoid a somewhat harsh judgment on Mr. Balfour’s character.

Nor does the Wyndham incident stand alone.  His treatment of Mr. Ritchie and Lord George Hamilton was very bad.  Then there was the case of Joseph Chamberlain, who had good reason never to forgive him.  Some day Mr. Asquith (or will it be Mrs. Asquith) may tell the story of dealings with Mr. Balfour which were not of a handsome character.  The more these things are revealed the worse I think it will be for Mr. Balfour’s character.

But such is the personal effect of the man that even those whom he has treated badly never bring any public charge against him.  With the exception of Mr. Asquith, and Joseph Chamberlain, all forgave him, and even sought to find excuses for his inexplicable lapse.  But I am inclined to think that this indicates weakness on the part of the victim rather than grace on the part of the victimizer.