Having said so much of what Mr. Chamberlain has done in, and for,
Birmingham, perhaps I may be permitted to say a few words, "mostly all"
my own, respecting a much biographed man. Although Mr. Chamberlain is so
prominently identified with Birmingham and Birmingham with him, it is
well known that he is not a native of the place. He was born in London
in 1836, and came to Birmingham in 1854. We took him in and he did for
us. His father joined the well-known firm of Nettlefold, the wood screw
makers, and in the course of time his eldest son, Joseph, succeeded
him. Mr. Joseph Chamberlain soon found his feet in trade, and by his
business acumen, his foresight, capacity, and shrewdness he advanced the
business, which had already been highly successful, to a rare pitch of
prosperity.
At one time I saw and heard much of Mr. Chamberlain, especially in the
earlier part of his Birmingham public career. He was always what he is
now--a sharp, smart, and ready man. A man to inspire admiration and
confidence. There was always a promptness and "all thereness" in his
nature, with a decided touch of self-reliance, and I may even say
audacity. In fact, without intending any reflection upon him, I might
perhaps suggest that he could appropriately take as his motto "De
l'audace, encore de l'audace, et toujours de l'audace." In proof of this
I may cite one or two incidents that came under my notice.
Some thirty years or more ago Mr. Chamberlain was a prominent member of
a local debating society. Now, this society used to have every year two
social gatherings, and it was observed that many members who rarely or
never came to the debates were not conspicuous by their absence when the
summer "outings" and other little feasts took place. The committee
thought it would be rather good sport to give these knife and fork
debaters a little mild and gentle rub. Consequently they made them the
subject of a toast at one of their social meetings, held at the
Lyttelton Arms, Hagley. A word was coined for the occasion, and they
were toasted as the "Artopsareocoluthic Members" (signifying the lovers
of the loaves and fishes), and to Mr. Chamberlain was entrusted the task
of proposing the toast.
In a smart and brilliant speech he poked rare fun at the dinner-debating
members who were so ready to participate in the festivities of the
society and so lax in attending the discussions. He not only did this
with delicious banter and pointed sarcasm; but, with an audacious touch
all his own, he coupled the toast with the name of one member present.
This brought the ruffled gentleman up on to his legs, and, smarting
under Mr. Chamberlain's ironical philippics, he tried to pay back "our
young friend" for what he considered his unwarrantable impertinence.
But Mr. Chamberlain was not in the least disconcerted by the hotly
expressed resentment of the offended member. With his cigar in his mouth
and his eye-glass in his eye he smiled with amused complacency, while
his irate friend tried to pay him back, though hardly in his own sharp,
ringing coin.
The other incident to which I have referred took place when the
Birmingham Corporation Gas Bill was under consideration. A town's
meeting was held to discuss and decide whether the gas undertakings
should be purchased by the municipal authorities. As there was
considerable difference of opinion upon the question there was a large
gathering in the Town Hall, and the opponents of the scheme were in
strong force.
Mr. Chamberlain, in the course of his speech advocating the purchase,
pointed out with characteristic force all the advantages of the proposed
scheme, and when he mentioned the satisfactory sum for which the gas
undertaking could be bought a prominent opponent called out, "Will you
give that for it?" "Yes, I will," was the prompt reply, which rather
surprised and silenced his antagonist.
And no doubt he meant what he said. He regarded the amount named as an
advantageous price for the purchase--as it has proved to be--and he
would have been willing, and would doubtless, with the aid of his
friends, have been able, to find the money to secure such a valuable
monopoly. It was, however, the decisive and ready manner in which he
answered his interrogator that was so characteristic of the man, and
which so appealed to the meeting as to elicit a hearty volley of cheers.
Mr. Chamberlain was never easily disconcerted, nor was he ever a touchy,
over-sensitive man. In fact, he has been heard to say, I believe, that a
man who takes to public life must not be thin-skinned. If he is to give
blows, he must be prepared to take blows in return, and whether he takes
his punishment fighting or lying down, he must take it smiling, or at
least with complacency. This he does himself, as a rule, and whatever he
may feel under the blows of his adversaries, he does not wince nor
whine, but always appears more or less imperturbable, good-humoured, and
unscathed. We see him demonstrative, combative, even saucy sometimes on
the platform, but rarely or never ruffled, sour, or out of temper.
As I have hinted, I heard a good deal of Mr. Chamberlain's public
speaking when he first came to the front as a public man, and it was
impossible not to be interested, edified, and oftentimes amused by the
intelligence, point, and smartness of his speech. At the same time there
was--especially in the earlier days of his public career--a certain
setness and formality of style that suggested the idea that his speeches
were anything but the inspiration of the moment, but had been made
beforehand, and were being reeled off. Indeed, many of those who knew
him well maintained that his speeches were at this time the result of
painstaking study, care, and elaboration, and that those who had a nose
for oratory might detect in them a strong smell of the lamp.
One incident that came under my notice certainly went far to corroborate
this view. I refer to the occasion of a little semi-public dinner at
which Mr. Chamberlain was put down to propose a certain toast. He
proceeded for a time in his usually happy, characteristic manner, when
all at once in the middle of a sentence he came to a full stop! We all
looked up, and he looked down embarrassed and confused. He apparently
had lost the thread of the discourse he had so carefully woven; he could
not pick up the dropped stiches; and, if I remember rightly, he sat
down, his speech not safely delivered.
It seems difficult now to fancy Mr. Chamberlain making such a fiasco. He
is at the present time probably one of the most ready and fluent
speakers we have, and although many strange things might happen in the
House of Commons, one of the most astonishing would be to see Mr.
Chamberlain break down in a speech. It would create a sensation in that
unserene assembly which would almost be enough to make a seasoned
pressman swoon, and before the incident had been completely realised the
unexpected and startling fact would probably be known at the Antipodes.
Mr. Chamberlain can now make his speeches as he goes on--although the
material may be prepared beforehand--and, as we know, he can turn from
the course of his argument to answer quickly and effectively some
pertinent or impertinent question or interruption.
Since Mr. Chamberlain has become such a leading light in Parliament, his
speeches have taken a much more solid, sedate, and serious tone than
they had in his early Birmingham days. They have become considerably
more weighty--perhaps some of his unfriendly critics would say more
heavy--than they were in bygone times. Without being open to the charge
of levity or flippancy, Mr. Chamberlain's speeches used to be remarkable
for a certain amount of humour, banter, touch-and-go smartness, as well
as terse argumentative force.
At one time he was an appreciative student of the American humorists,
and he was very fond of spicing his remarks with apt and amusing
quotations from Hosea Biglow, Mark Twain, Artemus Ward, and other comic
classics. Indeed, at one time, no speech of his would have been complete
without some little sallies of this kind. Now, however, he rarely
indulges in such pleasantries. Mr. Chamberlain's speeches in the House
of Commons though never dull are never funny. He soon learned his
lesson. He very quickly discovered that members of the House may not
object to be amused, and are often, it must be admitted, easily moved to
mirth. At the same time the members of that assembly do not place a high
value upon the words of funny or would-be funny speakers.
Unless he has changed very much, Mr. Chamberlain has a very keen sense
and appreciation of humour. Probably he would like sometimes to indulge
himself and amuse the House by firing off some humorous hits and
quotations, but he knows the importance of suppressing such instincts
and tendencies if he is to be taken seriously and regarded as a
statesman. Blue books and Biglow, Bills and Sam Slick, do not make the
sort of political punch that an influential leader can afford to ladle
out at St. Stephen's. At the same time, if he cared to indulge his own
ready wit, or to make use of the amusing extracts he has stored away in
his memory, he could doubtless make some lively and diverting speeches.
I remember when Mr. Chamberlain was Mayor of Birmingham, the late Mr.
George Dawson at a little dinner proposed his health, and in doing so
indulged in some characteristic banter and chaff. Mr. Chamberlain, then
as now, was not a man of Aldermanic girth, and Mr. Dawson in the course
of his humorous remarks took occasion to allude to his slight and
slender proportions, and said he wished there was more of the Mayor to
look at, and that he should like to see him "go to scale better."
When he rose to reply Mr. Chamberlain, in a quiet, dry manner, and
without a smile on his face, remarked, "Mr. Dawson has been good enough
to refer to me as a Mayor without a Corporation." This was so neat and
smart that I need hardly say the company laughed most amusedly.
Probably, if I had kept a notebook, or were now to search well my
memory, I might give other instances of Mr. Chamberlain's smart, ready
wit.
Now, however, as most people know, his speeches are remarkable for their
point, force, logical reasoning, incisive language, and straight, hard
hitting, but, as I have observed, he rarely if ever essays to be funny.
By his sharp remarks and his adept turns of speech he often, however,
creates much laughter--as, for instance, when he once spoke of an
ex-Premier's opportunism and readiness to make promises which, when
they ought to be fulfilled, "snap went the Gladstone bag"--but he never
degenerates into anything approaching buffoonery.
Mr. Chamberlain is always prompt and straightforward in action, and is
pleasant and agreeable in manner and speech. Moreover, he is a man of
consummate tact. I remember in 1874, when he was Mayor, and the Prince
and Princess of Wales paid a visit to Birmingham, there was much
wondering and questioning as to how he would comport himself on the
occasion. At that time he was credited with cherishing rather strong
Republican sentiments. It was even said that he had been known to go so
far as to remain seated when the loyal toasts were drunk. I certainly
cannot say that I was ever witness of such a proceeding, nor have I been
able to trace the statement to any authentic source. Still, there was a
widespread idea that he was not overburdened with feelings of loyalty,
and many people naturally wondered how he would manage decorously to
entertain his Royal guests.
Mr. Chamberlain was quite equal to the occasion. In speech and manner
his conduct was irreproachable, and he won golden opinions from all
sorts of people. I remember that very curious stories were in
circulation at the time as to the etiquette which, it had been laid
down, should be observed on the occasion. It was, indeed, said that, in
consequence of Mr. Chamberlain's supposed Republican sentiments, special
regulations were enjoined, and that the formalities to be observed in
receiving and entertaining the Prince were to be of an extra rigid
character. I, for one, never believed there was any foundation for these
silly reports, but, if any special formalities were prescribed, Mr.
Chamberlain brushed them aside, and simply conducted himself with quiet,
easy grace, always calm and self-possessed, and never fussy or
needlessly obsequious.
Mr. Chamberlain entertained the Royal visitors and others at luncheon at
the Society of Artists' rooms, and it struck me that if he had been a
born courtier, and had been bred in the atmosphere of palaces, he could
hardly have been more "at home" in the position in which he found
himself. His speech, in which he proposed the health of the Prince and
Princess of Wales, was a model of adroitness and good taste. Without
giving himself away by indulging in effusiveness, or being carried away
by the glamour of the occasion, he managed to make a very circumspect,
clever, and appropriate speech, which, though closely scrutinised,
brought no reproaches or even adverse criticisms from Republicans or
Royalists. No doubt it was a somewhat scorching ordeal for Mr.
Chamberlain to pass through, but he came out of it unsinged and
triumphant, and was afterwards more popular than ever.
I have some hesitation in speaking of Mr. Chamberlain in his private and
"at home" character, though in these days I hardly know that I need be
very timid or scrupulous. The public has a ready, I might almost say a
greedy, ear for personal details concerning the lives and habits of
public men, and there are plenty of writers willing to gratify its
desires in this respect, and that, too, with the knowledge and consent
of the eminent personages themselves. Many people like to hear all about
the characteristics of prominent men, and have a keen appetite for all
particulars concerning their personal habits and peculiarities. They
love to hear what a celebrated man eats, drinks, and avoids, what time
he rises and at what hour he usually goes to bed; and even a little
thimbleful of scandal touching his shortcomings, delinquencies, and,
possibly, his small vices, is as nectar to the gossip-loving taste. To
tell some people what they have no right to know is often to delight
them.
Without at all professing to be in any sense an intimate friend of Mr.
Chamberlain's, I may, perhaps, say that I have many times had the
pleasure of sitting at his table, and a more genial and interesting host
it would be difficult to describe. He is bland and gentle to a degree
that might surprise those who only know him as a vigorous, fighting
politician.
I remember that once when Sir William Harcourt was a guest of Mr.
Chamberlain's at Highbury, he said that he went to stay with his
honourable friend with feelings almost amounting to trepidation, but he
soon found that Mr. Chamberlain was by no means the ogre he had been
represented. Mr. Chamberlain eat his meals with an ordinary knife and
fork; and he rose up in the morning and went to bed regularly like any
other sane and well-conducted person. Indeed, he found him quite a tame
and inoffensive creature compared with the rampant, rampageous
autocratic being he had so often heard him described.
I do not pretend to quote Sir William Harcourt's words literally. I am
repeating entirely from memory, but I give the gist of some of his
amusing, characteristic remarks when speaking in the Birmingham Town
Hall at the time he was Mr. Chamberlain's friend and guest. Certainly, I
have always found Mr. Chamberlain a delightfully pleasant host. He is
not given to monopolizing the talk. He does not dogmatize or lay down
the law; in fact, when acting as host he is so mild, docile, and
pleasant that a fossilized Tory, or even a fiery Nationalist, might play
with him.
Sometimes I have been among a favoured few who have been asked to stay
after most of his guests have left, and have a cigar with Mr.
Chamberlain in his library. On such occasions there has been some rare
good talk. I remember on one occasion the conversation did become warmly
political, and there was quite a smart little tussle between our host
and Mr. Jesse Collings. At that time Mr. Collings had a trifle more
sympathy with Irish patriots than I fancy he has now, and with his
naturally warm sympathetic feeling he was for liberating Mr. Parnell,
who was then a prisoner at Kilmainham. But Mr. Chamberlain would have
none of it. He maintained that Mr. Parnell and his friends had broken
the law and must pay the penalty. He was quite willing to consider their
demands, and what they considered to be their wrongs, but they must not
defy the law. Yes, there was some pretty sparring between these two
friends on that occasion, very earnest but, of course, perfectly
good-tempered on both sides.
I have before remarked upon Mr. Chamberlain's self-command and
imperturbability. Some persons are, perhaps, inclined to think that
because he keeps himself so well in hand and so rarely indulges in
sentiment that he is devoid of feeling and emotion. Not so. I recollect
that on the death of Mr. John Henry Chamberlain--no relation of his, but
a gentleman whose personal character, artistic skill, and intellectual
gifts he, and many others, held in high esteem--a meeting was held to
consider the desirability of having some memorial of one whose loss was
so deeply deplored. Mr. Chamberlain took a prominent part in the
proceedings, and I well remember how deeply affected he was when, in the
course of his touching references to his deceased friend, he said, "I
feel that his death, then, is the crowning of a noble life. He has been
called from us in the moment of victory, and we who remain behind are to
be pitied, for we have lost a great leader, and there are none to take
his place."
"The task which is imposed upon us is certainly a very melancholy one.
One by one our leaders are removed from us. The gaps in our ranks are
becoming painfully apparent. Still, there is much work to be done, and
we shall best honour those who are gone by endeavouring, as best we may,
to continue and complete the work which they have so well commenced. In
this spirit we may be content to bide our turn, hoping that when we,
too, are called away our record may not shame the bright example of
those who have gone before us."
When making these touching remarks Mr. Chamberlain's voice became
tremulous with emotion. He evidently experienced the greatest difficulty
in commanding his feelings, and when he sat down I saw tear-drops in his
eyes. Never have I seen him so overcome, and it is only justice to him
to cite this incident as showing that sentiment and feeling, though
rarely manifested, are not foreign to his real nature.
With respect to Mr. Chamberlain's personal appearance his form and
features are now well known, but for a time he was a somewhat
troublesome subject to caricaturists. When he was first budding out into
national importance the clever artist of _Vanity Fair_ at that time came
down to Birmingham to draw him. He succeeded in making a good
caricature, but it was said that he found his task by no means an easy
one. It was the nose, I believe, that puzzled the artist. Mr.
Chamberlain has a pointed, slightly upturned nose, and some cynical
people may be disposed to say that it has become more pointed and sharp
the more he has poked it into political business. Anyway, it is a
characteristic, perhaps _the_ characteristic, of Mr. Chamberlain's face,
and the skilful _Vanity Fair_ artist caught it after a time, and just
sufficiently exaggerated it to make a genuine caricature. Seeing,
however, that Mr. Chamberlain was born to be a much-pictured man, one
thing has stood him in fine stead--his eye-glass. When "Mr. Punch" first
took him in hand he could make little or nothing of him, but the
eye-glass saved the Fleet Street artists from failure. They found
nothing they could lay hold of at first, not even his nose. They saw a
man with a pleasant, good-looking, closely-shaven face, some dark hair
brushed back from his forehead, but there was nothing they could hit off
with success, and the only way they could secure identity was by the
eye-glass. "Mr. Punch" used at one time to represent Mr. Bright as
wearing an eye-glass, but I don't think he ever used one. Certainly I
never saw Mr. Bright with an eye-glass, and never saw Mr. Chamberlain
without one. Great and prominent men should have some characteristic
peculiarity that should be their own special personal brand, and if they
have it not, it must be made for them--as in the case of Lord Palmerston
and the wisp of straw that "Mr. Punch" always put in his mouth. Mr.
Chamberlain, however, has kindly obliged, and given caricaturists and
others something by which he can be unmistakably "featured."