My boat is on the shore, And my bark is on the sea, But before I
go, TO-BEE, I will write a line to thee. I am here to join the bark
aforesaid, which will presently convey JOSEPH and his fortunes to the
United States. As far as one can judge from the Press news telegraphed
here, the reception that awaits me is not very cordial. I have all my
life been conscious of a tendency to rub people down the wrong way.
Unhappily the consciousness is borne in upon me only after the evil
is effected. No succession of experience has effect upon my conduct.
HARTINGTON and I are pretty good friends now, but I daresay you will
remember the night, now a dozen years dead, when I rose from a seat
below the Gangway in the House of Commons and, amid frantic cheers
from the little Radical Party of which I was then a humble ornament,
denounced him as "_late_ the Leader of the Liberal Party." The Markiss
is now my friend and ally, and I might almost say patron. The time
is too short for me to recall a tithe of the nasty things I have
said about him and others who toil not, neither do they spin. With
GLADSTONE the process is reversed, but in the end is much the same. I
began by adulating him, and now no one can say that that is my precise
attitude towards him.
It is more or less well as far as individuals are concerned. But I am
afraid I put my foot in it when, in defiance of historic warning,
I framed an indictment against a whole nation. Going out to the New
World on a mission of peace, I began by aggravating Canada and setting
up the back of the United States. When I reflect how easy it
would have been for me to say nothing, I stand amazed at my own
indiscretion. The only recompense I find in the situation is the
chagrin of the Markiss and his friends. They thought they had done
a nice stroke of policy in engaging me on this business. It is, of
course, not a new procedure. If I were still on the other side, I
should take delight in showing that herein, as in the matter of the
Convention with France just completed, they have taken a leaf out of
the book of their political opponents, and re-issued it with their own
imprimatur. The last time a Commissioner was sent out from England to
reason with the United States, GLADSTONE was in the Markiss's place,
and he selected STAFFORD NORTHCOTE as the agent. It was an excellent
device, tying in advance the hands of the enemy, who could scarcely
denounce a policy for the initiation and direction of which one of
their principal men was chiefly responsible. But what a difference
between STAFFORD NORTHCOTE and me!--a difference which the Markiss is
already beginning to realise. The proposal suited me well enough. It
would take me away from the country at a time when my presence here
only involves me in embarrassing controversy. Moreover, if I made a
great hit, and insured a successful Treaty, it would pave the way
for my return to my old position in the popular esteem. As for the
Markiss, my acceptance of the work would secure for him an ally on the
Opposition benches in the event of future debate arising out of the
Treaty, and would draw into close, personal union with his Party what
only natural modesty prevents me from alluding to as a formidable
antagonist. That was the little game; and for the sake of saying
something bitter, under the temptation to gird at an adversary that
had affronted me, I hopelessly spoiled it.
Writing to you, _cher_ TOBY, in the confidence of friendly
correspondence (I suppose your letters are not opened at the Post
Office, Barkshire not being an Irish county) I will confess that I
really could not help it. It is not that I do not know better, but my
temper is perhaps a little peculiar. I am essentially a fighting-man.
If any one bites his thumb at me I will know the reason why, and no
considerations of what is politic will prevent me from returning a
blow. I know that some people think I'm almost to be pitied because
(as they put it) I have hopelessly thrown away a position which no one
but myself could have destroyed. They think I am politically done for.
We shall see. However it be, I shall not forget the wild joy of battle
that the events of the past year have purchased for me. I like it best
with my back to the wall in the House of Commons, when my old friends
jeer and howl at me, and the rapturous cheers of the Conservatives
testify their pleasure at seeing me of all men playing their game--as
they think. I confess things at the moment are not from any point of
view very bright. But I can afford to wait, strong in the assurance
that I can do better without the Liberal Party than the Liberal Party
can do without me. They call me a Dissentient, which reminds me of a
story I once heard about an aboriginal resident in the great country
whither I am now hastening. A red man was found wandering in the
depths of the forest with signs of perturbation manifest beneath
his manfully calm exterior. "Are you lost?" he was asked. "No," he
answered, "me no lost. Me here. Wigwam lost." It is not I that am a
Dissentient Liberal; it is the Liberal Party that is the Dissentient.
Now here is the Mayor come to say that luncheon's ready, and so,
dropping into poetry again, I will say good-bye, With a sigh to those
who love me, And a smile to those who hate, And, whatever sky's above
me, Here's a heart for every fate. Yours faithfully,