That Great Britain, if she chooses, is strong enough to govern Ireland for a prolonged period against the wishes of the majority of the people of Ireland, is indeed true; and under a strong and consistent Administration, strict and even justice might no doubt produce quiet and a considerable degree of material prosperity, without the constitutional question being touched. But the existence of outward calm and material prosperity has always been a favourite plea with the opponents of political reform. And it is the most subtle and dangerous of all possible pleas, so soothing in character, and making apparently so winning an appeal to plain common sense and to self-evident facts. “Now, after all this,” says Lord Clarendon, when describing the period in which England was administered, judged, and legislated for by the Privy Council, “I must be so just as to say that during the whole time that these measures were exercised, and these new and extraordinary ways were run, this kingdom enjoyed the greatest calm and the fullest measure of felicity that any people in any age for so long a time together (for the above-mentioned eleven or twelve years) have been blessed with, to the wonder and envy of all the other parts of Christendom.” But a few years after the happy period described in such glowing terms by the great historian the Civil War broke out. If the necessity for a political change exists, sooner or later it forces its way to the front, notwithstanding outward calm. It has been so before, and there is no reason to doubt that it will be so again, because the claim made by Ireland depends on permanent facts which statesmen cannot alter notwithstanding occasional periods of material prosperity and outward calm. As the ultimate solution of existing difficulties it is indicated by the geography and by the history of the island; and these are the two conditions of every political problem, which it is difficult to surmount or evade. Time may indeed slowly soften the asperities produced by past errors and the crimes of bygone generations; but the geographical conditions of a problem remain fixed and unalterable, and in the long run will be found to be the permanent factor which governs the situation. Not by empty formulas, such as “governing Ireland according to Irish ideas,” or, “extending all the liberties enjoyed by the subjects of Great Britain to those of the sister island,” shall we advance one yard on our way, or indeed do aught but make it clear to friend and foe alike, that we are cultivating contradictory ideas without even being apparently aware that we are doing so. What we have to do is to resolve to take our stand on the few firm bits of fact which emerge like stepping-stones traversing a quaking bog; and then we may get over, and some day perhaps climb the distant hills which are on the other side. Otherwise we shall go on “filling our belly with the east wind” to the end of time; we shall fish all night and take nothing.