TO THE DEFEAT OF THE GOVERNMENT (1885).
More Antagonism towards Forster--A Household Suffrage Demonstration at
Leeds--A Meeting at the Carlton Club and a Coincidence--Forster and "the
most Powerful Man in Europe"--Single-Member Constituencies and the
Cumulative Vote--Dynamite Outrages--Police Protection for Statesmen--I
Receive Threatening Letters and Get a Fright--Death of Lord
Houghton--Lord Derby and how he was Misunderstood--An Unconventional
Dinner at Lord Houghton's--A Visit to Tangier--In Peril of the
Sea--Gibraltar "a Magnificent Imposture"--Captain W. and the M.P.--To the
North Cape--Cheering a Funeral Party--News of Mr. Gladstone's
Overthrow--Home Again.
The extension of Household Suffrage to the counties was the chief
political topic of 1884. I have told how Forster was the first to
announce his resolve to support a Household Suffrage Bill for Ireland. He
was always an ardent reformer, and a genuine, as opposed to a sham,
Radical. In the public agitation for the Bill Forster took a leading
part, though he was still regarded with suspicion by many advanced
Liberals. Sometimes these gentlemen treated him with distinct unfairness,
because they could not forgive him his resolute antagonism to Mr.
Chamberlain. In the autumn before the Bill passed we held a great
Yorkshire demonstration in its favour on Woodhouse Moor, Leeds. John
Morley had promised to attend as the principal speaker, and it was
understood that the whole of the Liberal members for the West Riding
would also be invited. I need hardly say that by far the most eminent of
these gentlemen was Mr. Forster. When the executive committee, of which I
was a member, met to make arrangements for the demonstration, I found, to
my intense indignation, that many members were opposed to the sending of
an invitation to Mr. Forster! He was our nearest neighbour, for his house
was only a few miles from Leeds; he was our most distinguished
representative, and he was an ardent supporter of the Franchise Bill. Yet
not even these facts could serve him in the eyes of men who regarded Mr.
Chamberlain as being, next to Mr. Gladstone, the heaven-born leader of
English Liberalism. I hotly contested the proposal to exclude Forster
from the gathering, and succeeded in carrying my point, though I could
only do so by agreeing that instead of a special invitation, such as we
sent to all other men in his position, he should receive nothing but the
ordinary printed circular sent wholesale to the known Liberals of the
district. Forster, who cared nothing about forms and ceremonies, wrote
promptly declaring his intention to be present.
The meeting was to be addressed from three platforms, at each of which
was a principal speaker. To John Morley, as a stranger, we assigned the
leading position on the middle platform. Herbert Gladstone took a similar
post on one of the side platforms, and on the third Forster was to be the
chief speaker. To my great amazement, a couple of days before the
meeting, we received word from Mr. Morley that under the new arrangements
he did not think it desirable to attend. It was the first evidence I had
received of what I now know to be one of the peculiarities in the
character of this eminent and gifted man. The new arrangement which led
to his wishing to withdraw from the meeting seemed to be the announcement
that Forster was to be one of the speakers. I saw at once that if Morley
did not come it would not only lessen the effect of the meeting, but
would lead to a fresh outbreak of what I may call the Forster dissensions
in the party. This was a disaster at all hazards to be prevented, and
accordingly I took what most of my readers, I imagine, will consider not
only strong but somewhat presumptuous action. I telegraphed to Morley,
warning him that if he maintained his determination to stay away, the
reason for his absence would undoubtedly become public property, and his
"laudable ambition" would not be aided by the revelation of the truth. A
strong measure, indeed; and I am prepared for the censure of my critics;
but I succeeded in my purpose. Morley promised to come, and contented
himself with writing a letter to me in which he disclaimed the imputation
that he carried about with him any of that "perilous explosive" called
ambition. The meeting was a great success; all the chief speakers were
well received, but I confess I was not altogether grieved when I saw that
the greatest crowd was that which gathered round platform number three,
and that the loudest cheers of the vast multitude were those given to
Forster.
It will be remembered that the Tories offered a stubborn opposition to
the passing of the Household Suffrage Bill, and it was only carried in
the end in a winter session, specially convened for that purpose.
According to popular rumour at the time, it was eventually passed as the
result of compromise between Mr. Gladstone and Lord Salisbury. I do not
believe that there is a word of truth in this story. Mr. Gladstone, at
all events, stoutly denied that there had been any such compromise, and
once wrote a long letter to me, maintaining this denial. But before the
Tories could be induced to accept the Bill, a meeting of their party had
to be held at the Carlton Club, and in connection with that meeting I
have to tell a curious story of my own.
As most of my readers know, the Carlton Club and the Reform stand side by
side in Pall Mall, only separated from each other by a narrow street
which gives access to Carlton House Gardens. The windows of the
smoking-room at the Reform Club face those of the large library of the
Carlton, so that the members of the two clubs may, if they choose, see
each other across the narrow roadway. The Conservative meeting was held
in the big library of the club. Going into our own smoking-room on the
afternoon of the meeting, I saw a well-known member of the club gazing
intently across the way at the corresponding apartment in the Carlton.
"If you come here," he said, turning to me, "you can see all the members
of the Tory party gathering for their meeting." I saw no harm in
accepting X.'s invitation, and joined him at the window. We picked out
the various notables of the party. By-and-by an evil inspiration seized
X. "Let us go upstairs to F.'s room," he said. "We shall see much better
from there." I am ashamed to say that I yielded to the temptation, and
accompanied X. to the room of a friend who occupied one of the club
chambers facing the Carlton.
The window happened to be open, so that we had an unimpeded view of the
meeting of the Tory party. We could not, of course, hear anything that
was said, nor could we see the speakers, who were evidently placed with
their backs to us between two of the windows; but we saw the audience,
and were amused by the varying expression upon their faces as they
listened to their leaders. X.'s insatiable curiosity led him to snatch up
an opera-glass that was lying on F.'s dressing-table, and, despite my
remonstrance, he took a long survey of the Tory gathering through this
instrument. Suddenly I saw a man in the body of the meeting rise to his
feet and point straight at our window. Instantly every face in the room
flashed round, and I found myself under the concentrated gaze of some
hundreds of manifestly indignant men. I seized the wretched X. by the
collar and dragged him back from the window. "See what you have done with
that abominable opera-glass of yours!" I cried; and then, to my shame and
mortification, I saw the blinds pulled down at every window of the
Carlton library, and I felt that by our foolish curiosity we had caused
this gathering of political opponents to hold their conference in the
dark. It is quite true that neither I nor X. had any ulterior motive in
our observation of the meeting at the Carlton Club, but all the same I
cannot pretend that the use of the opera-glass was not indefensible.
I was dining that evening at the Oxford and Cambridge Club with Mr.
Andrew Lang. When I arrived there I was ushered into the club
drawing-room, with the intimation that Mr. Lang would join me in a
moment, and that I would find another of his guests already in the room.
I stepped to the fireplace, where this gentleman was standing, and my
feelings may be imagined when I discovered that it was the very man who
had pointed us out at the window of the Reform Club a few hours earlier.
He was Mr. Charles Elton, then one of the members for Somersetshire. I
saw that he did not recognise me, but the desire to confess my offending
was irresistible. "You were at the meeting at the Carlton Club this
afternoon, were you not?" I said to him. He looked at me rather
curiously, before replying in the affirmative, and then added, "But you
were not there?" "No," I said, "but did you observe anything curious at
the Reform Club?" At once his face lighted up with angry intelligence.
"Yes!" he said, "I did. There were a couple of scallywags"--it was the
first time I had ever heard this modern term of reproach, and it is not
surprising that I have nearly forgotten it--"watching us through
opera-glasses from one of the windows, and signalling to a man whom they
had put on the top of our club, and who was listening through the
ventilator to the speeches." No words can express the sense of relief I
felt when I heard this absurd statement. "No," I replied, "I assure you
that you are mistaken. I am sorry to say that I was one of the scallywags
who were looking out of the Reform Club, and I apologise sincerely for my
untimely curiosity; but we had only one opera-glass between us, and we
had nobody posted on the top of the Carlton Club to listen to the
speeches. Upon that you may rely." Elton stared at me for a moment, and
then burst into a roar of laughter, in which I joined him. It was an
immense relief to me to have got the burden off my soul; but I had
received another proof of the frequency with which that long arm of
coincidence asserts itself.
As a result of the passing of the Franchise Bill, and the creation of
single-member constituencies which accompanied it, a Boundary Commission
had to be appointed, to settle the boundaries of the new electoral
divisions. In order to prevent gerrymandering it was agreed that this
Commission should not only be quite independent of both parties, but that
it should have absolute powers. Its chairman was Sir John Lambert,
secretary of the Local Government Board; and his powers were, of course,
very great. Forster, coming to see me one day, began to talk to me about
the Boundary Commission, and the supreme powers vested in Sir John
Lambert. Suddenly he burst into a chuckling laugh, and I knew that he had
a story to tell me. "I was going up the stairs of the Local Government
office to see Lambert the other day," he said, "and I met ----,"
mentioning the name of the former holder of a subordinate Government
post, "coming down. 'Hullo, Forster!' he cried, 'what in the world are
you doing here?' 'Well, I was just going to call on the most powerful man
in England,' I replied. ---- took off his hat and made me a low bow. 'I
hope you didn't undeceive him,' I said. 'Oh, yes, I did,' replied
Forster. I told him that I didn't mean him, but Sir John Lambert." I
wrung my hands over this fresh illustration of my friend's inability to
set his sails in such a fashion as to catch the approval of others.
It was over this redistribution question that I had the only difference
of opinion I ever had with Forster. He was an ardent supporter of the
single-member constituency, or _scrutin d'arrondissement_, as the
French call it, in opposition to _scrutin de liste_. I, on the other
hand, foresaw that the new system would break up the powerful political
associations in our great towns, and thus destroy a political force which
I believed to be of great value. I fought strenuously in the _Leeds
Mercury_ against what I styled the vivisection of the great boroughs;
but I need not say that I fought in vain. I had many a good-humoured
argument with Forster on the subject, but he would never admit that I was
right, though after twenty years' experience and observation I am only
now strengthened in my original opinion.
Before this time I had aroused Forster's anger--anger which never
hurt--by the action I had taken, in common with some of my Liberal
friends in Leeds, with regard to the School Board election. We found that
the cumulative vote in a large constituency was almost unworkable. It had
resulted in Leeds in the election, at the head of the poll on one
occasion, of a mere demagogue of no account. In order to obviate any
further misfortune of this kind my friend Mathers, the honorary secretary
of the Liberal Association, devised a plan under which the town was
divided by the Liberals into different divisions. To each of these
divisions we allotted certain candidates, and we asked the electors who
sympathised with us to vote only for the candidate allotted to the
division in which they lived. The plan proved a brilliant success, for we
carried all our candidates at that election, and this method of getting
over the difficulties of the cumulative vote was afterwards adopted in
all large towns, including London. Forster was greatly wroth at the time,
and told me that he looked upon the scheme as a dishonest attempt to
evade an Act of Parliament.
Those were the years of the dynamite outrages. Certain desperate Irish
societies, chiefly financed and recruited from the United States, were
seeking to advance the Home Rule cause by terrorising the people of
England. "Holy dynamite," as that powerful explosive was christened, was
the weapon employed, and some very daring outrages were committed in
London and other places. The most notable of these were the simultaneous
attempts to wreck the House of Commons, Westminster Hall, and the Tower
of London. These audacious crimes were committed on a Saturday afternoon.
I spent the whole of the next morning reading and analysing the telegrams
in which full details of the occurrences were given, and in writing an
article for Monday's _Mercury_ on the subject. In the afternoon I
went over to Wakefield to keep an engagement I had made to dine and sleep
at Thorns, the residence of my friends Mr. and Lady Catherine Milnes
Gaskell. I well remember the scene when I entered the beautiful library
at Thorns, about five o'clock. There was a large party there, including
the Duke and Duchess of St. Albans, Mr. and Mrs. Goschen, and Mr. W B.
Beaumont, of Bretton.
When I was announced, Gaskell jumped up from his seat, saying, "Now we
shall have news!" and instantly the whole party flocked round me, eager
to know the truth as to the wild rumour which was all they had as yet
heard of the devastation wrought by the dynamiters in London on the
previous day. My morning's work had, of course, qualified me to satisfy
their curiosity, but the questions they poured in upon me were so
numerous and so eager that I was at last obliged to ask them to sit down,
and let me tell the story in my own fashion, which I accordingly
proceeded to do amid the breathless attention of my auditors. The scene
is worth recording as a characteristic incident of life in England in
those days. We had an enemy, subtle, daring, and dangerous, actually
waging war upon us within our own gates; and though the invincible
courage of our race enabled us to pursue our own way in spite of the new
terror that had arisen amongst us, we were none of us, as this scene in
the library at Thorns proved, insensible to the horror of the situation,
and the deadly character of the weapons used against us.
At this time all the leading members of the Liberal Government were under
police protection, and Forster, as being the special object of Irish
animosity, was also treated in this respect as though he were still a
Minister. Some Ministers, it was asserted, not only enjoyed, but desired,
the constant companionship of armed detectives, and amusing stories were
told of the way in which they arrived at Mayfair dinner-parties
accompanied by "stern-faced men" with revolvers in their pockets. I shall
not repeat these stories, for I cannot bring myself to believe that any
English statesman has been the victim of physical cowardice. Others,
among whom Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Forster were conspicuous, loathed the
presence of the police agents dogging their footsteps, and keeping watch
at their doors, and tried in every possible way to evade them. Mr.
Gladstone, with the collar of his overcoat turned up to his ears, used
suddenly to dash out of the garden door at the back of Downing Street,
and attempt, by running across the parade at full speed, to get rid of
his bodyguard. Occasionally he succeeded, but I am told that as a
consequence he had so severe a wigging from the Home Secretary and the
Chief Commissioner of Police that he was at last compelled to abandon his
efforts to secure his unfettered liberty of action. Forster managed to
obtain exemption from the obtrusive services of a bodyguard, but a
policeman kept watch and ward by day and night in front of his house in
Eccleston Square, not only to his disgust, but to that of one of his
neighbours, who quitted his abode rather than continue to live near so
dangerous a character. "I often wonder," said Forster to me one day,
"what I shall do if I find an infernal machine on my doorstep when I come
home some night. I know what it is my duty to do. I ought to take it up,
and throw it into the middle of the square, but I am terribly afraid that
I shan't have the pluck, and shall simply turn round and run away."
Nobody who knew Forster could believe that he would ever have acted in
any such fashion.
I had my own small experience at this time of trial. Threatening letters
were flying about, and I received a fair share of them, for I was at that
time very obnoxious to the Irish party in Leeds. One evening, on going
down to my office, which I entered from a narrow thoroughfare called Bank
Street, I was startled by being suddenly called upon to halt when near
the office door, whilst a policeman's lantern was flashed in my face. One
of our workmen explained my identity to the officer, and I was allowed to
pass. I then learned that the Leeds police had received information of a
plot to blow up the _Mercury_ office, and they had, accordingly,
posted guards round the building. I was in the habit of driving home
every night, or rather every morning, to my residence at Headingley, and
the police suggested that I should be accompanied by an officer; but I
did not believe in my danger, and desired no such protection. In the
depths of one winter's night, when a thaw was dissolving a heavy fall of
snow, I had a great fright. I had left my cab, which had driven away, and
was mounting the steps leading to the porch of my house, when I suddenly
saw, lying on the half-melted snow against the door itself, a large
bundle wrapped in sacking. I drew near it cautiously, and heard a curious
ticking sound proceeding from it. "An infernal machine!" I exclaimed to
myself, and I confess I was horribly frightened. The outer door of the
porch was unlocked, and, opening it, I bounded inside, carefully avoiding
the object which I suspected. I unlocked the inner door, and, entering
the house, locked and barred it behind me.
Then, when I got into my dining-room, reason asserted itself, and I felt
heartily ashamed of my panic. If the thing were an infernal machine, it
would certainly do a great deal of damage if it exploded where it lay. I
strung my nerves up to the sticking-point, went out, unlocked the door,
seized the mysterious package in my hands, and flung it as far as I could
into a little shrubbery in the garden. There was no explosion such as I
had expected. Nothing, indeed, happened; but when I got back to my
dining-room, and saw my face in a mirror, I found it was as white as a
sheet. The next morning I went out to look for the infernal machine. It
was a coarse sack, filled with blocks of wood and sawdust, and I have a
strong suspicion that it had been placed where I found it as a practical
joke. The ticking which I had heard, and which had convinced me that I
had to deal with an infernal machine, was evidently produced by the drip,
drip of water from the bag on the step beneath it. Such were features in
the lives of men more or less before the public eye in the years of the
dynamite terror.
In the summer of 1885, along with many others, I met with a great loss.
This was the death at Vichy of my dear old friend, Lord Houghton. No
kinder friend than he man ever had. The world was inclined to laugh at
his peculiarities, which lay upon the surface, and to ignore the sterling
qualities that formed the basis of his character. If it is right to speak
of a man as you find him, then I am entitled to say that there never
lived a kinder or more generous man, or a truer friend, than Monckton
Milnes. To me he was all this. I have told already the story of our first
acquaintance in 1870, and of the debt which I very soon owed him. I could
fill a volume with reminiscences of his talk, as I used to hear it during
my frequent visits to Fryston, and of the warmth of his sympathy with one
who had no claim upon him. I have made many friends in the course of my
life, and looking back upon the list I am constrained to say that I have
made more friends through the mediumship of Lord Houghton than through
that of any other man.
Among those whom I first met at his house, I must not omit Edward,
fourteenth Earl of Derby, better known in his time as the Lord Stanley
who served as Foreign Secretary under the premiership of his brilliant
father, the thirteenth Earl. Lord Derby--the man of whom I speak--was one
of the great misunderstood figures of his generation. Men slandered him
as freely as they slandered Mr. Gladstone, and, unlike the great Liberal
leader, he did not possess that strong following of ardent adherents who
stood by their chief, no matter how sternly Fortune might frown upon him.
Lord Derby was one of the shyest of men, and, as a consequence, he was
really known, even when he was in the thick of his political work, by
only a few men and women. Those who did know him held him, however, in
the highest esteem. There was no better judge of character than Lord
Houghton, and often he would remark upon the fact that Lord Derby was
almost as unpopular as his father had been the reverse. He cited this as
a proof of the incapacity of the public for forming correct estimates of
character. I had been in confidential correspondence with Lord Derby long
before I first met him at Fryston, and in 1879 I wrote an article in
_Macmillan's Magazine_ dealing with his career at the Foreign
Office, and with his reason for resigning his post in Lord Beaconsfield's
Administration. This article was written on information which he
supplied, and he himself corrected the proof-sheets. Yet these facts did
not prevent some of the cocksure critics of the Press from announcing
that I was wholly mistaken in my account of Lord Derby's action and
motive. I have found, however, that nothing is so certain to meet with an
absolute contradiction in the Press as an indubitable fact which comes as
a piece of unexpected news to the ordinary journalist.
When I met Lord Derby under Lord Houghton's roof he was far too shy to
make any reference to our previous correspondence, yet when the first
painful embarrassment had passed away, he proved a delightful companion,
and his conversation was full of the charm derived from ample knowledge
and marked intellectual power. No man was simpler than he in his
intercourse with those whom he trusted. It was difficult when talking to
him to realise the fact that you were speaking to one who had held the
great office of Foreign Secretary. Instead of laying down the law upon
foreign affairs he seemed anxious to elicit the opinions of other
persons, and he displayed a modest simplicity of manner which was very
striking. He has been described as the incarnation of common-sense, and
the general public believed him to be as full of facts and as dry as a
Blue Book. In reality he had a decided love of humour, and his
conversation, which was illustrated by many good stories, had all the
light and shade, the warmth and colour, that good talk ought to possess.
He was amazingly frank in his criticisms upon men and upon current
affairs.
The outer world believed him to be the most cautious and prudent of men,
weighing every word before he uttered it, and never making a rash remark,
whereas he was very much the reverse. I have, for example, heard him
discuss the characters of European statesmen with an unreserved freedom
that was startling. He was fond, too, of passing criticisms upon great
political questions that staggered one by their boldness. I think it was
in 1883 that he told me that, in his opinion, there was no future for the
Tory party. Conservatism as a force was played out, and the destinies of
the country must henceforth be controlled by Liberals. I am trying to
give a slight sketch of the man as he really was, and not as he was
believed to be by the contemporary public. If he was neither so wise nor
so cautious as men thought him, he was infinitely more charming and more
human, and all who really knew him mourned his death as a personal loss.
When I first met him he was in a state of political transition. Although
he had made up his mind to sever his connection with the Conservatives,
he had taken no open steps in the direction of the other camp. The first
time he ever entered a Liberal club, and made a political speech in it,
was when I got him to go to the Leeds Liberal Club to receive an address
from the members. He is one of the most distinguished of the figures I
associate with Fryston and its gifted owner.
The very last time that I dined with Lord Houghton I had an amusing
experience. It was in the late autumn of 1884. Houghton had just met with
a rather severe and painful accident. He had been staying at the Durdans
with Lord Rosebery, and during the night had fallen out of bed,
fracturing his collar-bone. His own account of the accident was that he
had dreamt that Mr. Gladstone was pursuing him in a hansom cab, and in
trying to escape he had tumbled off the bed. Although in great pain, he
made light, according to his wont, of his injuries, and positively went
down to Yorkshire the day after the accident in order to attend a meeting
of Quarter Sessions. It was only on his return to town, where he was
staying with his sister, the Dowager Viscountess Galway, that he
consulted a doctor, who found that the collar-bone was fractured, and at
once ordered him complete rest. Complete rest was something for which
Houghton was not by nature fitted. I went to call on him whilst he was
laid up, and he immediately begged me to arrange a little dinner party
for his amusement while he was invalided.
The person he was most anxious to secure as a guest was James Payn, and I
promised to do what I could to get Payn to dine. But there were
difficulties in the way. Payn disliked dining out at any time, and he
had, as I have already mentioned, a rooted aversion to evening dress,
which, he declared, killed more men than drink. Besides, when he did dine
out, he wished to smoke as soon as he had finished eating, and for this
reason he objected to dinner parties at which ladies were present. All
this I explained to Houghton. "Not wear evening dress? Well, you and he
can come in frock-coats. I shall be in a dressing-gown." "And the
cigars?" I said. "Oh, well, of course he can smoke if he wishes." "And
ladies?" I continued. "That's awkward," said the dear old gentleman, "for
this is my sister's house. She must be here. But don't tell him, and then
perhaps he'll come." My negotiations with Payn were successful, and on
the appointed evening, a Sunday, he and I set forth in a hansom for
Rutland Gardens. I remember that on the way Payn, who was in
exceptionally high spirits, informed me of the engagement of his daughter
Alice to Mr. Buckle, the young editor of the _Times_.
It was a very small party at Lady Galway's, the only other guest being
Sir Frederick Pollock; but the talk was certainly as good as any I had
ever listened to. When Lady Galway left the room, I reminded our host of
the condition with regard to cigars, for Payn, I saw, was already
impatient. Lord Houghton suggested a cigarette, which would by no means
have met the views of Payn. Happily I had my cigar-case with me, and this
part of the dinner treaty was carried out in its entirety. I still
remember the stories of that delightful evening. They were many and
striking. Both Payn and Lord Houghton were at their best, and Sir
Frederick Pollock, when the opportunity occurred, gave us pleasant
recollections of the past. I was only too glad to be a listener. We sat
long over our cigars, and it was not until the evening was far advanced
that we rejoined Lady Galway. "Now," said she, when we appeared in the
drawing-room, "you have been laughing ever since I left you, but there
were three distinct bursts of laughter that were louder than any others,
and I insist upon being told the stories which you seemed to enjoy so
much." We looked at each other in some dismay, knowing full well the
difficulty of re-warming cold dishes so as to make them appetising. But
Lord Houghton came to the rescue. "My dear." he said, "it is quite
impossible that you should be told those stories. They were not stories
for ladies." The recording angel, I am sure, blotted out our host's
departure from the truth for the sake of the motive which led him to
spare Payn the burden of repeating his stories.
I have dwelt upon this dinner because, though I little knew it then, it
was my last meeting with my dear and generous friend. Curiously enough,
Lord Houghton's last words to me when I left him at night had reference
to a lady with whom we both had a slight acquaintance. When I next saw
that lady, the open grave in which Lord Houghton's coffin had just been
placed yawned between us. Of that memorable dinner party in December,
1884, I, alas! am the only survivor. I corresponded with Houghton during
the following spring and summer, but was unable to meet him on any of the
occasions on which he asked me to do so, and whilst the summer was still
at its height he died at Vichy. Like many another man, I felt that in him
I had lost almost the best of my friends.
At the beginning of 1884 I visited Tangier, and spent a month in that
curious place, so near to Europe in point of distance and so remote from
it in all other respects. Tangier had at one time a reputation as the
Alsatia of Europe and the United States. I do not know whether it still
deserves this fame, but when I was there there were not a few sojourners
in the place who, for reasons of their own, had abandoned civilisation in
favour of a country in which law is but a term. On my way from Gibraltar
to Tangier I met with an unpleasant experience. The steamer which was to
convey me was a miserable rickety boat, called, if I remember aright, the
_Lion d'Or_. It was not so big as a Thames penny steamer, was filthy
in the extreme, and overloaded with goods which a number of Arab
merchants were taking back from Europe to Morocco. There were three other
European passengers besides myself, two of them being ladies. A stiff
Levanter was blowing when we started, and the trip, which should have
been accomplished in three hours, took eight. I have been out in worse
weather, but never in a worse vessel, and more than once in that eight
hours' struggle with wind and waves my fellow-passengers and I really
believed that our end had come. The captain set a sail, hoping to steady
the rolling craft, and it was instantly ripped into shreds by the wind.
We shipped heavy seas, and were undoubtedly very near foundering.
Most fortunately, I and the other Englishman on board, a young artist who
is now a full-fledged R.A., had taken the precaution to provide ourselves
with food, and it was well that the provision was a liberal one, for the
two poor ladies, one of whom was a young invalid, had not so much as a
biscuit between them. Of course we shared our rations, and were thus
saved from hunger during our day of peril. It was dark when we entered
Tangier Bay, but all round us was a sea of foaming breakers. A huge
flat-bottomed barge was with great difficulty brought out to the side of
the steamer, and we were bidden to jump into it at once. At the risk of
broken limbs or necks, we succeeded in reaching it, and then, to my
dismay, I saw the steamer, with all my baggage on board, moving off, the
captain having found that it was too dangerous to remain at anchor in the
bay. When we were half-way to the shore the barge suddenly filled with
water and sank beneath us, fortunately in so shallow a sea that there was
no danger of drowning. My walking-stick, which was a very necessary
adjunct, as I still suffered from my accident on Marston Moor, was washed
out of my hands, but brawny Arabs seized me and my fellow-passengers, and
we were borne safely through the surf to the beach, where we arrived,
dazed, breathless, and drenched to the skin.
My travelling experiences in Tunis and Turkey had prepared me for the
rush which was made upon us by all the loafers of the place, shrieking in
Arabic, and eagerly claiming us as their spoil. But the ladies had never
been out of England before, and were naturally terrified by the wild
scene, following as it did upon their narrow escape from drowning. They
were going to an hotel in the town, and I escorted them to it. Then I set
out on my walk to Bruzeaud's Hotel, beyond the city gates and the Soko. I
was in a sorry plight when I arrived there, but nothing could exceed the
kindness of my reception, not only by the host, but by the Englishmen in
the house. They placed their wardrobes at my disposal, and did everything
they could to make me comfortable. My lost luggage did not turn up for
nearly a week, but happily I had my money and my letters of introduction
in my pocket. On the morning after my arrival I called upon the ladies
who had shared my experiences on the previous day, and found, happily,
that they had not suffered from the shock. I never saw them again; but
ten years afterwards, when I was sitting in my room in London, a
gentleman who had called upon business was brought to see me. To my great
surprise he burst into tears as he took my hand. When he had recovered
his composure he explained that he was the father of the younger of the
two ladies, and he thanked me, in what I could not but think
unnecessarily warm terms, for the trifling service I had rendered to his
daughter. His emotion was explained by the fact that she had but recently
died.
Among the company at Bruzeaud's Hotel there was a certain Captain W., a
retired naval officer, who was something of a character. He had lived
long in Morocco, had the highest opinion of its enormous natural wealth,
and was longing for the day when England, or some other European Power,
would seize and develop it. He had many original theories. He believed,
for example, that Gibraltar was a source of weakness rather than of
strength to the British Empire, and he had written a pamphlet in support
of a proposal that we should exchange it with Spain for Ceuta. I must
confess that his idea seemed to me to be a sound one. But Gibraltar looks
so grand, and makes so strong an appeal to our national pride, that no
English Minister would dare to talk of surrendering it, no matter what he
might be offered in exchange. All the same, I do not think that Captain
W. was altogether wrong when he spoke of the Rock as a "magnificent
impostor."
One day there came to our hotel a typical representative of "Padgett,
M.P." He was a member of the House of Commons who, having a couple of
days to spare at Gibraltar, had run across the Straits to learn all about
Morocco in the space of four-and-twenty hours. In the smoking-room after
dinner he aired his opinions with all the confidence begotten of his
Parliamentary dignity. He denounced the French, who knew nothing, he
declared, about colonisation, and whose government of Algeria was a
disgraceful failure. He lauded the noble character of the Arabs, and
declared that Morocco needed no improvement, and, consequently, called
for no interference on the part of any European Power. Captain W., who
had very strong opinions as to the corruption of the Moorish Government,
listened for some time in silence to opinions which were eminently
distasteful to him. But at last his patience gave way, and he addressed
the astonished M.P. in the following words: "You think you know
everything about Morocco, sir, although you only landed on its soil this
morning. There is one thing, however, that you evidently don't know, and
that is, that if I chose to spend a couple of dollars I could have your
throat cut before to-morrow morning; and you've talked such nonsense,
sir, that I don't know whether that wouldn't be the best thing for me to
do." I never saw a Padgett, M.P., collapse more completely than did this
unfortunate specimen of the race under a retort which, however wanting in
urbanity, was not without very considerable provocation.
In the early summer of 1885 I ventured, for the first time during my
editorship at Leeds, to take a holiday whilst Parliament was sitting. It
had always previously been my rule never to leave my post during the
session of Parliament, but in 1885 everything seemed to be in a state of
profound calm, so far as the political world was concerned. General
Gordon was dead, but the Ministry had survived his loss. It had even
survived the ignominious collapse of the attempt to "break the power of
the Mahdi at Khartoum" which it had professed to make. One knew that
bitter intrigues were in progress behind the scenes. But now that Mr.
Forster was off the scene Mr. Chamberlain seemed bent upon trying
conclusions with Mr. Gladstone himself, and was preaching those doctrines
of an extreme and Socialistic Radicalism which the Conservatives frankly
denounced as being based on the policy of Jack Cade. But time was needed
for the successful development of the new political movement, and
meanwhile public affairs seemed to be running in a very humdrum course. I
thought it, in consequence, a favourable opportunity for carrying out a
long-cherished intention of visiting the Land of the Midnight Sun.
Accordingly, at the beginning of June I went over to Bergen in a Wilson
steamer from Hull. The vessel was crowded with salmon-fishers and their
wives, going to Norway for the summer fishing. I was much amused by the
extreme clannishness of these persons. They absolutely refused to
exchange a word with anybody who was not going to Norway for purposes of
sport. Those of us who, like myself, were going there either for health
or to see the country were regarded by the salmon-fishing people as
intruders, whose presence on the scene was to be actively and rudely
resented. I have travelled much in my time, and have had only too many
opportunities of observing the ridiculous and offensive behaviour of the
English snob when he finds himself in foreign parts; but I do not think
that I ever saw snobbish vulgarity carried further than it was by the
salmon-fishers on this Wilson steamer in the summer of 1885.
For my part, I had no greater desire for their company than they had for
mine, and when I reached Bergen, I speedily transhipped myself to a
native cargo-boat that was announced as being about to start for the
first visit of the season to the North Cape. The accommodation on board
the vessel, though somewhat homely, was comfortable. I had a good cabin,
and soon made friends with the officers. No other Englishman was on
board. We steamed slowly up the coast as far as Trondhjem, and I had
ample opportunities of admiring the fine scenery, as our vessel touched
at almost every small port upon the way. After resting a day at
Trondhjem, we resumed our journey for the North Cape. The passengers were
chiefly Norwegians, most of whom were bound for the Lofoten Islands,
where the great annual fair was about to be held. In the saloon my
companions from Trondhjem were two young Frenchmen, bent, like myself,
upon visiting the North Cape, and an Austrian, attached to the Court at
Vienna, who, for some inscrutable reason, was fired with the same
ambition. We made a very cheery company, and I was able to cast off all
editorial cares in the society of these people, to whom English politics
were of no account. The weather, after leaving Trondhjem, was for some
days positively frightful. It was the month of June, but it rained
incessantly, except when it snowed. It was bitterly cold, and heavy mists
prevented our seeing anything.
The Austrian and I bore the discomforts of the situation as
philosophically as we could. We smoked always, and we read and played
bezique alternately, but our mercurial French friends were less happy,
and on the third day of this detestable weather, on entering the little
smoking-room on deck, I discovered them both sitting in tears, and
bewailing the fact that they were not at home with their mothers. I
laughed so much at their distress that a coolness sprang up between us
which lasted for several days.
Once, indeed, as I find noted in my memorandum-book, the young Frenchmen
revived. It was at one of the stations at which we called. We saw a large
group of people, including several young women, gathered in front of a
building that looked half-church, half-schoolhouse. The Parisians
insisted that they had assembled in our honour; for, as a matter of fact,
they looked upon themselves as being engaged in a desperate and most
heroic enterprise. Accordingly, as we approached the wharf, they brought
out their pocket handkerchiefs, and, waving them wildly, uttered loud
shouts of greeting. To their great chagrin, not the slightest notice was
taken of them. They redoubled their efforts to attract attention, but
neither man nor woman moved a head. Then one of the officers came along,
and drily informed the Frenchmen that the object of their demonstrations
was a funeral party!
I had many other amusing experiences during this little trip, and feel
strongly tempted to inflict upon my readers some extracts from the diary
which I kept during the voyage. But nowadays everybody has been to the
North Cape, and we have all seen the midnight sun. I think I saw it, and
the wonderful scenery of the Lofoten Islands, in my little Norwegian
cargo-boat, under far more favourable auspices than my successors who
have travelled in great tourist steamers, surrounded by all the luxuries
that are now supplied to the passengers on the large Atlantic and
Mediterranean liners. Certainly, one saw something of the people, as well
as of the country, when travelling in this modest fashion; and I still
have the most pleasant recollection of these friendly Norwegians and of
the glorious fiords and mountains of the Far North. But that which
entitles this trip of mine to a special place in these reminiscences of a
journalist is the fact that it cut me off from all connection with
affairs in England at the very moment when those affairs became
unexpectedly interesting.
I had left Hull on the 2nd of June, and after parting from my chance
companions of the _Eldorado_, had not seen a single Englishman, or
heard a scrap of English news, until I found myself at Tromsoe, within
the Arctic circle, on June 17th. The captain of my vessel, knowing that I
wanted to hear what was going on at home, drew my attention to the fact
that a steam collier from Leith had just arrived in Tromsoe Harbour, and
suggested that I should go on board and get the latest newspapers.
Accordingly, I went off in one of the ship's boats to the grimy collier.
It was eleven p.m., but the sun was shining brilliantly. For some time I
hailed the vessel in vain, but at last a black-faced man who was
manifestly one of the officers thrust his head through a port and asked
what I wanted. I told him that I had come to see if he had any newspapers
from home. "I will go and see," he said, in a strong Glasgow dialect, and
presently he returned with a copy of the _Glasgow Mail_ of June 3rd,
and threw it down to me. I was disappointed that he had nothing of a
later date, and after thanking him for his kindness was returning to my
own steamer, when a sudden thought occurred to me, and I said, "Have you
heard any news later than this?" holding up the newspaper. He considered
for a moment, then shook his head reflectively, and said, "Na, I've heard
naething later." So again I started on my way to the ship. I had not gone
more than a yard or two when I heard him calling to me loudly. Once more
I put back. "I forgot to tell ye that they've kicked oot that blasted
auld deevil, Gladstone." "What!" I exclaimed, in incredulous horror.
"Kicked out Mr. Gladstone! What do you mean?" "I mean that they've kicked
him oot of office, and a d----d good job, too."
I fairly gasped for breath as I heard the astonishing news. Here was I,
the editor of an English daily newspaper, away up in the Arctic circle,
separated by days of travel from newspapers or means of getting news, and
I suddenly heard this startling piece of intelligence. I could not credit
it, and eagerly asked for further particulars. But the old tar could tell
me nothing more. He could only persist in affirming and reaffirming his
conviction that Mr. Gladstone's loss of office was the best thing that
could have happened to the country. And this was the end of the great
Ministry of 1880, for the formation of which I had worked so hard, and
which I had so constantly and ardently supported with my pen! I went back
to the _Kong Halfdan_ much excited, and rushing to the captain told
him that I must go back to England at once. He heard my news and
sympathised with my dilemma, but assured me that the earliest mode of
returning to Trondhjem would be by sticking to his ship. I went ashore,
and made further inquiries, only to have the captain's statement
confirmed; so, willy-nilly, I had to go on to the North Cape, bitterly
conscious of the fact that I ought to have been at my post at Leeds. But
a man in a hurry is always the victim of circumstances, and there was
nothing for it but to possess my soul in patience. How eagerly I looked
for further news! It was not, however, until several days later that, on
returning to Tromsoe, I found a mail-steamer going north, and saw an
unmistakable Englishman on the deck, whom I immediately accosted with a
request for information. All he could tell me was that Mr. Gladstone had
resigned on the 12th of June, and that Lord Salisbury on the next day had
been hastily summoned by the Queen to Balmoral and had accepted office.
From Trondhjem I made hot haste by rail to Christiania, and taking the
first steamer for Hull, which to me seemed to make haste slowly, returned
to my own country to face the unexpected fact that a great political
revolution had suddenly occurred, and that the Tories were once more in
power.
INDEX.
A
Addison Road North,
Author's residence in.
Adullamites.
Albrecht, Archduke,
Author's visit to estate of.
American Civil War,
Conclusion of.
Armstrong, Lord,
as a solicitor at Newcastle-upon-Tyne;
as president of British Association.
Arundel Club in 1868.
Aurora Borealis in 1870.
Ayrton, Mr.,
Attack of, on Queen Victoria.
B
Baines, Edward,
founder of _Leeds Mercury_.
Baines, Frederick.
Baines, Matthew Talbot, M.P.
Baines, Sir Edward,
at battle of Peterloo;
M.P. for Leeds;
Knighted;
visits author in Reporters' Gallery;
and loss of ship _Captain_;
defeated as Parliamentary candidate at Leeds;
and Leeds Caucus.
Baines, Thomas Blackburn,
resigns editorship of _Leeds Mercury_.
Baring, Walter,
and Bulgarian atrocities of 1876.
Barran, Sir John.
Barrett, Fenian,
Execution of;
Bathgate, Rev. William, D.D.,
author's brother-in-law, Death of.
Baxter, W. E.,
as Secretary to Admiralty.
Beaconsfield, Lord,
(_see_ Disraeli, Benjamin).
Berlin Congress in 1878.
Berry, Miss Louisa.
Bertram, Mr., Death of.
Berwick-upon-Tweed Station in 1850.
Birmingham Caucus, Formation of,
(_see also_ Caucus).
Black, John, journalist.
Black, William,
joins staff of _Leeds Mercury_;
his loyalty to friends;
his house in Camberwell Road;
stories about his books;
his sympathy with art;
at Century Club;
his chivalrous character;
on sad endings of novels;
his first visit to Leeds;
his failure as a speaker.
Boundary Commission for electoral divisions.
Bow Street Police Court in 1867.
Bradfield,
Bursting of reservoir dam at.
Bradford Caucus and W. E. Forster.
Brett, Police-sergeant,
Murder of.
"Briefs and Papers,".
Bright, John,
at Blackburn in 1865;
at reform demonstrations in 1866;
his last reform speech in 1866;
champions Queen Victoria;
and Cave of Adullam;
appeals for life of Barrett, the Fenian.
British Association at Newcastle (1863).
Broadley, Mr. A. M.,
at Tunis.
Brofft's Hotel, Bucharest.
Brontë, Charlotte,
Mrs. Gaskell's Life of;
author's monograph on;
her attractiveness;
(_see also_ Haworth).
Brontë, Emily, Author's lecture on.
Brontë literature, Author's contributions to.
Bruce, Dr. Collingwood.
Bruce's Licensing Bill, Introduction of.
Buccleuch, Duke of, and Disraeli.
Bucharest in 1878,
extortionate charges at.
Bulgarian atrocities of 1876,
Excitement caused by;
their effect upon our domestic politics.
Burdett-Coutts, Baroness, and reform demonstrators.
Burke, T.H., Assassination of, in Phoenix Park.
Burke and Casey, Fenian prisoners.
C
"Cabinet Portraits," Author's.
_Captain_, Loss of the.
Casey and Burke, Fenian prisoners.
Carey, James, informer.
Carlton Club, Overlooked meeting at.
Carlyle at Fryston,
his remark to Monckton Milnes on pension for Tennyson.
Carter, Mr., M.P. for Leeds.
Cattle plague in 1865.
Caucus, Plan of Liberal,
its effect upon Liberalism;
(_see also_ Birmingham and Bradford).
"Cave of Adullam," _Morning Star_ and.
Cavendish, Lord Frederick, Assassination of.
Central Liberal Association, Plan of.
Century Club,
author nearly poisoned at.
Chamberlain, Mr. Austen,
Mr. Gladstone's reference to speech of.
Chamberlain, the Right Hon. Joseph,
affected by Mr. Gladstone's reference to his son;
defeated Parliamentary candidate at Sheffield;
his dislike of W.E. Forster;
ruling spirit of Caucus;
and W.E. Forster;
his brothers blackballed at Reform Club;
resigns membership of Reform Club;
intrigues of;
his Socialistic Radicalism.
_Chambers's Journal_,
Author's contributions to.
Chester, Fenians at (1866).
Cholera at Newcastle.
Clerkenwell House of Detention,
Fenian outrage at.
Club Life in London in 1868.
Coles, Captain Cowper, Death of.
Commons, House of,
Author's first visit to;
its Parliamentary reporters in 1867;
autumn session of 1867;
gladiatorial combats of Disraeli and Gladstone in 1868;
dynamite outrage at;
(_see also_ Parliament).
Congress at Berlin in 1878.
Constituencies,
Creation of single-member;
cumulative vote in large.
Conversation Club at Leeds.
Cooke, Mr. W.H.
Cotton famine in 1864.
Coulson, miner, Heroism of.
Cowen, Joseph, Reminiscences of,
and Mr. Stead.
Cross, Miss Emily, actress.
Cumulative vote in large School Board constituencies.
D
_Daily News_ and Bulgarian atrocities of 1876.
Danube, Journey down (1878).
Davis, Mr. E.D., actor.
Derby, Earl of (13th), on Irish Church.
Derby, Earl of (14th), Memories of.
Devonshire Club.
Dickens, Charles,
at Newcastle;
author's leader on death of.
Disraeli, Benjamin,
affected by Mr. Gladstone's allusion to illness of Mrs. Disraeli;
on Irish Church in 1868;
his contemptuous treatment of an assailant;
Tory dislike of him in 1868;
author's personal encounter with;
and Bulgarian atrocities of 1876;
his triumph in 1878;
his power of playing to the gallery;
at Berlin Congress.
Donald, Robert, journalist.
Dynamite outrages.
E
Education Act, Passing of.
Edwards, Mr., Parliamentary reporter.
Elections, General (_see_ General Elections).
Elton, Mr. Charles.
Executions,
Memories of public;
of Barrett, the Fenian.
Exhibition of 1862, Opening of.
F
Fawcett, Henry, at Century Club.
Fenians,
Execution of Barrett;
at Chester in 1866;
outrage at Clerkenwell House of Detention;
at Manchester.
Flogging of garrotters.
Forster, Mrs. W. E.
Forster, Sir Charles.
Forster, W. E.,
Description of;
on Lord Houghton;
Radical hostility against;
suggested as Liberal leader;
his struggles with Bradford Caucus;
on Mr. Stead;
and Mr. Joseph Chamberlain;
is defended by _Leeds Mercury_;
his resignation of office in 1882;
on assassination of Lord Frederick Cavendish;
author at residence of;
pioneer of Liberal Imperialism;
his political courage;
home life;
plots against his life;
his speech at Bradford;
and fate of General Gordon;
attends Household Suffrage demonstration at Leeds;
and Boundary Commission;
under police protection;
and Lord Hartington;
founder of the Imperial Federation League;
meets with an accident.
Fothergill, Mr., clerk in the W.B. Lead office.
Franchise Bill of 1884.
Franco-German war, Recollections of.
Fryston, Lord Houghton's seat, Author at.
G
Galway, Lady, Dinner party given by.
Gambetta, M.,
his oration in 1877;
funeral of.
Garrotters, Flogging of.
Gaskell's, Mrs., Life of Charlotte Brontë.
General Election of 1868,
of 1874;
of 1880.
Germany, Commercial enterprise of.
Gladstone, Mr. Herbert, elected for Leeds.
Gladstone, Mr. Robertson, at Preston.
Gladstone, Mrs., and author.
Gladstone, W. E.,
at Newcastle in 1862;
appearance of;
at Manchester in 1865;
his courtesy in debate;
his attacks on Disraeli in 1868;
his Parliamentary colleagues in 1868;
and dissolution of Parliament in 1874;
resigns leadership of Liberal party;
intrigues against;
on Bulgarian atrocities of 1876;
unpopular with his party in 1879;
decides to contest Midlothian;
people's admiration for (1880);
his election at Leeds;
elected for Midlothian;
at Leeds in 1881;
his sympathy with social outcasts;
and death of General Gordon;
denies compromise with Lord Salisbury on Household Suffrage Bill;
under police protection;
his resignation in 1885.
"Gladys Fane," author's novel.
_Glasgow Herald_, Author's overtures to.
Golf, past and present.
Gordon, General, W. E. Forster on fate of
Granger, Richard, and Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
Grant-Duff, Mr. (afterwards Sir) Mountstuart, attacks Disraeli.
Granville, Lord, at Exhibition of 1862,
his relations with Mr. Gladstone.
Great Exhibition of 1862, Opening of.
Greig, Mr., tours with author.
Grove, Sir George, editor of _Macmillan's Magazine_.
H
Harcourt, Sir William,
his futile attack on Mr. Gladstone in 1878.
receives news of assassination of Lord Frederick Cavendish and Mr. Burke.
Harte, Bret,
visits Haworth.
Hartington, Marquis of,
elected leader of Liberal party;
and W.E. Forster;
sympathy with him on night of Phoenix Park murders.
Hartley New Pit, Disaster at.
Haworth, Author's visit to,
Bret Harte's visit to.
Héger, M., Influence over Charlotte Brontë of.
Houghton, Lord,
Geniality of;
author's indebtedness to;
on Lord Rosebery;
on Mr. Gladstone;
as poet;
as host;
his tolerance in matters of faith;
death of;
last occasion on which author dined with him.
Household Suffrage Bill (1867), Passing of.
Household Suffrage Bill (1884), Passing of.
Household Suffrage demonstration at Leeds.
Household Suffrage Parliament, Opening of (1868).
House of Commons (_see_ Commons, House of).
House of Lords (_see_ Lords, House of).
Hungary in 1878.
Hunter, Mr. Colin, A.R.A.
Hyde Park in 1862.
I
Imperial Federation League, Foundation of.
Innes, Mr., Exhortation to author by.
Invincibles, Plots of the Irish.
Irish Church Bill, Debates on.
J
Jackson, Mr. W.L., elected M.P. for Leeds.
Jeffcock,--, engineer, Heroism of.
Joicey, Sir James.
Journalism of the 'sixties; birth of the New.
Journalism, Provincial, in 1870.
K
Kingsley, Charles,
his reply to author's request for books.
Kitson, Sir James.
Kossuth, Louis, Visit of, to Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
"Kroumirs" in Algeria.
L
Labouchere, Mr. Henry, as war correspondent.
Lambert, Sir John, Chairman of Boundary Commission.
Lancashire cotton famine in 1864.
"Land of the Bey," Author's.
Leech, John, Verisimilitude of street scenes of.
Leeds: Characteristics of its inhabitants,
parliamentary election in 1874;
its Caucus meeting;
parliamentary election of 1880;
author's influence in its Liberal Association;
Mr. Gladstone's candidature for;
its Conversation Club;
Mr. Herbert Gladstone elected for;
W.E. Gladstone at (1881);
its Household Suffrage demonstration.
Leeds Liberal Association and W.E. Forster.
_Leeds Mercury_,
Author joins staff of;
author's duties on;
and Sunday labour;
its file;
its history;
its influence under Baines family;
its exclusion of betting and theatrical news;
author accepts editorship of;
inaugurating a new era;
on loss of _Captain_;
supports educational policy of Forster;
brought into line with London dailies;
publishes early news of dissolution of Parliament in 1874;
proposes candidature of Mr. Gladstone for Leeds;
defends W.E. Forster;
attempt to crush it;
its office under police protection.
Levy, Mr., owner of _Daily Telegraph_.
Liberal Imperialist, W.E. Forster the first.
Liberal Party,
Its defeat in 1874;
resignation of leadership by Mr. Gladstone;
suggested leaders of;
Lord Hartington leads;
effect of Caucus upon;
Caucus control of;
between 1874-80;
disruption of old.
Licensing system, Permissive Bill and.
Lincoln, Abraham,
Effect of death of;
author meets his granddaughter.
_Lion d'Or_, Author on board of.
London, Author's first visit to,
its streets in 1862;
its suburbs in 1867;
its club life in 1868.
Longley, Archbishop,
replies to author's request for books.
Lords, House of: Reporters in,
debates on Disestablishment of Irish Church.
Lowes, Mr., shorthand writer,
appointed editor of _Newcastle Journal_.
"Lumley Entail," author's novel.
M
Macdonell, James, journalist.
_Macmillan's Magazine_,
Author's contributions to.
Madras College, St. Andrews, Author at.
Magee, Bishop,
on Irish Church Disestablishment Bill.
Manchester, Fenian outrage at.
_Manchester Examiner_,
Author's overtures to.
_Manchester Guardian_,
Spirited management of.
Manson, Mr., editor of _Northern Daily Express_.
Marshall, Mr., proprietor of _Northern Daily Express_.
Marston Moor,
Author visits battlefield of.
Mathers, Mr., secretary of Leeds Liberal Association.
Mazzini, Giuseppe,
Visit of, to Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
McLennan, Mr. J.F.
Midlothian,
Mr. Gladstone decides to contest;
the election (1880).
Milan, Author "in pawn" at.
Milnes-Gaskell, Mr., at Thorns.
Milnes, Monckton
(_see_ Houghton, Lord).
Mohacs (Hungary) in 1878.
Morley, Mr. John,
author and;
at Leeds Household Suffrage demonstration;
and Mr. Stead.
_Morning Star_,
Author occasionally reports for,
its report of John Bright's reference to Cave of Adullam.
Mudford, Mr., of _Standard_,
as Parliamentary reporter;
Mr. Gladstone's opinion of.
N
Napoleon III., Death of.
Napoleon, Prince.
National Liberal Federation,
Origin of.
Newcastle-upon-Tyne, in 1842,
Percy Street Academy;
cholera at;
its great fire in 1854;
author's West End Literary Institute;
British Association at (1863).
_Newcastle Journal_,
Author on staff of.
Nicholls, Mr., husband of Charlotte Brontë.
_North American Review_
on author's "Charlotte Brontë,".
_Northern Daily Express_,
Author's first contribution;
description of.
Norway, Author's visit to.
Novel-writing, Author on.
Novikoff, Madame, and Mr. Stead.
Nussey, Miss, Memories of.
O
Oaks Pit, Explosions at.
Orsini, Felice,
at Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
Paris, Recollections of siege of,
Communist rising of 1871;
in September, 1871;
in 1877.
Parliamentary Reform Demonstration in 1866.
Parliamentary trains in 1862.
Parliament, Opening of Household Suffrage,
its debates of 1869;
possibilities of reporter in;
its dissolution in 1874;
its dissolution in 1880;
stories of its reporters in 1867,
(_see also_ Commons, House of, and Lords, House of).
Parnell, C.S., and W.E. Forster.
Payn, James,
Author's first interview with;
his laugh;
his sense of humour;
his aversion to dining out.
Payne, Howard, Grave of, at Tunis.
Pears, Mr. Edwin,
and Bulgarian atrocities of 1876.
Percy Street Academy, Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
Permissive Bill,
Licensing system and.
Peterloo, "Battle" of.
Phoenix Park murders.
Piccadilly Circus in 1862.
Piccadilly,
French Imperialists in.
Pollock, Sir Frederick.
Postance, Rev. Henry.
Potter, Mr. Tom,
at Century Club.
Press, The
(_see_ Journalism _and_ Reporters).
"Press-gang" at the Reform Club.
Preston,
Description of.
_Preston Guardian_,
Author joins staff of.
Prince Consort,
Death of.
Prince Imperial,
burial of.
Prince of Wales (afterwards Edward VII.),
in Upper Teesdale;
illness of;
thanksgiving service at St. Paul's for recovery of.
_Punch_,
London street scenery in.
R
Reade, Mr., Consul-General at Tunis.
Reform Club, Author elected member of,
in 1878;
"press-gang" at;
excitement upon news of Phoenix Park murders;
Mr. Chamberlain's brothers blackballed;
proposal to abolish blackballing;
Mr. Chamberlain resigns membership.
Reform demonstrations in 1866.
Reid, Alexander, brother of author.
Reid, Eleanor, daughter of author.
Reid, James, brother of author,
Death of.
Reid, John Paul, brother of author.
Reid, Mrs., author's first wife,
her marriage;
death.
Reid, Mrs. (Lady), author's second wife.
Reid, Mrs., mother of author,
love of literature;
death of.
Reid, Rev. Alexander, father of author,
his interest in public affairs.
Reid, Stuart J., brother of author.
Reid, Thomas Wemyss (Sir Wemyss),
Parentage and ancestry of;
year of birth; earliest recollections;
at St. Andrews in 1850;
first connection with printing office;
at Madras College;
has attack of brain fever;
returns home;
at Tynemouth;
at Whitley;
in peril of housebreakers;
at Dr. Collingwood Bruce's school;
youthful literary aspirations;
junior clerk at W.B. Lead office;
his first contribution to Press;
makes acquaintance with newspaper work;
learns shorthand;
founds "West End Literary Institute,";
appointed chief reporter on _Newcastle Journal_;
experiences as reporter;
first attempt at leader-writing;
meets with accident at a Dickens reading;
first visit to London;
resigns reportership on _Newcastle Journal_;
at public executions;
joins staff of _Preston Guardian_;
his experience at a commercial dinner;
his studious habits;
newspaper experiences at Preston;
joins staff of _Leeds Mercury_;
his newspaper duties;
as a leader-writer;
his Imperialism;
reporting reminiscences;
appointed London correspondent;
his first marriage;
admitted to Reporters' Gallery;
first experience of London club life;
contributes to magazines;
his first novel, "Lumley Entail,";
has personal encounter with Disraeli;
obtains original and authentic parliamentary news;
death of his first wife;
accepts editorship of _Leeds Mercury_;
forms good resolutions;
changes editorial system;
settles in Leeds;
visits to Fryston;
his first Continental tour;
is denounced by advanced Radicals;
on drink question;
his second marriage;
brings _Leeds Mercury_ into line with London dailies;
protests against Caucus system;
his contributions to Brontë literature;
elected member of Savile Club;
in Paris in 1877;
elected member of Reform Club;
at London clubs in 1878;
nearly poisoned at Century Club;
tours through Europe;
injures his knee;
on board _Sidon_;
travels from Constantinople by overland route;
his influence in the Leeds Liberal Caucus;
proposes candidature of Mr. Gladstone for Leeds;
sends out tickets for Mr. Gladstone's banquet at Leeds;
at Tunis;
and Mr. Stead;
defends W. E. Forster;
on novel-writing;
overlooks Carlton Club meeting;
suggested police protection for;
visits Tangier;
visits Norway;
Reporters,
Duties of newspaper;
stories of Parliamentary;
possibilities of Parliamentary.
Reservoir dam, Bursting of Bradfield.
Riddell, Mrs., novelist, Reminiscences of.
Robinson, Sir John, editor of _Daily News_.
Rosebery, Earl of,
Lord Houghton on;
and W. E. Forster.
Ross, Mr., head of _Times_ Parliamentary corps.
Royal Institution,
Author's lecture on Charlotte Brontë at.
Russell, Lord John, at Newcastle-upon-Tyne.
Russell, Mr. Alexander, of _Scotsman_.
Russell, Mr. Charles, editor of _Glasgow Herald_.
S
St. Andrews in 1850,
its Sabbaths.
St. Cloud in 1871.
St. James's Hall, London,
John Bright at;
political meeting in 1876 at.
_St. James's Magazine_,
Author contributes to.
St. Paul's Cathedral,
Thanksgiving service for recovery of Prince of Wales in.
Sala, G. A.,
Reminiscences of;
his election to Reform Club;
his encyclopaedic knowledge;
on blackballing at clubs.
Savile Club,
Author elected member of.
Schnadhorst, Mr.,
Character of.
Shaw, Mr., Irish leader.
Sheffield,
Flooding of lower part of;
Mr. J. Chamberlain's Parliamentary defeat in 1874.
Shepard, Consul, at Haworth.
_Sidon_, Author on board.
Single-member constituencies,
Creation of.
Slingsby, Sir Charles,
Death of.
Sothern, E. A.,
Reminiscences of.
_Standard_, The,
Mr. Gladstone's opinion of.
Stead, Mr. W. T.,
accepts editorship of _Northern Echo_;
his theories on journalism;
on Eastern Question;
and Madame Novikoff;
attacks Joseph Cowen;
and author;
on staff of _Pall Mall Gazette_;
appointed editor of _Pall Mall Gazette_;
his foreign politics.
Stoddart, Mr., editor of _Glasgow Weekly Herald_.
Swinburne, Mr.,
on author's "Charlotte Brontë,";
author's abortive visit to house of.
T
Tangier in 1884.
Tay Bridge,
Destruction of.
Tennant, Mr.,
M.P. for Leeds in 1874.
Thackeray, W. M.,
at Newcastle.
Thanksgiving Service for recovery of Prince of Wales.
Thatched House Club.
Thirlwall, Bishop,
on Irish Church Bill.
Thornton, Miss Kate
(_see_ Reid, Mrs., author's first wife).
_Times_, The,
Use of its front page during siege of Paris;
on loss of ship _Captain_.
Toulmin, Mr., proprietor of _Preston Guardian_.
Tower of London,
Dynamite outrage at.
Townsend, Mr. Charles, of Bristol.
Trains, Parliamentary, in 1862.
Trench, Archbishop,
on Irish Church Bill.
Tunis in 1881.
Tynemouth about the 'forties.
Tyne, River, in 1842.
U
United Kingdom Alliance,
Policy of.
V
Venables, George,
Recollections of.
Versailles in 1871.
Victoria, Queen, and John Bright.
W
W----, Captain, at Tangier.
Washbourne, Dr.,
and Bulgarian atrocities of 1876.
Weaving in 1850.
Wemyss, Thomas, grandfather of author.
Westbury, Lord,
on Irish Church Bill.
Westminster Hall,
Dynamite outrage at.
White, Sir William, at Bucharest.
Whitley in 1849.
Wilkes, Mr. Washington, Death of.
Wombwell, Sir George,
and Charge of Light Brigade;
his narrow escape from drowning.
Workman, English, in 1878.
Wright, Mr., an official of the Reporters' Gallery in 1867.
Y
Yorkshire Club,
Author at.