PURE POLITICS
Defeat at Cambridge and Brighton—Routing a Chimæra—Elected the
Member for Brighton—The House of Commons.
Fawcett’s day was no more free from political chicanery and wire-pulling
than our own. Like all aspirants, he was sorely pressed to compromise
with the underworld of politics, but he kept himself clear of the
political mire, and made no promise which he could not justly fulfil.
[Sidenote: The Flutter.]
While waiting for his next chance his life was as usual busy and happy,
labouring over papers for _Macmillan’s Magazine_, editing his books,
lecturing, and generally leading the honest, frugal life of a man of
letters. This quiet was diversified by Fawcett’s one and only ‘flutter’
in mining shares. His father had been for some years working to retrieve
the fortunes of a big mining undertaking in Cornwall. The son had been
much interested, and accompanied his father on several business journeys
to the mine.
The elder Fawcett at last pulled his undertaking to a successful issue;
this success gave a sudden fillip to mining shares. The son ‘plunged,’
and plunged with success—so much so that he was seriously advised to
give up politics, for the time at least, and go on the Stock Exchange.
But he was not to be tempted by the lure of quick monetary success.
‘I am convinced,’ he said once, ‘that the duties of a member of the
House of Commons are so multifarious, the questions brought before him
so complicated and difficult, that if he fully discharges his duty, he
requires almost a lifetime of study.’ And again, ‘If I take up this
profession, I will not trifle with the interests of my country. I will
not trifle with the interests of my constituents by going into the House
of Commons inadequately prepared, because I gave up to the acquisition
of wealth the time which I ought to have spent in the acquisition of
political knowledge.’
The sacrifice was unquestionable, and it emphasises his firm adherence
to his ideals, and his willingness to sacrifice great personal interests
for the still uncertain career on which he had set his heart.
In 1863 a vacancy occurred in the representation of Cambridge. Fawcett’s
friend, Macmillan, now came forward, begging Fawcett to issue an
address, which was circulated broadcast.
[Sidenote: ‘Anybody’s Candidate.’]
‘If I am anybody’s candidate,’ Fawcett said, ‘I am Macmillan’s
candidate,’ but he tried to be nobody’s candidate.
His friends helped him vigorously, presiding or speaking at his
meetings, or acting as his election agents.
Fawcett the elder came to support his son. Though the local papers
assailed him, the most condemning assertions they could make were that
Fawcett was an advanced Radical, who would abolish Church rates, though
he professed to be a member of the Church of England; and worst of all,
that he was capable of the crime of admitting Dissenters to Fellowships.
How funny that latter accusation seems now, when the only question in
obtaining a fellowship is, Has the man the brains to win it?
[Sidenote: The Defeat at Cambridge.]
Fawcett was defeated by eighty-one votes. The cost of the campaign had
amounted to £600, but it had shown that Fawcett ‘could go to the poll as
well as make speeches.’
The election took place the same year that Fawcett was given the Chair
of Political Economy, and made this latter honour all the greater, as it
came despite his fearless Radical protestations.
The following January we find him coming forward as a Liberal candidate
at a bye-election in Brighton. Three other Liberals presented
themselves, and it was decided to have a meeting at which a committee,
appointed by the electors, was to report on the merits of the
candidates. The candidates should then address the meeting, and the
decision was to be made by show of hands. But the committee managed ill,
exceeding its instructions, and the meeting became a tumult. In the
midst of the uproar Fawcett came forward and won probably the greatest
oratorical triumph of his life. He began amidst great interruption, and
after a few sentences the vast body of electors listened with breathless
attention.
[Sidenote: Routing a Chimæra.]
Fawcett told them his story. ‘You do not know me now,’ he said, ‘but you
shall know me in the course of a few minutes.’ He proceeded with the
account of his accident, during which, says the reporter, ‘a deep
feeling of pity and sympathy seemed to pervade the meeting.’ He told
them how he had been blinded by two stray shots ‘from a companion’s
gun’; how the lovely landscape had been instantly blotted out; and how
he knew that every lovely scene would be henceforth ’shrouded in
impenetrable gloom.’ ‘It was a blow to a man,’ he said simply; but in
ten minutes he had made up his mind to face the difficulty bravely. He
would never ask for sympathy, but he demanded to be treated as an equal.
He went on with the story of his previous attempts to enter Parliament,
and ended with a profession of his political principles.
This account of the meeting is given by Stephen, who adds the comment:
‘I do not think Fawcett ever again referred to his accident in public,
except in speaking to fellow-sufferers. His blindness was apparently
being made an insuperable obstacle; his best and most natural answer was
to tell the plain story of his struggle, and he told it with a
straightforward manliness which carried away his audience.’
The other candidates had spoken in a hesitating way about the attitude
that England should hold towards the American Civil War. Fawcett began
the political part of his speech by saying: ‘Gentlemen, I am an
uncompromising Northerner,’ a statement that greatly pleased the
meeting.
[Sidenote: Sir Leslie helps.]
Then the hard work of electioneering began. Fawcett set himself
vigorously to the task, speaking effectively and often. His father and
sister came to him to inspire and help as they could. His friend Leslie
Stephen buckled on his friendly armour, and with all his love and great
abilities did much to help in the brave campaign. He began by writing an
article urging Fawcett’s qualifications. It was refused in all the local
papers, but this difficulty was gallantly surmounted. The editor of the
_Morning Star_, who had supported Fawcett in his Southwark campaign,
lent sufficient type; a room was taken, and the _Brighton Election
Reporter_ started a brief but brilliant career. Leslie Stephen became
editor and moving spirit in chief. The publication was sold at a
halfpenny a copy. Was it shrewdness or love for boys—for both were in
Fawcett in full measure—that determined that the newsboys should keep
the halfpence for themselves? Certain it is that the paper had a wide
and speedy circulation, and though Stephen modestly refuses it a
permanent place in the world of letters, it played a very important and
effective part in Fawcett’s candidature.
When the conflict was at its highest the inaugural lecture as Professor
of Political Economy took place. Fawcett delivered the lecture at
Cambridge in the morning, and the same evening was back in Brighton
addressing a meeting.
[Sidenote: Nomination Day.]
[Sidenote: Political Eggs.]
On nomination day the candidates duly drove to the Town Hall. In the
sixties this was an occasion for much rowdiness. The blind candidate did
not shrink from rough contacts, and doubtless enjoyed the commotion as
much as any. The varying notes in the discordant shouts of the mob told
his sensitive ears every subtlety of friendly greeting or enmity. The
rattle of pebbles against the window panes, or their thud as they struck
a victim, the squelch of an ancient egg against the side of the
carriage—all bore their message to the man from whom sight was withheld.
And the sense of smell brought him knowledge too—of the hot, unwashed
crowd, of the dust-trampled road, of the stale vegetables and ‘political
eggs’ that hurtled through the air. Every phase of the day’s emotion was
present to him and shared by him, thanks to his imagination, alertness
and genial power of good fellowship.
The election took place on February 15.
Fawcett headed the poll in the early hours, when the working men voted,
but he was finally defeated by one hundred and ninety-five by Moore, the
Conservative candidate. Had the votes not been so split up by four
candidates, the Liberal triumph would have been secured and Fawcett
elected.
He took his defeat cheerfully, and indeed had some reason to be
satisfied. He had done quite well enough for his success in the next
election to seem positive.
In the autumn of the same year he again addressed meetings at Brighton,
and made his best speech on Parliamentary Reform.
‘Fawcett spoke of the honourable attitude of the working classes during
the American War, and upon the reception of Garibaldi in London. They
proved, he said, that the questions which really roused enthusiasm in
the English people were those which appealed to their moral sentiments.
He argued that something must be rotten if a man at 20s. a week had not
as much interest in the peace and prosperity of the country as his
neighbour with £10,000 a year. The sufferings inflicted by a war fall
chiefly upon the poor; and any argument which implied that they should
be rightfully excluded from the franchise as incompetent and
indifferent, was an argument denoting a degraded and unwholesome state
of feeling.’
[Sidenote: The Tide of Freedom.]
It is significant how Fawcett’s whole nature rose to the wave of
independence which was flooding the world. The emancipation of Italy,
the freeing of the American slaves, and kindred struggles to give the
lesser man a fair chance, found an echo in the policy which he
championed for the helpless labouring classes. He was a lusty swimmer on
this tide of freedom. He believed that working men were divided in their
opinions as much as any other class, and that therefore, it was futile
to fear that the rich vote would be killed by the poor. His attitude
towards any proposal for reform of the franchise was: ‘Do we think it
will cause the various sections of opinion to be more independently and
honestly represented?’
Mill thought well of Fawcett’s speech on Parliamentary Reform, but he
was opposed to his doctrine that workmen would not probably be united in
their opinions. Mill felt that no matter how workmen might differ on
other points, they would be united on whatever touched their class
interests.
[Sidenote: Back to Brighton.]
The Brighton election was now at hand. At a great meeting held at the
riding-school of the Pavilion, the two Liberal candidates, Mr. White,
the sitting Liberal member, and Fawcett appeared, and resolutions in
their favour were passed. Fawcett’s father was also present and
enthusiastically received. Fawcett placed his difficulties cheerfully
before his audience. ‘A Tory,’ he said, ‘had summed them up by saying
that he would have to contend with £1500 from the Carlton, and a
cartload of slander.’
The serious arguments against Fawcett were that he was a poor man, and
that he was plotting the ruin of the tradesmen by his advocacy of
co-operation. He frankly accepted both these charges, saying that he
favoured co-operation as the best cure for poverty, and that he was
certainly poor, having deliberately preferred the study of politics to
money-making. Poverty, he said, did not weaken a man’s influence in
Parliament. Cobden, then recently dead, was a poor man, but he had
‘vanquished a proud aristocracy and had given cheap bread to millions of
his countrymen.’ ‘Every word uttered by Cobden in the House of Commons
made its impression, whilst the words of millionaires might pass
unnoticed.’ Poverty would not destroy a man’s influence in the House, if
he were thoroughly qualified for his position, nor would it prevent his
return by an independent constituency in spite of all ostentation of
richer men.
In this case, Fawcett’s optimism was justified, though Mammon had his
usual good position in Brighton; candidates who could dispense champagne
freely and spend money to help trade and politics were naturally
preferred to candidates who were equipped solely with lofty principles
and poverty. So it is much to the credit of the community that for at
least a time it accepted higher things, and elected a blind member with
high ideals and no money.
[Sidenote: The Victor.]
On the day of the election (July 12, 1865) 6492 out of 8661 electors
polled, and the numbers were—White 3065; Fawcett 2665; Moore 2134.
At last Fawcett was an M.P., and at thirty-two had arrived at the goal
towards which from boyhood he had set himself so unflinchingly. The
letter which he wrote to his father of his first day in the House of
Commons, deserves to be quoted in full.
‘123 Cambridge Street, Warwick Square,
LONDON, Feb. 1, 1866.
[Sidenote: A Letter home.]
‘My dear Father,—I have just returned from my first experience of the
House of Commons. I went there early in the morning, and soon found
that I should have no difficulty in finding my way about. I walked in
with Tom Hughes about five minutes to two, and a most convenient seat
close to the door was at once, as it were, conceded to me; and I have
no doubt that it will always be considered my seat. Every one was most
kind, and I was quite overwhelmed with congratulations. I am glad that
my first visit is over, as I shall now feel perfect confidence that I
shall be able to get on without any particular difficulty. The seat I
have is as convenient a one as any in the House, and a capital place
to speak from. I walked away from the House of Commons with Mill. He
sits on the bench just above me, close to Bright. I sit next but one
to Danby Seymour. White (his colleague for Brighton) is three or four
places from me.
‘Mother has indeed made a most wise selection in lodgings. They at
present seem everything I could desire; the rooms are larger than I
expected, and Mrs. Lark and the servant are most civil and obliging.
This is everything in lodgings. I can walk to the House of Commons in
exactly a quarter of an hour; this is not too far. Accept my best
thanks for the hamper. Everything has arrived quite safely, and all
the contents will prove most acceptable. We are going to have the fowl
for dinner to-night at seven. I hope, now that I am so comfortably
settled, some of you will often come to London. When am I to expect
Maria? Give my kindest love to Mother and to her, and in great haste,
to save post, believe me, dear Father, ever yours affectionately,
‘HENRY FAWCETT.’
[Sidenote: Parliamentary Arena.]
When Fawcett was elected M.P. the great ‘Pam’ still led the Liberals,
Radicals and Whigs, but he died before Parliament met. By the time of
Fawcett’s visit to the House described in the foregoing letter, Lord
John Russell, the successor of Lord Palmerston as Prime Minister, had
resigned the leadership of the Commons to Gladstone, who for a
generation was to dominate English Liberalism. Bright, known to his
supporters as the Tribune of the People, from his seat below the
gangway, led the Radical wing. It was much strengthened by many new men,
among whom John Stuart Mill was conspicuous. He represented Westminster,
having experienced perhaps the most unique election in English politics.
The Conservative opposition was led by Disraeli, known already, not only
as a wearer of gorgeous waistcoats and a writer of brilliant political
novels, but also for his strong and vivid personality. In the next few
years he was to show his even more extraordinary gifts as a manipulator
of Parliaments.