Of the "Concert of Europe" as it actually lived and worked (however
plausible it might sound in theory) Gladstone had the poorest opinion,
and, indeed, he declared that it was only another and a finer name for
"the mutual distrust and hatred of the Powers." It had conspicuously
failed to avert, or stop, or punish the Armenian massacres, and
it had left Greece unaided in her struggle against Turkey. Lord
Morley has finely said of him that "he was for an iron fidelity
to public engagements and a stern regard for public law, which is
the legitimate defence for small communities against the great and
powerful"; and yet again: "He had a vision, high in the heavens, of
the flash of an uplifted sword and the gleaming arm of the Avenging
Angel."
I have now reached the limits of the task assigned me by the Editor,
and my concluding word must be more personal.
I do not attempt to anticipate history. We cannot tell how much
of those seventy years of strenuous labour will live, or how far
Gladstone will prove to have read aright the signs of the times,
the tendencies of human thought, and the political forces of the
world. But we, who were his followers and disciples, know perfectly
well what we owe to him. If ever we should be tempted to despond
about the possibilities of human nature and human life, we shall
think of him and take courage. If ever our religious faith should
be perplexed by the
"Blank misgivings of a creature,
Moving about in worlds not realized,"
the memory of his strong confidence will reassure us. And if ever
we are told by the flippancy of scepticism that "Religion is a
disease," then we can point to him who, down to the very verge
of ninety years, displayed a fulness of vigorous and manly life
beyond all that we had ever known.