proceedings which he felt bound to take in the case of a Ritualist
clergyman who had persisted in practices apparently illegal. Fraser,
though personally the most tolerant of men to those who differed from
his own theological views, felt bound to enforce the law, because it
was the law, and was at once assailed unjustly, as well as bitterly,
by those who sympathised with the offending clergyman, and who could
not, or would not, understand that a bishop, like other persons in an
official position, may hold it his absolute duty to carry out the
directions of the law whether or no he approves the law, and at
whatever cost to himself. These attacks were borne with patience and
dignity. He was never betrayed into recriminations, and could the more
easily preserve his calmness, because he felt no animosity.
A bishop may be a power outside his own religious community even in a
country where the clergy are separated as a caste from the lay
people. Such men as Dupanloup in France show that. So too he may be a
mighty moral and religious force outside his own religious community
in a country where there is no church established or endowed by the
State. The example of Dr. Phillips Brooks in the United States shows
that. But Dupanloup would have been eminent and influential had he not
been a clergyman at all; and Dr. Brooks was the most inspiring
preacher and the most potent leader of religious thought in America
long before, in the last years of his life, he reluctantly consented
to accept the episcopal office. Fraser, not so gifted by nature as
either of those men, would have had little chance of doing the work he
did save in a country where the existence of an ancient establishment
secures for one of its dignitaries a position of far-reaching
influence. When the gains and losses to a nation of the retention of a
church establishment are reckoned up, this may be set down among the
gains.
If the Church of England possessed more leaders like Tait, Fraser, and
Lightfoot--the statesman, the citizen, and the scholar--in the
characters and careers of all of whom one finds the common mark of a
catholic and pacific spirit, she would have no need to fear any
assaults of political foes, no temptation to ally herself with any
party, but might stand as an establishment until, after long years,
by the general wish of her own people, as well as of those who are
without, she passed peaceably into the position of being the first in
honour, numbers, and influence among a group of Christian communities,
all equally free from State control.
Fraser's example showed how much an attitude of unpretending
simplicity and friendliness to all sects and classes may do to
mitigate the jealousy and suspicion which still embitter the relations
of the different religious bodies in England, and which work for evil
even in its politics. He created, as Dean Stanley said, a new type of
episcopal excellence: and why should not originality be shown in the
conception and discharge of an office as well as in the sphere of pure
thought or of literary creation?
-----
[30] Two Lives of Dr. Fraser have been published, one (in 1887) by the
late Judge Hughes, the other, which gives a fuller impression
of his personal character, by the Rev. J. W. Diggle (1891).
[31] He was a good judge of horses, and had in his youth been fond of
hunting.
[32] A clergyman of his diocese had once, under the greatest
provocation, knocked down a person who had insulted him, and
the bishop wrote him a letter of reproof pointing out (among
other things) that, exposed as the Church of England was to
much criticism on all hands, her ministers ought to be very
careful in their demeanour. The offender replied by saying, "I
must regretfully admit that being grossly insulted, and
forgetting in the heat of the moment the critical position of
the Church of England, I did knock the man down, etc." Fraser,
delighted with this turning of the tables on himself, told me
the anecdote with great glee, and invited the clergyman to stay
with him not long afterwards.
[33] He was himself aware that this caused displeasure. In his latest
Charge, delivered some months before his death, he said: "I am
charged, amongst other grievous sins, with that of thinking not
unkindly, and speaking not unfavourably, of Dissenters. I don't
profess to love dissent, but I have received innumerable
kindnesses from Dissenters. Why should I abuse them? Why should
I call them hard names? Remembering how Nonconformity was
made--no doubt sometimes by self-will and pride and prejudice
and ignorance, but far more often by the Church's supineness,
neglect, and intolerance in days long since gone by, of which
we have not yet paid the full penalty--though, as I have said,
I love not the thing, I cannot speak harshly of it."
That a defence was needed may seem strange to those who do not
know England.
SIR STAFFORD HENRY NORTHCOTE, EARL OF IDDESLEIGH[34]
Sir Stafford Northcote (born 1818, died 1887) belonged to a type of
politician less common among us than it used to be, and likely to
become still more rare as England grows more democratic--the county
gentleman of old family and good estate, who receives and profits by a
classical education at one of the ancient universities, who is at an
early age returned to Parliament in respect of his social position in
his county, who has leisure to cultivate himself for statesmanship,
who has tastes and resources outside the sphere of politics.
Devonshire, whence he came, has preserved more of the old features of
English country life than the central and northern parts of England,
where manufactures and the growth of population have swept away the
venerable remains of feudalism. In Devonshire the old families are
still deeply respected by the people. They are so intermarried that
most of them have ties of kinship with all their neighbours. Few rich
parvenus have intruded among them; society is therefore exceptionally
easy, simple, and unostentatious. There is still a strong local
patriotism, which makes every Devonshire man, whatever his political
prepossessions, proud of other Devonshire men who rise to eminence,
and which exerts a wholesome influence on the tone of manners and
social intercourse. Northcote was a thorough Devonshire man, who loved
his county and knew its dialect: his Devonshire stories, told with the
strong accent he could assume, were the delight of any company that
could tempt him to repeat them. He was immensely popular in the
county, and had well earned his popularity by his pleasant neighbourly
ways, as well as by his attention to county business and to the duties
of a landowner.
He had the time-honoured training of the good old English type, was a
schoolboy at Eton, went thence to Oxford, won the highest distinctions
as a scholar, and laid the foundations of a remarkably wide knowledge
of modern as well as ancient literature. He served his apprenticeship
to statesmanship as private secretary to Mr. Gladstone, who was then
(1843) a member of Sir Robert Peel's Government. When the great schism
in the Tory party took place over the question of free trade in corn,
he was not yet in Parliament, and therefore was not driven to choose
between Peel and the Protectionists. In 1855, when he first entered
the House of Commons, that question was settled and gone, so there was
no inconsistency in his entering the Tory ranks although himself a
decided Free Trader. He was not a man who would have elbowed his way
upward. But elbows were not needed. His abilities, as well as his
industry and the confidence he inspired, speedily brought him to the
top. He was appointed Secretary to the Treasury in 1859, entered the
Cabinet in 1866, when a new Tory Ministry was formed under Lord Derby;
and when in 1876 Mr. Disraeli retired to the House of Lords, he
became, being then Chancellor of the Exchequer, leader of the majority
in the House of Commons, while Mr. Gathorne Hardy, the only other
person who had been thought of as suitable for that post, received a
peerage. Mr. Hardy was a more forcible and rousing speaker, but
Northcote had more varied accomplishments and a fuller mastery of
official work. Disraeli said that he had "the largest parliamentary
knowledge of any man he had met."
As an administrator, Sir Stafford Northcote was diligent, judicious,
and free from any taint of jobbery. He sought nothing for himself; did
not abuse his patronage; kept the public interests steadily before his
mind. He was considerate to his subordinates, and gracious to all
men. He never grudged labour, although there might be no prospect of
winning credit by it. Scrupulous in discharging his duties to his
party, he overtaxed his strength by speaking constantly at public
meetings in the country, a kind of work he must have disliked, and for
which he was ill fitted by the moderation of his views and of his
language. Parliament is not a good place for the pursuit of pure
truth, but the platform is still less favourable to that quest. It was
remarked of him that even in party gatherings, where invective against
political opponents is apt to be expected and relished, he argued
fairly, and never condescended to abuse.
As a Parliamentarian he had two eminent merits--immense knowledge
and admirable readiness. He had been all his life a keen observer
and a diligent student; and as his memory was retentive, all that he
had observed or read stood at his command. In questions of trade and
finance, questions which, owing, perhaps, to their increasing
intricacy, seem to be less and less frequently mastered by practical
politicians in England, he was especially strong. No other man on his
own side in politics spoke on such matters with equal authority, and
the brunt of the battle fell on him whenever they came up for
discussion. As he had now his old master for his chief antagonist, the
conflict was no easy one; but he never shrank from it. Not less
remarkable was his alertness in debate. His manner was indeed
somewhat ineffective, for it wanted both force and variety. Sentence
followed sentence in a smooth and easy stream, always clear, always
grammatically correct, but with a flow too equably unbroken. There
were few impressive phrases, few brilliant figures, few of those
appeals to passion with which it is necessary to warm and rouse a
large assembly. When the House grew excited at the close of a long
full-dress debate, and Sir Stafford rose in the small hours of the
morning to wind it up on behalf of his party, men felt that the
ripple of his sweet voice, the softness of his gentle manner, were not
what the occasion called for. But what he said was always to the
point and well worth hearing. No facts or arguments suddenly
thrown at him by opponents disconcerted him; for there was sure to
be an answer ready. However weak his own case might seem, his
ingenuity could be relied upon to strengthen it; however powerfully
the hostile case had been presented, he found weak places in it and
shook it down by a succession of well-planted criticisms, each
apparently small, but damaging when taken all together, because no
one of them could be dismissed as irrelevant.
It was interesting to watch him as he sat on the front bench, with his
hat set so low on his brow that it hid all the upper part of his face,
while the lower part was covered by a thick yellowish-brown beard,
perfectly motionless, rarely taking a note of what was said, and, to
all appearance, the most indifferent figure in the House. The only
sign of feeling which he gave was to be found in his habit of
thrusting each of his hands up the opposite sleeve of his coat when
Mr. Gladstone, the only assailant whom he needed to fear, burst upon
him in a hailstorm of declamation. But when he rose, one perceived
that nothing had escaped him. Every point which an antagonist had made
was taken up and dealt with; no point that could aid his own
contention was neglected; and the fluent grace with which his
discourse swept along, seldom aided by a reference to notes, was not
more surprising than the unfailing skill with which he shunned
dangerous ground, and put his propositions in a form which made it
difficult to contradict them. I remember to have heard a member of the
opposite party remark, that nothing was more difficult than to defend
your argument from Northcote, because he had the art of nibbling it
away, admitting a little in order to evade or overthrow the rest.
So much for his parliamentary aptitudes, which were fully recognised
before he rose to leadership. But as it was his leadership that has
given him a place in history, I may dwell for a little upon the way in
which he filled that most trying as well as most honourable post. He
led the House--that is to say, the Ministerial majority--for four
sessions (1877-1880), and the Tory Opposition for five and a half
sessions (1880 to middle of 1885). To lead the House of Commons a man
must have, over and above the qualities which make a good debater, an
unusual combination of talents. He must be both bold and cautious,
combative and cool. He must take, on his own responsibility, and on
the spur of the moment, decisions which commit the whole Ministry, and
yet, especially if he be not Prime Minister, he must consider how far
his colleagues will approve and implement his action. He must put
enough force and fire into his speeches to rouse his own ranks and
intimidate (if he can) his opponents, yet must have regard to the more
timorous spirits among his own supporters, going no further than he
feels they will follow, and must sometimes throw a crafty fly over
those in the Opposition whom he thinks wavering or disaffected. Under
the fire of debate, perhaps while composing the speech he has to make
in reply, he must consider not merely the audience before him but also
the effect his words will have when they are read next morning in cold
blood, and, it may be, the effect not only in England but abroad.
Being responsible for the whole conduct of parliamentary business, he
must keep a close watch upon every pending bill, and determine how
much of Government time shall be allotted to each, and in what order
they shall be taken, and how far the general feeling of the House will
let him go in seizing the hours usually reserved for private members,
and in granting or refusing opportunities for discussing topics he
would prefer to have not discussed at all.
So far as prudence, tact, and knowledge of business could enable him
to discharge these duties, Northcote discharged them admirably. It was
his good fortune to have behind him in Lord Beaconsfield, who had
recently gone to the House of Lords, a chief of the whole party who
trusted him, and with whom he was on the best terms. The immense
authority of that chief secured his own authority. His party was--as
the Tory party usually is--compact and loyal; and his majority ample,
so he had no reason to fear defeat. In the conflicts that arose over
Eastern affairs in 1877-79, affairs at some moments highly critical,
he was cautious and adroit, more cautious than Lord Beaconsfield,
sometimes repairing by moderate language the harm which the latter's
theatrical utterances had done. When a group of Irish Nationalist
members, among whom Mr. Parnell soon came to the front, began to evade
the rules and paralyse the action of the House by obstructive tactics,
he was less successful. Their ingenuity baffled the Ministry, and
brought the House into sore straits. But it may be doubted whether
any leader could have overcome the difficulties of the position. It
was a new position. The old rules framed under quite different
conditions were not fit to check members who, far from regarding the
sentiments of the House, avowed their purpose to reduce it to
impotence, and thereby obtain that Parliament of their own, which
could alone, as they held, cure the ills of Ireland.
After ten years of struggle and experiment, drastic remedies for
obstruction were at last devised; but in the then state of opinion
within the House, those remedies could not have been carried. Members
accustomed to the old state of things could not for a good while make
up their minds to sacrifice part of their own privileges in order to
deal with a difficulty the source of which they would not attempt to
cure. On the whole, therefore, though he was blamed at the time,
Northcote may be deemed to have passed creditably through his first
period of leadership.
It was when he had to lead his party in Opposition, after April 1880,
that his severest trial came. To lead the minority is usually easier
than to lead the majority. A leader of the Opposition also must, no
doubt, take swift decisions in the midst of a debate, must consider
how far he is pledging his party to a policy which they may be
required to maintain when next they come into power, must endeavour
to judge, often on scanty data, how many of his usual or nominal
supporters will follow him into the lobby when a division is called,
and how best he can draw off some votes from among his opponents.
Still, delicate as this work is, it is not so hard as that of the
leader of the Government, for it is rather critical than constructive,
and a mistake can seldom do irreparable mischief. Northcote, however,
had special difficulties to face. Mr. Gladstone, still full of energy
and fire, was leading the majority. After a few months Lord
Beaconsfield's mantle no longer covered Northcote (that redoubtable
strategist died in April 1881), and a small but active group of Tory
members set up an irregular skirmishing Opposition on their own
account, paying little heed to his moderate counsels. The Tory party
was then furious at its unexpected defeat at the election of 1880. It
was full of fight, burning for revenge, eager to denounce every
trifling error of the Ministry, and to give battle on small as well as
great occasions. Hence it resented the calm and cautiously critical
attitude which Northcote took up. He had plenty of courage; but he
thought, as indeed most impartial observers thought, that little was
to be gained by incessantly worrying an enemy so superior in force and
flushed with victory; that premature assaults might consolidate a
majority within which there existed elements of discord; and that it
was wiser to wait till the Ministry should begin to make mistakes and
incur misfortunes in the natural course of events, before resuming the
offensive against them. There is a natural tendency to reaction in
English popular opinion, and a tendency to murmur against whichever
party may be in power. This tendency must soon have told in favour of
the Tories, with little effort on their own part; and when it was
already manifest, a Parliamentary attack could have been delivered
with effect. Northcote's view and plan were probably right, but, being
too prone to yield to pressure, and finding his hand forced, he
allowed himself to be drawn by the clamour of his followers into
aggressive operations, which, nevertheless, himself not quite
approving them, he conducted in a half-hearted way. He had not Mr.
Gladstone's power of doing excellently what he hated to have to do.
And it must be admitted that from 1882 onwards, when troubles in
Ireland and oscillations in Egyptian policy had begun to shake the
credit of the Liberal Ministry, he showed less fire and pugnacity than
the needs of the time required from a party leader. In one thing the
young men, who, like Zulu warriors, wished to wash their spears, were
right and he was wrong. He conceived that frequent attacks and a
resort to obstructive tactics would damage the Opposition in the eyes
of the country. Experience has shown that parties do not greatly
suffer from the way they fight their Parliamentary battles. Few people
follow the proceedings closely enough to know when an Opposition
deserves blame for prolonging debate, or a Ministry for abuse of the
closure. So, too, in the United States it would seem that neither the
tyrannical action of a majority nor filibustering by a minority shocks
the nation.
Not only was Northcote's own temper pacific, but he was too sweetly
reasonable and too dispassionate to be a successful leader in
Opposition. He felt that he was never quite a party man. His mind was
almost too judicial, his courtesy too unfailing, his temper too
unruffled, his manner too unassuming. He did not inspire awe or fear.
Not only did he never seek to give pain, even where pain might have
been a wholesome discipline for pushing selfishness--he seemed
incapable of irritation, and bore with vexatious obstruction from some
members of the House, and mutinous attacks from others who belonged to
his own party, when a spirit less kindly and forgiving might have
better secured his own authority and the dignity of the assembly. He
proceeded on the assumption, an unsafe one, as he had too much reason
to know, that every one else was a gentleman like himself, penetrated
by the old traditions of the House of Commons.
While superior to the prejudices of the old-fashioned wing of his
party, he was too cautious and conscientious to join those who sought
to lead it into demagogic courses. So far as political opinions went,
he might, had fortune sent him into the world as the son of a Whig
family, have made an excellent Whig, removed as far from high Toryism
on the one hand as from Radicalism on the other. There was, therefore,
a certain incompatibility between the man and the position. Average
partisans felt that a leader so very reasonable was not in full
sympathy with them. Even his invincible optimism displeased them.
"Hang that fellow Northcote!" said one of them; "he's always seeing
blue sky." The militant partisans, whatever their opinions, desired a
pugnacious chief. That a leader should draw the enemy's fire does him
good with his followers, and makes them rally to him. But the fire of
his opponents was hardly ever directed against Northcote, even when
controversy was hottest. Had he possessed a more imperious will, he
might have overcome these difficulties, because his abilities and
experience were of the highest value to his party, and his character
stood so high that the mass of sensible Tories all over the country
might perhaps have rallied to him, if he had appealed to them against
the intrigues by which it was sought to supplant him. He did not lack
courage. But he lacked what men call "backbone." For practical
success, it is less fatal to fail in wisdom than to fail in
resolution. He had not that unquenchable self-confidence which I have
sought to describe in Disraeli, and shall have to describe in Parnell
and in Gladstone. He yielded to pressure, and people came to know that
he would yield to pressure.
The end of it was that the weakened prestige and final fall of the
Liberal Ministry were not credited to his generalship, but rather to
those who had skirmished in advance of the main army. That fall was in
reality due neither to him nor to them, but partly to the errors or
internal divisions of the Ministry itself, partly to causes such as
the condition of Ireland and the revolt of Arabi in Egypt, for which
Mr. Gladstone's Cabinet was no more, perhaps less, to blame than many
of its predecessors. No Ministry of recent years seemed, when it was
formed, to have such a source of strength in the abilities of the men
who composed it as did the Ministry of 1880. None proved so
persistently unlucky.
The circumstances under which Northcote's leadership came to an end by
his elevation to the Upper House (June 1885) as Earl of Iddesleigh, as
well as those under which he was subsequently (1887) removed from the
post of Foreign Secretary in the then Tory Ministry, evoked much
comment at the time, but some of the incidents attending them have not
yet been disclosed, and they could not be discussed without bringing
in other persons with whom I am not here concerned. Conscious of his
own loyalty to his party, and remembering his long and laborious
services, he felt those circumstances deeply; and they may have
hastened his death, which came very suddenly in February 1887, and
called forth a burst of sympathy such as had not been seen since Peel
perished by an accident nearly forty years before.