The two river bills carried at Disraeli’s instigation in 1852; the twenty-nine bills for ameliorating the position of factory operatives, passed despite those Radicals who predicted ruin for the manufacturer; the Employers and Workmen Acts, the Conspiracy and Protection of Property Act, the Poor Law Amendment Act, the Commons Act, the Artisans’ Dwellings Acts, the Public Health Act, the Rating Act, the Employers’ Liability Acts, the Agricultural Holdings Act, among many others, attest the victory of “popular Toryism” over “class Liberalism,” and the protection of suffering against selfishness. “Young England,” like all Utopian propaganda, was a romantic vision, and exceeded actuality. But in essence it has been eminently practical. Classes (of which England is made) are infinitely more in communion than they were in 1840. The effort to set them by the ears and to oppose the “masses” to the “classes” has ignominiously failed. The Church of England has roused itself to the national needs beyond all comparison with those days. The appeals of _Sybil_, _Coningsby_, and _Tancred_, ridiculed as rodomontade and branded as a charlatan’s dodge, have been rendered into action, and stand confessed as the deeply felt and pondered schemes of a poet and a statesman. “When,” says Bolingbroke, “great coolness of judgment is united to great warmth of imagination, we see that happy combination which we call a genius.” Such has proved Disraeli, and his inmost soul is embodied in that “Young England” which he organised and encouraged in a freezing atmosphere. Over fifty years ago he exhorted youth, at the Manchester Athenæum, as “the trustees of posterity.” “The man,” he then said, “who did not look up would look down, and he who did not aspire was destined perhaps to grovel.” The youth of to-day is far more conscious of its burden than was the youth of any class in the ’forties.