The Sun.
London, England, 1868-11-23 00:00:00

PRINCESS'S THEATRE.

Sole Lessee and Manager, Mr. Vining.
THIS EVENING, at 7, to commence with THE SECRET. At 8,
AFTER DARK, a Tale of London Life: Mr Vining, Mr. Walter
Lacy, Mr. Dominick Murr.y: Messrs. C. Harcourt, J. G. Shore,
Maclean, Holston: Miss Emma Barnet and Miss Rose Leclercq
Goncluding with MASTER JONES'S BIRTHDAY.

Cursorily glancing thus over the principal topics of
the day, one cannot but feel that Mr. GLADSTONE IS
still left, in every sense, the monopolist of one's re-
gard and the Master of the Situation. It is not simply
thus, because he has met with a local rebuff expres-
sive, if of nothing else, of partizan obtuseness, and even
of partizan discourtesy, in connection with the Chan-
cellorship of the University of Edinburgh, now handed
over in preference to the Lord Justice-General as the
candidate put forward in opposition to him by the
Edinburgh University Conservatives. It is not thus,
even, because, according to the returns already num-
bered up as the result of the recent General
Election only 519, he has a clear majo-
rity (as yet) of 141 at his back the
Liberals numbering 330 against 189 Conservatives.
There comes to us, over and above all this, the sense
that to-morrow will be the polling day down in
South-west Lancashire, and that to-day witnesses
the publication, by Mr. MURRAY of Albemarle-street,
of a half-crown pamphlet-volume of exculpation
from the Right Hon. Gentleman the member for—
Greenwich. There is hardly a man in Eng-
land, we take it, who will not regard as
altogether an error of judgment, an act
of indiscretion, a violation of good taste,
a wilful and wanton and self-abasement—the issuing
from the press, at the present moment, by Mr. GLAD-
STONE, of that Chapter of his Autobiography. Qui
s'excuse s'accuse, says the wise and witty French
proverb, and in that proverb there is more than a
grain of wholesome truth, we may be sure of it. Be-
sides, the crying sin of Mr. GLADSTONE, both in the
House and out of it, with friends and with foes alike,
is the flux of words with which, spoken or written,
he is perpetually inundating us. Spoken mostly,
with a glib tongue that knows nothing whatever
of the charms of terseness and condensation.
But, latterly, written also—written in rashly precipi-
tate letters, addressed now to a newspaper, now to
an individual constituent--declining explanations at
one moment to some person who has been catechising
him, and at the very next moment giving them (the
explanations) fully and categorically to some other
less curtly treated correspondent. " 0 that mine
enemy would write a book" was the utterance of in-
spiration. But, here, it is, as if Mr. GLADSfONE were
perversely anticipating a more eager longing on the
part of all the Conservatism of England—
" 0 that mine arch-enemy would write a
Pamphlet." Worse than a book as a means of
making a clean breast of it—a Pamphlet ! And a
Pamphlet written currente ealamo, and in the midst
of all the hubbub and excitement of a General Elec-
tion. It will be very long indeed—we may be sure
of this even now at the very first glance—it will be
very long indeed before Mr. GLADSTONE will hear
the last of it.

LOOKING back upon last week's elections, upon
Liberal triumphs far exceeding the most sanguine
expectations of Liberal agents, the Conservatives,
naturally enough, find some consolation in the fact that
they have won several great victories. Numbers
are against them, but personally they con-
sider themselves victors. The Liberals have
indeed unseated the ATTORNEY-GENERAL and
the SOLICITOR-GENERAL of the present Govern-